112. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Z ar
I should thank you, I tell him.
You should, he says. It’s half accusation, half sarcasm—an acknowledgment that what I said wasn’t actually an apology.
I hate you. My voice is level as I look him straight in the eyes.
He nods. We have a lot in common.
Somehow, we both laugh at this.
Perhaps we should let her choose, I suggest.
Sounds perfect. You’re her mate. She’ll choose you. I’m strong enough I can stuff you into a room in the basement of my mind, so you’re gone for good. She’ll know I locked you away. Then she won’t have you and she’ll never forgive me. She’ll be miserable for the rest of her life.
You’re stronger than me now, I admit, but I’m not certain it will stay that way.
I’ve had that thought. It sounds like a great life for Anya. She can spend the rest of her days watching the two males she cares about fighting over her. Because we can’t be separated, Zar. If you get rid of me, you’ll die. Rynn swigs the last of his cold drassah . If we really love her, we should let her go. She can find true love with someone who isn’t selfish.
I could swear my heart actually stops in my chest when I consider, even for a moment, that I willingly let Anya go.
Unselfish. I just watched what Rynn did for me. He saved my life at the expense of his own happiness. He wasn’t impulsive or under optimistic delusions that he could keep Anya to himself. I don’t know why he did it. It makes no sense to me.
There’s only one of us here who’s unselfish. Him. Half of me is grateful he let me live, the other half thinks he’s an idiot. If places were reversed, I wouldn’t have done it.
Come, he says as he stands and walks to a staircase in the tree wall I hadn’t noticed before.
I follow him up a winding staircase that rises high into the imaginary tree we’re in. We walk up two or three flights of stairs in the dimly lit carved wooden interior.
When we arrive at the top of the tree, it’s as if we’ve changed metaphors. Instead of being in a tree, we’re in a high-tech round room surrounded by windows on three sides. There’s a control panel near the front with a captain’s swivel chair sitting near the middle of the console. Before my eyes, that chair moves to the left and an identical one materializes to its right.
Sit, he says with a flourish.
We’re looking out through my eyes. I guess I shouldn’t think of it like that anymore. They’re not my eyes. They’re ours. I can’t help it when hatred spikes through me again. I nurse the images of killing him: once, twice, three times, all the way through number seven. I imagine I’ll be picturing my murder attempts a million more times before one of us manages to truly kill the other.
Our body is lying in bed in a cabin on the Fool’s Errand . I watch as he lifts a fork from his bedside table and holds it in front of us.
Can you move this fork from the right hand to the left? he asks.
Idiot. Of course I can , I think as I watch the fork rest comfortably in his right hand. I can’t move a finger. Drack.
I imagine this will change, he says. Until then, I don’t think we should see Anya.
Our captain’s chairs are close enough I can reach over to him and choke the life out of him without getting out of my chair. I can’t help myself. I kill him again.
After he returns to consciousness and grabs a deep breath, he says, You just proved my point. You won’t be able to tolerate watching me and Anya. She likes me, Zar. I showed you the proof. She’s begun to look at me the way she used to look at you. It is the high point of my life. Anya has become my reason to live.
He said it so calmly, so affably. Doesn’t he realize he’s dealing with a gladiator? That although I never wanted to, I used to kill for sport? My hands fist even as I order myself not to choke him to death again.
You love her, he says. It’s not a question.
Aye.
So do I. He looks me straight in the eyes. I can’t deny the truth of it . There is one thing and perhaps only one thing we can agree on.
He’s waiting to make his big announcement. I’m sure he thinks he’s leaving me hanging, but I know the answer.
Anya’s feelings must come first. Rule number one: we can’t hurt her, I say.
Exactly. I have a plan.
I shake my head, disliking how much I hate this male. And how much I like him. He’s smart, he loves my beloved, and he’s kind. Kinder than me.
I’m going to comm Anya and tell her I’m not feeling well. I’ll tell her we’ll meet for breakfast in the morning and not to worry, someone is bringing me a dinner plate. I don’t want her knocking on our door.
I nod, not certain how this is much of a plan.
Zar, we have until tomorrow morning to get our shit together. Even if you manage to take over the body by tomorrow and push me aside, that will be traumatic for Anya. We have to break the news to her together. At least at the beginning, we must present as a united front. We have fourteen hoaras to do that.
As I consider his words, I wonder if it were possible for him to turn back time and return to the moment where he reached out to save my life, if he would do it again. I doubt he expected my undying gratitude, but he probably didn’t expect me to kill him eight times. For a male who kept his emotions in check for three millennia, I think I’m making him angry.
What do you propose? I ask.
A nya
Should I feel like a traitor for being so excited to see Rynn? Am I a terrible person to feel ready to move on after losing Zar so recently?
I would scandalize myself if it were anyone but Rynn, but can anyone blame me for falling for a great guy who happens to live in my mate’s body?
I got to the dining room early this morning so I could have our drassahs on our table, just waiting for him to arrive. When he walks through the door, my heart thumps wildly in my chest.
Look at him. The handsome male I fell in love with three years ago. Zar was vulnerable then, angsty, and caught up in his past. He’d come a long way since I met him. Rynn is different—kinder, quieter, definitely more patient. He’s more patient than me. If it were my decision, I would have jumped his bones the other night when he came to my door after phone sex. At least one of us has the good sense to wait.
I’m lucky Zar’s body isn’t dead. I’m lucky I get to keep a piece of him. And I’m lucky that gentle, thoughtful, loving Rynn has been here to support me. Loving. It surprises me when I use that word to describe him, but to be honest, I’ve known for weeks how much he cares for me.
I can’t help but think of how wonderful it would be to have all of both Zar and Rynn’s qualities in that sexy lion-man package.
He’s taken to wearing black leather kilts. Zar used to say there was nothing more comfortable than wearing a loincloth. Well, other than wearing nothing, which he preferred. But Rynn wears this every day. I think he does it because I told him how handsome it makes him look.
He slowly looks around the room, not allowing his gaze to swing directly toward me, even though I’m sitting at the same table where we always sit. It’s as if he’s taking his time, like saving dessert for last. When he finally looks at me, his body relaxes, as mine does when I see him. It’s ridiculous, I know. It’s been less than a day and I feel as if I could perish if we don’t talk right away.
He dishes us both a plate of breakfast, then slides onto the bench across from me. He’s drinking me in with his gaze, as if he can’t get enough of me. It takes him half a minute before he shakes his head and finally sets the plates down.
“You look beautiful,” he rumbles. Leaning across the table, it’s almost as if he’s going to kiss me. Then he forcibly sits back and picks up a fork.
We make small talk while we eat, but something seems different. He keeps his fork in his hand, but although my plate’s already half empty, he hasn’t taken a bite.
“Ready to spar, brother?” Shadow asks as he approaches our table.
“Can’t wait,” Rynn says, rising and grabbing our dishes.
“Weird,” I say as we walk to the ludus . “You hate sparring.”
“Hate is a strong word. One best reserved for people who want to kill you,” Rynn says. “I don’t hate sparring. I just wish I were better at it. Maybe today I’ll show some improvement.”
I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s acting so oddly today.
The first few times Zar-Rynn sparred after the melding, every gladiator on board came to watch. We were all hoping the real Zar would feel the heft of a sword in his hand and come back to life—return to his body.
When, day after day, he struggled, having to relearn the basics, the males went back to their regular gym routines. It was demoralizing, seeming like proof positive Zar was as dead as Rynn declared.
The ludus is bustling with activity this morning: males on weight benches, males grappling, males grunting as they run on space-age treadmills until they’re dripping sweat. No one pays much attention when Rynn, Shadow, and I enter the double doors.
Rynn and Shadow go to the weapons room, as they’ve done for the past several months, and return with blunt wooden swords. Rynn has removed his leathers and is wearing the beige muslin loincloth he spars in.
I push away my sadness at my loss as I scold myself. I’d promised myself I would keep an even emotional keel today.
Rynn swishes the air with his sword in that way Zar used to do right before he sparred. I’ve watched him do it for years. It’s almost as if you can see him diving into a fighting headspace in his mind.
“Ho!” he says, just like all the males do before a fight.
He attacks Shadow, something Rynn has never done. Rynn prefers to fight on the defensive. The two males’ wooden swords clack as Rynn attacks and Shadow defends. Their footwork is twice as fast as it usually is. Their muscles are straining harder than I’ve seen in months.
This isn’t an easy walk in the park for Shadow. For the past few months, he’s trained a male who acts as if he’s never held a sword before. Today, these two are going at it.
I can’t take my eyes off the fight, but I notice all noise in the ludus has disappeared except for Shadow and Rynn’s grunts of exertion and the dull clack of wood hitting wood. Gone is the noise of weights being pushed to their limits. The dull whir of the treadmills has stopped.
When I tear my gaze from the fight, I see every male in the room has ceased what they were doing. They’ve all stepped forward and formed a ring around the match.
I rise and walk to the circle, edging between Dax and Stryker.
“He fights like Zar,” Dax says what every person in the room is thinking.
Rynn performs what even I know is an advanced move as he thrusts, parries, and thrusts again, all the while keeping his opponent on the move. And he did it all backwards. With his final thrust, he grunts with his accomplishment.
“He grunts like Zar,” Stryker says.
My heart is thumping in my chest, my eyes are wide in surprise as they follow every movement of the match.
Rynn has taken the fight off the mats where the two have been practicing for months. He’s kept Shadow on the defensive and pressed him all the way to the far wall.
“Cede!” Rynn taunts.
I know it’s Rynn, but the males are right. He grunts like Zar and moves like Zar. He’s nothing like Rynn. Could it be my mate has returned?
“He talks like Zar,” Steele says from across the circle.
“No!” Shadow shouts as he moves to headbutt his opponent.
“Cede!” my lion-man orders again, this time with the tip of his weapon at Shadow’s throat.
Shadow throws down his wooden gladius in defeat. It’s soon joined by Rynn’s sword. I glance at all the males in the room. Their faces probably look like mine—shock, surprise, disbelief.
I’m not sure what I just observed, but my trembling hands are covering my mouth as hot tears hover on the edges of my lids.
Are we all crazy? That couldn’t be Zar, could it? I close my eyes and pray, just for a second. It feels like I’m watching true magic for the first time in my life.
Shadow pulls Rynn into his arms and speaks softly into his ear. Rynn nods, gives his friend a hearty pat on the back, then stalks to me.
As I watched the match, I wondered a thousand times if this could possibly be Zar. He held the sword differently, fought differently, spoke differently from Rynn. I didn’t dare believe it.
But now, as my lion-man’s body strides to me, the look of a triumphant warrior on his beautiful face, I allow myself to hope. Has my mate returned to me?
The males between him and me move out of the way, making a living corridor, as he approaches. Our gazes lock. Hot tears tumble from my eyes as my jaw tightens. My head tips up as I watch every expression on his face. How will I know if it’s really him?
“Beloved,” he says, with that deep timbre in his voice and the look of sheer animal desire I’ve never seen on Rynn’s face. This is Zar. My Zar.
He tugs me into the shelter of his embrace and holds me so tightly for so long I lose all sense of time. When I finally open my eyes, it’s just the two of us in the immense room.
“Is it really you?” I ask, afraid to say his name, fearing I’ll jinx it.
“Aye.”
“Zar?” Somehow, I need confirmation.
“I fought my way back to you, my Anya. I’m here. My heart is wide open, bursting with love for you.”
I press closer and snuggle my cheek against his chest. As I kiss wherever my lips will land, I realize I’m weeping. The relief, the overwhelm, the swirl of powerful emotions is almost too much to bear.
I pull far enough away to inspect his face.
“It’s really you in there?”
“Aye. Let’s go to our cabin.”
He lifts me into his arms in the bridal carry. How fitting. He is my mate, after all. Every person on the ship is lining the halls on the way from the ludus to our cabin. Even both pilots have left their posts to bear witness to Zar’s homecoming. We don’t just get a round of applause. We get hooting, foot stomping, and loud two-fingered whistles and “glad-to-have-you-backs.”
After we’ve run the gauntlet and all our friends are behind us, Zar breaks into a jog, wasting no time getting us behind our closed door.
Is he going to set me on our bed? Make love to me? Cement our mating so it’s stronger than ever?
It’s only when he sets me on a chair, then sits across from me at the table, that I take the time to give a thought to Rynn. I feel like a shit for forgetting him. We have a bond, too.
Zar
Can you go to the room where you warehoused me? Hide while I make love with my mate? I ask Rynn, unable to hide my irritation that he’s right here.
This is my mental setup, Rynn says. I was busy setting up backdoors and redundancies for just this eventuality while you were grandstanding with your friend in the ludus, he bristles. We discussed this at length last night. No matter how strong you become, you won’t be able to muscle me out. We are a team. As Earthers say in their mating ritual, ‘Until death do us part’.
It’s interesting how I can go inside our mind, find him, and see his visage. He told me he chose it after meeting Anya. He thought she’d relate better to him, even though she would never see the way he looks inside. I’m familiar enough with all the Earth females to know the expression on his face is what they would call pissed. His eyes are narrow slits and his mouth is a thin line.
By the look on her face, it appears Anya’s wondering why the two of you aren’t horizontal on the bed right now. I’d suggest you fill her in on the finer points of our… relationship. The sooner the better. Or would you like me to do it? Rynn asks.
“Anya,” I begin, then huff out a long sigh. The only thing that gives me any semblance of comfort is that none of us will be happy with the arrangement.
“It’s you, right Zar? You’re back? You’re alive?”
She reaches across the table and the simple touch of her hand on my forearm sends a bolt of calm through me. With her at my side, we can weather any storm.
“Aye, Anya. It’s me. Me and Rynn.”
Her pretty pink lips pop open in surprise.
“How…?”
I wanted to control this conversation. Perhaps three annums as captain have made me power hungry.
I hate to admit, I tell Rynn, you’re better equipped for this than me.
Rynn
I peg her with a firm stare before I say a word. I want to read her expressive features when I tell her I’m going to be a part of her life as long as she stays with Zar. I want to assess just how unhappy I’m making her.
“I thought Zar was dead,” I tell her, “but you were right, Anya. He’s a strong male. He somehow managed to live through the melding. It was pure torture for him in the state he was in. He clung to life in the dark, unable to move, or see, or hear. He told me the only way he hung onto life was by thinking of you.”
Why do you have to be so damn noble? Zar hisses inside my head . I killed you eight times and you sing my praises to the female you care about. It defies common sense.
I ignore him and refocus on Anya.
“The moment I felt him, I searched for him and brought him to safety. He was no happier about being my host than you were when you found out, but the fact remains, getting rid of me isn’t an option. If I’m removed, the body will die.”
“So, you’re both in the body?”
“Yes.”
“You can talk to each other in there?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“I’m betting it’s… awkward between you two?”
“That’s an understatement,” I admit with a sigh.
“So Zar’s in charge of the body now? He fought like a lion today.” She giggles. I look at Earth reference material, see what a lion is, and get her joke.
“Zar and I spent all night last night figuring out how to organize ourselves. Inside my mind, I’ve made a cozy living space along with a modern technical hub. We’re going to share it. It suits us both.
“We’re brand new at this, but we’ve developed a system, kind of like a relay race, where we pass the baton back and forth. Whoever has the baton will run the show. Zar sparred with Shadow. I’m speaking with you.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then folds her arms on the table and leans her forehead on them. I can smell her tears.
Perhaps it’s because I share the body with Zar now, but I’m bolder than I’ve ever been. I stroke her hair, combing my nails through it.
“You know I want to kill you when you touch her, right?” Zar asks, his slitted eyes and exposed fangs shouting the truth of his statement.
I’m not sure how I manage it, but I continue to stroke Anya’s head while I seethe, I’m here, Zar. I’m not going anywhere. Just to make my point, I throw him a picture of her initiating our kiss. For good measure, I show him a vid of her explaining fonesex. If you and Anya are ever going to have marital relations again, I snap, it’s going to involve three people . Figure out a way to tolerate it.
I must have pushed him too far, because he steps close and chokes me, this time not retracting his claws first. My severed head falls to the metallic floor of our tech hub, then rolls up my body and reattaches on my neck.
Zar, you’ve had a hard couple of lunars , but you’ve got to get a grip.
When I turn my attention to Anya, she’s giving me a piercing stare.
“What’s going on inside?” she asks. “I don’t believe for a moment it’s all sunshine and roses between you two.”
It’s a good thing she can’t see inside our mind. As much as she loves him, I doubt she’d take kindly to him decapitating me every time he gets angry.
“This isn’t easy on any of us,” I say as I squeeze her hand. “You and I have had lunars to adjust. Zar’s had less than a day. He’s furious. I’m hoping things will improve over time.”
You think I’ll get over this? he fumes. I’ll hate you with my dying breath.
I tug the hair tuft on my chin, exasperated.
Anya
They’re fighting inside. Rynn’s face is expressive. One of his ears flicks every time Zar says something inside his head. I love my mate beyond measure, but he can be cutting when he’s pissed.
I’ve dreamed of being reunited with Zar for months. In all of my fantasies, we’d already be naked in bed by now. I guess I didn’t take into account that we’d be having a threesome for the rest of our lives.
I slump my head onto my forearms and give expression to my emotions. Relief floods me. My mate is alive. I’d given up hope weeks ago. He’s back.
I offer up a prayer to whoever is listening. I believed Rynn. Unless I’m a terrible judge of character, he told the truth as he knew it. He never lied to me. He truly thought Zar was never coming back.
The sweetness of having my mate back, of watching him spar with Shadow, of him lifting me into his powerful arms and running to our cabin—I’m the luckiest female in the galaxy.
Maybe I’m also the most selfish, because I want this to work. I will not accept second best.
I sit up and pin whoever’s in Zar’s body with what I hope is a withering stare.
“I masterminded a fucking insurrection.” My voice is powerful and I hope my use of profanity captures their immediate attention. “I may have gotten soft in the past three years. Being drunk with love will do that to a person. I had the best relationship of anyone I’ve ever known. It was a love for the ages. Something authors write about.”
I grab his hands tightly in mine.
“I don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t have control over anything that happens inside that beautiful head of yours. I’m powerless over that. But I’ll tell you one thing, Zar-Rynn, I. Will. Not. Settle. For. Second. Best!”
I pause for effect. I can only imagine they’re inside their fur trying to eviscerate each other. I want to make certain I have their undivided attention.
“There are only two things I want right now. I’d love to be in that bed with you. I’ve yearned for it and cried for the lack of it. But what I want even more than that?” I wait for their ear to quit flicking, ensuring they’re both listening.
“I want you two to get along. Figure out how to play nice in the sandbox together.”
Their eyes close. An ear flicks. They’re arguing right this moment.
“None of us could possibly be happy with this situation. We didn’t sign on for it. Yet here we are. I’m a realist. It didn’t take me long to figure out there was only one way out of slavery and that involved an armed insurrection.
“I’m not going to take months to figure this out, either. The problem is clear. Your side of the bed will remain empty until you two get your shit together. Pull up your big girl panties—well, loincloth—take a deep breath, realize the reality of the situation, and make it work.
“I’ll wait. But we don’t share that,” I glance toward the bed, “until you two share the body in peace.”
I’ve made my demands clear, but I want to go on the record about my feelings.
“I love you, Zar, and I’m falling in love with Rynn. This crazy situation can work. If you do. When you get it together, let me know. In the meantime, get out of my room.”
I stand, take a step back so they can cross to the door without touching me, and point to the palm plate.
Their face shows shock and perhaps a hint of anger. I understand. I’m usually the soft, pliable, peacemaker, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t want to fuck around. They need to know the stakes are high.