gaian consortium 06 - zhore deception (15 page)

“You are so very beautiful,” he whispered.

How could he say that, when he had never even seen her face? But Trinity knew she was judging his words as a human might. He thought her beautiful because of the time they’d spent working together, because of what he thought was her personality. What would his reaction be, she wondered, if he ever discovered that every moment they’d spent together was a lie?

Not all of it,
she thought fiercely.
This…him holding my hand, kissing it…that’s not a lie. The way I feel about him isn’t a lie.

“What now?” she asked, also in a whisper. “What do we do now? I don’t know — ” And then she broke off, because she realized she’d almost betrayed herself. Surely a young Zhore woman would know what their next step was.

Luckily, he seemed to misunderstand, saying, “It is difficult, when two people work together, but not unprecedented. We can work through that later. For now, though….”

“For now?” Her voice shook a little, but she didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing. Zhandar didn’t have to know it was from relief, rather than a reaction to his kiss on her hand.

Well, maybe it was a little of that.

Although she couldn’t see him, she thought he might be smiling within that hood. “For now, I would like to have dinner with you.”

One thing Trinity had learned in her time on Zhoraan was that the Zhore did not share the human love of dining in public. She supposed they thought eating too personal an activity to be shared with others. And while the vegetarian aliens did love to cook, they sometimes found themselves too busy to properly attend to the task. Hence, their world’s surprisingly bustling food-delivery business.

They went to Zhandar’s apartment. Trinity didn’t know if this was all a prelude to more physical activities, but she told herself she would follow along and do what was required. Besides, if just the merest brush of his lips against the palm of her hand could arouse that kind of reaction in her, she wouldn’t mind finding out what even more intimate contact might feel like.

His place was larger than hers, and located on the top floor of the building it occupied.
Penthouse suite,
she thought in some amusement. The Zhore might act all egalitarian, but it seemed there were still some strata in their society if you squinted hard enough. Or possibly the apartment was part of his compensation for working so hard at the same job for so long.

Soft lights flicked on as they entered. Here, too, were more of the wall water features, and lush plants in shades of deep green and soft blue in strategically placed planters. The air smelled good, of something faintly sweet and spicy. Trinity didn’t know if that was from the carefully cultivated vegetation or something else — the Zhore equivalent of incense — but she liked it.

Zhandar seemed almost hesitant as he led her into the main living area, which was furnished with low, soft couches and a couple of artfully placed ottomans. “Anything in particular you would like?” he asked, pulling his handheld out of a pocket in his robes.

“Surprise me,” she replied.

He laughed. The dark, rich sound of it made a delicious shiver go down her spine. “I plan to.”

Oh, dear God.

She didn’t recognize half of what he ordered as he placed the call, but she had told him to surprise her, after all. So far, most of what she’d eaten here on Zhoraan was surprisingly tasty. She’d been expecting bland, unappetizing dishes for some reason, but the Zhore had a deft hand with their spices, and did such wonderful things with the local mushrooms — all right, fungus — that half the time you couldn’t even tell you weren’t eating real meat.

He put the handheld away, then stood there, watching her. Then he said, “The next step is up to you.”

“The next step?” she echoed, confused. What, did he want her to jump his bones now before the food even came?

Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing, but….

His fingers touched the edge of his hood. “We can wait, if you wish.”

Oh. So once a couple had declared that they shared the
sayara
bond, apparently it was time to dispense with the hoods and the cloaks, at least when they were in private together. She would see him.

And he would see her.

What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if he no longer thought she was beautiful? Trinity told herself not to worry, that the Zhore were interested in the spirit, not the physical, but that element of their natures had its own dangers. At some point she would have to open up to him. Not all the way, but enough that he could read her emotions. Bonded couples probably didn’t hide what they felt from one another. She wouldn’t have to worry about Zhandar reading her mind, since he was an empath, not a true psychic, but even her emotional landscape was something of a mine field, let alone what her actual thoughts concealed.

Taking a breath, she said, “Yes, Zhandar…but shouldn’t we wait until after the food is delivered?”

He didn’t seem too worried about her suggestion that they delay the moment of truth. “Of course. That would be wisest, I think. But in the meantime….”

Turning from her, he went into the kitchen, to the refrigeration unit. “A glass of
zhir
, perhaps?”

Zhir,
she recalled, was a mildly alcoholic drink, pale in color. The closest Gaian analogue was a dry white wine. That sounded harmless enough, considering the Zhore beverage had a far lower alcohol content than actual wine. “That sounds lovely.”

He pulled a pretty bottle of etched glass from the refrigeration unit, followed by two low, square glasses from one of the cupboards. A precise measure into each glass, and then he was approaching her and handing her one.

“To…the future,” he said, raising his own glass slightly.

So the Zhore had their own version of a toast, one very similar to the Gaian custom. Trinity lifted her glass, then drank. The
zhir
was so light it seemed almost to evaporate off her tongue as soon it touched her mouth, rather like champagne but without the bubbles. “To the future,” she echoed, and hoped that was a more or less acceptable response.

It seemed to be correct, because Zhandar dipped his head toward her, as if in a nod. “The future was not something I wished to contemplate, until very recently. Thank you for that.”

She guessed he was speaking of his late wife. So hard to know exactly what to say, or how to phrase it. Did the Zhore tiptoe around death the way the Gaians tended to, or did the aliens accept it as part of the natural course of life? Even if they did, she could tell that the man who stood before her now had taken his wife’s death very hard, maybe because she was certainly far too young to die, except through accident or tragedy.

“I know that feeling,” Trinity said quietly. She hated the lies she had to tell him. The story about her parents’ and other family members’ deaths in the Alizhaar earthquake had been a conveniently plausible one for Gabriel to give her, mainly because it removed the awkward problem of being all alone in a very family-oriented culture, but she still wanted to cringe every time she was forced to mention anything about it. Still, it seemed the correct response to offer now.

Apparently, Zhandar agreed, since he nodded. “I hope I will be able to change that for you.”

She couldn’t possibly admit to him that she feared the future now more than ever. More lies, more subterfuge, until she could make her escape. He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t pretend to know everything about him, but the last two weeks she’d spent working with him had told her that he was a good man. He should have someone who truly did love him.

Maybe you do,
she thought then.
You certainly want him. You like him. You want to be around him. How is that any different from the other times you fancied yourself in love?

Basically, it wasn’t. And that was an even bigger problem. Because if she loved him…or thought she did…how the hell would she ever be able to carry out Gabriel’s plan?

The universe saved her from having to unknot that problem right then, as the door chime sounded. Zhandar set his glass down on the kitchen counter and went to answer the door. A low-slung mech, not much more than a glorified cart, waited just beyond the door.

Zhandar swiped his credit voucher through the mech’s card reader. At once, the plastic dome of the little robot opened, revealing a set of covered plates and bowls in various sizes. A quick glance over at Trinity, and Zhandar said, “If you don’t mind, Zhanna — ”

She hurried over and lifted several of the plates off the mech’s tray. Zhandar scooped up the rest, and then the dome closed and the robot whirred away, moving smoothly on a series of small air jets.

“The dining room table?” Trinity asked, and Zhandar replied,

“Yes, if you would.”

At least she knew that the Zhore ate their meals in a manner not unlike that of most Gaian cultures, even if the aliens generally chose to only eat with their closest of relatives. She set down the plates, choosing a spot at the head of the table and one immediately to the left. Zhandar followed a few seconds later, then put down the bowls he held. A bit of a bustle while he returned to the kitchen to get eating utensils and napkins that felt like cloth but went into the recycling unit with all the other waste.

Then the table was set, and they were standing there, watching each other.

At last Trinity said, “Should I go first?”

They both knew she wasn’t talking about taking a seat at the table.

“No,” Zhandar replied. “I was the one to bring it up. So I should take the first step.”

It might have been cowardly of her, but Trinity couldn’t help feeling a rush of relief. Seeing him first would give her the courage — she hoped — to push her own hood back, to let him see her face. Even if it wasn’t really her face.

Slowly, he pulled off one glove, then the other, and laid them both on the table, at the end where no place settings had been set. By now she was used enough to staring at the iridescent black Zhore skin whenever she looked in a mirror that seeing it on Zhandar’s hands didn’t give her pause. She did like the shape of those hands, though, and the strong, tapering fingers.

The thought of what it would be like, to have those fingers touching her….

Then his hands were lifting, both of them, going to the edge of his hood and grasping it. A subtle pause, one she might not have even noticed if she hadn’t been looking for it, and the hood went back.

The first thing she noticed were his eyes. They were gray, but not the hard charcoal color of Gabriel Brant’s eyes. Zhandar’s were a clear, piercing shade, almost silvery, shocking against the darkness of his skin. The features were strong, high cheekbones and a longish nose, and a wide friendly mouth, although he was not smiling now. No, he was staring at her with an intensity that was almost painful to see — relief that his hood no longer hid his face, but worry that she wouldn’t like what she saw.

Oh, she liked it. More than liked. The bones of his face were beautiful, and those glinting eyes, with their fringe of sooty lashes, held hers. Would she be able to look away, even if she tried?

She didn’t know for sure. She only knew that it was now her turn.

And so she pushed back her own hood.

CHAPTER NINE

Zhandar’s breath strangled in his throat. Physical beauty was not something his people counted as highly as beauty of mind and spirit, and yet….

And yet he had hoped that Zhanna would be as physically lovely as her strength and courage and intelligence made her spiritually lovely. A shallow hope, perhaps, but Elzhair had been beautiful, and he’d delighted as much in the curve of her throat and the flash in her eyes as he had in her sense of humor and quickness of thought. It was all those things that had made her Elzhair, and he had never been one to dwell on one quality above another.

But Zhanna…Zhanna was exquisite. His gaze lingered on her mouth, so full, so luscious. Those were the sorts of lips that cried out to be kissed. Her eyes, a brilliant blue-green, seemed shadowed with worry. Although she had always maintained controls so strict that he thought she would make an excellent instructor in the sorts of mental barriers Zhore society required, now he could sense a flicker of unease in her, as if she feared he would look on her and find her somehow lacking.

He knew he must disabuse her of that notion immediately.

Going to her, he took her hands in his and pulled the gloves away. She was slight and delicate, and her hands were no different — fine-boned, fragile, but with a subtle strength underlying them nonetheless. His fingers wrapped around hers, pulled her closer.

A small tremor went through her. That didn’t surprise him, as he’d felt the same shiver when they touched for the first time in such a way, naked flesh to naked flesh. And this was only their fingers knotted together.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured. “You are perfect.”

She began to shake her head. What had happened to her, to make her think she was anything less than perfection? Had she felt the
sayara
bond with someone, only to discover that her feelings were not reciprocated? That could be hurtful, but all his people knew that such things happened from time to time because of a mismatch in biology. It was certainly nothing personal.

He must show her that such was certainly not the case here.

They now stood less than a hand’s breadth apart. He bent to her, touched his lips to hers. Oh, the glory of that mouth against his! So soft, so lush, so welcoming. She tasted of
zhir
, and something more, her own delectable flavor.

And then her body was pressed against his, and she was trembling. He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his cloak. But even though she shook, she did not pull her mouth from his, instead allowed him to continue the kiss, to let his tongue touch hers.

Heat was flooding through his body, threatening to consume him. He knew if they didn’t stop here, he would lift her up and take her to his bedchamber. As much as he wanted that, he understood these things must be taken more slowly. After all, they had only declared their
sayara
bond to one another an hour earlier. Although it was not unheard of for a couple to follow their instincts and bond in every way soon after such a declaration, neither was it precisely condoned.