Fallen Star (7 page)

“He is one of the Dirty Dozen?”

Gerrod chuckled. “Wow. It’s been a long time
since I heard that name.”

“I thought you came up with it,” she
countered.

“I did, but that seems like another lifetime
or even someone else’s life.”

Nazerel snapped his head around and looked
into her eyes. “Is it possible that this man is Jillian’s
father?”

“There’s a one in twelve chance,” she
explained. “I only have DNA samples of four of the men and about
half of the daughters. I haven’t tried to match any of them with
Gerrod because he keeps refusing to give me a sample. So far
Jillian hasn’t been a positive match with anyone, so now her
chances are more like one in eight.”

“If that’s why you summoned me here,” Gerrod
warned, “you’re wasting your time. I don’t want to know how many
times I succeeded. Those years are the biggest regret of my
life.”

“You don’t need to know, but I do.” She
sighed. “Give me a sample of your DNA or I’ll have no choice but to
take it from you.”

Gerrod laughed, head tilting to an arrogant
angle. “Go for it, princess. This should be amusing.”

Rather than attack him herself, she turned
to Nazerel and said, “Break his nose.”

For once in his life, Nazerel didn’t argue
or hesitate. He closed the distance between him and Gerrod with one
long stride and punched him squarely in the face.

Gerrod’s shocked cry ended in a vile curse
as he raised his hand to his gushing nose.

Sevrin was half a step behind Nazerel. She
shoved Gerrod’s hand out of the way and pressed a cloth to his
nose, soaking up some of the blood. Then she turned back to Nazerel
and said, “Flash us out of here now!”

Nazerel swept her into his arms and
teleported away from the park. She enjoyed the strength of his
embrace for only a moment before they materialized in a vacant lot
on the outskirts of Las Vegas. His smirk made her shove off his
chest and step back despite how much she was enjoying the
embrace.

“Are you sure no one saw us flash out of
sight?” he challenged.

“We were the only ones in the park.” Her
heart lurched in her chest as she realized she hadn’t even bothered
to check.

“Are you sure.”

She tensed. Was he just jerking her around
or had she overlooked a spectator? “You’re aware of everything that
goes on around you. Was someone there?”

“No, but you didn’t assess the situation
before you told me to go.”

“This was important.” She carefully folded
the cloth, securing the blood sample on the inside of the wad. “If
it’s safe to do so, take me back to my ship and arrange for someone
to go pick up my car.”

“All of this would have been much simpler if
you’d just told me where we were headed in the first place.”

“If I’d told you what I intended to do,
Gerrod would have sensed it when you shook hands. I wasn’t being
mysterious just to piss you off. Anything you knew, he would have
found out.”

He accepted the point after a moment of
contemplative silence. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me why my
father would have agreed to help a Rodyte.”

She smiled. Working with Nazerel was
definitely easier than struggling against him. “Let me get the DNA
sequencer running and I’ll explain it all over dinner.”

Jillian squirmed on the kitchen chair,
wishing she had her cell phone so she could call Tori. Even Angie,
with her unusual take on life in general, would be better than
trying to sort through these chaotic thoughts and feelings alone.
Jillian pulled out another chair and propped her leg on it, but her
thigh started throbbing again. That she could move it at all was a
miracle undeniably attributable to Odintar.

Her mind was still reeling from all the
things Odintar had told her. It was hard to believe that half of
what he’d said was true, yet everything she’d experienced since
meeting him pointed toward fact not fiction. Aliens had come to
Earth and she, along with two of her closest friends, were caught
in the middle of their conflict.

She thought back to the first time she’d
seen Lor. Tori had spotted him in a casino and their attraction had
been immediate, but no one would deny he was physically striking.
Then later in the hotel bar, he’d performed a “magic trick”,
causing a flame to jump from candle to candle. Now she suspected
the trick hadn’t been a trick at all but legitimate magic.
Legitimate magic? The phrase made her shake her head. Until today
she would have considered it an oxymoron.

Unable to sit idly by while Odintar
meditated, she carefully stood and turned her chair around so she
could use it like a makeshift walker. Her leg felt solid as she
positioned it, yet as soon as she put weight on it, pain radiated
from ankle to hip. Ignoring the discomfort, she hobbled to the
window over the sink. All she could see was an average-sized
backyard with a wooden privacy fence. She could be almost
anywhere.

The back door was locked and she couldn’t
figure out how to unlock it. There was no deadbolt to rotate or
lever to shift. The door handle just refused to move. Even though
she suspected she would find the same in the front room, she slowly
made her way to the main entrance. It was also locked with no
obvious way to release it. It didn’t really matter. Her mobility
was still so limited, escape wasn’t really an option.

She parted the drapes obscuring the front
window and looked out at a residential street like any other. The
house wasn’t large or luxurious. The neighborhood, what little she
could see of it, seemed well maintained, yet somewhat mature. Were
they even in Nevada any longer? They could be on a different planet
for all she knew. She had no idea the scope of Odintar’s
abilities.

Her leg protested each movement, so she
limped over to the couch and reclined, stretching out her legs
across the seat cushions. It was pretty obvious the Ontarians hoped
to use her as bait once her injury was mended. Was Odintar right?
Would Nazerel come after her even if she refused to align with his
enemies? Angie frequently followed her heart into danger, but Tori
was logical. If Tori allowed herself to become involved in this
cause, it had to be important. At the very least, Jillian needed to
find out more about the Mystic Militia in general and Odintar in
particular.

As if sensing her thoughts, Odintar strolled
into the living room. She was struck again by the graceful strength
that defined his every movement. He had the fluidity of a dancer,
yet the overt purpose of a Navy Seal. The contrast was
fascinating.

“Feel better?” she asked with a tentative
smile.

“I’ve recovered enough to continue.”

He sounded so stiff and formal that she
cringed. “Are you still angry with me?”

“I was frustrated not angry, but either way
it wasn’t your fault. I keep forgetting Mystic abilities are
basically nonexistent on Earth. With all that you’ve endured,
you’re skepticism is understandable. I’ll try to be more
patient.”

She propped herself up against the armrest,
making room for him at the other end of the couch. “How many
sessions will it take to heal my leg?”

“That depends on you.” He sat and pivoted
slightly toward her. “If you relax and allow me to work unhindered,
we’ll progress much faster than if we wrestle the entire time.”

Wrestling with Odintar held a certain
appeal, but restoring her leg was her top priority. “I’m not
intentionally fighting you. Everything about this feels strange and
threatening.”

He placed his hand on her ankle, his touch
light and casual. “I would never hurt you and I would attack anyone
who attempted to harm you. There’s no reason for your fear.”

“Consciously I know you’re trying to help
me, but something inside me resists the intrusion.”

For a long moment he just looked at her, his
eyes narrowed, lips compressed. “I’d intended to assess your latent
abilities after your leg had been restored. Maybe you’ll feel less
vulnerable if they’re active.”

Here was another piece of the puzzle,
another clue to his true motivation. She knew his agenda wasn’t
self-serving, but neither was it as selfless as he pretended. “What
makes you think I have latent abilities?”

“Nazerel wouldn’t have targeted you unless
your potential was extraordinary.”

“I thought my connection to Tori and Angie
was why he targeted me.” She lowered her gaze, breaking the
mesmerizing pull of his dark eyes. He wasn’t coming on to her, so
why did she long to crawl onto his lap and bury her face against
his neck?

“Your friendship with the Logan sisters
brought you to Nazerel’s attention, but your potential is what
motivated him to act.”

Challenge calmed her enough to lift her
gaze. Ever since the accident she’d felt devastated, her life so
disrupted she barely recognized her own reality. If Odintar could
heal her—and it was looking more and more like he could—she would
be able to shape her future into whatever she wanted it to be. But
first they had to deal with Nazerel. “What does he look like? Maybe
I’ve seen him hanging around backstage or something?”

“Close your eyes.”

No sooner had her lids drifted shut than an
image formed within her mind. Nazerel had short dark hair and
piercing eyes. His features were rugged, very masculine. He looked
hard, even brutal, with a body easily capable of enacting every
ruthless impulse. She shivered, very glad she was no longer
alone.

“He might have made subtle changes, but
that’s his basic appearance.”

She opened her eyes, glad to be rid of that
penetrating stare. “I’ve never seen him before. I would have
remembered those eyes. Still, he hasn’t actually done anything yet.
Why are you so sure he will?”

“When we raided one of their hideouts, we
discovered a binder, a collection of dossiers with detailed
information about human females. You’re one of the women featured
in the notebook.”

Her recent surge of confidence shuddered as
she absorbed the implications. For there to be detailed information
about her in the notebook, she had to have been watched, followed,
investigated
. “Who collected the information? How long have
I been under surveillance?”

“The notebook was likely compiled by the
Rodytes. The hunters haven’t been here long enough to have done it
themselves.”

“And what brought me to the attention of the
Rodytes?”

“It’s quite likely your father was
Ontarian.”

She just stared at him in disbelief. It made
perfect sense that her connection to all this drama hadn’t been
random. Still, there was only so much one shell-shocked brain could
absorb. She was being hunted by an alien who wanted to make her his
mate because her father had been an alien. Yeah, that happened
every day.

She didn’t know enough about her father to
confirm or disprove Odintar’s claim. Her mother seldom spoke of him
and when she did it was to warn Jillian away from “men like
that”.

Odintar sighed and carefully lifted her
legs, sliding under them until her knees arched over his lap.
“Let’s focus on your injury. We can sort through the rest when
you’re feeling stronger.”

And I can run the hell away from you!
The rebellious thought calmed her, allowed her to think beyond the
newest revelation. “I’d rather you figured out if I have abilities
first.”

“You definitely have abilities. I’m just not
sure what they are.” He rested both hands on her uninjured leg, one
above her knee, the other below.

Awareness expanded, sweeping through her
body in slow, tingling waves. His touch wasn’t seductive, yet the
restlessness returned with a vengeance. “How do you determine what
my abilities are?”

“If I infuse them with energy, they will
likely activate.” He shifted his left hand to her injured knee. “I
hesitate to do so until your healing is complete. I don’t want to
empty my tank before we reach our destination, yet the loss might
be worth it if doing so allows me to heal you faster. Does that
make sense?”

“I think so. You’re saying it’s a gamble
either way.”

“Exactly.”

“Then let’s stick with my leg.”

He nodded then asked, “Can you put your left
leg behind me?” He scooted slightly forward, making room for her to
complete the maneuver. She drew her knee toward her chest and eased
her leg between his broad back and the sofa’s cushions. Even though
he was between her legs now, the position wasn’t really sexual. At
least it shouldn’t have felt that way. So why had her pulse kicked
into double time and her core clenched so hard she fought back a
moan. “Try to relax.”

The suggestion was absurd. She pressed back
into the armrest and closed her eyes. His hands swept from her
upper thigh to ankle, rotating and repositioning in a pattern only
he understood. Energy flowed between his palms, pulsing through her
damaged flesh, creating heat and tension.

She emptied her mind and floated in the
darkness, but the rhythmic surge of his healing waves electrified
her senses. A particularly sharp throb made her gasp and the deep
inhalation drew his spicy scent inward. The tantalizing smell
filled her nose and lungs then spread through her entire body with
every beat of her heart. Her back arched and her nipples drew
tight, yet the swirling caress of his hands didn’t falter.

Stubbornly battling the urge to writhe, she
released the tension in her back and ignored her tingling nipples.
It wasn’t intentional. He wasn’t trying to turn her on.

Or was he?

She opened her eyes and assessed his
expression. His eyes were closed, features tense with
concentration. His fingertips occasionally skimmed over her inner
thigh, but he touched nothing except her injured leg.

It was all her. Guilt managed to cool her
ardor for a few minutes, but the surging heat couldn’t be contained
for long. The fingers of one hand splayed across her outer thigh as
he worked a particularly stubborn spot high on her inner thigh. He
circled the spot with three fingertips, driving energy deep into
the muscle.