Being in a host that wasn’t fighting him was a completely new experience for Reeve J’lorn. Oh, sometimes he could sneak in—come into someone’s mind when they were sleeping and plant suggestions or dreams—but most of the time that woke them up and they started fighting. They sensed the other inside their skull at once and a soul’s immediate impulse when they felt a foreigner taking over was to fight—it was only natural.
Harryx Parokk’s mind felt like the mind of someone who is deep asleep—so deep Reeve could hardly even feel him. He poked gently at his host but Harryx didn’t even stir. Good. Reeve felt a cautious surge of optimism—this was going to make his job so much easier.
All he had to do now was give a passable imitation of the real General Harryx Parokk, get into the inner war room to destroy the wormhole plans and device, if they had built one, and then fly back to his own body, which was being guarded and nourished in a locked room inside the main med center of the Mother Ship, several light years away.
Easy money, Reeve told himself. And a whole fucking lot of it. Commander Sylvan had promised him a king’s ransom for this little plot. Apparently the other Kindred, really didn’t want the Hascions spreading to the rest of the universe. Could they really be that bad? Reeve supposed he would find out.
But first things first—he had to convince the healers he was well and get out of their med center—or “House of Healing” as the Hascions called it.
He stopped perusing his host’s mind—which resembled an orderly bank of computers with a single view screen and keyboard—and came forward, taking control of the body.
Looking out through Harryx’s eyes, the first thing he saw was a beautiful young woman. Although how he could tell she was beautiful, Reeve would have had a hard time explaining.
She was swathed in long white robes which covered her from neck to ankles and she wore a veil which hid most of her face—a lacy white thing which concealed all but her eyes and hair.
But what hair it was—long and waving, it flowed down her back like a waterfall of gold and silver. Reeve thought he had never seen hair like that—it looked like silk—like someone had taken sunshine and moonbeams and woven them together in a glorious mass.
The next minute he had to mentally shake himself.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Reeve? Get hold of yourself and figure out who she is, he ordered himself.
Going back to his host’s mind, he accessed the keyboard and began to type an inquiry.
The setup of Harryx’s mind wasn’t at all unusual, in his extensive experience. Most people had some kind of information filing system—he was just grateful that the Hascion general didn’t have a bunch of untidy boxes filled with scraps he’d have to dig through for answers. The computer set up was much preferable.
Still, it did mean he had to ask the right questions. He tried searching for a list of people who might visit Harryx if he was sick but nothing came up. Then he tried cross-referencing that criteria with any women Harryx might know with gold and silver hair.
At that, something did pop up—a list. But it wasn’t a list of people, Reeve saw, frowning—it was a list of possessions—things Harryx owned.
Domicile, vehicle, clothing, appliances, wife…holy shit, was this beautiful little female Harryx’s wife? If so, why didn’t he have a separate listing for her instead of just jamming her into a list of things he considered to be his?
Reeve tried inputting “wife” as the search criteria. A surprisingly small list rose to the viewscreen in Harryx’s mind.
Name—Nallah. Bought 3 years ago. Rebellious—must be constantly put in her place.
This last item made Reeve frown. He might be a black-hearted pirate who was reviled and virtually exiled from the rest of his kind but he was still a Kindred. Which meant he didn’t believe in cruelty toward females or in trying to force them to feel lower than a male. Only a small, petty male did such a thing in his estimation. Was Harryx such a male?
Further searches turned up nothing on this subject except that Harryx felt justified in doing whatever it was he did to his wife—to Nallah. He was, after all, the head of the household with the God-King given right to rule it as he saw fit.
Lessons from the Patriarchy, Reeve thought dryly. He had heard that Earth females called Kindred “feminists” but the word wasn’t exactly the truth, as far as Reeve was concerned. A male shouldn’t consider himself a feminist just because he felt a female was his equal—that should be the normal state of things in the first place.
Males who could only feel big and important by making females feel frightened and small were lower than dirt. Insignificant and insecure, as far as Reeve was concerned. Why else would they feel the need to puff themselves up and act better than their female counterparts?
It was a mystery to him but this wasn’t the first time he had seen it and it probably wouldn’t be the last. For right now, he had to concentrate on meeting Nallah for the first time…while not letting on that it was, in fact, his first time greeting her.
“Nallah,” he said to her, sitting up. “Hello.”
Her eyes, which had been downcast as she stared at her hands twisting in her lap, suddenly jerked up at the sound of his host’s voice—which was a deep baritone, not that different in tone and timbre than Reeve’s own.
Reeve’s own eyes widened—or the eyes of his host did anyway—when he saw her. Her eyes were like honey—golden and sweet and almond-shaped. They tilted up exotically and that, combined with her river of gold and silver hair, made her fucking gorgeous.
He wondered briefly if the rest of her face could possibly be as lovely as the eyes and hair. What was behind that opaque white veil which hid her from the nose down? Did all women on Hascion Five hide their faces this way or was it some kind of mourning ritual she’d been doing because she thought her husband was dead or dying?
“Nallah?” he asked again, wanting to be certain she was who he thought she was.
“My…my husband,” she faltered at last, her soft, sweet voice sounding breathless and surprised. “I didn’t expect…that is, they—the doctors and the sister-nurses said—they…” She trailed off, obviously uncertain of what to say.
“They probably said I was never coming back, huh?” Harryx asked, giving her a wink. “Well, looks like they were wrong. How about if we call one now so I can get the hell out of here?”
From her blank stare, he gathered that he might have overplayed his part a bit. But he was trying to talk to her in an easy, casual way as any husband might speak to a beloved wife. Maybe he should tone it down a little?
Just then a woman dressed all in black, as Nallah was dressed in white, came bustling into the room. She was carrying a tall, fluted glass with a delicate china handle on the side. Steam was rising from the blue liquid inside.
“Now, dearie,” she said to Nallah. “I thought maybe some hot bubo tea might help you feel better so I—” She stopped with a gasp when she noticed Reeve sitting up in bed. The glass in her hand fell and shattered on the floor spilling blue liquid and glass shards everywhere.
There was a breathless silence and then both women sprang into action.
“Forgive me, General Parokk!” the older woman in black exclaimed. “Please forgive this worthless old woman!”
“Yes, please forgive her,” Nallah echoed, her golden eyes going wide with fright. “I’ll help her clean it up—it won’t take a moment, my husband!” She turned to the old woman. “Quickly, sister—where are your cleaning supplies?”
“I…I will bring some at once.” Nervously the old woman hobbled out of the room while Nallah grabbed a piece of cloth from the bed and bent to soak up as much of the spreading blue liquid as she could.
Goddess, Reeve thought, watching uneasily. They’re acting like they just committed some unforgivable offense. Was it something to do with the med center policy or were they genuinely afraid he had been offended?
“It’s all right,” he said to Nallah, not liking her panicked response to such a minor incident. “It’s just a spill.”
It seemed to take a moment for his words to sink in but when they did, Nallah looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
“Just…just a spill?” she said, her voice wavering.
Reeve shrugged. “It happens. It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“Sweet…sweetheart?” Nallah was looking at him as though he was speaking a different language. Did her husband not call her loving nicknames? Reeve knew if he had been blessed to have a mate he would certainly have said sweet things to her. But no female of repute wanted to be mated to a “snatcher” so he’d ruled that possibility out long ago.
Just then an important looking male wearing a long white and red striped jacket came into the room.
“What’s this!” he exclaimed. “I thought old Sister Yerga was having a brain blot but it seems you really are awake.”
“You must be my doctor, er—healer,” Reeve said, giving the other man a hearty smile.
“Yes, yes—Head Healer Gormox at your service, General Parokk. How are you feeling?”
“Perfectly fine.” Reeve declared, sitting up straight and throwing out his shoulders. “Thank you for taking such good care of me after my injury.”
“Well, it’s no trouble at all—especially seeing that you’re so high in the rankings. We’re always honored to treat those in the Inner Circle.” Head Healer Gormox inclined his head graciously. “Now we have several tests we’d like to run just to be certain—”
“No testing necessary, thank you, Healer,” Reeve interrupted him. The less scrutiny he received the better. He didn’t want anyone taking too close a look at his host and realizing it wasn’t really Harryx Parokk doing the talking.
“But—” The Healer looked confused.
“I feel perfectly fine and I’ve wasted too much time already being sick,” Reeve declared. “I need to get back to work at once.”
He slid off the bed, being careful not to step in the puddle of blue tea which Nallah was still working industriously to mop up and held out his hand to the healer.
“Thank you so much again for all your care, Head Healer Gormox. But now I think Nallah and I should be getting home.” He looked down at himself—he was wearing a blue hospital gown. Well that wouldn’t do. He scanned the room. “Can someone please get me my clothes? I don’t want to wear patient garb outside the Healing House.”
“Oh, of course, my husband!” Nallah swept the last of the glass shards together with the blue-soaked towel and jumped up as though she’d been stung. Quickly, she went to rummage in a storage locker at the side of the room and came back with a severely cut green uniform jacket, some long black trousers that flared at the knees, and tall black boots encrusted with semiprecious stones.
Reeve stared at the outfit doubtfully. Was his host some kind of a dandy or was this kind of sparkling footwear a part of the Hascion uniform? Well, whichever it was, he had no choice but to put it on.
“Wait,” the Head Healer blustered, as Reeve took the clothes from Nallah. “Please, General Parokk! We must be certain that you’re all right. Now there are several mandatory tests which I must insist—”
“I feel fine,” Reeve said heartily. “I cannot be bothered with tests when I have important matters to attend to for the Inner Circle.” He frowned at the healer. “Or do you wish me to call some members of the Circle to talk to you about your, uh, bedside manner?”
The threat worked as he had hoped it would. Head Healer Gormox backed off in a hurry.
“Oh…no, no,” he exclaimed. “I think…you seem to be perfectly fine. I’m sure you can return to your duties with no trouble—no trouble at all.”
“Thank you.” Reeve nodded his head graciously. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish dressing in private.” He took the boots and the bundle of clothes Nallah had provided and swept into what he hoped was the fresher before closing the door firmly behind him.
* * * * *
Nallah stared after her husband, not sure what to think. What was going on with Harryx? He had woken up so suddenly, just as she had been praying that he would never wake up. She had been certain it was some kind of punishment from the God-King for her disrespectful and blasphemous thoughts. But then, instead of beating or berating her or simply just ignoring her—as he often did—Harryx was…nice. Actually nice.
He hadn’t even gotten upset when the old sister-nurse had spilled the bubo tea and broken the glass. Normally such an instance of female clumsiness would have sent him into a towering rage. Instead, he had passed it off as an accident. And he had called her “sweetheart.” Sweetheart!
Harryx had never called her any kind of sweet endearment before, such as some men used for their wives. Even on their wedding day, he had simply taken her hand and stared hard at her and said, “You’re mine now, wife. I expect you to do as I say with no complaints.” Not once had he said he loved or cared for her or called her anything but “wife.”
So what in the Heavens was going on?
Nallah had no answers—she felt as stunned as the Head Healer looked. Harryx had certainly had no problem putting him in his place so it wasn’t as though her husband had forgotten how to be threatening. Just for some reason, he wasn’t extending that threat to her.
What was happening?
Probably nothing, she told herself uneasily. Harryx is probably just disoriented from being in a coma for so long. Once he wakes up fully and becomes more himself, things will revert to the way they were.
The way they were… the words echoed in her heart like the tolling of a great bell, filling her with dread. The beatings and abuse…the chronic anger and cold silences…and most of all the submissions. She would have to submit to him tonight, as she always did. Hopefully he would just use her mouth which wasn’t so bad. But in a few days from now…
The Ritual of Procreation! We’ll have to go to the temple—we’ll be forced to perform!
Nallah put her head in her hands. It was the one day a year she dreaded the most. The time when all married couples—from those of the highest, most exalted status to the lowest of the low had to go to the temple of the God-King and give an offering of sex before the priests to prove they were doing their best to add workers for the glory of the Father Land.
Of course, since Harryx was in the Inner Circle, they would at least be given a private room and the priests would watch from behind slits in the walls but still, it was going to be awful. It always was. Harryx was especially rough and harsh with her during the ritual, as though proving that he was doing his very best to impregnate her.
Nallah had been through the Ritual of Procreation three times already, since she and Harryx had been married for three years, and she knew from experience that it would be humiliating and painful and she would ache inwardly for days afterwards.
Why? she thought despairingly as she stared at the closed door of the necessary room Harryx had gone into to change. Why couldn’t he have stayed in the coma for just a few more days? Why did he have to wake up in time for this year’s ritual?
Again she had no answers. With a heavy heart, she finished cleaning up the mess from the spilled and shattered cup and dumped the glass shards and the stained towel into the trash receptacle.
There was nothing she could do but get on with her life. Nothing she could do but submit and hope her husband wouldn’t hurt her too much the next time he got angry.