Chapter Six
Sitting back on her heels, Lana rubbed her aching back. She was tired, but the good kind brought on by physical activity. Her visit to Eva in the Princep’s rooftop garden—where she’d been much more at ease than the last time she’d seen her, thank goodness—gave her the idea to start one of her own. She’d never had much of a green thumb, but it gave her an excuse to do something she excelled at, digging in the dirt. It also filled the hours when Trask was off doing whatever a supreme general did.
The soil was rocky, which didn’t make it any easier, and mineral rich with what she figured was a high concentration of iron, making it reddish orange. Her fingers were stained, as were her clothes. Tilling with a traditional shovel had been the worst of it, being outside in the fresh air and sunshine the best.
“Lana?”
She twisted, surprised to hear a woman’s voice. When she saw no one in the patio doorway or anywhere in the small back courtyard, she wiped the back of her hand across her damp brow. “I’m hearing things,” she muttered aloud. “The two suns must be getting to me.”
A loud screech made her jump. Her head swiveled to the rear gate which creaked loudly again when it swung shut behind a tall willowy brunette. Lana heard her mutter, “No need for an alarm with that noise,” as she walked right on in.
When Adria spotted her in the far corner, she jerked slightly, surprise registering on her pretty face, then started her way. “I knocked, but there was no answer,” she said as she walked up. Then she stood for a moment, both hands propped on her hips, staring down at where she knelt in the dirt. “What are you doing? You’re a mess.”
At this for hours, Lana knew she must be. She’d sweated, broken several nails, and had scratches on her hands and forearms from wrestling with the three pricker bushes Eva had given her. “I’m starting a garden,” she replied, not that it wasn’t obvious.
“Why?”
“Why not?” In the middle of putting a root ball into a water-filled hole when she was interrupted, Lana got back to it, carefully packing dirt around into the gaps in the hole.
“That looks dead,” Adria observed.
“Not dead, dormant. In three months’ time, I’ve been promised a profusion of fragrant blooms in crimson, purple, and white.”
“They sell cut flowers at the market. Trask won’t mind if you buy a profusion of fragrant blooms rather than risk a skin infection. You’ve got scratches on your arms, and they’re covered in dirt.”
“You’re missing the point of this.”
“Which is?”
“Satisfaction.”
“You find fulfillment in red, irritated skin and ripped cuticles?”
Lana sat back on her heels and glowered at her unenthusiastic visitor. “No, I find satisfaction in making something out of nothing, especially something beautiful.”
“You mean those dried-up red things?” Adria wrinkled her nose, eyeing the pile of tubers Lana planned to put in next. “They have a long way to go before they’d ever be called beautiful.”
Shaking her head over the younger woman’s lack of imagination, she picked up her hand trowel and started digging another hole. “Eva gave me those dried-up red things. They’re from the Princep’s garden, and very similar to a root vegetable we have on Earth, called sunchokes. The man tending things before she arrived was pulling them up, stems and all, thinking they were nuisance weeds.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she muttered, making a face.
“They might not look very appetizing now, but you'll love them roasted, or in soup, but especially sliced thin and fried like chips with cinnamon and sugar. Eva says your Princep loves them.”
“He’s your Princep now, too, Lana,” Adria corrected her. “I’ll pass. They look unsanitary all caked with dirt.”
“Where do you think fruits and vegetables come from?”
She gave her a pointed look before she drawled, “The market. We have booths where you can buy all of this and save yourself the trouble.”
Lana sat back again, wiped the sweat from her brow, and stared up at her. “What do you do to keep busy?”
“I study. I will be one of the few female physics in Primarian history.”
“That is quite an accomplishment.”
“Yes, I take pride in it. I only hope I can pass all my practical examinations. And now, with human females among us, I’ll be tested on specifics for your kind as well.”
“Sorry for the added work.”
“That’s okay. I enjoy it.”
“I used to study volcanoes.”
Adria blinked. “Truly?”
“Yep. Got any of those around here?”
“No. And if we did, Trask would never let you get near them.”
“Exactly. So”—she extended her arms to the small patch of dirt—“I’m sublimating.”
“Right. I don’t know what that is.”
“Redirecting my energies into something I can do so I don’t miss what I can’t. And when I’m done and have something to show for it, I’ll feel a sense of accomplishment like you do with your studies. Get it?”
She grinned. “I do. But dare I mention your nose is red? With your fair skin, if you’re going to become a small-scale farmer, you should really wear a hat.”
Great. She hadn’t considered the sun and risked twice the burn with two of them blazing overhead. On a planet of people whose skin tone ranged from golden to bronze and looked like they lived on the beach, she didn’t stand much of a chance of finding sunscreen, either. “So noted.”
“I’ll leave you to your digging.”
“You don’t have to go.”
“I need to get back, but promise to invite me for supper to celebrate your first harvest. I’ll even eat your disgusting sunchokes to increase your sense of fulfillment.”
She looked up and replied without inflection, “Whoever said I could cook?”
Adria blinked, looked at the dirty pile of knobby roots, and the dozen vegetable seed pouches beside it, and declared in the most confounded voice ever, “I’ll never understand humans.”
Lana let slip her giggle and soon was laughing at the stunned expression on the younger woman’s face.
“You’re joking,” Adria stated when she realized she’d been had.
This made Lana double over, and, before long, Adria was laughing with her. Or perhaps, it was at her. Considering her sunburned face, dirt-smudged clothes, and the fact she was bent over on the ground having a laughing fit, the latter was most likely correct. But she didn’t care in either case. After the insane two weeks she’d had, being silly felt incredible.
***
“A sea of black and red, does the man own nothing else?” Lana muttered as she watched another section of the modular closet slide into the recessed compartment in the wall. This one, like the two before it, contained neatly folded black uniform pants, a rack of crisply pressed red tunics, and, below them, vertical cubbies for storing his boots upright. There had to be a dozen of each. He was in the military and wore a uniform every day, she got that, but he wasn’t on duty 24/7. What about a pair of bum-around pants or jeans?
The mental image of Trask in snug-fitting Levi’s and a tight white T-shirt rooted in her brain so firmly, she had to shake her head to get it to reset.
Resuming her search, she squatted in front of the shelves, looking behind and between everything, including inside the cubbies with the boots, she knew what she wouldn’t find—a hat. He had twelve times the number of uniforms he needed, considering he had an automated laundry system. When one got dirty, it could be washed, dried, and spit out, pristine like it was brand-new, in under sixty seconds. Heck, the machine even put everything back in the closet. All Trask had to do was get his dirty clothes within the vicinity of the receptacle in the corner of his room, and the system did the rest.
Since her search was fruitless, she pressed another button on the control panel and closed the unit, the door sliding in place and becoming such a seamless part of the wall, no one would ever guess a wardrobe lie on the other side. They really had some amazing gadgets.
Lana surveyed the rest of the enormous closet. Behind the far wall was a second large wardrobe filled with the clothing he’d provided for her. Four sections with row upon row of beautiful dresses and shoes, but nothing else. No pants, nightgowns, or underwear—heaven forbid. And, since the outside temperature in Ariad ranged from seventy to ninety degrees year-round, there was no need for outerwear, either. For Lana, born and raised in Northern California where, on occasion, they measured snowfall in feet not inches, coats, boots, mittens, and scarves were a thing of the past. Another mark in the plus column for Trask’s homeworld.
“But would it be too much to ask for one lousy hat?” she grumbled as she walked out of the ginormous walk-in closet. “I mean, seriously, not even a beat-up baseball cap? Don’t these people play sports?”
After Adria left, Lana couldn’t stop thinking about her red nose, and the burning tightness in her cheeks, and decided to follow her advice and wear a hat. But she’d come up empty in her search of the house, so far. After searching the closet, she looked through his bedroom, which with his minimalist decorating style hadn’t taken long. She even checked the bathing room and the mirrored anteroom beyond it. In a much smaller closet, she found toiletries, like the fresh-smelling foaming soap he used, which she did now too, and his shaving gel—not unlike what men used on Earth. There were Primarian versions of toothpaste, shampoo, and a variety of other tubes and bottles which she wasn’t sure about, but nothing resembling lotion of any kind for her burning skin, and no sunscreen.
Empty-handed, she went back downstairs thinking it might be best to tidy up and limit her gardening to mornings and evenings when the suns weren't so strong. This time couldn’t be helped, however. As warm as her face was, she'd most likely peel after the burn faded, or worse, freckle.
As she crossed the kitchen, her eyes were drawn to the western facing windows and the brilliant sky, in shades of pink, purple and yellow, as the large of the twin suns set. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the beauty of this world.
Moving to the doors leading to the patio and courtyard, her steps slowed, seeing they stood ajar, almost certain she had closed them. A flash of red and black through the glass caught her eye. The little burst of panic she felt tailed off when she saw it was Trask pacing across the flagstones.
She smiled, eager to show him what she’d accomplished. At the door, she raised a hand, ready to push it wide, when he snapped in a voice rife with angry impatience, “I don’t care. I have a mate and have already waived reassignment.”
Startled, she stepped back, out of sight.
“It isn’t too late. Master Warrior Ramikin is considering petitioning the council for dissolution since his mate is intolerable and they haven’t bonded in all this time.”
“Ram’s situation is not mine. Lana and I have bonded. I’ve already said no to this several times, Aylan, and urge you to drop it.”
Though not directed at her, she shivered at the cold fury edging his voice. Curious to know who was on the receiving end of his wrath, she angled her head, trying to view the seating area to the left. She could only see two of the four chairs; both were empty.
“A few flecks in her eyes rather than a full conversion to your color shows a weak bond. It’s not unexpected since she’s only borderline compatible with you.”
Borderline! Her thoughts filtered back to her research classes in college. They used the term interchangeably with marginal, below average, and questionable. Not glowing recommendations for anything, let alone two very different individuals expected to spend a lifetime together.
“What made you think to keep her when the recommendations were that you shouldn’t, I’ll never know. Two warriors have found fated mates among these humans. I fear when they and the others successfully breed, and your borderline female does not, you’ll regret your hastiness.”
Coming to a halt, Trask crossed his arms over his chest and aimed a hard look toward the chairs. “The results didn’t state breeding was impossible, Uncle.”
“Unlikely is much the same thing, Trask.”
“Damn, but you’re persistent,” he growled as he walked away, his hands raking his hair back in agitation. “Coming from Mordrun, this wouldn’t surprise me. He’s always been calculating, but I thought more of you. And to bring this up now, here in my home, with my mate upstairs—” He twisted back. “Did he put you up to this?”
“My brother does not lead me. I was concerned and didn’t think this should wait.”
Two uncles aligned to convince him didn’t sound good for her. Although Trask seemed firm in his defense of their match—that wasn’t much of one, evidently—family could exert considerable influence. With his back to her, she moved to the other side of the door for a better angle, eager to see the man who so adamantly wanted their match dissolved.
On tiptoe, she strained to get a glimpse of him from the window, but with him seated, the four-foot wall separating the patio from the lawn still blocked her view. She could see the top of a gray head, nothing more.
“Your female is small and sickly, both good reasons to seek dissolution.”
“They are all small,” he grated out irritably, “and Lana is not sickly. She had an adverse reaction to teleportation which won’t be an issue in the future since she is home for good. As for dissolution, that is not happening, and you waste your breath and my time discussing it.” He stared at the man a moment as if waiting to see if he’d be foolish enough to say anything further. “We are done here,” he announced and jerked his head toward the far end of the yard. “You can see yourself out the back gate.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes, I’m angry. Tell Mordrun what I have told you and do not bring this up again. Am I understood?” He didn’t wait for an answer, striding quickly toward the house.
Lana scrambled off her precarious perch to keep from being caught eavesdropping, but her skirt got caught on something. Thrown off-balance, she slammed into the chest, sending it skidding across the tile floor with a scraping noise. When she righted herself, he was at the door, sliding it open.
She tried to move away from the window and at least attempt to look like she wasn’t listening in, but she came up short, still hung. She tugged on her skirt, but aside from ripping it, she was stuck. With no choice other than face him, she plastered on an innocent smile and greeted him.
“Trask, your home. How was your day?”
When his eyes tracked from her to the window and back, she figured she didn’t pull off innocent too convincingly.
“How much did you hear?”
“I, uh…”
“Don’t invite more trouble by denying it. How much?”
“All of it,” she admitted. “You said we had a biocellular match high enough for mate-bonding.”
“We do,” he replied while moving forward. At her side, he dropped into a crouch and deftly freed her snagged skirt. When he stood, now close enough to touch, the residual anger had left his voice when he assured her, “This is nothing for you to worry about.”
“Your uncle didn’t think it was nothing. Being labeled as borderline doesn’t inspire confidence it will ever be something, neither does unlikely.”
“Matches vary by degree; we fall within the allowable range. And, whether borderline or fated, it is up to the Maker to decide if we're blessed with children.” He stopped abruptly, and took a step back, taking her in with a sweep from head to toe. “Why are you covered in dirt?”
Lana looked at her hands, stained bright orange despite having washed them repeatedly using a considerable amount of soap. She’d have to soak in the tub to get it off. Flipping them over and taking in her discolored nails, she added work gloves below sunscreen and a hat to her growing list of must-haves.
From there, she glanced down the front of her dress, noting several dirt smudges and twin rust-colored stains over each knee. “I was working in the garden,” she explained, knowing she must look a fright.
“What garden? I don’t have a garden.”
She peeped up at him and said with a cheeky grin, “You do now.”
He studied her face. “You’re flushed. Did you overexert yourself?”
Lightly, she touched her skin feeling the radiating heat. “No, but your suns’ rays are intense; I think I got burned.”
“There is no think about it, mate. Come.” Whether she wanted to or not wasn’t up for debate because he caught her hand in his and pulled her along—something that was getting to be a habit—through the first floor, up the stairs, into their bedroom, and straight into the bath.
In two tugs, he had her dress over her head. He gave her a little nudge toward the tub as he called the order, “Fill tub, warm.” Trask also stripped and followed her in.
The water filled rapidly, the warmth soothing the ache from her sore body. It was deep, more so than the one on the ship, and, before it was half-full, she started to float. To keep her from drifting away, he pulled her back to his chest and wrapped his long legs around her from behind. He picked up her hand, frowning as he examined the small nicks and scratches on the back, and her destroyed manicure. His hum of concern turned to displeasure when he examined her palm and saw the blister which had popped up at the base of her middle finger from the shovel.
“I’m uncertain I approve of this hobby you’ve decided upon if it will cause so much damage,” he murmured as he pressed a gentle kiss to the irritated, swollen skin.
“Too late, I’ve claimed my little patch out back. The digging is done, so the worst part is over. Besides, I need something to do while you’re gone all day.” She angled her head and looked over her shoulder at him. “Unless you know of an active volcano nearby I could explore.”
“I think not.”
He said nothing else as he focused on her hands. From a wall dispenser, he got a large dollop of creamy soap then with infinite patience worked the rich lather over her abraded flesh. She settled against him, letting him take care of her, pleasantly surprised the light-scented soap cooled rather than stung the raw spots.
In a state of utter relaxation, she felt her eyes grow heavy, her mind easing as much as her body already was from the warm water that, strangely, despite the time they’d been in the tub, never seemed to cool. And his hands, that never seemed to stop touching, lightly stroked her skin and massaged her sore muscles which felt glorious.
“These streaks of black at your temples are new,” he murmured as he combed through her mane of thick hair with his fingers.
She’d noticed them this morning, only a few strands, and different from her natural shade as day and night.
“Do you think it will all turn black?”
“It’s hard to say. Your eyes are a mixture of you and me; perhaps your hair will be the same. I would miss the pale gold, but very much like seeing my mark upon you.”
They fell into a comfortable silence with Trask’s fingers ceaselessly stroking and soothing. She was on the verge of sleep when he whispered low in her ear, “We should get out, beautiful. You’ll be waterlogged as well as sunburned if we linger.”
“Must we? I’m pretty certain this is what heaven is like, and I’m not ready to fall back to Earth—um, I mean—Primaria.”
“Mmm,” he replied half hum, half chuckle before he relented. “Only a few minutes, no more.”
She rolled her head until her cheek lay against his water-slick chest, hearing the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear. It was hard to believe this warm, gentle, nurturing man was the same as the cold, angry one she’d seen outside.
“Your uncle, Aylan, was it? You aren’t close?”
“Quite the opposite. He raised me, along with Kerr after our fathers died. He’s listening to his brother and feeding off his persistent pessimism. Today wasn’t the first time one of them has come to me, and I am out of patience.”
“They want a different mate for you.”
“It is not for them to say. You are my lifemate; my uncles can accept it or deal with the heat of my anger should they mention it again.”
“I’d hate to be the cause of a rift between you.”
“You won’t be, sweet Lana. This will pass as the feverish excitement over the news subsides.”
“What news?”
He hesitated a beat too long for her liking, and the cold knot of dread tightened in her stomach. It was becoming a frequent companion, one that was most unwelcome.
“We learned two of your females are breeding.”
Water splashed over the edges onto the surrounding tile as she flipped over, facing him. “Who?” she demanded to know.
“Vardax and Krager’s mates.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t help me.”
“The two who now have their mate’s black hair.”
“Thora and Mailynn,” she whispered. “But it’s so soon. How do they know?”
“I asked the same question. Both were in the clinic due to illness, or so they thought. The scans revealed the true cause.”
She rolled onto her back, easing down into the water once more while trying to absorb this startling new development.
“That reminds me. Jarlan has requested you come to the clinic for additional testing.”
She twisted only her head this time when looking up at him. “Why? I’m not ill.”
“He wants to follow each human female closely.”
“For what?”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Don’t your physics live to poke and prod and ask an overabundance of questions?”
“They do.”
“Ours are no different.”
“Is this necessary? I’m not a fan of doctors. I saw enough of them after the accident when I was young.”
His smile faded, and his expression softened with sympathy. He raised a hand to her cheek and traced a warm, wet line along her jaw. “I can only imagine what you endured back then, but this shouldn’t be anywhere near as bad. They need to know as much as they can about your kind. Learning what is normal will help them if something comes up later. They want to be prepared.”
This made perfect sense, although being tested and followed closely made her feel rather like a lab rat. She wasn’t happy about it but understood the need to be ready and have contingencies. Facing forward again, she grumbled, “This Jarlan must have been an Eagle Scout.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a youth program that teaches the merits of being prepared.”
He found this funny and chuckled softly. “You should relay this to Jarlan when you are in his med-bay. He will like being referred to as both youthful and prepared.”
“You aren’t going with me?”
“I thought Adria might accompany you. She is in physic training and knows how things work.” His hand, which had slid to the base of her throat when she turned, moved to her jaw, and tipped her face up to his. “If you're frightened, I will arrange to be free and escort you myself.”
“I said I wasn’t a fan of doctors, not that I was scared.” Gazing up at him, finding his sweet concern sexier than his finger-combed wet hair and spiky lashes, she shook her head. “Although I’d like for you to be with me holding my hand, it isn’t necessary. I’m a big girl.”
“Not from my vantage point.” He dipped his head to kiss the tip of her nose. “From here, you’re small, soft, and precious, my paulova. I’ll accompany you.”
She sighed as his lips moved to her cheek, the featherlight caress and the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. As her body stirred, she forgot the stiffness of her muscles.
“You have to work, Trask. I’ll be fine on my own.”
He dragged her body the length of his until they were face-to-face, her mouth level with his, and her breasts, the nipples in achy hard peaks, pressed flat against his chest. “Are you certain? You are my priority.”
“I’m certain,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to his mouth. This close, all she had to do was pucker up for a kiss. Instead, she licked her lips.
His voice became husky with his reply. “I’ll arrange an escort and have my sister meet you there.”
“Also, unnecessary. I know where the clinic is.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, big girl, remember?” She wished he would kiss her already and was on the verge of taking charge and doing it herself.
“If you are certain.” His arms flexed, moving her the fraction of an inch needed for their lips to touch. “Are you too sore from toiling in the dirt for me to have you?”
“No.”
“You’d tell me if you were?”
“Probably not.” She smiled, seeing the tiny laugh lines bracketing his eyes when they crinkled in response.
“Straddle my hips.” Without an instant of hesitation, she moved her legs outside his at the same time he lifted her by the waist and brought her down onto him in a long, hot glide. He slipped his hands under her knees then up the backs of her thighs to her ass. With a cheek resting in each palm and her legs draped over his forearms, he stood. Water poured off them in sheets, and, without its buoyancy to support her, gravity forced her down on his cock until he planted full to the hilt in her belly.
Lana linked her hands behind his neck and hung on as he mounted the steps and climbed out of the pool. His back found a nearby wall, and, with his hands clamped onto her backside, he moved her up and down, using only his arm strength to fuck her. With it slowly building in the bath, no, since their last joining, she couldn’t control her outcry of desire. Her breath came in long surrendering moans intermingling with his passion-filled groans.
Abruptly, he spun, and with her back against the wall, drove into her as his mouth, hot and hungry, latched onto her throat. She lasted another minute, no more, before she tightened around him, her arms, legs, and pussy clenching all at once, and she came hard, burying her face in his neck and the wet silk of his hair.
Trask, as usual, lasted longer. He hadn’t been digging in the dirt for hours or using muscles unaccustomed to so much activity. Despite this, with him thrusting inside her, driving hard, he tapped into stores of energy she didn’t know she had and sent her spiraling up to the summit of ecstasy once more. He raised his head and sealed his lips over hers, taking her mouth as thoroughly as he took her body, she came again.
Her mate followed, no more than a blink behind her this time, shooting hot hotly inside her while he growled his release down her throat.
Minutes later, while still semi-hard inside her, he carried her back into the pool. Efficient and quick, he bathed her, setting her limp and jelly-legged on the edge while he washed himself. Afterward, he dried her with a fluffy towel, his hands rubbing briskly all over her as she swayed on unsteady feet. Because she couldn’t have made it if she’d wanted to and would have passed out from exhaustion on the tile where she stood, Trask carried her once again, laying her in the center of the bed.
When he crawled in beside her, he didn’t bother with the thin cover, his body heat and the auto-regulating bed making it unnecessary, and he gathered her close, his arms and legs wrapping around her, which was better than any blanket.
Before she drifted off, in a moment of clarity in her post-coital fog, she came to the realization—whether barbarian or civilized man, lover or captor, lifemate or husband, in her heart, she’d fallen in love with her big, bossy, passionate general. With a sleepy smile on her face, she nestled deeper in his arms, not worrying about tomorrow and what other turmoil it would bring, for tonight nothing else mattered.
***
Adria joined them for the morning meal with the plan to walk with her to the clinic afterward. When Lana set a plate filled with fresh fruit, toast, and fluffy scrambled eggs in front of her, she looked up at her and grinned. “You can’t cook, eh?”
“Anyone can make eggs. Besides, your brother’s kitchen comes equipped with every conceivable modern gadget. All I have to do is press buttons.”
Trask, who’d been too busy wolfing down what was equivalent to three times the portion on his sister’s plate, took his last bite then wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Don’t let her fool you, Adri. She made something called a sand-wich last night; it was delicious.”
Lana smiled at him, trying to suppress a giggle over his compliment, that really wasn’t, but failed. “I don’t think a sandwich counts as cooking.”
He aimed a smile her way hot enough to melt her from the inside out then shocked a gasp out of his sister when he winked. “It tasted good, which is what’s important.” He stood and polished off the last of his awful black tea.
Pungent, bitter, without a granule of added sugar, she didn’t know how he stomached the vile stuff. Coffee was her drug of choice, and she’d been devastated to learn nothing came close to it in their world. After three years without a caramel latte or a mochaccino with a drizzle of chocolate on top—heck, she’d even take it black, which was better than nothing—she craved it as much as sex. Her eyes shot to Trask, on his way to the sanitizer with his cup. They naturally migrated to his firm butt in his snug black uniform pants, and she reconsidered; maybe, her coffee cravings were only half that of sex.
A throat clearing caught her attention. Adria, who'd apparently noticed where her eyes and thoughts had strayed, sat grinning at her over the rim of her cup. Being caught ogling her brother sent an unwelcome rush of heat to her cheeks.
“I’ll be home late; it’s training day.” Trask speaking near her ear made Lana jerk in surprise. “Sorry, mate,” he murmured more softly, his hands on her shoulders turning her toward him. “You’re still flushed,” he observed with a frown and traced a fingertip across her cheekbone. “Your sunburn couldn’t have gotten worse overnight. Are you sick? It’s fortunate you’re seeing the physic today. He can treat whatever this is early.”
“It’s too much Primarian sun, Trask. I’m fine.”
“Adri, ask Jarlan if there is something he can give her for that while you are there.”
“There is a cream that would help. I’ll suggest it.”
He nodded, though his concerned expression lingered when his eyes shifted from his sister, back to her. “I’ll assign Ram or Lothar to oversee the exercises today and will go with you.”
“Aren’t they newly mated, too?”
“Yes, but I planned to attend. They can survive the same separation I intended for myself.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“As your mate, what’s necessary is for me to say.”
She rolled her eyes—mercy sakes he could be arrogant. Her fingers rounded his wrists. Well, they were big, and she didn’t reach all the way, but she came close. She stood on tiptoe and lowered her voice, conscious of the fact Adria was taking this in. “Remember what we talked about last night, General? I didn’t regress to a ten-year-old child since then, and, last I heard, a sunburn isn’t fatal.”
One black brow arched sharply. “It sounds like you’re the one in need of reminding, mate. That didn’t sound at all respectful. And I don’t care for the way you cast your eyes at the ceiling when you’re impatient either. Perhaps a refresher lesson is due?”
Uh-oh. It would seem she’d crossed the line past assertive and stepped on his dominant toes. Time for damage control.
“I, uh, didn’t mean—”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Adria move in behind him. While shaking her head rapidly, she mouthed something Lana couldn’t make out.
“Leave us, sister,” Trask ordered. “Lana doesn’t need your help learning how to appease me.”
The girl looked at her, made a face then said very deliberately, “I’m sorry.” She also batted her long lashes before she did as she was told. “I’ll go wait in the next room.”
Lana watched her go.
“She’s about as subtle as a proton cannon,” he muttered, without taking his disapproving gaze from her face.
“Maybe, but I’m sure she meant well. She was trying to get me to apologize, which I was going to do, anyway.” She moved a hand to his chest and tipped her eyes to his. “I didn’t intend to be disrespectful, Trask, I’m just used to making decisions for myself. I’m sorry for my sarcastic tone. And rolling my eyes is a bad habit I’ve had since I was a kid. I’m sorry for that, too.”
He curled his fingers around hers, and a half smile crossed his face. “I was right. You didn’t need Adria’s help at all.”
“I’m not just apologizing to manipulate; I wouldn’t do that. I mean it.”
“I know, paulova, which is why I said you didn’t need her help.” He raised her fingers to his lips. “Stay with my well-meaning, sister, so you don’t get lost.”
“I will, but Trask?”
“Mm?” His hummed response tickled because he had flipped her hand over to kiss her palm.
Entranced watching his sexy mouth work its magic, she almost forgot what she planned to ask. “Exactly what did you mean by a refresher lesson?”
Warm eyes, more blue than green in the morning light, framed by long silky black lashes which were really unjustified on a man, tipped up to hers, before he caught her lips in a hard, quick kiss.
“I’ve got to go.”
“You’re not going to answer?”
With her hand in his, he walked to the door.
“Trask! No fair.”
“Adria!” he called down the hall.
“I’m here,” she said, stepping out of one of the seldom used front rooms.
“Jarlan is expecting my mate this morning. If you can’t get away to escort her home, buzz my transmitter and I’ll send a warrior.” He squeezed her hand. “This isn’t up for debate, Lana. You don’t know the city yet.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
With his hand cupping her cheek, he bent and kissed her, slow and soft and beautiful. He only raised his head a small fraction before he gave this answer against her lips. “No, but I’m getting to know you, and you were thinking it.”
She had to laugh because he was right. His half grin turned into a full smile, and a moment later he was gone.
“Thank you, Lana,” Adria murmured once they were outside, walking the few blocks to town.
“What for?”
“Making him happy. For too long we’ve had darkness, and despair, and very little hope.”
Tears filled her eyes as she glanced at the woman who on Earth would be the equivalent of her sister-in-law.
“Don’t start,” Adria warned, “or we’ll both be blubbering.”
Laughter floated up from Lana’s throat. “It’s amazing, as much as we are different, we’re also alike. We use the same term where I’m from.”
“I agree. To be from opposite ends of the universe and be so similar is truly remarkable.” She put her hand out, bringing them to a halt at the bottom of the stone steps of the capital center. “We’re here,” she said while passing her a square of soft woven fabric. “Dry your eyes or word will get back to Trask his mate was weeping in public and he’ll hold me responsible.”
Lana dabbed at her eyes and wiped her cheeks. When done, she looked up and asked, “Better?”
“Much. Now, we better get going if Jarlan is expecting you. Like most men, our physic doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
***
Adria stayed with her in the exam room until the physic arrived. But with the med-bay and hive of activity today, he put her to work elsewhere.
“But Trask requested I stay,” she argued while he essentially pushed her out the door.
“The general isn’t in charge here, Adria. She will be safe in my care, and I’ll arrange her escort home.”
His tone brooked no further debate, and with an apologetic glance her way, she hurried off. When the door closed behind her, and she was alone with the physic in the small examination room, he leaned back against the counter and studied her.
“I see your fair skin has fallen victim to our twin suns, I’ll give you a preventative cream to soothe the burn, but you’ll have to be cautious from now on.”
“I had the same problem at home, so I’m used to taking precautions.”
“I could call you General Trask’s mate,” he said, with a kind smile, “but I’ve learned human females prefer a first-name basis, as long as it’s their own.”
She imagined that would bother some of the others, but she didn’t mind it so much.
“Please call me Lana.”
“And I am Jarlan, the lead physic. I treated you aboard the Reliant on the journey here, but Trask tells me your memories haven’t come back yet.”
“I had hoped when the other symptoms passed they might return, but I remember only bits and pieces from the morning after the capture until I awoke in Trask’s stateroom on the ship hours later. He filled me in on the details, but not having my own memories is very disconcerting.”
“I imagine. No further headaches and stomach upset?”
“None.”
“Good, good,” he murmured as he picked up a handheld device that looked very much like a tablet. His fingers flew over the touch screen, pausing now and then to study one thing or another. Then he nodded. “I won’t keep you long. The samples I'll take today, and in the coming months, will help me monitor your adjustment to our environment. I like to use a proactive approach with a focus on prevention of problems and early identification of health issues should they arise.”
“Trask explained; I understand.”
He moved across the room and opened a recessed wall cabinet. “You’re not squeamish about blood, are you?”
“I’d prefer to keep it on the inside where it belongs and I don’t have to see it.”
“Understood,” he said with a chuckle. “We don’t use needles like I’m told you do on Earth, but the device can be intimidating. It won’t hurt. However, you may want to close your eyes.”
That didn’t sit well with her, and she was on the verge of changing her answer about an upset stomach when he approached with what looked like a weapon in his hands.
“Are you sure it won’t hurt?” she squeaked.
“It isn’t as bad as it looks. I’ll place it over the large veins in the bend of your arm, and—” He stopped. “You’ve become pale; perhaps you should lie down.”
She shook her head, held out her arm and closed her eyes. “Could you do it fast and not talk about it? If you do, I might not get sick all over your floor.”
He gripped her wrist, she felt something cold on her skin, and then a rush of warmth accompanied a faint whooshing sound.
“All done.”
She opened her eyes when he released her. He’d gone back to the counter, already, his back to her, the phlebotomy gun out of sight, thank goodness.
“That’s amazing. It didn’t even hurt.”
“As I told you. I’ll want you to check in every few months, but I’ll remind Trask when it’s time.”
More doctors, more blood. Just great.
“I’ll summon a warrior to escort you home.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes, for now.” He gathered his sample and the tablet, and with a nod, was gone.
Left alone, Lana climbed up on the table again to wait.
Time dragged, and becoming impatient, she got up to pace.
When an hour passed, and no one came for her, she figured she’d been forgotten. She went to the door and peeked out. The hallway was crowded and men in the black-and-white medical tunics were rushing every which way. She ventured out, and no one seemed to notice.
She stopped one man and asked about her escort. He looked at her in surprise, appearing a bit flustered before he rushed off saying he would check. He never returned either.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, heading for the main door. “I can walk a few blocks on my own.”
Leaving without anyone saying a word, she walked out of the clinic area and down another busy hall to the doors where she and Adria had come in. Outside, she was down the stairs on strolling down the sidewalk in minutes.
It was a beautiful day, sunny and a perfect 75 degrees by her estimate. With only more gardening awaiting her at home, she veered off her path to a park across the street. She took in the manicured grass and flower beds bursting with color, and the startling though beautiful blue and yellow trees lining the perimeter. She found a bench and settled in to people watch.
Beyond the park was a row of busy shops with men and women going about their business like any small town back home. Noticeably absent in the scene were children. In the time she sat there she only saw one, a boy. She felt for Trask and Adria, and the others who had suffered such loss.
As she sat there, lost in thought, a parade could have tromped by without her knowledge. It took a shadow crossing her face and blocking out the sun to draw her back to the here and now.
“He lets you out alone.”
The sun was behind the back of the woman in front of her, casting her face in shadow. Lana threw up a hand to block the glare but didn’t have to see her to know her identity. “Eryn!”
“Hartman,” she said in a hard voice and took a seat on the bench next to her. “It appears you’ve drunk their alien Kool-Aid as well.”
“What?”
“You’ve obviously embraced your Primarian captor, and all is good in your world.”
She frowned at her accusatory tone. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Really? Where is your guard?” She jerked her head toward the warrior who stood nearby. “You move about freely; he must trust you for a reason.”
Immediately on the defensive, Lana threw out an arm toward the capital center behind them, the hub of power for Ariad and the entire planet. Considering their Princep lived there, and the ruling council met there, it was like the White House and Supreme Court rolled into one.
“Have you looked around to see where we are?”
“I know precisely where we are, and who they are, but that doesn’t mean I’ve rolled over and accepted this as my fate.” As her voice rose, the guard shifted. Eryn stiffened and faced front, speaking to her in a harsh whisper, low enough so the warrior wouldn’t hear. “Good God, Lana, what is wrong with all of you? We have a mission to complete and a duty to our people. It’s like in your sex-drunken state, you’ve forgotten our lives before coming here.”
“What do you expect us to do? There are so many unknowns; we don’t know how things work, how they communicate, or their security. And if we did, there is still one essential piece of the puzzle missing; we don’t have a ship. Lack of opportunity doesn’t mean I’m a traitor, Eryn.”
The chief stared back at her as if she’d grown horns and sprouted a tail until, abruptly, her expression changed. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
Wrapping her hand around Lana’s upper arm, she stood and pulled her to her feet. She moved them both toward a small grouping of trees several feet away, and farther from the guard.
“Where are you going, female?” her guard barked. “You will not leave my sight.”
“Calm down, warden,” she shot back as she twisted toward him. “We are light skinned and don’t do well in the heat of your twin suns. We’re moving into the shade, not perpetrating an escape.”
He grunted, stalked to the end of the bench they’d vacated, but stopped there.
“Damn shadow,” Eryn grumbled, while turning back. When she continued, she pitched her voice low, so he couldn’t overhear. “Eight against their numbers is daunting, I agree, but we number three hundred as of today.”
“What? How?” Lana exclaimed.
The fingers on her arm tightened. “Keep it down,” she insisted. “The bastards went after the Odyssey and took the others captive. The few they already had weren’t up to the task of global re-population, evidently.”
“No. They wouldn’t.”
“How can you say that? They took us, what’s a few more when they have males needing mates.”
“Trask didn’t say a word.”
“And why would he tell his captive of his plans? He only needs you to spread your legs and spawn his children.”
Lana pulled her arm free and faced her chief. Beautiful, with bright-blue eyes and porcelain skin, she didn't look the part, but was a soldier, through and through, and tough as nails. As angry and belligerent as she was, her time with one of their dominant warriors couldn’t have been easy, but that wasn’t Lana’s experience. “I saw the collar, Eryn. It was awful, and I can only imagine what you’ve been through, but Trask doesn’t see me that way. He is kind; he wouldn’t—”
She cut Lana off by catching her chin and forced it up, searching her face—specifically, her eyes.
She dropped her hand and stepped back, a look of despair crossing her features. “You’ve changed.” As suddenly, her mouth took on an unpleasant twist, and she didn’t lower her voice for her parting shot. “Which tells me you have accepted a lot more than your fate. I hope his cock is worth fucking over the entire human race.”
Tongue-tied by her crude condemnation, she could only stare as her chief walked away, her guard dogging her heels.
“Lana!”
Hearing her name coming from the opposite direction, she glanced over to see Adria hurrying her way. “Thank the Maker I found you. We’ve been looking everywhere. Why did you leave?”
“I needed air. After waiting for an hour in that tiny room, I was getting claustrophobic.”
She hesitated, staring at her in confusion. “I don’t know what that is.”
“The walls were closing in,” Lana explained.
“If you have such an ailment, I can’t imagine how you survived three years in space.”
“The Odyssey was a lot bigger than the closet you call an exam room, Adria.”
“Trask mentioned it was a small ship; I assumed…” She held up her hand. “We don’t have time to discuss claustro-whatever now. The clinic is in chaos today. It delayed things longer than acceptable, still, you should have told someone instead of leaving without saying a word.”
It dawned on Lana why Jarlan never came back and sent Adria off to help, and why the technicians were all in a tizzy. The clinic was busy processing the nearly three hundred additional members of her crew.
“Jarlan was in a panic and ready to alert Trask. We better get you back before he does.” She grabbed her wrist and pulled her along behind her, much like her brother often did.
“If he’s so busy, why can’t I just go home?”
“Because he told Trask he’d watch out for you and get someone to take you home. And, because he’s the lead physic. He treats the Princep’s family and all the leaders personally, including the general. You didn’t wait as he instructed, so now you’ll have to soothe his ruffled feathers and beg his forgiveness.”
“Didn’t you hear how long he kept me waiting? He should be the one begging my pardon.” They reached the stairs, Adria taking them too fast for Lana to keep up. “Can you slow down, please? You’re almost as bossy as your brother, and, like him, forget I’m not over six feet tall and don’t have legs a mile long.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, adjusting her pace, though not by much. “But I’m trying to keep you out of trouble. You don’t want him to tell Trask, or you’ll be apologizing to two irritated males.”
Lana doubted that in either case. She was angry at Trask for keeping the news of the Odyssey’s capture from her, and Jarlan could get over himself. “Your females do a lot of ass-kissing I’ve noticed,” she muttered between panting breaths.
“What’s that?”
“Soothing ruffled feathers,” she said more loudly, “and apologizing.”
Adria shrugged. “We’ve found it’s easier to let them think we’re complacent then go about doing what we want anyway—within reason.”
“You manipulate them, while they keep you under their thumb. Doesn't that get old?”
This time she stopped and turned. With Adria more than a half foot taller, Lana always had to look up, but with her standing one step higher, she had to crane her head back to meet her eyes.
“I can see how it might seem that way to an outsider, but just because our ways differ from yours, doesn’t mean they are wrong. Our males can be domineering, especially our warriors, that isn’t in question, but they are also caring and staunchly loyal.”
The very definition of wrong was holding captive three hundred females who were free people, but she didn’t debate that with her. She’d reserve argument and outrage for the general of the Primarian Army.
Instead, she countered, “Don’t they have to be loyal once mated?”
“Yes, we were endowed with a foolproof system to ensure fidelity.”
“A blistered you-know-what will do that, I’m sure.”
She smiled, cheeks pinkened. “I was referring to the mating fire. With an inextinguishable desire for your lifemate why would you ever think to stray? Also inherent to the males of our species is a need to protect and our women to nurture. Neither is a bad thing as both are necessary for our survival. When the tragedy occurred, both instincts intensified because we were helpless to do what was ingrained in us. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” Lana couldn’t fathom what it would be like to lose so many at one time, and then to suffer through the long, painful aftermath. “Your tragedy has gone on for two decades.”
Her lips curved into a sad half smile. “We overlook their domineering ways because they are determined to keep us safe from anything so horrible again. In return, they bend when they can because we need something to plug the vast hole in our lives.”
Children, something “unlikely” for her and Trask. Adria couldn’t know how close to home her words hit.
The utter sadness of her tale and the pain in her eyes stirred Lana’s already-raw emotions from all she’d discovered today—check that, all she’d discovered in the past hour. The tears bubbling beneath the surface welled up and overflowed.
Adria moved down to her step and clasped her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn't intend to lecture, and I certainly didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s all so heartbreaking.”
“Yes, it was an awful time. I didn’t experience it directly, but I lost my mother, and my chance to be a mother. But you give us hope of a future, Lana. Through you, I will have the chance to love and spoil my brother’s children and see our next generation blossom. And ultimately, Primaria will flourish once again, which is truly a blessing.”
The knowledge that Adria would probably never see those children or experience that joy was like a hand reaching into her chest and yanking out her heart. If she didn’t have one, this would be so much easier to bear.
She cleared her throat to keep from choking on her words. “For someone so young, who has lost so much, you’ve kept a remarkable optimism.” She tried to lighten the moment by adding, “Except when it comes to gardening, that is.”
Her smile flashed, so much like Trask’s it was uncanny. “Does being gloomy and negative get us anywhere? No. Besides, I was raised to think positively, and to never give up, even when fate drops adversity in your lap instead of good fortune.” She nudged her with a hip. “My big brother taught me that.”
She didn’t even try to fake a smile. Adria had given her the answer, using words similar to Trask’s. Because he was the honorable man he was, he’d take the mate dropped in his lap and try to make something positive out of it.
“Come on. We need to get back inside. And try not to dwell on the sadness of my story. You look like someone shot your pet purrada, and that surely will get back to Trask.”
Feeling physically ill, she let Adria lead her by the hand back into the med-bay. When Jarlan readily accepted her apology then insisted on running a few more tests, Lana knew she looked as bad as she felt.