Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Without a care in the world, Seba balanced on his haunches to rest his paws on the rehydrator, roaring his demands. Brac tutted but trotted around the trestle table to order the ‘starving’ beast another haunch of kreso.
“My thanks, Coll,” Illan said, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “Need anything, Ziamee?” he asked, dragging his arm free when he wanted to linger. “A cleanse, a tisane, maybe a meal?”
Her head whipped up. “You have rays?”
He chuckled. “It has been a very long time since I had a ray bath. No, we have water in abundance.”
She gasped. “You have a lake on board?” A frown wrinkled her brow. “How big is this ship?”
He laughed. “Come, let me show you.”
She trailed him to his quarters, her confusion deepening into a scowl. “I’ve been here.”
He entered and headed to the cleansing room. The door opened when he neared.
She peeked in, then slipped past him. “What water?”
“Step onto this square aft—”
She did, activating the spray. A squeal followed, and she leaped out. Water pooled beneath her boots.
“After you have removed your garments,” he said, keeping the laughter off his face by sheer willpower.
“You could’ve started with that,” she harrumphed, glaring at him through her drenched hair.
“I will order you fresh garments…” He waved a hand at her body. “If you want to finish.”
“But the water’s hot,” she snapped.
“It is supposed to be.” He met her gaze, keeping his focus there and not on her wet tunic clinging to her breasts. “You do not like this temperature? Is the chill of your lake more to your liking?”
She hesitated. “The heat’s pleasant. I’ll…cleanse. Could I have a pizza?” she asked. “Please.”
Given the chance, he left, not wanting to be tempted more than he could bear. Since the replicator had her measurements, ordering garments went swiftly. He chose loose pants and a tunic along with sandals—what he wore when he was at rest.
He’d placed the pizza on the common’s table when the cleansing room’s door opened.
“Without a breeze, drying will take forever,” she said, high-stepping toward him as she placed each foot with care. On the metal floor, slipping was a possibility.
He blinked at her, naked and dripping. Despite his best efforts, his gaze lingered on the sweet curve of her neck into her shoulder, down along a muscled arm to the bounce of a perfect breast. Her nipples were taut, dark blue peaks he struggled to drag his gaze from.
Her waist dipped into wide hips and thighs he’d had the sheer joy of touching.
And her sex was thankfully hidden by a white dusting of hair.
Coll hadn’t lied. Not a scar disfigured her skin.
He blinked, slow, tortured, wishing he could take her into his arms.
With an excruciating exhale, he forced himself to glance away. “Gray button for a toweling wrap; blue button to dry,” he managed to rasp.
“Oh.” She beamed. “Convenient.” And back she crept, giving him a glorious view of her backside. The dryer switched on amid squeals and giggles.
He hadn’t realized he’d followed her until he stepped into a puddle of water.
Swiveling, with his fingers curled into fists, he pressed his temple to the cool bulkhead and wrestled with his desires.
She was going to be the death of him, a Durn.
Statistically, that wasn’t possible, but the constant throbbing in his groin, accompanied by visions of her beneath him, rattled his hard-fought control.
The swish of the door had him leaping back, his anxiety due to his guilt.
“This…is amazing,” she crooned, rubbing her face along the wrap’s collar. It gaped, flashing parts of her body.
“Kuck,” he muttered, nudged her hands aside, and snapped the wrap closed. He released a sigh even though the torment didn’t miraculously ease with her covered. “Pizza’s on the table.”
He disappeared into the cleansing room and stripped, tossing his garments aside. The water blasted him at three degrees warmer than his core, but he tapped the hidden panel embedded in the wall, lowering the temperature. Humans believed a blast of frigid water cooled one’s ardor.
He gritted his teeth, enduring the cold drenching. Where he and Ziamee were heading, he couldn’t say, because if he had a say, she’d discover all manner of human lovemaking with him, along with the Durn way.
But he wasn’t the type of male to use a female—the one thing keeping him from knowing every intimate inch of her.
Nor would he ever abandon her on Vora. Somehow, in the short time he’d known her, their fates had intertwined. Anger merged with frustration and thickened into longing. No matter how much he wanted to return to his former life, she’d changed that.
His mission to discover the lost Durn archives was still his focus; he just had a Durn female along for the journey. Would it matter where he worked?
His thoughts quieted. Could he move to Vora? Build a home here?
If she insisted on staying, he would have to.
As a Durn, he worked with statistics. What were the odds that she felt the same stirring in her soul? With so many things, she had no clue about her heritage, this attraction, how what was normal for her fired his blood.
Like now.
When he entered the quarters’ common, she hummed around a bite of pizza, her focus distant, her legs bare and tucked under her chin as she balanced on the comfy.
The wrap was supposed to cover her, and it did, for the most part.
Except where it gaped, revealing the enticing curves of her cleavage, or where it split, exposing her newly healed thighs.
He gestured to the devices embedded in a counter at the rear of the living space. His lips twitched when he remembered Macy calling that section a ‘kitchen.’
How human.
“Let me teach you how to use the replicator and rehydrator,” he said, ordering pants and a tunic, and tugging them on only when she glanced away.
“Why?” she asked, picking off a disc of pepperoni and popping it into her mouth. “To learn implies an extended stay or that you’re going to be somewhere else.” She met his gaze when he didn’t answer. “Illan?”
“Does the why matter?” he asked, tapping the rehydrator’s surface.
Her chewing slowed, indecision in her fluttering fingers.
“So, you leave me here, trapped?” She arched a brow, her expression distrusting.
“I don’t have to follow you everywhere on this ship, but what if I wake up alone?
How do I get to my father?” She tossed the half-eaten slice onto the plate and scrambled to her feet.
“You tap the panel to exit.” He pointed at the square in the wall while sliding on his footwear.
She faced him, arching a brow when he marched past her. “Why are you leaving then? If you’re going to talk to Brac about my mother, I want to be—”
“You tempt me, ohara,” he said, squaring his shoulders, his hand an inch from the door.
Her movements slowed, her breath caught, and she raised her wide gaze to his. “Is that bad?”
He chuckled. “Yes, when I cannot have you.”
Her lips parted in an ‘oh.’ “Pleasure, right? We’re talking about that?” She showed him her palm.
“Yes,” he whispered, need reverberating through his body and making his foot bounce with the urge to flee. I am Durn. He gritted his teeth. I can endure anything.
She chewed on her bottom lip, her gaze lost in thought. “Does it become less…demanding with distance?”
“No.”
She scowled. “So why leave when it’s futile?”
He crossed to her, stopping when only an inch separated them. This close, her scent was sweeter with the faint smells of the lake, rain, sunshine still lingering. While peering at her upturned face, he took controlled breaths.
“There are many things you do not know. To take you now would be dishonorable. You must choose—”
She splayed her fingers across his chest, the heat of her skin scorching him through his thin tunic. “What don’t I know?”
“How Durns mate, for one.”
She showed him her palm again. “Like this?” She hesitated. “Unless you don’t want—”
“I just said you tempt me, so that statement is moot. We mate for life, Ziamee,” he snapped, stepping back.
Joy bloomed in her eyes. “Like the Etterians?”
“We based their genetic modifications on what drives our life-fusions. It seemed the most logical solution when they approached our ancestors for assistance.”
“So, we meddled.” She shrugged.
“With unexpected consequences.” He cupped her cheek, granting himself that much. “We have spiritual limitations, too. If I take you, we are one. I go where you go.” Not absolute truth, but palm-to-palm had already triggered the mating ritual. If they completed it, they’d be dhutyas.
She sank into her comfy. “Then my father and mother can’t be life-fused?”
“She stayed close enough not to break the fusion. I cannot understand why she did this. A life-fusion includes mind-fusion. They have never been apart… Not mentally.”
Ziamee gasped. “What you say implies Padya knew Mudya’s alive. That they’ve been communicating all this time.” She shook her head, a tear dewing her eyelashes. “She has to be dead, Illan, or else Padya’s been lying to me for years.”
He grimaced. Either scenario was terrible, but deep down, she had to wish that her mother was well. Her hopeful expression had revealed this to him when they’d discovered the unknown second life form.
His O.D.I. buzzed, and he glanced at it, reading the message from Coll with disbelief. “Dress,” he commanded, gesturing to the garments he’d thrown over the back of a comfy.
“What is it?” she asked, flicking off the wrap.
He absorbed everything about her while she covered herself. The sandals she ignored, choosing the boots instead. He tapped the panel, held the door open, and waited. The way the soft pants clung to her was unanticipated. The tunic draped over her curves, accentuating her nipples.
“Your father said something to Coll before the med-E.D. sent him to sleep.”
“Oh?” She arched a brow, striding past him to the common. “How do you know this?”
He tapped his O.D.I., angling his wrist to show her Coll’s message.
The male sat on the bench, a cup of giyua in hand. Beside him, on the floor, with a paw on a half-eaten haunch of kreso, snored Seba.
“What news?” Illan asked, mentally sifting through possible scenarios. “Repeat his words verbatim.”
“Amet revealed that the beacon had stopped working twelve years ago.”
“What?” Ziamee sank onto the bench, her cheeks pale. She whipped her gaze to Illan. “Then what did you respond to?”
“My thoughts exactly.” He activated his O.D.I. again. “Ulta, scan for signals.”
“What?” Ulta gasped. “Why?”
“Lady Ziamee’s beacon was not sending out any distress signals,” Coll said, speaking into Illan’s O.D.I.
“Ahh, will do,” Ulta said.
“Issue two rooms in the barracks to Ziamee and me.” Illan glanced at her. “Amet and his mate, if we find her, should be assigned the officer’s quarters.”
“Starting sterilization,” Ulta said. “Two rooms issued. Opening the doors now.”
“Um, what about Seba?” Ziamee knelt beside her pet and nuzzled his furry neck. “Is it possible to leave all the doors to my room open?”
“Done,” Ulta said.
“Thank you.” She smiled while pretending to ‘drag’ the haunch from under Seba’s paw.
The beast growled a warning, but his tails wagged playfully. She tried to take his snack with both hands. He leaped to his feet and nudged her with his great head. She toppled back amid giggles with Seba ‘pouncing’ on her, making chortling noises.
Midway, she paused to cup her mouth, smothering a yawn. She met Illan’s gaze. “Time to rest.” With one more hug, her arms around Seba’s neck, she whispered something that sounded like, “Behave, ohara.”
Grumbling, the creature sprawled on the floor and nibbled on his kreso.
“This way,” Illan said, gesturing to the door to the right of the common. It stood open.
She strode through, running her hands along the passage’s sides. Two lit rectangles marked the rooms allocated to them. She slipped inside the one closest to the common.
“Do not sleep…naked,” he said, not putting it past her to do just that.
She frowned. “Why would I?”
That put him in his place. She was right to ask when she’d never stripped unless she had to. Every time he’d seen her…exposed, it was for a reason. He sat on his bed and waited, listening to her settling down. When silence reigned, he headed to the common.
“Coll,” he gestured to his back, “please check my other wound. Ziamee healed it with a med-gun, but I want to make sure I don’t need new skin.”
“Why did you not mention this earlier?” Coll asked, setting his cup down to rise.
“To be honest, I wanted off the med-E.D.” Illan trailed him to medical, circling a sleeping Amet. “A creature from the cavern’s lake attacked us.” He whipped off his tunic and offered Coll his back.
The medic hummed. “Lady Ziamee did well.”
She had, except for the times she’d left Illan in the dark. Although, when she’d thought he’d died, the fear in her voice would never cease to haunt him. She hadn’t hesitated to pull him up despite her injury. That said much about who she was as a person.
Despite her foolhardiness in charging after Seba, he admired her.
That realization stiffened his spine. His emotions were evolving too fast for his liking.
He needed a strategy. It was expected for a male to offer a gift to the father.
Would it be required if he ‘rescued’ them?
Would that be enough? If he had a daughter, the suitor would have to bring the impossible.
His chest swelled at that thought. Faelin of his own?
Yes, Ziamee was his future.
And on that decision, he went to retrieve replacement blasters for them both as soon as Coll set him free. Just in case.