Loving a Stranger Page 7

  Heedless of how strange he must look, he stood perfectly still with his eyes closed tight. Mentally, he made himself as small as possible, not even daring to breathe. If Harryx went back to sleep—back to his coma—on his own, all would be well. But if he sensed Reeve’s presence in his mind it would doubtless rouse him and from that moment on, every second spent in the Hascion’s mind would be a constant struggle.

  There was another questioning mental noise and then a feeling like a sleeper roused momentarily from slumber rolling over and going back to sleep. Then…quiet.

  Reeve took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Goddess, that had been too fucking close for comfort! He became aware that the guard was staring at him uneasily, a look of discomfort and uncertainty on his lumpy face.

  “Uh, Arch-General Parokk?” he asked. “Are you feeling well?”

  “Just fine. I had a…a momentary headache,” Reeve said quickly.

  “Oh, of course.” The guard nodded sympathetically. “I did hear you took quiet a nasty blow to the head.”

  “Yes, well—I’m fine now.” Reeve nodded back and strode through the hole in the wall, which promptly melted back to a solid state after he went through it.

  All right, he was in. Now where was the wormhole tech? He stopped for a moment and looked around.

  The headquarters of the Inner Circle was remarkably nondescript. There was a rich maroon carpet on the floor and matching maroon dots and swirls on the cream-colored walls, as though whoever had decorated the building wanted everything to match. There were a few plain wooden doors leading into offices where people appeared to be busy speaking in hushed voices or working with computer-type equipment.

  Unfortunately what he didn’t see was a door marked “Top Secret” or “Wormhole Development—Keep Out.”

  Not that he’d expected such obvious markers but still, it would have been nice to have something to go on.

  He didn’t like to try accessing Harryx’s memory banks again so soon after the near-waking so Reeve simply strolled down the corridors, chin up and chest out, trying to look supremely confident. Most of the time, he’d found, when you acted like you belonged someplace, nobody questioned you. It was when you started hiding in the shadows and skulking around corners that others got suspicious.

  He met several people who seemed to know Harryx as he wandered the corridors. Some exclaimed about his rapid recovery and some just nodded. Reeve kept his answers short and moved on as quickly as he could. From the limited information he could pick up from his host’s mind, it seemed that Harryx Parokk was a taciturn son-of-a-bitch so hopefully his terse exchanges with coworkers wouldn’t cause any suspicion.

  At last, after turning down an especially long and narrow hallway, he found a locked door with a sign which said,

  Authorized Personnel Only. All Others KEEP OUT.

  This has to be it, Reeve thought. The door didn’t just look right—it felt right. Somehow he knew that what he was seeking was directly behind it.

  The door wouldn’t give when he pulled the handle but then he noticed another retinal scanning aperture located at eye-height right beside it.

  Great—another retinal scan and his host had already nearly woken once. Would this set Harryx off—wake him from his coma for good? Reeve was afraid it would. Which meant he had to be ready to run into the forbidden area and trash the wormhole tech and research as fast as he could. If he gave Harryx a chance to get his bearings and start fighting, it would be much harder to finish his mission. It would be like trying to drive a car or fly a shuttle while the person in the passenger seat was attempting to beat you senseless with a club.

  Reeve was damn good at the ducking and dodging that was necessary to get things done within an unwilling host, but even he couldn’t stay inside a body that was determined to get rid of him forever. Okay, so he would have to make this quick.

  He was about to put his eye to the scanner when he suddenly thought of Nallah.

  In his mind’s eye he could see her as he had left her that morning—her golden eyes wide and one little hand pressed tentatively to her cheek, where he had kissed her. He’d told her he was sorry for hurting her—actually apologizing for all the horrible things Harryx had probably done—and practically promised she would never be hurt again.

  But what would happen once his host woke up? After Reeve had used his body to trash the Hascions’ most important research and tech, Harryx was going to be in a lot of trouble.

  Well, they’ll probably take him into custody then and lock him up, Reeve tried to tell himself. But he couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling growing inside him. What if Harryx wasn’t locked up? What if he got home to Nallah? He would be filled with rage and looking for someone to take it out on…

  Reeve knew the bastard hit her. Though he hadn’t been able to access any specific memories in his host’s data banks—maybe because he was entering the wrong search terms—he could tell just by Nallah’s reactions when he got too close to her or moved too suddenly. She acted like someone always expecting another beating—always waiting for the next blow to fall.

  Reeve was also pretty sure Harryx forced her in bed too. That whole Hascion custom of a wife submitting sexually to her husband every night had to be difficult for her. Even if Harryx was gentle—which Reeve doubted—she had no say in the matter. Nonconsensual sex, rough or not, equaled rape in Reeve’s view, though he doubted the Hascions saw it that way.

  That’s what you’ll be leaving her to, whispered a little voice in the back of his head. An angry, frustrated male who’s looking to take out his rage on someone. Beatings and rape—that will be the outcome if you successfully complete this mission and abandon Nallah to the tender mercies of her husband. Is that what you really want to do?

  He thought again of her warm golden eyes, like pools of sunshine, of her soft, tentative way of speaking and her river of gold and silver hair. It wasn’t just her beauty that drew him—there was also an almost indefinable quality about the little female that seemed to squeeze at his heart. There was a hidden strength in her—there had to be in order for her to have endured marriage to Harryx. It drew Reeve to her—made him long to get to know her better—and to protect her from her asshole of a husband.

  I can’t just leave her, he thought, remembering her small, curvy body revealed in the diaphanous sex-garment the night before. He’s so much bigger than she is. He’ll kill her if he gets really angry and I doubt anyone on this fucking planet would give a damn if he did. I can’t just—

  “Arch-General Parokk—what are you doing by the Temporal Displacement Research lab?”

  The voice behind him startled him and Reeve jerked up and turned around quickly to find himself facing a tall, older male with a harsh frown on his wrinkled face.

  “Ah…” He began. “Excuse me, uh…”

  Grand General Viceroy, supplied the memory banks of Harryx’s mind, helpful for once. Immediate superior.

  Which meant he was Harryx’s boss. Great.

  “Excuse me, Grand General Viceroy,” Reeve continued as smoothly as he could. “But since I’ve recovered from my illness, I wanted to get to know and understand the operations going on here more thoroughly.”

  The Grand General frowned.

  “You do? But why do you care about wormhole generation, Arch-General Parokk? You’re in charge of troop movement and strategy—not technology.”

  “Ah well…troop movement, as you said,” Reeve said, improvising. “That’s why I’m interested. If my troops are going to be moving through those wormholes, I need to know more about them.” He lifted his chin, frowning. “I’m not risking my men’s lives until I know exactly what they’re facing. I won’t send them someplace I wouldn’t go myself.”

  “Well…” The frown cleared from the Grand General’s seamed face. “That is a most admirable sentiment, Parokk. And one I happen to agree with. Very well—I’ll arrange to have your retinal signature added to the approved list on the Temporal Displacement door at the
start of next ten-day.”

  “So…tomorrow, then?” Reeve asked hopefully.

  The Grand General frowned. “Well…no. Tomorrow marks the beginning of the High Holiday culminating in the Ritual of Procreation.”

  “High Holiday? Ritual of Procreation?” Reeve couldn’t stop himself from repeating. Goddess, what had he gotten himself into here?

  “Well, of course!” the Grand General said heartily. “Three days of celebration and feasting culminating in a performance of fertility in the temple of the God-King.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Which reminds me…you know, my wife is getting on in years—she’s almost half my age now and she hasn’t given me any sons. It might be time to trade up before this year’s festival.”

  “Trade up?” Reeve knew he was repeating everything the other male said but he couldn’t help it—a sort of horrified curiosity had taken over him. The Grand General was providing a kind of window into Hascion culture and the more Reeve saw, the worse it looked.

  “Yes—trade up. I really think I should,” Grand General Viceroy mused. “I mean, she’s always been respectful and obedient and she’s never tried to deny me her sexual submission.” He laughed, a short ugly bark of sound. “Not that I would let her get away with that, even if she tried! You have to train them right, eh?” He grinned at Reeve who gave him a smile that felt completely fake on his host’s face in return.

  “Uh…right.”

  “Anyway, she’s generally been a fairly good wife so I won’t rip her veil or mark her face and declare her one of the Disgraced,” The Grand General went on.

  “You won’t?” Reeve asked, still equal parts fascinated and horrified.

  This male was talking about his mate as though she was a worn out piece of machinery he needed to replace—or maybe just a dish or a piece of furniture he wanted to get rid of because it didn’t please him anymore. Nothing could be further from the Kindred ideal of marriage and joining.

  “What will you do with her then?” he asked.

  “Well…sell her probably.” The Grand General shrugged. “Might even take her back to the place I got her in the first place. Get myself a pretty young thing to plow during the Ritual at the temple.” He grinned and nudged Reeve’s arm—or rather, the arm of his host. “Might even try to find one that looks like that little wife of yours. I bet you ride her like a stallion during the performance of fertility every year. Where did you get her, anyway?”

  “I…” The words seemed to stick in Reeve’s throat but somehow he got them out. “I bought her from…from her father.”

  “There, you see?” The Grand General nodded. “Private sales are always best. You know exactly what you’re getting. But they’re also damn expensive—especially if you like to trade up often as I do.”

  “Exactly,” Reeve managed to say but inside he was seething. He would have been so thankful if the Goddess had seen fit to grant him a mate—a female to cherish and protect and guard with his life. But here on Hascion Five, they treated women like disposable items, to be thrown away or replaced whenever they weren’t pleasing anymore.

  What a fucked up world!

  “I…I’d better get back to work,” he said thickly. “I have…much to do to before the uh, Ritual of Fertility.”

  “Ritual of Procreation,” the Grand General corrected. He frowned at Reeve. “Are you certain you’re up to being back to work yet, Arch-General Parokk? You don’t seem quite yourself today. Also, why are you wearing your dress uniform on a non-parade day?”

  “Uh, I…” Reeve cleared his throat and looked down at himself—the many dangling metals, the puffy trousers, the sparkling boots. “I got dressed in a hurry today and wasn’t noticing what I put on.”

  “Oh, no?” the Grand General frowned again.

  “No, because I just wanted to get back as soon as possible—I’ve missed so much.” Reeve tried to make his voice sincere and convincing. “From the moment I woke up in that bed in the med center—I mean the House of Healing—all I could think about was how concerned I was about my troops being moved through unstable wormholes.”

  “Well, that’s understandable, I suppose.” The Grand General clapped him on the back. “It’s admirable that you’re so devoted to your work that you don’t notice anything else.”

  “I aim to please, Sir.” From Harryx’s reluctant memory banks, Reeve drew an image of the proper salute to give a male of the Grand General’s status and performed it flawlessly.

  “Very good.” His superior nodded and saluted back. “I’ll have your retinal scan added so that you’ll be able to access the restricted area the first day back from the High Holidays.” He laughed and clapped Reeve on the shoulder again. “As long as you don’t wear yourself out breeding that sweet little wife of yours at the temple, that is.”

  “Oh, I’ll try not to, Sir.” Reeve laughed weakly. The upcoming holiday and the ritual at the temple was definitely something he would have to think about.

  “Excellent.” The Grand General nodded. “And don’t tire yourself out on your first day back, Parokk. Go home a bit early today and rest up. You’ll need your strength for the Ritual!”

  Laughing, he stumped off down the hall, leaving Reeve to wonder what in the Seven Hells he was going to do for the next several days while he waited to get access to the wormhole lab. Was he really going to have to go through the Ritual of Procreation and have sex with Nallah in the temple of the Hascion deity?

  Not that Reeve would have minded if he had been sure she was willing. But he didn’t like the idea of taking her in public—especially if it was against her will. And as far as he could tell, everything Harryx had ever done to her was against her will. How could he deal with that—how could he finish his mission if he was also expected to force a female sexually?

  A female you’re beginning to have very strong feelings for, whispered a little voice in his head.

  Reeve pushed it away. He didn’t mess with other male’s wives when he did a snatch—it was one of his rules, closely tied to his rule about not fucking up anyone else’s marriage.

  Of course, usually his host was awake and fighting him. Even if he’d wanted to have sex with the host’s wife, it was damn hard to get an erection with a voice screaming inside your head for you to get out, get out, GET OUT!

  But Harryx is in a coma—he’s asleep. He won’t be fighting—he won’t even know what’s going on.

  Doesn’t matter, Reeve told himself firmly. The rule still applies. No fucking around with other male’s mates.

  Of course, in most cases the host he jumped into actually loved his mate and treated her with respect and care. It was becoming increasingly clear that Harryx Parokk didn’t treat Nallah that way.

  He doesn’t fucking deserve her, Reeve thought, remembering the fear in those golden eyes when she looked at him. Not one fucking bit.

  Still, his resolution held. He wasn’t going to mess with another male’s wife—although how he could manage that when they were supposed to be doing some kind of public fertility ritual, he had no fucking clue.

  Despite the awkwardness of the situation, a part of him felt immensely relieved that his access to the wormhole tech had been delayed. He hadn’t wanted to leave Nallah to the tender mercies of her newly awakened husband, if, as Reeve suspected, another flash of the retinal scanner roused Harryx from his slumber. Now he had time to work out a plan for her. Maybe he could find a safe place to put her—maybe she could even go back to her father’s house?

  He promised himself he wouldn’t leave Hascion Five until he was certain she would be safe. Safe from her husband’s heavy hand and safe from the awful things that seemed to happen to females in this culture.

  Feeling better in his resolve, he began walking in the direction that Harryx’s memory banks indicated was the way to his office. He would pretend to work for the rest of the day and leave early, just as the Grand General had directed.

  Then he would go home—back to Harryx’s domicile anyway—and get to see Na
llah again.

  Though he tried not to let it, his heart jumped at the thought. There was just something about the little female with the golden eyes…He couldn’t wait to see her again. Couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and kiss her soft cheek as he had that morning before leaving.

  Thought you didn’t want to mess with another male’s wife, whispered a sarcastic little voice in his head. Reeve pushed it away. A kiss on the cheek was nothing. After all, it wasn’t like he was falling in love with Nallah—he’d only just met her. The very idea was ridiculous.

  Telling himself that very firmly, he went looking for his office, counting the hours until he could see her again.

  Chapter Ten

  Nallah was having a terrible day. After Harryx had gone she had decided to make a special supper that night—one she hadn’t tried before. She wanted to make it for her husband, to show that she appreciated the way he’d been acting lately—to show she cared.

  It still confused her the way he seemed to have changed since waking from the coma. She’d been half afraid that when they woke up that morning he would have reverted to his old, cruel, taciturn self. But after the way he had kissed her goodbye so gently, she wanted to have something really delicious and special waiting for him that night.

  Because maybe if it’s good enough—if I’m good enough—maybe he’ll keep acting that way. Maybe he’ll be kind instead of cruel from now on.

  Maybe in time her heart would start to heal and she could learn to care for him as she had once longed to. Maybe she would have the kind of sweet, loving husband she’d always dreamed of as a girl—the kind she’d hoped Harryx would be before her father had sold her to him and she had learned the truth.

  But the special supper—volute soup and gracken haunch with yerna sauce—didn’t exactly go as planned.

  For one thing, Nallah had to use up the last of her meager savings to buy the ingredients. The last time Harryx had been paid, his money envelope had come directly to the domicile and into her hands since he was in a coma. She had been hoarding it carefully, not certain when either he would wake up and take charge of the money again or some other male higher in the chain of command would realize that a lowly woman was getting money which rightfully belonged to a man.