Part 6 (1/2)

”Only because they wish to protect me.” He cupped her cheek within his large, calloused hand. ”Do you understand this, human?”

”I'm not sure.”

”Some of my people would have me sit apart from our struggle, alone and out of danger, while they take all the risks,” he explained, dropping his hand back to his lap. ”I'm not comfortable with that.”

”No, I can't imagine that you would be.” She smiled, and this time she-was the one to reach out a hand to touch his cheek. His face was beautiful, sculpted and formed like a cla.s.sical piece of art. She thought of Minoan sculptures, or Greek, perhaps. He possessed a hewn warrior's visage, tough but surprisingly graceful as well: strong, high cheekbones accented by the long, n.o.ble nose, the copper-colored skin. Slight scarring along his left cheek and his forehead- which only made his features seem more angular. But then those soft, full lips. Those lush black eyes with the long feathered lashes. The combination of rough leather and velvet softness in this one man's features made for an unabashedly s.e.xual blending.

She noticed a small pendant stone, black and s.h.i.+ny like onyx, on a thin leather cord at the base of his throat. Despite his turtleneck, he'd made a point of displaying it. ”What's this?” she asked, reaching to touch it before he could caution her, but quickly withdrew her hand. ”It burned me,” she exclaimed, laughing in surprise. ”Your pendant almost burned my hand!”

”It does that if you're not careful,” he agreed with a smile. ”That is, unless you're the wearer of it.”

”No, now, see, I'm a geologist,” she said, incredulous. ”Stones don't burn people. Not like this, not when they're worn as jewelry.”

”You're obviously not a geologist on my planet.” He laughed, stroking the black, gleaming stone between his fingertips. ”This was a gift from my people. It was once set in my father's”-he hesitated, seeming to catch himself, then continued-”in my father's vaults, long ago. Before the war. When we arrived here, on your planet, those I command gave it to me as a gift. They had brought it all that way because they wanted to remind me of what I fought for.”

”And if I were to touch it again, would it still burn me?” she asked, working to mask her curiosity.

”It's called a strake stone,” he told her. ”Very rare, even on our planet.” Reaching behind his neck, he unfastened the leather cord that held it in place. ”Here,” he said, ”you may wear it. For now.” With a gentle motion, he brushed her hair off of her nape, gathering it across her shoulder. She was aware of his warm breath fanning against her cheek, then her neck, as he bent to fasten it. He had an earthy scent too, ironically enough, one that she hadn't noticed back at her apartment. ”There,” he said when he was finished. He gave a satisfied sound of approval as he studied her. ”Yes, you wear my stone well.”

Staring down at the gleaming rock, she dared to touch it. This time, though it was warm, it did not burn. ”Your people obviously love you.”

He nodded. ”I am nearly all that remains of the old ways,” he said. ”This is difficult for some.”

”You're right.” She laughed. ”Your people aren't going to like me very much.” He reached for her hand, their fingers threading together. She loved the rough feel of his hands against her own; loved how warm they were. The man absolutely radiated heat-that much she'd realized from the beginning; perhaps his stone pendant took its cue from him.

”But they must respect you,” he said, setting his strong jaw. ”I will require it. Demand it, if need be.”

The dark determination in his face led her to an odd thought: He seemed to be speaking about far more than her visit to his home tonight. Or even about his people's general reaction to her-he seemed already to be forming a place for her within his world. And it felt familiar, this determination, as if she'd always heard him promising that his people would treat her with respect.

Jareshk. The name whispered in the hidden places of her mind like the faint tinkling of a distant wind chime. Jareshk...

”Here,” he said, reaching for the pendant. ”Best that you keep this hidden.” He tucked the necklace down inside of her sweater, and for a moment as his fingertips grazed her breastbone, each stared at the other. This time, he reacted like one burned, quickly withdrawing his hand.

She s.h.i.+vered, staring away from him and again toward the large cabin. It had to be at least five thousand square feet, seemingly hewn from the mountainside itself, facing the valley below as if it stood at attention. The structure looked to be four stories deep, down the side of the jagged peak. It had several tall observation towers, built into the structure, and long, covered porches along the front and sides. Wood and mortar, accented by large windows- probably so they could carefully keep guard in every direction, she guessed. It was a dream cabin, the kind she'd always secretly wished her father would purchase and keep somewhere in the northern part of the state so she could hide away with her research or a book.

”You like it,” Jared said, catching something in her expression, something she knew she couldn't hide from him even if she tried.

”It looks like a home,” she whispered, feeling a sudden pang of loss. Her father had moved them to D.C. when she was sixteen, immediately after her mother's death. It had been a lonely time, a time when she'd ached for the land of her Wyoming childhood. And she'd never quite found home again.

He nodded, but said nothing more. They fell quiet, studying the structure, wrapped in their own thoughts. How could she feel sorry for herself when Jared had traveled so far from his own world?

”What is your race?” she asked, suddenly needing to know. ”Where are you from? At least tell me that before we go inside.”

”I am Refarian Arganate,” he said, whispering the words like a holy prayer of sorts, his pride in his heritage obvious.

”Where is that?” Planting both hands on the dashboard, Kelsey leaned forward in her seat so that she could see the sky overhead; she wanted to imagine that she could glimpse his planet with her naked eyes. Or maybe she was just trying to rea.s.sure herself that she really was on Earth, the only planet she had ever known.

”Quite far from here.” He draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close until their heads inclined together, both of them staring through the winds.h.i.+eld up at the sky. ”How I wish I could show you. The scientist in you would find my planet very beautiful and wondrous. There are many things there that you do not have here on Earth.”

For a moment, the whole thing seemed ludicrous- laughable-until he turned his black eyes upon her, and she glimpsed a strange s.h.i.+mmer of energy within their depths. And she also noticed that, overall, in some imperceptible way, Jared did not appear human.

”G.o.d, you're beautiful.” She sighed appreciatively. And this... this, the man seemed to like very much. His serious expression softened, the full mouth parting with a husky, masculine laugh. Or was it almost a soft growl of pleasure?

”Indeed,” he purred, stroking his chin with a thoughtful expression, his fingertips lingering on the black stubble of beard that had appeared there in the past few hours. ”We like that you find our natural appearance pleasing. Yes, we like this very much.”

We? What was with the ”we” thing? But before she could tease him-or even ask-he seemed to grow quite self-conscious, fiddling with the b.u.t.ton on his buckskin jacket and avoiding her eyes.

”Did I say something wrong?” she asked, confused, but he refused to meet her gaze. Maybe it was a cultural difference, some misstep she hadn't intended. ”Jared?” she pressed.

”I show myself to very few,” he finally explained in a low voice, still refusing to look at her. ”Perhaps no humans ever.”

”Perhaps?” She had to know the answer, had to know the truth. She leaned closer toward him. ”Yes or no, Jared?”

”No humans.” He released a low rumble of what she interpreted as pleasure. ”Never shown myself to a human until you.”

She recalled her first glimpse of him on the lakesh.o.r.e the other night-already it seemed like years ago- but said nothing. She understood that he meant all that she'd seen, both of his selves. It was somehow an intensely personal experience, one that she felt certain he couldn't translate for her. It was the only explanation for the fact that this rugged warrior, a man whose forceful strength of spirit she'd felt firsthand, had been reduced to such an awkward, shy gesture, this fiddling with his jacket.

She captured his hand, stopping the anxious motion. Then, slowly, he dared to lift his eyes until they met hers in the darkness. ”Kelsey Wells was the first to see me.”

”Knowing that,” she whispered, feeling surprising tears sting her eyes, ”only makes you all the more beautiful to me.”

”Commander,” Thea announced tightly, avoiding Kelsey altogether as she clasped his forearm the moment he entered the cabin. ”May I have a word?”

”In the morning,” he said, shaking off her grasp. His cousin and her expected tirade would have to wait. At the moment, Jared reflected, the idiot king had but one objective in mind: bringing Kelsey into camp and introducing her; then, perhaps, taking her down to his quarters for a nightcap- that is, if he couldn't shake some sense into his bond-impaired mind. He had hoped the human's hold on him might lessen with proximity, but it seemed that every pa.s.sing moment with her only intensified their connection. Then he'd even bestowed her with his family's strake stone, without so much as placing a time limit on the gesture. Any ordinary woman might interpret that kind of gift as a mating pledge. And he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't meant it as such.

As they pa.s.sed into the main entry of the cabin, Thea persisted, flanking him. ”Jared, please,” she urged. Kelsey remained close on his other side, following his lead. Others lined the entry hall and made bows of respect, inclining their heads. He returned the gesture, but perhaps with even less gusto than he normally would, because their shows of respect embarra.s.sed him with Kelsey present.

Thea wasn't going to back down. ”Commander,” she pressed, ”it is urgent that we speak tonight.”

He rounded on her, unable to prevent the quiet growl of protest that sprang from his chest. ”We have a guest,” he reminded her, speaking very precisely.

She answered rapidly in their native tongue, an idiomatic Refarian laced with cutting terms, complaining about Kelsey's presence, arguing that he had placed himself-and all of them-in unwarranted jeopardy.

And he shot back in Refarian, employing simple, plain words. ”I am leader,” he said, bending low so he could stare meaningfully into his adviser's eyes. Thea blinked back at him, visibly trying to calculate the risks he'd brought upon himself. Softening his voice, he added, still in their shared tongue, ”Trust the human, cousin. Trust me.”

”I trust you completely,” she said, ”except in matters of your heart.” Words that were shot through with import- words that accused even as they cast doubt.

”Cousin,” he said firmly, ”your leader's heart is his own affair.” Marrying Thea had never felt right-he'd tried repeatedly to explain it to her, this sense deep inside that he could not lifebond with her, nor even marry her.

”The king's heart is the affair of his people,” she retorted testily, then turned upon Kelsey-who definitely dwarfed her-and stuck out her hand. ”I am Thea Haven,” she p.r.o.nounced in precise English, her words tinged with an elitism born of their bloodline. ”I am cousin to the king.”

At no other time in their lives had Jared ever wished to thoroughly pound his cousin into the d.a.m.nable ground. If there'd been one word he had hoped-prayed, in fact- that Kelsey would not hear while in camp it had been that single blasted one: king. And of course Thea would have guessed as much; she knew all too well his aversion to pomp and t.i.tles and all the discomfiting traditions with which his bloodline had been cursed. She also knew that, deep down, his heart wanted nothing more than to be loved for itself, for its commonness-and not for the n.o.bility of the blood that flowed through it.

Jared flinched, waited, held his breath-did anything to gauge the human's reaction. But then sweet Kelsey-his blessed human-smiled regally and took Thea's strong, pale hand. ”I'm Kelsey Wells,” she answered without blinking. ”I am honored to be here tonight as guest of your king. And I am honored to meet you as well.”

Kelsey never once glanced his way, but instead waited to see what would happen next; it almost seemed that protocol and its many requirements were not unfamiliar to her. The warrior felt himself breathe a bit easier, even though the man wondered desperately whether Thea would manage to frighten Kelsey away from him.