Revealed (5 page)

The human detective shrugged, his eyes fixed on the blue and white ball of the Earth, growing rapidly in the viewscreen. “Not much different than driving a stick. I’ve been doing that since I was fifteen.”

“I see.” Sylvan nodded. “Ah, who are you going to visit, if you don’t mind me asking? Just your parents?”

Rast nodded. “That’s about all there is. I have an ex but we lost touch after the divorce. Even if I could to find her, I’m sure she wouldn’t care if I decided to go to a galaxy far, far away.” He barked a laugh. “Hell, she’d probably be glad to hear it.”

Sylvan frowned. “So you’ve been bonded before?”

“Yeah, but for less than a year. It was ages ago, back when I was still with the PD. She claimed I was married to my work.” He sighed. “Sad to say, she was probably right. I don’t blame her for leaving my sorry ass—I never really did right by her. Never gave her the attention she deserved, so she found somebody who would.”

Sylvan shook his head. “I’ve heard that humans do such things—that they abandon their mates and find new ones on a regular basis. But to hear you talk about it so casually…”

“Why?” Rast shot him a look. “You guys don’t have divorce or separation?”

“We form a bond—both mental and emotional with our females,” Sylvan explained. “Breaking it is nearly impossible.”

“So you’re stuck for life with one woman with no way out?” Rast frowned. “You know, if you’d told me that a month ago I would have thought it was a nightmare. Now…now I’m not so sure.”

“If you’re thinking of Nadiah when you say that, you can forget it,” Sylvan said flatly.

“Oh yeah?” Rast shot him an angry glance. “And why is that? Because I’m not Kindred I’m not good enough for her?”

“Being Kindred or not has nothing to do with it,” Sylvan said coolly. “Tell me why you’re doing this. Why are you undertaking Nadiah’s cause and challenging her blood bond?”

“I, uh…” The human detective looked uncomfortable. “It’s the right thing to do, all right? I couldn’t just let her go off and get married to that snot nosed little punk who’s obviously going to beat on her the first chance he gets. Just thinking about…” He shook his head. “I just couldn’t let her go. I mean, I couldn’t let her face him alone.”

Sylvan raised an eyebrow. “So you’re only concerned for her safety? You have no other motives for championing her cause?”

“I don’t know, all right?” Rast squeezed the steering yoke in obvious frustration, causing the little ship to wobble alarmingly. “I’ve never felt this way before about a woman—not even my ex.
Especially
not my ex. It’s goddamn confusing.”

“And
that’s
why I don’t want you forming a permanent relationship with Nadiah.” Sylvan pointed a finger at him. “Confusion and a vague desire to do the right thing aren’t enough to base a lasting relationship on—especially since you’ve already abandoned one mate.”

Rast groaned. “Look, I told you—
she
left
me.
Besides, what is this,
The Scarlet Letter?
”

“I know the book you’re speaking of,” Sylvan said. “And it was the male—the one who abandoned his pregnant female—who should have been shunned and cast out of society. What he did was shameful and wrong—she was blameless.”

“Blameless, huh?” Rast’s eyes flashed. “It takes two to tango, buddy.”

“Well you’re
not
going to be giving Nadiah any dancing lessons—understood?” Sylvan pinned him with a cold glare. “I mean it, Rast, she’s a virgin and she’s going to stay that way. Do you understand?”

The human’s eyes widened with surprise. “You sure about that? I mean, she’s what—twenty-three? Twenty-four? Most women have done some exploring by that age.”

Sylvan felt red rage rising up in him but somehow he held onto his temper. “Nadiah just came of age recently,” he said in a slightly strangled voice. “And
yes,
I’m sure her virtue is intact. Look, Rast…” He turned fully so he could give the other male the full weight of his glare. “Virginity is very,
very
important to my people. If Nadiah loses hers to anyone but her bonded mate…well, let’s just say what happened to Hester Prynne would look mild in comparison to what will happen to her. The entire community would shun her and on Tranq Prime, that is no laughing matter. She’d be cast out in the cold—
literally.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Hands off.” Rast raised one hand in a conciliatory gesture that made the ship sway again. “But how would they even know?” he asked. “I mean, unless Tranq Prime females get pregnant every time or something.”

“Her scent would be altered—that’s immediately obvious to a Kindred,” Sylvan said, still frowning at him. “But beyond that, her eyes would also change color.”

“Her
eyes?”
Rast looked at him as though to be sure he wasn’t joking. “Seriously? Would they turn green or orange or something?”

“No.” Sylvan shook his head. “They’d either get darker or lighter—only by a shade or two but enough to make it obvious to anyone who knew her before what had happened.”

“Wow.” Rast shook his head. “That’s bizarre. So her family would take one look at her eyes and know right away she’d been, uh, up to something.”

“
I
would know,” Sylvan emphasized. “And as her protector, I would certainly take action.”

“I
said
I wouldn’t touch her, didn’t I?” Rast shot him an unfriendly look. “Look, Sylvan, I’m not the type to take what isn’t offered. You ought to be a hell of a lot more worried about that little bastard waiting for her on your home world. It’s pretty clear what he has in mind if he gets his hands on her.”

“I know.” Sylvan felt like someone had dumped a fist-sized lump of ice in his stomach. “I can’t bear to think of her being treated like that. Taken that way,” he confessed in a low voice. “She is, as you say, my baby cousin. I used to watch her while her parents were away at functions and sing her to sleep when she had nightmares. The idea of that Goddess-forsaken son of a motherless
vorteg
hurting her makes me so angry I could
kill.”

Rast squeezed the steering yoke until his knuckles went white. “I know the feeling,” he growled. “That’s exactly what I was thinking when I agreed to take the challenge—that I wanted to kill that little son of a bitch for hurting her. Well, except for the
vorteg
part.” He looked at Sylvan. “What the hell is a
vorteg,
anyway?”

“A low, stinking creature that looks like a cross between a snake and a spider,” Sylvan explained. “It’s about as long as your forearm and covered in greasy brownish-gray hair.”

“Ugh.” Rast frowned. “Okay, your cursing just took on a whole new meaning. I get it now.” He gave Sylvan a look.
“And
I get the idea that Nadiah is off limits. So don’t worry—I’ll take good care of her.”

“You’d better,” Sylvan said grimly. “If I find you’ve changed the color of her eyes, you’ll have more than a blood bond challenge to worry about. No other male from Tranq Prime will have her if she’s defiled—especially by an off worlder.”

“Defiled, huh?” Rast shook his head. “You know, Sylvan, back on Earth we humans always thought that when we finally made contact with an alien race, they’d be amazingly advanced. But the things I’m hearing from you—arranged marriages, women are worthless without their virginity—well, it sounds more like the dark ages to me.” He frowned. “It’s a hell of a shame.”

“I never said I agreed with such ideas,” Sylvan said tightly. “I only said that they’re prevalent on my home planet. A planet that Nadiah may well have to return to and live on the rest of her days. I just want to be sure she can do that without shame or regret.”

“I understand” Rast said tightly. “And you have my word I won’t, uh, change the color of her eyes. All right?”

Sylvan stared at him a long time. “All right,” he said, nodding at last. “I believe you’re a male of your word. So I am charging you with my kinswoman’s safety and virtue. Please know this is not a charge I make lightly—nor should
you
take it lightly. Nadiah’s death, injury, or deflowerment will be on your head, no matter who commits the acts that lead to such consequences.”

“You Kindred play hard ball, don’t you?” Rast muttered. He cleared his throat and spoke formally. “I accept your charge, Commander Sylvan. I swear to guard your cousin’s life and virginity with my life.”

“Thank you.” Sylvan felt marginally better.

“Shake on it?” Rast held out a hand and Sylvan clasped it briefly, feeling the steady pressure of the other male’s grip. Then he let go.

“You’re going to need both hands for landing,” he said, pointing at the curving, blue side of the Earth which now filled the viewscreen. “Pay attention—this is the tricky part.”

Rast sat up straighter and took a firm grip on the steering yoke. “I’m ready—let’s do this.”

As they hurtled downward, into the Earth’s atmosphere, Sylvan instructed him on landing procedure and watched the human male react with fluid grace and speed as each new challenge was thrown in his path. Rast seemed to handle himself with a natural ease that stood him in good stead while dealing with dangerous situations.

Sylvan only hoped it wouldn’t desert him when it really counted and Nadiah’s life was on the line.

“Hi, Mom, it’s me,” Rast called, stepping into the large white Victorian house on
Baker street
where he’d lived as a child. His voice echoed in the hallway and he wondered for a moment if his parents were out. But his mom’s car was in the driveway and she usually parked it in the garage when they were going somewhere. She must be home. “Mom?” he called again, walking deeper into his house…deeper into his childhood.

There was the bright, sunny kitchen where Jessie had made him pancakes in the shape of Mickey Mouse on Saturdays. And the breakfast nook with its built in circular booth and worn plaid cushions where she had tutored him in math. One of the paintings she’d done in art class—a watercolor field of jewel-tone flowers—was still hanging above the nook. Rast felt his heart throb when he saw her familiar loopy initials,
J.R.,
scrawled in one corner.

God, Jessie,
he thought.
You’re still here. Everywhere I look it’s like you never left. Like you might walk right back in at any minute and call me “kiddo” and ruffle my hair.

There was a lump in his throat he couldn’t swallow and suddenly his eyes were burning. How long had it been since he’d been back to this house? Five years? Ten? He usually made it a point to meet his parents out somewhere—take them to a nice, fancy restaurant, eat and catch up and little—then leave. That way he could keep things calm and impersonal and he didn’t have to visit his old home or remember that the entire house was a shrine to his dead sister.

Touches of Jessie’s bright personality were everywhere. Rast saw another as he walked into the music room—a framed picture of her laughing smile and long auburn hair standing on the baby grand piano where she’d practiced constantly. But despite her ghostly presence, her death was a forbidden topic of conversation. His parents didn’t speak about it to anyone, and they didn’t want anyone else to talk about it either.

“Jessie…” he whispered thickly, picking up her picture and looking down at it. He remembered the pose well—it had been taken in their backyard just days before her death. How happy she had been—how
alive.

I took this picture to bed with me for an entire year after you died. After he killed you,
he thought, tracing the bright arch of one auburn brow with his thumb.
That and the shirt you were wearing before you went to the party. It still smelled like your perfume—like fresh cut flowers. I wrapped it around me and pretended it was your arms, hugging me. Oh, Jessie…

Droplets of moisture fell on his dead sister’s face and slid down the shining glass, making it look like Jessie was crying. Crying for all the years she’d missed. For the little brother she’d left behind, so lost without her…

“Adam? Whatever are you doing here at this time of day?”

Rast nearly dropped the picture in surprise. Holding it tightly, he turned to see his mother standing there to one side of the piano.

Carolyn Rast was getting along in years but she still stood tall and straight, unstooped by age. Her hair, once as red as Jessie’s, was now a lovely silvery-white. It was swept into an elegant coif at the back of her head and the suit she was wearing wouldn’t have been out of place in an upscale business meeting.

“I said, what are you doing here?” she repeated. “And what are you doing with
that?”
She gave the picture of Jessie in his hand a disapproving look, as though she’d caught him bringing something dirty into the house.

“Just remembering,” Rast said. He put the picture back on the baby grand carefully. “Look, Mom, I came by because we need to talk.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Very well. Come into the study.”

Rast followed her into the bookshelf lined room with its sober, overstuffed leather furniture. The study was where his father had always doled out punishment. Being summoned there to talk made him feel like a kid all over again—one who had transgressed one of the many house rules and was soon to be spanked or grounded.