Alien Refuge (19 page)

That only made it worse for Iris. She sobbed, hating her helplessness to make her son feel better, to make things right when he needed her most.

Ospar folded his arms around her, pressing her to his chest. His pleasantly raspy voice was loud in the silence that fell after Thomas’ screams ended. “Everything will be fine, Iris. I promise. I’m sorry I was so demanding about putting him under, but I only want to take care of the two of you.”

Jol’s voice came next. “I’m carrying him to the room next to ours.”

“That will be good. We’ll keep them both close to us,” Ospar agreed.

“As close as possible.”

Ospar gently prodded Iris to follow Jol out of the room and down a long hall. Rivek walked beside them. “Come, lovely one. You will both be all right now.”

Iris clung to Ospar, trying to find consolation in his strength and Thomas’ peaceful slumbering face.

They followed Jol through the house. They went down a couple of hallways, ending up in a long corridor of the big mansion. “The sleeping wing,” Rivek told Iris.

The Nobek stopped before a closed door, which opened obediently for him. He carried Thomas in. Ospar followed with his arm still locked around Iris’ shoulders, and she saw Jol lay Thomas on a tall, thick mat that reached as tall as mid-thigh on her. It stretched across the floor, large enough to allow an entire family to sleep on. The little boy sank into the soft blue linens. The only other things Iris saw in the room were vids depicting landscapes both alien and familiar.

Jol started pulling Thomas’ boots and coat off.

“Let me,” Iris whispered. Jol moved aside, allowing her to undress Thomas down to his underwear. Then Rivek pulled the folded sheets at the foot of the mat up to cover the sleeping child. The fresh scent of recently laundered fabric reached Iris’ nostrils.

Ospar rummaged in a drawer that had emerged from the wall at his touch. He pulled out a round, white cushion, which he placed beneath Thomas’ head.

Iris sat next to Thomas on the soft bed, stroking his overlong hair. She was no longer crying at least. Not when her little boy looked so serene lying in the silky blue stretch of bed. He appeared angelic, too sweet and pure for such an ugly universe.

Heaven help her. Iris knew she couldn’t live if anything happened to him.

Heavy hands laid on her shoulders. She looked up to see Ospar standing over her. He rubbed her shoulders, easing the tension she felt there.

Rivek told them, “Dala gave me another dose for Thomas if he has difficulty sleeping tonight.”

Ospar’s thumbs massaged either side of Iris’ neck. She almost moaned in reaction. It felt really good.

The Dramok said, “Perhaps he should have left something for Iris as well.”

She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t want to be sedated. I want to be ready if ... if...”

The tears suddenly returned. It didn’t matter if she was ready or not. She’d failed Thomas. If Jol hadn’t raced to get to them, she would have lost him to the would-be kidnappers.

“I couldn’t protect him. I fought them with everything I had, but I couldn’t protect him,” she moaned.

Jol folded his arms over his chest. “That’s what I’m here for and why you are staying with us. We will keep you safe.”

Iris looked up at him. Jol was such a massive man. Strong, like a mighty primal god. She wanted to believe he could keep horror from happening to Thomas. “Can you really? If someone wanted to hurt my child enough, can you actually guarantee that won’t happen?”

Rivek came around and knelt at her feet. His hands cupped her knees, their warmth chasing back some of the chill that had filled her. “Nothing in life is guaranteed. But you and Thomas will not be left alone or unprotected.”

Ospar squeezed her shoulders. “That is a certainty.”

Iris hunched a little, ashamed that she’d behaved so pathetically. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually so weak. But if anything happens to Thomas, I won’t survive it.”

Jol knelt next to Rivek. He reached to stroke her hair. Now all three men were touching her, calming her, making that feeling of security grow. That and the strange familiarity she always felt around them. A sense of rightness that shouldn’t be there.

And if Iris was going to be absolutely honest about it, arousal. It made no sense, not when she sat here, still remembering the terror of only minutes ago. Yet the heated tumbling of her guts refused to be ignored. She had the wild urge to throw herself into the shelter of the men’s arms, to make them kiss her and touch her and make the fear go away.

Iris dragged her rogue thoughts away from how good their hands on her made her feel. She attended to what Rivek was saying.

“You must not even contemplate such things as losing your son, not now when you’ve endured such a horrific shock. Just know you are safe with us.”

Jol’s quiet thunder of a voice was determined. “No one will get to you or your child while I am near, Iris. That is my vow to you, and I will give you my throat and the knife to cut it with if I fail.”

She drew a shuddering breath and blinked out what she hoped were the last of her tears, at least for the day. She managed to smile at each man in turn. “You hardly know us, but you’ve been so good to us. Without my even asking.”

Ospar returned her smile with a quizzical one of his own. “We have just met, haven’t we? I keep reminding myself of that. It’s funny, but I feel like a part of me has known you all along. What is that called, Rivek?”

“Spirit recognition.” The Imdiko told Iris, “It’s an idea some theologians have discussed through the centuries. It refers to the belief that the essence of who we are has already met before we join to a physical form.” He cocked his head and studied her face. “You seem very familiar to me too. The first time you and Thomas came to the temple, I thought, ‘Well, here they are finally.’ As if something in me had been expecting you to come along.”

“You even asked Thomas if he already knew you.” Iris blinked at him. “This spirit recognition sounds similar to the Earther idea of soul mates. But that goes beyond simple recognition. It’s the idea that two people are meant for each other.” Her face heated.

Jol watched her carefully. “There are more than two people here. I feel that even Thomas belongs with us.”

“He does.” Ospar looked at the sleeping boy, and his expression softened in a look of affection.

Iris basked in their acceptance of her son. “I wished I believed in such things.”

Rivek asked, “Why shouldn’t you? It certainly feels right to me.”

It felt right to her too, Iris thought. It had from the moment she saw Jol holding Thomas after snatching him out of Blaine Middleton’s reckless path. The first instant she’d seen Rivek and again when Ospar came to her home.

The idea should have frightened her. Such things simply didn’t happen, especially not on Haven where most Earthers held the Kalquorians at arms’ length. And yet the familiarity persisted, embracing her in comfort.

She swallowed. “This – this can’t be happening. We just met.”

Ospar chuckled. “As far as you can remember. However, I think my spirit recognizes yours, lovely Iris. I think we want to be re-acquainted.” He tugged her to her feet. “Come. Let’s leave Thomas to sleep.”

“But—”

“We won’t go far. Just to the next room, and we’ll put the monitor on so we can hear Thomas when he wakes.” Ospar smiled at her, not just with his lips but with his whole face. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Looking into those kind, purple eyes, Iris could almost believe him.

She followed Ospar into the next room over, with Jol and Rivek following them. They went into another bedroom, but this space was not impersonal like the one Thomas now slept in. This one had shelves with mementos like a hand-carved bowl, incense burners, and something that looked like a towel wrap carelessly dropped on the floor.

One wall was covered in still vids of Ospar’s clan, portraits of them through the years. The largest sat in the middle of the collection, a recent picture of the three men standing in front of this very house. The words
Haven Colony Opens
followed by the date floated beneath the picture. Ospar wore his familiar grin, Jol seemed politely stern, and Rivek looked as open and peaceful as ever. Other pictures ranged around this one, all with captions and dates. Iris stared at the two on either side of the middle portrait. On the left, a very young Ospar and Jol stood together in front of what appeared to a tree with sapphire-blue leaves. Ospar looked elated and Jol appeared almost lighthearted himself. At least the most relaxed Iris had ever seen him. He also had a livid scar, apparently fresh, on his chest, which was nearly bared in the wide-opened collar of a white shirt.
Clanning Ceremony
read the caption.

The other picture that caught her eye also bore the legend
Clanning Ceremony
, but this one included a young, smiling Rivek, and an unchanged Ospar and Jol. Unchanged except the two men seemed more serious. They still looked happy, but there was a wariness added to their features that hadn’t been there before. Jol wore a red shirt in this portrait, and his scar had faded. They stood very close to the ever-serene blue, silver, and brown-robed Rivek, almost too close for a casual picture. It was almost as if the Dramok and Nobek were reassuring themselves by staying in contact with their new clanmate.

There was certainly a story there, Iris thought. But that curiosity was eclipsed by the knowledge that she was in the clan’s bedroom.

She opened her mouth and tried to repeat her earlier statement:
It’s too soon.
The words wouldn’t come, especially as she looked at the three men watching her. The statement sounded like a lie.

“Monitor on in Guest Room One, receiving only. Now we can hear Thomas,” Ospar said. He sat on the edge of the immense bed and patted the surface next to him. “Sit down. Please.”

Iris never considered not going to him. Her legs moved forward and turned her around so that she sat close to the Dramok. She sank into the cloud softness of the bed, but all her awareness was on Ospar. They didn’t quite touch, but she imagined she could feel the heat of him, even through her coat. Every sense was on alert, every mote of her being at perfect attention.

Rivek came towards her and tugged at her coat’s clasps. “Let me take this for you. You’re going to overheat.”

She looked into his peaceful, kind face. She was alone with three near strangers that didn’t feel like strangers. In their bedroom. Sitting on their bed. Rivek and Ospar were sliding her coat from her shoulders, and Jol pulled her boots off. It was a situation no woman in her right mind would allow. Yet it felt so right, so perfect that she was there with them like this.

Spirit recognition. Soul mates. Utterly ridiculous. Yet it felt precisely dead on.

Ospar cupped her chin and raised her face to his. Iris gazed up into those cat-slitted purple eyes that were so alien and yet beautiful. His breath wafted over her face, warm and sweet.

“Nothing happens that you don’t want,” he said, his voice softly raspy. “Tell me what you want, Iris.”

She didn’t even have to think about it. “Hold me. Kiss me.”

His pupils widened. A strong band of steel circled her waist, pulling Iris close to the man sitting next to her. As if in a dream, Ospar’s handsome face drifted down to hers. She closed her eyes. The softest of touches caressed her lips, a slow sliding of the Kalquorian’s mouth against hers. It closed around first her lower lip, then the upper, as if testing the softness. Then it settled firmly over her mouth. She felt the hardness of his teeth through the kiss.

Iris sighed, her lips parting beneath Ospar’s. He took the opportunity to slip the tip of his tongue between them, a careful tasting. Iris opened her mouth more, inviting him in. He accepted the invitation, his warm tongue reaching in to stroke hers, soft and slow.

It was as gently raspy as his voice, like rough velvet rubbed in the wrong direction. Ospar’s flavor was salty musk. Somehow primitive, with an undercurrent that Iris could only have described as masculine. Tasting him made her chilled insides heat suddenly. She moaned.

Ospar responded to the sound with a moan of his own. He held her tighter still, and his tongue fondled hers with greater force. The kiss became more demanding, as if the taste he’d gotten of her had awoken a ravenous appetite. He plundered her mouth with desire. She arched against him, a thrill of pure want chasing from her sex to her spine, up to her skull, and back down again.