Mine. No one else will have her. Everything Arak had believed about humans had shattered the instant he laid eyes on Caitlyn Meadows. His body, his marrow, his cells, his DNA vibrated with hunger both base and sublime.
He wanted her, this fragile human female whose brave front stirred lust and protectiveness. Her fear encouraged him to protect her then fuck her senseless, perhaps proving her wariness was justified after all.
If her sole emotion had been fear, he might have backed off, but the delicate scent of her arousal wafted off her like a seductive perfume. She desired him, too. Would she be as fiery as her flame-colored hair? He did relish a challenge, which she’d presented right from the start.
Caitlyn wasn’t who she represented herself to be. The video camera in her necklace was laughably obvious, and he’d noticed the transceiver attached to her ear before she dropped it, slipped up, and spoke to “Mike.” She was up to something. He would find out what—and then he would have her.
“Your pendant is quite pretty,” he said.
“This?” She touched the necklace, covering the camera lens. Her partner on the other end of the earpiece cursed.
Arak stifled a grin.
She folded her hands in her lap. “T-thank you.”
“Family heirloom?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Yes…it, uh, belonged to my grandmother.”
“You two must have been very close.” Before he’d called her into his office, he’d done some quick research. Caitlyn didn’t have grandparents—that she knew, anyway. She’d been abandoned as an infant, left in a trash dumpster, discovered by a homeless man who’d notified authorities. Raised in the human foster care system, she’d been shuttled to a dozen homes before reaching the legal age of eighteen. His blood boiled at the outrage of someone tossing out a helpless infant. Humans had perpetrated great cruelty against their own species—perhaps explaining why they feared the Krinar: they assumed the Ks would act as they did. No K had ever abandoned a child.
Despite his resistance to having a shadow, learning of Caitlyn’s tragic childhood had softened him toward her. And, once he’d seen her, the craving had hit…
She wet her lips and dropped her gaze to her hands. “Yes, my grandmother and I were very close.”
She was a terrible liar. Perhaps he shouldn’t desire someone who fabricated blatant falsehoods, but, despite the deception, he sensed goodness, kindness. Sweetness, almost innocence, a rare trait on Krina, and even rarer on Earth.
From his quick investigation he’d discovered she’d been hired by the City of Los Angeles less than a month ago. Had the mayor’s office wired her? His gut told him no. Until he knew why she was here, he’d have to be especially discriminating about what he allowed her to see.
She rubbed her hands together. “I hope I’m not keeping you from your work.”
“Not at all,” he said. “Perhaps you’d like to tour the building?”
“That would be nice, but I don’t want to trouble you. I’m supposed to be a shadow, to blend in and observe.”
And hope I forget you’re here? “You’re way too beautiful to blend in,” he said.
“You flatter me.” She ducked her head and blushed, pale skin turning pink and obliterating the freckles dusting her cheeks and nose like speckles of brown sugar. When he got her naked, he would taste each one, and then taste her.
“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”
She looked up and raised her hand. “Please, Mr. Arak. I don’t wish to offend you, but your comment makes me uncomfortable.”
“Arak,” he said. “We only have one name. We don’t have surnames. I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. Since we’ll be working together, may I call you Caitlyn?”
“All right.”
He rose to his feet. “Come.” He gestured. “I’ll give you that tour now.”
* * * *
“Oh, he’s a smooth one.”
Shut up, Mike. Her producer’s commentary hadn’t ceased since Arak had called her into his office. It drove her crazy to have him yammering as she tried to carry on a conversation and stay on her toes. Her producer was right about one thing, though; the K was as smooth as chocolate silk. His gaze had been intense, and his tone sincere sounding, but no one had ever called her beautiful.
Cute was what they said if they commented on her appearance at all. “Nice personality” was what they usually said. Everyone knew what that meant—no raving beauty. Denying facts didn’t alter them. Wishing couldn’t give her the childhood and loving family she’d never had. The best way to survive was to play the hand you’d been dealt.
Arak gestured, and she rose to her feet, releasing a relieved sigh. Though he’d positioned himself on the opposite end of the three-seater sofa, that had still put him too near. His hand, only inches from her shoulder, had ignited tingles of awareness. His eyes, green one moment, golden the next, had seemed almost predatory as he’d focused on her.
It’s not directed at me. That’s the way the Ks are. She hoped.
Arak guided her with a light, fleeting, impersonal touch that somehow seared through her clothing to her skin, triggering a wave of sexual arousal. To her horrified embarrassment, her nipples had beaded, and she felt herself grow wet. Note to self: wear a T-shirt bra tomorrow. And a jacket. Maybe a winter coat, too.
She’d look silly all bundled up in July, especially in the ambient temperature of the K Tech building. It wasn’t freezing like so many offices were. If this was an example of advanced technology, heating and air specialists could learn something from them.
Though Arak’s office door appeared normal, it melted away to allow them to pass through then closed again. He stopped in front of the receptionist’s desk. Unfamiliar symbols floated in the air as she typed on her virtual reality keyboard. Caitlyn inched closer so the pendant could record the image, but the receptionist waved her hand, and the words and keyboard disappeared.
“Almost had it,” Mike said.
“Omacia, I’m going to give Caitlyn a tour. If Korum or another Councilor should need me, patch them through, but, otherwise, hold all communications.”
“Certainly.” She smiled.
“Yowsa,” Mike said. “She’s a looker.”
Caitlyn wished she could reach through her hidden camera and smack him, but he was right. If K men were extraordinarily handsome, the women were beautiful. How can I compete?
Competition? What competition? She was an investigative journalist with a job to do. She had no desire to attract a K’s attention. Just the opposite. If a K did approach her, she would run screaming in the opposite direction.
Arak had been flattering her when he’d called her beautiful. Omacia proved it. The receptionist could have been a supermodel. Certainly, her clothing fit the bill. She wore a sheath-style dress that could have come off the runaway in Milan. How much did Krinar receptionists earn, anyway? Maybe I’m in the wrong profession…
Not. The world needed to know who and what these invaders were. She would get the truth or die trying. She gulped, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. The images aired on television of the Resistance fighters being fried to a crisp when they charged into the reactivated defense shields on Lenkarda had burned into her brain.
Force couldn’t defeat the Krinar, but maybe the truth could.
Arak ushered her out of the suite.
“Has Omacia worked for you very long?” she asked.
“About fourteen years,” he answered.
She frowned. “Back on Krina?”
“No, we came here together.”
“B-but the invas—” She broke off. It was probably best not to refer to the
“arrival” as an invasion in front of the invaders themselves. “You came only seven years ago.”
“That’s what people assume, but many of us have been here for a long while as observers. When the main contingent arrived seven years ago, we announced our presence. I’ve been here almost a decade and a half. Others have been here longer.”
“Holy shit!” Mike exclaimed. He’d been silent for so long, she’d forgotten he was there.
“Let’s go in here.” Arak gestured, and another door melted away. They entered a conference room. “You find our presence disturbing?” He looked at her.
“Not exactly,” she lied. “Omacia doesn’t seem old enough to have worked for you that long.” A round table floated in the center of the space. How did that work?
Amusement curved his mouth. “How old do you think she is?”
Caitlyn lifted her hand. “My age, maybe a year younger. So, twenty-two? But, that can’t be right.”
“She’s over nine hundred years old. In your Earth years.”
Nine centuries? She dropped her jaw.
Arak’s throaty, gravelly laugh set fire to every one of her erogenous zones. “Once we reach adulthood, we stop aging. I’m 1,056 years old.”
“Fuck me,” Mike said.
“I would have guessed around twenty-eight,” she responded in a small voice.
“Look.” Arak moved to the floating conference table. He waved his hand, and a lush, green garden blooming with exotic flowers appeared in the space over the table. A young, attractive couple who could have been starring in a perfume commercial strolled arm-in-arm along a meandering path. The man paused, picked a flower, and tucked it behind the woman’s ear. She smiled at him. It was easy to see how much they loved each other. “My parents,” Arak said.
“As they were years ago?”
“As they are right now. This is real time. They’re on Krina, in their garden.”
“But—your parents don’t look any older than you. You could be their sibling.”
He smiled. “My father is 350 years older than I am. My mother is 325 years older.”
“Get out,” Mike said.
No wonder the Krinar were so advanced. Look at the time they had for development. The odds of ever gaining an advantage seemed hopeless. Perhaps humans should forget resistance and reach acceptance. “We must seem like children to you,” she said.
“Unruly ones.” He grinned as if joking, but she suspected he spoke the truth—as he saw it, anyway. “What else would you like to see?”
“Lenkarda?” She’d heard of the center in Costa Rica.
With a wave of his hand, his parents and the garden disappeared, replaced by a thick jungle. It took her a moment to notice the oblong silos poking out of the trees. Arak panned over the scene, and it changed. Green and brown domed structures came into the view. Like the silos, they blended into the jungle as if part of it.
No wonder the Ks had managed to keep their presence secret. You would have to know what to look for to spot them in an airplane flyover. “Even your buildings are camouflaged,” she said.
“We don’t think of it as camouflage as much as assimilating with nature. You won’t find any harsh scars on Krina or Lenkarda. We don’t destroy living trees to create dead ones to build our structures.”
“What do you use for construction materials?”
He spread his arms. “The matter around us. Through nanotechnology, we can reorganize atoms to be what we need them to be. Would you like to sit down?” He waved. Air shimmered, coalescing into a glittery cloud, which solidified into a club chair.
“Abracadabra,” Mike said.
Arak tapped her chin with a gentle finger, and she realized she’d dropped her jaw again. She closed her mouth but continued to stare.
“Sit. Try it out,” he said.
“Yeah, sit down,” Mike said. She wished he’d nix the micromanaging commentary. As soon as she had a moment alone, they were going to have a talk. She could handle this assignment without play-by-play instructions.
It boggled her mind that an item that hadn’t been there ten seconds ago had magically appeared. Virtual reality could look real, but it had no substance. She glanced between Arak and the chair and then lowered herself, fearing she’d fall to the floor. Her butt met a solid, comfortable surface, and, within seconds, the chair conformed to the slope of her back as if it had been crafted for her. She gripped the arms and sat bolt upright.
Arak chuckled, his laughter rich and warm. “Is the chair not to your liking? You don’t look very comfortable.”
“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” So said science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke. Truer words never spoken.
The chair had wrapped around her body easier than her mind could wrap about the idea a piece of furniture had materialized with a wave of Arak’s hand. He produced a matching chair and sat next to her. “You’ll notice the chair is an Earth design, French, but nanotechnology created it. No animals were slaughtered for the leather, no trees were cut for the structural framework, no scars were gouged into the earth to mine iron for steel.” Arak gestured. “For the most part, we intend a parallel coexistence, but there is and will be some assimilation into your society. This building is an example. It looks twenty-first century, but its construction is nanotech. We will employ our technology to our mutual benefit without interfering with your social evolution.”
Since when? Should she pretend to buy his line of bull so maybe he’d tell her more? Or should she inform him she wasn’t some naïve, wet-behind-the-ears ingénue? Caitlyn nibbled her lip. His gaze went to her mouth before lifting, and yellow-green eyes blazed amber.
The heat suffused her from head to toe. The scent of man and woods filled her nose as if they’d been transported to that jungle in Costa Rica. Before she combusted, she focused on the round table and inhaled a deep breath. She’d never reacted to a man so strongly in her life. And he was a K. An invader. A possible vampire, if the rumors were true.
Pride spurred her words. She might be a thousand years younger than he, but she wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t appreciate being lied to. “Really? Your Council member Arus spoke on the news. He said your people had seeded our planet with DNA and, at certain points in our history, nudged us along. I’d call that interference with our evolution.”
Mike chortled. “You tell him, sister.”
Please, shut up. She and her producer were on the same side, but he annoyed the heck out of her. They’d done several undercover assignments together, but, until today, his chatter hadn’t bothered her. Of course, she didn’t remember him being quite so garrulous.
“I’d wondered how familiar you were with us.” Arak nodded. “We tinkered a bit to develop Homo sapiens, that’s true. But when your species reached a certain point and headed in the right direction, we stopped.”
She tilted her head. “Oh, so you think we’re headed in the right direction?”
Arak’s rumbling laughter threatened to undermine her animosity. She didn’t want him to be so, so…likeable. He had to remain the big, bad alien invader. Caitlyn scowled, and he laughed harder. She clung to her distrust and wariness but then lost her grip and giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Mike butted in, tempting her to yank the earpiece off and drop it into her purse. Let him talk to her hairbrush.
Arak extended his hand. “Come. It is lunchtime. I would like you to join me.”
More edict than invitation, his presumptiveness should have pissed her off, but, in some strange way, it made his personality more compelling, appealing. Masculine. Her assignment didn’t have to be distasteful to be effective, did it? If a rapport developed, he might let down his guard and reveal something important—like what was in those buildings on Lenkarda.
As long as I don’t drop my guard. Never happen. Her guard was as solid as the vault at Fort Knox. “I would like that, thank you,” she said.