Parallel Seduction (13 page)

"So you're issuing orders now?" Scott blinked up at her, slowly flexing his fingers. "To your commanding officer?"

She gave a single, brisk nod of her dark head. "Man down, sir. I'm next in command."

Closing his eyes, he clutched at his thigh and nodded. "Very well, Lieutenant."

J
ake surveyed the near-empty
highway that spread out like the great unknown, both north and south, a long swath of white in both directions. Their snowmobile guide had parked at a diner on the highway to Yellowstone, then with a cheery, "Yo, bro, just a few," had hopped out of their tour van, and gone inside to check with the rental company.

Hope had blinked up at Jake in the darkness as soon as it was only the two of them, the tick-tick-tick of the van's engine a perpetual question between them. "Why are we here? What do you want in the park? Why do you want me?" it seemed to ask, even as Hope didn't actually say a word beside him in the dark van.

Finally, unable to bear the silence another moment, Jake had bounded out onto the morning roadside, mostly dark except for the flashing neon of the diner's sign. That, and the first pink of dawn colored the horizon line, and as he puffed out clouds of smoke, he wondered if Hope could even see the sky's color. That thought made his chest tighten, the pain of it almost more than he could bear, as the landscape's raw beauty stirred something dead inside his soul. With a shake of his head, he returned to keeping an eye on their guide, watching him through the windows of the diner that did double duty as both restaurant and guide company. He kept waving his arms and talking animatedly, and while his behavior seemed unremarkable enough, Jake still felt suspicious. Maybe the guy just loved his job as a guide, or maybe he'd had one pot of coffee too much this morning, and that explained the way he was jawing it up with the man behind the desk. Or, maybe he was speculating about the suspicious nature of Jake's unplanned—and highly paid for—private tour inside Yellowstone this morning.

Of course, there were always logistics if you were going into Yellowstone in the middle of the winter, at least back in this time. Only a few hundred snowmobiles would be allowed within the park today, but even with that limit, you still couldn't go in without a guide. No way, no how. So Jake had arrived at this particular company, one of the smaller outfits, and essentially bribed them into guiding him in on a solo tour. They'd been booked for the day already, and it had taken more than eight hundred dollars to arrange for a private, all-day booking.

Yeah, well, the guide had no idea that he'd be offered even more money once they were
inside
the park so that Jake could go off trail. But he'd cross that proverbial bridge when he got to it. Money could be plenty compelling, especially back in this time, before the paper became as meaningless as the government creeds and images printed on it. Jake had been sure to stuff his jacket with plenty of the bills before stepping into the mitres, knowing that it would come in handy. After he'd arrived, he'd double-checked the dates on the bills against the current year, just to be sure he wouldn't tip his hand.

Reaching into the pocket of his parka, he fingered a thick roll of bills, and figured he could offer their guide, Randy, a hefty bribe once they were deep enough inside the park. Jake knew the paths to the mitres by memory: the way to navigate across frozen lakes and snow-draped landscape. What would normally amount to a harsh climb during the summer months was far easier in temperatures of negative ten degrees or lower and with a good base of powder. All you needed was a hard-driving snowmobile, which was precisely what he'd rented for the day.

Glancing far down each length of the highway, fairly sure that none of Jared's crew were onto them, Jake climbed back into the van. Hope glanced up at him, her gray eyes unfocused as she searched his face. "What's going on?" she asked as he settled onto the bench seat beside her.

"I think he's just checking on our sleds. We'll pick those up at the park entrance." He faced forward— anything to avoid looking into those beautiful, familiar eyes that had the power of the universe over him.

"So we're going where, exactly? Inside Yellowstone?"

"That's where the mitres chamber is located." She didn't seem surprised, and he figured Scott or someone else within the rebel faction had already told her as much.

She raked a shaky hand through her long blond hair. "You're going to try and use it to go back to your time."

He nodded, but then caught himself. She was right: He definitely wasn't used to her as a blind woman. Early on during their time together, the medics had reversed her retinopathy, restoring her vision. If only they'd taken care of everything else. If only they'd gone the distance, he thought, pressing his eyes shut against the heartbreaking memories of their shared past. He couldn't turn back time—not really—so it did no good to focus on what might have been … what should have been.

He turned to face her. "How's Chris?" he asked. Funny, but suddenly it wasn't just Hope he missed, but her entire family.

She jerked beside him in surprise. "My brother? What do you know about him?"

He had to laugh. "Chris Harper, your twin. What's he doing these days?"

"Chris is fine," she said, but there was protective caution in the words. The woman still didn't believe he meant her no harm, even as she'd taken an insane leap of trust to come along with him.

"How about Laurie? Michael? Your parents?" There—if he named her family members, made it clear how much he really did know about her life, maybe that would gain even more of her trust.

"Okay." She blew out a sigh. "How do you know my brothers and my sister? Really, what is this connection that we share, the two of us? I have to know, or I won't go any farther. I'll be staying here, calling
Chris
to come pick me up. I'll jump our tour guide for his cell if I have to. And you know I don't promise things I won't back up with action."

Reflexively, he placed his palm on her thigh. "Please, Hope, don't do that. I'll explain everything once we're at the mitres. By then I should be leaving you for good."

She stared down at his hand, and although he felt as if that simplest contact could sear him, change him, he didn't pull away.

"What is it between us, Jake?" After a moment, she placed her own hand tentatively over his. "Why do I have this huge soft spot for you? Were we lovers? That's the way it seems to me."

"Once." He felt a thick knot lodge in his throat. "Long ago for me."

"Did I choose Scott?" She tilted her pale, slightly freckled face toward him. "Is that why you don't like him? Or did we … end because I died?"

He sucked in a breath, quickly pulling his hand out from underneath hers. "No talk about the future, remember?"

"That's a stupid, totally unfair rule!" she shouted, her voice reverberating off the doors of the van. "I don't believe this!"

He bowed his head, mentally apologizing to Kelsey; she had insisted that he not reveal anything about the future once arriving back here in the past. Still, he hadn't expected to encounter Hope, and as devoted as he was to his queen, he just couldn't hold back—no matter what he'd promised.

"I loved you more than I ever thought I could love another person, sweetheart. But, yes, you're right. You did die." He couldn't go on, not for a moment, but finally he found his voice. "I died that day, too. I've been dead inside ever since."

H
ope ran her fingers through
her hair, trying to blink back the tears that had filled her eyes. What could she say to this man—what could she possibly come up with to counter this future truth? She was going to die for sure, unless he told her what fate awaited her. More than that, it was the pain she felt in him, how physically palpable his heartbreak was because of her.

She looked away from him, staring out the van window beside her, the bright interior lights of the diner a blur. Lifting a hand, she rubbed it over the window, and the world outside grew clearer as she wiped away the interior fog. Pressing her nose against the glass, she tried to determine exactly where they were. She hated never knowing or understanding the most basic facts about where she was or what was happening. A year ago she'd been decently sighted; now she was in the dark, and in so many more ways than just her eyesight. She had to get to the truth here, ferret it out.

"So," she said at last, "you won't tell me how I died? If you love me—
loved
me, that is—don't you want to save me?" The tears burning her eyes finally began to spill, nausea overcoming her. She put a hand to her belly, fighting it. "I have to know so I can stop my death from happening. Is it my diabetes? Something else?"

Beside her she heard Jake make a pained sound; then he swallowed, but said nothing.

"Do you still love me?" she continued.

His strong arm slipped along the back of the bench seat as he drew her close against him; that same warmth she'd felt in his arms earlier instantly infused her body.

"I will always love you, Hope," he whispered softly. "Until the day I do finally die."

She pressed her face against his shoulder. "If that's true, then tell me how I died. How I can stop it from happening too soon."

His next words shocked her to the marrow, caused her to jolt in alarm. "I killed you, sweetheart. I did it all." And then, unbelievable as it was, he bent much closer and kissed her full on the lips. "I'm a murderer and a thief. A liar. And a dead man. But I promise you this: I won't let you get killed again. Not by me, not if I have any choice about it."

She felt his mouth brush over hers, the warmth of it. He had full, lush lips, and his breath was hot against her face; he had that elevated natural heat that she'd felt when Scott kissed her. Alien, not entirely human. But what struck her most was the scratchy texture of his beard growth because even that reminded her of Scott. All her thoughts went to the man she loved, even as she wondered how it was so easy to kiss this one.

"Kiss me again," she begged, and he did, cupping her face in the palm of his large, calloused hand.

His tongue licked across her lips, tasting her; his other hand clasped the back of her head, tilting her toward him. The kiss was erotic and hot, awakening some lost part of her that she couldn't even name. She gave in to it, yielding with her mouth, forgetting with her body. His arms folded about her; she forged into him, planting both hands against his chest. She could feel the thundering of his heart, and his hand grazed the edge of her breast; then, obviously not caring who saw, he cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling it.

What am I doing? I'm already involved with Scott
—
and now I'm letting Jake touch me like this.
She couldn't get a clear fix on how it was possible to care about each of the men, to feel this kind of raw, unmitigated passion with Jake, just as she did with Scott.

Jake slipped one hand low and eased it upward between her legs. Scott would have done the exact same thing; the realization sobered her, brought her back to Jake's confession. She stopped his hand.

"You killed me," she murmured against his lips. "With a gun? With a knife? How did you do it, Jake?" She didn't even care what the truth might be, so abandoned was she to his simplest kiss.

He ran his fingers through her hair, his heavy breathing filling the silence between the two of them. "I
killed
you," he whispered against her cheek at last, "with my love."

B
ack to square one
. Scott
awoke, adjusting himself against the pillows of yet another hospital bed. Feeling his right leg, he discovered a thick bandage wrapped about his thigh. Last he remembered, he'd been in Hope's motel room, trying to convince her that they should go ahead and make love.

But not really. The actual last thing he remembered, now that he'd managed to force his medication-addled thoughts into focus, was that he'd almost died on the side of the road. Somehow Anna had gotten him back here to the compound. Splintered images of the transport, the medics working on him in midair, these things filtered through his mind.

Yeah, totally back to square one,
he thought again.
Only worse. She's with him, not me.
He'd slip-spirited her, completely entered her sleep and connected with her. It had been sublime, feeling her in his arms, so close—but it had almost shattered his heart. After all, she trusted an Antousian, his enemy. Not only that, but she actually believed that Jake knew she was going to die; that she was, in fact, already dead in that man's future.

Damn it all to hell!
If this Jake had loved her, why hadn't he protected her? And where had he, Scott, been during all that apparently went down in that future? One thing was for damned sure: He wasn't going to let anything happen to so much as a hair on her head. Not on his watch. Nothing and no one would get to her; at least, not if he had any say in the matter.

"You aren't going to die, Hope. I won't let it happen." He flinched, realizing he'd actually spoken the words aloud. For a moment his eyes drifted shut, and he saw her just as she'd been in the motel room, straddling him. Her shimmering blond hair, loose and long; her compact, lightweight body astride his. How wet she'd been for him, how ready, just the tip of his erection pushing against the thin veil of her panties. Just his hands about the sultry curves of her waist and hips, the feel of her full breasts swelling within his palms. They'd been so close to making love, so very close, but he'd been the one to put the brakes on.

Of course, did any of it really matter when you were talking about a spirit meeting? Who'd stopped the action, who'd lusted, who'd wanted to thrust deep inside the other. What did any of it even amount to, anyway? All was lost; she was lost.

None of it, not a scrap, had been real,
he thought, rubbing his bandaged leg hopelessly.

He slammed a fist against the bed rail, not even feeling the pain as it penetrated his fingers, the heel of his palm. Hammering his fist against the metal bar over and over again, he sought to simply numb the suffocating grief that strangled his heart.

One more slam, and this time he drew blood when his fist impacted the railing latch.
"Medshki, fliishki! Medshki!"
he yelled. He shouted several more curse words, then finally fell silent, bringing his bleeding knuckles to his mouth.

"I'll take that as a signal of your frustration." It was Jared, standing in the room's doorway, assessing him with a slightly bemused look.

"Jareshk, as you can tell, I'm not exactly good company right now."

Jared strode toward him. "Nor do I expect you to be."

Scott turned in the bed, shutting his eyes. The last thing he could deal with was his best friend and king. Jared's footsteps echoed off the ceiling, the sound of his boots a rhythmic pattern as he came to stand beside the hospital bed.

"I lost him." Scott clutched the sheet between his fingers, still looking away. "I'm so sorry, but I failed you, my lord."

"Friend, you followed well and long, making excellent progress in tailing the Antousian."

Scott's eyes flew open. "I lost
her."

Jared took hold of the bedside chair and spun it around, straddling it. "You didn't lose her; you lost the trail, but you'll pick it up again—later." Jared gave him a faint smile, the kind that meant he was seeing straight through Scott's bullshit. "Once you get some recovery time in, and have the chance to heal a little, you'll be on the chase anew."

"Until then?" Scott stole a glance at his commander.

"You rest, S'Skautsa. Too many years this war has gripped you, exhausted you, and you've finally hit a wall. You've no other choice now but to rest."

Scott shook his head. "There's no time, not while that
vlksai
's
got her. I'm not worried about you, Jared. You're safe here, deep within the compound. We've elevated security levels, heightened all the perimeters, but Hope"—he clutched his head with both hands, pulling at his short hair in desperation—"she's vulnerable; she needs her insulin shots … she can't see well. Anything could happen to her out there in that godforsaken cold.
Jake Tierny
could do anything to her; she's totally at his mercy. I don't have any other choice but to go after him. And I will chase him and chase him until I find him, by all that is holy in this universe."

Jared propped his chin on his hands, his expression growing contemplative. "These human women are fighters and have feisty, strong streaks. You shouldn't underestimate their lot." Unexpectedly, his king chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Believe me, I am married to one, and that's why I know Hope Harper will be all right."

"I'm afraid for her life." Scott gripped the bed rail and sat up urgently, searching the room. For his clothes. A crutch. A way out of the hospital so he could start his pursuit once more.

Jared's gaze locked with his meaningfully, planting a staying palm against Scott's chest. "Lie down, S'Skautsa. Gather your strength."

Weaker than even a moment before, Scott knew that Jared was right. Slowly he sank into the pillows, defeated and morose. "What shall I do, Jared? Please just advise me. Please, brother."

"For now? Take comfort. Because in all this absurd
fliishki
, you have found her."

"Jared.…" Scott shook his head, confused. "I just told you, she's lost. I have no idea where she is or where Jake Tierny took—"

"But you've found
her
! That singular female who, out of this vast universe, is your one true soul mate. You have
found her
." Jared broke into a beaming smile as he leaned back in the chair, folding his arms in smug satisfaction. "And there you were, giving me such unrelenting grief about my feelings for Kelsey."

Scott shot him a sheepish look. "I always told you their species was delectable in bed."

"Yes," Jared said, an undeniable smirk on his face, "we've discussed your insatiable taste for human women."

Scott's face burned. In fact, what Jared had observed just a few weeks earlier was that Scott's "taste" for human women could hardly be satisfied. That was exactly how his king had put it. Scott stared at the ceiling, willing the heat in his face to somehow cool. "Maybe I was always looking for her, all those nights in the bars." He released a cynical, bitter laugh. "And now I'm back to searching for her all over again, only this time the stakes are dangerously high."

Jared grew serious again, his black eyes narrowing keenly. "There are other ways we can trail her while you recuperate. Even if you are the best damned Antousian tracker I've ever seen, we still have our other methods."

Scott shook his head, staring at the tiled ceiling overhead. "I had his trail and I couldn't keep up."

"You can't blame yourself for being injured." Jared shook his head emphatically. "You can't blame yourself for any of this."

Scott bolted up in bed, exclaiming, "I blame myself that she's in this at all! Don't you get it? I love her, J. I love her and told her I'd protect her … I promised her that."

Jared put a hand on his arm. "My dear friend, it's not always your responsibility to resolve everything. To take care of everything. Sometimes, S'Skautsa, you should let the rest of us take care of you. I will find her for you—and this Jake Tierny. I will find them and bring them both back into the camp."

Scott tried to argue, but a hazy sleep began to overtake him very suddenly. Glancing sideways at his IV, he realized too late that new pain medication had been uploaded via the bedside computer. Obviously, it was some heavy duty medication, too.

He chuckled woozily. "You bastard." He pointed a wavering, accusing finger at his king. "Y'knew I'd've tried to go. You've fuckin' drugged my ass."

He heard his best friend laugh, a slow, sluggish, and drawn-out sound. "The only way you'll ever get well is to rest."

And then Jared's smiling face appeared over him, slightly off-kilter, and Scott hurled a few more choice insults at his commander before sliding into sleep's welcoming arms.

J
ared needed to eat. Kelsey
had actually been the one to point out how infrequently he stopped to take care of himself, asking if his species took meals less often than humans did.

"No, I simply stay too occupied much of the time," he'd told her, and seen the immediate look of reproach in her clear, beautiful eyes.

So, at present he was famished and, determined to be an obedient husband, he strode into the kitchen to see what their cook had in the works for lunch. It was still early yet, but with his upcoming council meeting, he knew there wouldn't be time later in the day for a meal. At least not until nighttime, when he hoped to dine fireside with Kelsey, slowly and delectably feeding her himself. Ah, a thrilling thought! But it wouldn't satisfy his current mealtime needs.

Standing in the center of the kitchen, the smell of vegetables wafting through the room, he welcomed the familiar scent of mushrooms on the stove, and greens and fresh tomatoes on the chopping block. Lately Cook had begun preparing baked chicken just for Kelsey. The rest of them were vegetarians, although they did occasionally eat seafood. At the moment, however, his nose registered the absence of any kind of meat in the oven, including the shrimp Kelsey seemed to love so much.

"Cook," he said, stepping near the stovetop with a prying look, "what are you preparing for the queen today? Only vegetables? Please remember that her diet is quite different from our own."

The heavyset man gave a light bow, wiping both hands on his long apron. "My lord, the queen specifically asked that we only cook the vegetables for now. No more meat—thank the gods! I could hardly stand the smell of it myself."

Rubbing his brow, Jared wondered what the impetus had been for her latest dietary request. "When did she ask this?"

"Just today, Your Highness … came in here and said the smell of the baking chicken made her feel ill. I immediately removed it from the oven. Right away, sir."

Jared nodded, but the revelation didn't make much sense. Why would Kelsey suddenly be turned off of her natural diet? It was confounding indeed. Perhaps she worried that she was making unique demands? Jared wasn't clear at all; Kelsey had never been afraid of expressing her needs.

"Cook, did she say anything else?" he ventured.

"Only that she required baked potatoes." The cook began to laugh. "Several of them, my lord, that's what the lady said. Requested that they be 'loaded,' whatever that means. I didn't want to ask her; no, I didn't."

"Loaded? Like a gun?" Jared scratched his head, more puzzled than ever.

"So she said, sir." The cook gave another slight bow. "Perhaps you might ask my lady what she means about these gun-like potatoes? I'm afraid of asking, sir. Just afraid to rankle a lady when she's … you know. In that way."

Jared planted a hand on his hip and stared at the man who had served his meals for the past six years. "In
that way,
Cook? What way? The way she wants these heavy ammo potatoes? You must explain this culinary situation to your commander."

His cook actually blushed. "Ah, sir, never you mind me." He gave a light wave, then blustered his way back to the stove. "Just go and ask the lady."

T
he doctor had agreed to
a confidential visit, not in the quarters that Kelsey shared with Jared, but in Thea and Marco's smaller rooms. Thea had, of course, grinned conspiratorially at her request. "Oh, I so hope this is it," she had whispered in Kelsey's ear, giving her an impulsive, heartfelt hug.

Now as the two of them sat on Thea's loveseat, waiting for the doctor to arrive, Kelsey felt the need to backpedal a little. Maybe she'd jumped the gun based on flimsy evidence: The strange burning in her belly that hadn't stopped since last night, and her revulsion when she'd encountered the smell of cooking meat. It wasn't much to go on, not really, and even more than that, the timing just didn't add up to a pregnancy. Not this soon, alien or not.

"Thea, I might be wrong." Kelsey turned sideways on the sofa, hugging one of the pillows against her stomach. "It can't even be possible, not really. We just made love last night."

Thea beamed at her, raising an eyebrow. "And you've also been making love for almost a month, right?"

Kelsey bowed her head, feeling her face flush. "Of course, but the feeling"—she patted the pillow where it rested over her belly—"this fiery sensation really only began after we made love last night."

"Which would make perfect sense since he's in heat." Thea's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I can sense it. He's been in season for a few days. And he's been in high heat for the past day or so. He's totally fertile, burning up with it, so if it were going to happen, now would be the time." Thea fanned herself, her fair face suddenly flushed. "Oh by the gods, at this rate, Marco might be next, what with all the pheromones flying about the lodge."