Parallel Desire (23 page)

"Come in," he called, never looking up from his desk.

Nate was a complex leader—years ago, she'd admired him; in fact, he'd been the reason she'd been caught up in the war. A famous figure within their military operation, he'd been charismatic and convincing, a brutal warrior who also seemed to contain an instinctive level of compassion.

But that had been what she believed before—before all the heinous acts on his part that she'd witnessed while serving under his command. Now she'd much rather take a luminator to his head and execute him than follow him another single day.

She stood, waiting for his attention, and he let her stand. A power move, the sort she'd long ago learned to ignore. When at last he glanced up at her, his normally brown eyes had turned gold and icy.

"Tell me, Kryn, what is the status of our prisoners?" He leaned back in his chair, studying her shrewdly.

He suspects I'm the spy,
she thought, choking back a wave of panic. Nate's eyes changed color only when he was furious or deeply emotional.

"The one named Shelby Tyler is now being held with the Antousian." The less she said, she figured the better it would be for her. "At the fishing camp."

"Have you learned the nature of their connection yet? How it is an Antousian has come to be fighting alongside the Refarians?"

"I'm not sure, sir," she hedged, "but they seem to be involved in a relationship together."

His eyes flared oddly. "What has been their reaction to being brought back together?"

She shook her head. "Shelby was still sleeping off the injection when I was there. They haven't had the chance to speak or interact yet."

"There has only been one Antousian working alongside Jared Bennett—ever—and that's Lieutenant Scott Dillon."

"Our latest intel shows Dillon as well as his human mate both at Warren Air Force Base, working with the Joint Alien Task Force."

"I realize that," Nate told her with a hint of impatience. "I read the daily reports just like you, Lieutenant. But I'm remembering something. Back in December, Veckus was convinced that a time traveler had used the mitres; he sensed it when an Antousian penetrated interdimensional space. It was
that
man we were chasing when you captured Dillon and Hope Harper in Yellowstone. You remember this?"

"Of course." She wasn't an idiot, after all.

"So I have a theory … I'm thinking that perhaps our mystery Antousian over at the fishing camp is none other than our time traveler. The one Veckus intuited back in December. Again, only one Antousian has ever worked with Jared Bennett—and that's Dillon. And the man in Yellowstone had a personal interest in Hope—just like Scott Dillon does. Conclusion? That Scott Dillon is our missing time traveler, and that he killed Tierny at some future point, taking his body. In fact, that's exactly what I'm thinking."

"An interesting idea." She thought of the man she'd left back in the cabin, his honesty and frankness—and his desperation. She couldn't bear the thought of what Nate might have in mind for the soldier.

"Stay with me on this one," Nate continued. "What if I'm right about his identity, that he seized the human Jake Tierny's body in the future? It would explain how the version we captured appeared so much older. And our boy Tierny certainly has a significant score to settle with Dillon. I've never known him to hate anyone like he does that bastard. Perhaps they got into a scuffle in the future, and Dillon came out the winner, and thereby took his body."

Kryn's mind whirled. Nate was making crazy leaps of logic, and yet—he was also making a terrible kind of sense. "Are you saying that our prisoner might be Scott Dillon … from the future? Is that your suggestion, sir?"

He gave her a half smile. "Perhaps. Or perhaps he's just another Antousian who's aligned with the rebels. But if he is Dillon … I don't have to tell you what a powerful moment this truly is. To have captured Jared Bennett and his lieutenant? All in one night's work? Well, I'd have to"—he rose to his feet, stepped around the desk, and cupped her face in both hands—"reward a woman who helped me bring that about."

She feigned a blush, dropping her head. "Oh, I can't take credit for that, sir. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Someone did," he said icily. "Some traitor in our midst fell for our bait and passed the intel to the rebels."

Forcing her head back, he kissed her on the mouth, then whispered, "I'd hate to think that traitor might be you, Kryn."

She tried to return the kiss, struggled against the revulsion he elicited in her body. She was accustomed to his occasional physical "outbursts," the way he tried to intimidate her sexually. "Sir, I am … loyal. You know it."

"That remains to be seen, but I'm watching you, soldier. So is everyone else." And with that, he released her, sending her stumbling slightly backward.

"What is our next move, sir?" She tried to compose herself, trying to believe that he'd not read the fear in her mind and body.

"Take Tierny to the captives—see what the result of such an encounter might be. Because if our Antousian is Dillon after all? Then that meeting should reveal the truth."

She swallowed. "Certainly, sir. But when?"

"Give them until the morning. I want to catch them off guard, let them fall under the spell of safety for a bit," he said, returning to his desk. "But one mandate is imperative: Shelby Tyler is not to be harmed. Not under any circumstances."

Now, this little directive was more than slightly interesting. She just couldn't help herself: "I'm curious sir. Why not?"

He shot her a withering look. "Because I said so, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

I
nch by inch, Jake carefully
worked his way inside Shelby, as cautious as if he were holstering an unpredictable weapon. He knew his strength and massive size could hurt her; hell, his nine-inch cock wasn't ever intended for a woman of her much smaller dimensions. But by the gods, after everything they'd been through tonight, he had to get into her—deep into her—as far as he could possibly sheath himself. He needed to feel her close about him, needed the intimacy as desperately as he did his very next breath. Damn their captors or anyone else who would try to stop the two of them from joining.

Bracing upward onto his elbows, he turned his head to the side and stared down into her clear blue eyes. He had to be sure she was all right making love to him in this form; hell, the scent of her alone had driven him into a frenzy, but he had no illusions that she felt the same. In this state, he was grotesque and huge, the skin of his chest and thighs as rough as sandpaper against her much softer, satiny flesh. "Shelby?" he asked, swallowing to adjust his voice. "Are you … sure?"

She blinked back at him as he worked his way another inch inside of her. More than half of his hard length was in her now, but man, he needed more. To be deeper, to feel this woman all about him. She lifted a hand to his chest, placing her palm over his heart, and he stilled his hips against hers.

"Too much?"

She shook her head. "I just wanted to feel you here," she said, fixing him with her gaze. "I remember how you reacted the last time I stroked your chest."

He felt his face flush. The thick hide across his muscular chest was actually pliable and very sensitive to stroking. He arched his back, purring in pleasure, his eyes drifting shut. Shelby worked her hands over his nipples, budding them beneath her fingertips, then caressed outward in spirals. In reaction, he began to move within her, working his cock back and forth inside her slick heat.

He slid a hand to the place where their bodies were joined, trying to angle a bit better. "I'm sorry I'm so big," he whispered. "That there's so much of me."

"You're beautiful," she murmured, staring up at him.

Deeper he went, and a little deeper still, his lips parting with a sweet cry of pleasure. He didn't even mind that he sounded Antousian; didn't even bother stopping the humming vibration that had begun in the back of his throat—his species' truest expression of sublime and total pleasure.

Shelby let her eyes drift shut, wrapping both arms around Jake's tough, muscular back. His was the body of a warrior, or some sort of mythical creature, hewn of leather and softness. The whole of her being was quaking at his touch, reacting with tremors that shot through her core, over and over again. Already, she'd come at his touch, her body tightening about his, reacting and thrusting, and they'd only been at this for such a short time.

Oh, yes,
she thought arching at his strokes and touches, lapping up every single one of his caresses. This was the sweetest place, the most heavenly one that he'd ever taken her so far—in any form.

In any form,
she thought a dark pall coming over her.

If she just kept her eyes shut she wouldn't have to remember that he was Antousian—that he looked Antousian. She wouldn't recall that he shared blood with Nate and with her enemies. The man was a rutting stallion, with his mighty, long cock that couldn't quite fit all the way inside of her, and his heaving chest that kept sucking at air helplessly. She tried to focus on the thrilling sensations he was arousing in her, and blocked out everything else.

But even with her eyes shut, she heard the vibrating purr emanating from the back of Jake's throat, totally alien—and growing louder by the moment. She'd never been around a happy Antousian, only bloodthirsty ones, but as he nuzzled her and hitched her legs tighter about him, the rumbling grew even louder. Alien.
Good lord, after everything I've been through, how is it I'm letting myself be screwed senseless by an Antousian?

She shivered, involuntarily clasping his hips and stilling him.

His eyes flew open and he fixed his stare on her. "What's wrong?" The vibrato stopped.

She shook her head, leaning back into the pillow. "Nothing, Jake. I'm just fine." She stroked fingertips down the length of his ridged nose. Jake stared at her, his black eyes growing bright. "Don't gaze me," she said, "just don't do that."

He blinked, roughly stroking her hair. "Sorry." He made a rumbling sound. "I thought you were enjoying this."

"I am enjoying it!" She drew him much closer, pulling his face into the crook of her neck. "I'm also scared shitless, baby, but you're doing amazing things to me. Incredible, beautiful things."

Lifting his head, he made eye contact again, his brow creasing. "You're frightened of me? Because I'm like this?" His voice cracked over the last word, and he cleared his throat self-consciously. "I'm Antousian. You've always known it."

She cupped his face, taking hold of his distended jaws. "But I've never made love to an Antousian before—at least, not in his natural form. You're a first for me, that's all," she said, working desperately to silence the quiet voice of dismay that sounded inside her heart.

Shaking his head, he raised his hips and unsheathed himself.

"Hey, don't do that." She took hold of his shoulders, pulling at him, but Jake could only retreat.

This had been the ultimate vulnerability for him, sharing his Antousian form with her on such an intimate basis. Lifting off of her, he strode toward the far side of the room, where his clothes lay in a heap, aware that his cumbersome steps were more stalking than actually walking.

Reaching for the jeans, he stepped into them, and tossed the leather vest on next. With a glance in the mirror he saw himself—truly saw himself—as Shelby probably had. A man who was gigantic in proportion, with a chest like a tree trunk and with large, doleful black eyes that were set slightly to the sides of his harsh-planed face.

He lifted a hand to his jaw, long like a wolf's, and ran his fingertips over the ridges. "I don't blame you," he said softly, not turning to face Shelby. He caught sight of her in the mirror, the blanket gathered about her naked body, shimmering tears in her beautiful blue eyes.

"You don't understand, Jakob."

"Oh, but I do. I am everything the Refarians hate." He scraped his palm over the top of his bare head, feeling the plated ridge that ran from his nose all the way to the top of his spine. "And I'm everything I have always despised, so I can hardly blame you, Shell." With a parting glance at her he said, "Don't worry—it won't happen again."

She tried to call after him, but before she could get a word out, he'd already closed the door that joined their two rooms, leaving her speechless—and wet and desperate, without any real release.
Damn you, girl,
she cursed herself. There she'd gone again, putting her foot right in it.

Collapsing back onto the bed, the sheets still warm from their bodies—especially Jake's hotter-blooded one—she drew herself into a ball and began to cry for real. It had been so many years since she'd loved a man like this; hell, who was she kidding? She'd never loved any man like she did Jakob Tierny. And after all that time, to fall in love with someone who was so ill equipped to feel and receive her love, who was haunted by the demons of his past and of what he truly was. Just as she was haunted by her own history.

Burying her face in her pillow, she wept. She thought of Nate and his lies, but also of how he'd saved her. She flashed on a collage of faces, many of them much like the one she'd just caressed, saw the fire overtaking them all in the hangar, the way the Antousians had howled and screamed, the sound like nothing she'd ever heard in her life. Those terrorized voices had mingled with the dying voices of her friends, of so many people she'd cared for and loved. Flinching, she could smell the intense smoke, the searing flesh, and her soft tears became absolute sobs.

Jake thought she was revolted by his appearance when what he couldn't possibly understand was that she desired him totally, in all his forms. But his Antousian one brought back so many painful, horrific memories that had nothing to do with him, and she wasn't sure she could ever get past those emotions.

"I want him to understand," she whimpered into her pillow, clutching it to ward off the incredible loneliness that she felt.

J
ake closed the door that
separated his room from Shelby's and slowly slid toward the carpeted floor. He roared his anguish, leaning against the door in an oversized heap of muscle and harsh skin. Burying his face within his palms, he felt tears sting his eyes. Again he threw his head back, bellowing his pain. He couldn't contain his shame and his rage, and with clutched hands he beat at the floor. He felt strangely relieved to find his Antousian voice—this part of him that could roar like the wild thing he truly was.

If this was what his captors had wanted to show him—that he wasn't any different than they, that the same blood coursed through his veins and defined his physical body as did theirs—then they'd won their battle. How many of these creatures, ones exactly as he now appeared, had he killed over the years? Hundreds, perhaps thousands. And yet here he was, forced to confront his true nature.

Hope had always been so blessedly kind to him, so accepting of his Antousian body the few times she'd seen it. But they'd never made love or been intimate, not like this; she'd never even glimpsed him naked in his original form, not like Shelby just had. More than that, Hope had come to him without any preconceived notions about what it meant to be Antousian, without a lifetime of memories of war—of bloodshed and loss and terror, like Shelby did. Oh, yes, it had been far simpler for Hope to accept his
vlksai
form; she'd come to him completely innocent of their war's menacing, brutal face.

With a glance across the room, he noticed the floor-length mirror. Slowly, he rose to his feet and with ungainly steps crossed to the silvery object, staring abjectly at the creature whose image confronted him. He filled the frame completely with his broad, hide-covered shoulders and chest, with his fathomless black eyes and permanently jutting erection that practically touched the mirror's surface, it extended so long. Planting one hand along the edge of the mirror frame, he reached with the other and enclosed his cock, slowly stroking it. Curious about its natural texture and feel. After all, he'd avoided his true form for his entire life.

The sensations that shot through his body caused his other hand to crush around the wooden frame. Gods, nothing could have prepared him. As sensual as he had always been, as much as he'd craved and sought sex, gods. Gods.
Nothing, nothing,
he thought, trembling with every tug he gave his thick, coarse length.

Shelby,
he wanted to cry, pressing his face against the glass.
Shelby, please. Have mercy. Have mercy on me tonight
.

Newly purposed, he spun back toward the door that separated them. He'd never needed a woman's touch quite like he needed hers at this moment. Hope had taken him to nirvana and back, but what he needed tonight was to feel Shelby Tyler's acceptance. And by All, he needed the peace and release that only she could offer him.

T
he door that separated their
two rooms opened gently, and Shelby bolted upright on her bed. Jake stood in the doorway, hesitating, a slip of moonlight limning his body beautifully. And he truly was beautiful to her in that moment.

"Come back over here, you big lug," she whispered, opening her arms to him. "Right now."

He kept his distance, tilting his head slightly to the side and studying her. "I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart. It's the last thing I want to do."

"I know that. Just come here," she practically begged, feeling tears burn her eyes once again. "Please come to me, Jakob."

Very slowly, he moved toward her, closing the distance between them. "I know all the memories going on in your head right now, when you look at me. I get that."

She swallowed, shaking her head. "They don't matter. Just come here."

When he stood unmoving, feet planted wide apart, she finally climbed out of bed. Taking his large hand in hers, she led him to lie down. She threaded her fingers together with his, feeling how the pads of his fingertips were calloused and harsh—yet his fingers themselves were long and elegant. Beautifully formed, like he might play a masterpiece on the
dulisthrama
. Or along the length of her body.

They settled beside each other on the edge of her bed. "I know I frighten you," he admitted in that thick vibrato of his, turning to face her.

She planted a palm against his chest, feeling the fast, uneasy tempo of his heartbeat. "I'm falling for you, Jakob," she admitted without even meaning to do so. "And that terrifies me."

"I won't hurt you," he promised softly, reaching his long fingers to stroke her cheek. The rough texture of his hands against her smooth skin aroused her intensely.

"We're gonna do this my way, okay?" she said. "I'm in control for once."