gaian consortium 06 - zhore deception (17 page)

While logical, her reply clearly just irritated Brant that much more. Mouth clenched almost as tightly as his fists, he stepped away from her, as if he needed to put some space between them so he could gather his thoughts. At length he said, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Who would have thought Gabriel Brant would act like some jealous boyfriend, sulking because some other male paid attention to his girlfriend at a bar or club?

The thing was, he wasn’t her boyfriend, though. He was the person assigned to handle her, to make sure she carried out the impossible mission the Consortium had seen fit to give her. Somewhere along the line, though, it seemed as if he’d gotten his wires crossed, and now he apparently viewed her as his property. The government wouldn’t care about that, not if it got the information it wanted, along with a little half-breed its scientists could study. Once she was done on Zhoraan, she would be Gabriel’s.

And although it had seemed at first that he was indifferent to the notion of her having to be intimate with a Zhore, now it looked as if he’d changed his tune. She’d dared to enjoy kissing Zhandar.

Trinity hated what she knew she had to do next, but she didn’t see any way around it. Allowing herself a quick breath for courage, she crossed over to where Gabriel stood and laid a hand on his arm.

“It’s not as if I really want to do it,” she told him. “It’s more like…I can let my instincts take over when I have to. And that’s all it is. Instinct. Automatic body functions. You can’t think that I’m consciously enjoying myself, can you?”

His eyes scanned her face. Her expressions were still her own, more or less, but they looked so very different now. Because of that, she had no idea what he actually saw in her features.

Whatever it was must have convinced him, however, because in the next moment he was bending down and slamming his mouth on hers, forcing his tongue inside. Trinity forced herself to keep from gagging, and instead pressed her body against his, wrapped her arms around him. And as much as she wanted to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t be confronted by the visual evidence of who she was kissing, she knew that would be a mistake.

So she gazed up at him, lids somewhat droopy, as if with desire, but not enough to completely veil her eyes. It seemed to work, because his arms tightened around her as he attempted to claim her with his mouth.

And, thank God, her heart was beating quickly, and her breathing was speeding up, but with tension, not desire. The two goons monitoring all her readings wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, though, and that was the important thing. Gabriel could never learn that she was faking all this.

At last he released her, although his eyes never left her face. “You enjoyed that?”

“Of course I did.”

A long pause. Then the door opened, and Blake Chu stepped in.

Trinity’s mouth went dry. That whole time, she’d been keeping her barriers up — it was just easier to maintain them at all times, rather than raise and lower them at her whim — but had it been enough? Or had Blake somehow managed to see through the lies she’d been telling Gabriel?

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at Blake. “Well?”

Blake’s thin shoulders lifted. “I didn’t get anything from her. She must be blocking herself all the time now.”

Damn straight. And thank God for that.
Fixing what she hoped was a look of innocence on her face, she said, “Was I? I guess I’ve just been so focused on making sure the Zhore can’t get anything out of me that I didn’t stop to think about it.” Then she lifted an eyebrow and sent a searching glance of her own in Blake’s direction. “I thought you’d stayed back at the base.”

“I did, but then Gabriel called for me to help out here.” Blake smiled, but the eyes behind his glasses remained cold. “Who else could go down there and stab a needle in you to knock you out? I’m the only one who could have kept the Zhore from figuring out the person Gabriel sent wasn’t one of them.”

She supposed she should have thought of that. “How’d you get me away? It’s not like you could have zapped me out of there like on one of those shows set in the future with matter transporters and all that other crap.”

Gabriel and Blake exchanged a glance. Then Gabriel replied, “He took you up to the roof of your building, where a shielded craft was waiting for you. We’re now able to mimic their transponder codes. They didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. And that’s how we’ll return you…when we’re done with you.”

That wasn’t really what she wanted to hear. Then again, as angry as he was, Gabriel still needed her to complete the mission. They didn’t have anyone else. And whatever his personal feelings on the matter might be, he certainly wasn’t about to defy his own superiors to keep her out of the clutches of an alien male. So she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, or force himself on her. Not when the entire goal was to get her knocked up by a Zhore.

Despite those reassurances, Trinity wasn’t about to let her guard down. “Haven’t I done everything you’ve asked? I’m playing a part. That’s all.” She almost added,
You need to trust me,
but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. She doubted Gabriel Brant trusted anyone. Maybe not even himself.

He gave the slightest tilt of his head toward the door, but that seemed to be enough for Blake. He sent Trinity a last speculative glance, then sidled out. After the door closed again, the little room was deathly quiet. She didn’t dare say anything. Now it was Gabriel’s turn. He’d have to decide whether he believed what she’d been telling him, or not.

The seconds ticked by. She stood very still, hands at her sides. Then he took a step toward her. Another. They were only a few inches apart. He was very tall. Not quite as tall as Zhandar, but enough that she felt her own lack of height even more keenly.

Gabriel bent toward her, pushed her heavy black-dyed hair away from her ear. His breath came hot as he whispered, “Don’t enjoy it. I’ll be able to tell.”

Then he stepped away. All she could do was remain standing there, until Blake returned to take her back to Zhoraan.

CHAPTER TEN

It should have been torture, having Zhanna there every day, and yet not being able to touch her, or even tell the people they worked with how their relationship had changed. And yet, strangely, it wasn’t. Perhaps that was simply because they had their stolen hours after work, when she would come to his apartment and they would eat and talk, and lie in each other’s arms — still clothed, still only kissing — until the hour grew late enough that he knew he must return her to her home.

Of course he wanted her to stay, but he told himself he must be patient. They would have the rest of their lives to share, and it had only been ten days since they revealed their feelings to one another. There was time.

At any rate, work was keeping them both busy. Zhanna proved over and over what a valuable companion she was, not only in the private times they shared, but also in keeping track of his numerous projects and appointments. Young she might be, but it was clear she had a good deal of experience in this type of work.

And if she seemed reticent to discuss her own past, while at the same time encouraging him to speak of his own family, Zhandar couldn’t blame her too much for that. Her losses must still be very fresh, very painful, and if it soothed her to hear about his sister and the child she’d been blessed with, or his parents and their homestead some fifty kilometers outside Torzhaan, Zhandar found himself happy to oblige. He wanted to take her to meet them, but because he and Zhanna had not yet formalized their bond, he decided it would be better to wait. They would have time enough in the future.

Jalzhin had not bothered to contact him again. Rozhara must have passed the word along, and Zhandar was grateful to her for that. But when he’d suggested that he did not need to attend any of their sessions any longer, she told him sternly, “I am pleased that you have found someone who is
sayara,
Zhandar. But that does not mean you’ve left all the pain of the past behind. You cannot place all your hope for healing on this woman you have only just met.”

He’d wanted to protest that he’d done no such thing, but he knew that Rozhara had a point. Besides, if he humored her with one or two more meetings, and she saw how well he was doing, then she would be able to make her own decision regarding his mental health, and would let him alone. He valued his counselor’s input and the advice she had given him over the past year, but he believed he had no more need of her guidance.

Zhanna came into his office as he was working with the 3-D modeler, making minute adjustments to the placements of the planters in the rooftop garden he was designing. This was the part of his work he loved the most. The retrofitting and the remodeling were also important, but it was when he had the ability to design a garden from the beginning that he felt his talents were being put to the best use.

Although it was late, and they were the only ones left on this floor, she still shut the door behind her. He looked up, surprised, as she moved toward him, then paused on the other side of the pedestal with the 3-D model of the garden.

“I have been thinking,” she began.

“You have?” he asked, the words slightly teasing.

But she didn’t rise to the bait. Running a gloved finger along one edge of the pedestal, she went on, “We have a weekend ahead of us.”

“Yes,” he allowed. That was true enough. Three days to reenergize. Perhaps it was time to take her out to the country. They had explored so many of the city’s parks, its museums and galleries. No reason why they couldn’t begin to go farther afield. This part of the world was still new to Zhanna, and he would enjoy sharing its beauties with her.

Her barriers dropped. Just a little, but it was like getting a taste of
irzhir
honey, thick with desire, with need. “I thought that perhaps we could spend the weekend indoors this time.”

All notions of taking her exploring dropped instantly away. Or rather, he wanted very much to explore with her…they would just be explorations of a very different nature.

“I think that would be possible,” he managed, although his heart was already beating more quickly at the thought of three days with her. Three days of sharing, of making love, of making the final commitment to one another.

“Good,” she murmured. “Would you mind if I went home and put together a few things? Then I’ll come to you at your apartment.”

“No, of course not,” he said. “Whatever you would like.”

“Oh, I’ll let you know what I like,” she replied, her voice low and husky with desire. She went to the door and paused there, hand hovering near the controls. “Don’t work too late.”

And then she had let herself out, and Zhandar had to remind himself to breathe.

Was this a mistake? Trinity had wrapped so many lies around herself, around this world she’d created, that she couldn’t begin to figure out what her best course of action was anymore. The true thing, the right thing, would be to tell Zhandar who she really was and why she was really here, but she was too much of a coward for that. Better to do as she was told, get this over with, and then slip away. Yes, that would cause him pain, but the longer she dragged things out, the worse it would get.

Besides, she hated the way he was so open and honest with her, how every little thing he told her about his family, about his past, was being catalogued and discussed and dissected by those two voyeurs up on the second moon, the men assigned to pore over the transmissions sent by her implant. Zhandar certainly didn’t deserve that. If she pushed things along, then she could leave him before he laid bare any more of his life.

And she could go crawling back to Gabriel, and let him use her as he wished. After what she’d done to Zhandar, it would be no more than she deserved.

Now, though, to prepare for this weekend with him. Because their clothing was so utilitarian, the Zhore had no need of fancy lingerie. She couldn’t go shopping for a silky little piece of nothing to tempt her lover with. When the time came, it would be just the two of them, with no teases or games between them. Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. Soul to soul.

She shivered, and went to pack the practicalities of a weekend visit. Changes of underwear, that deceptively simple loincloth wrap that both sexes on Zhoraan seemed to wear. Breast supports, not that unlike Gaian bras, but softer and more comfortable. Lotion and a sonic tooth-scrubber and mouth rinse. No cosmetics, because such a thing didn’t exist on this world. That was one thing she did miss. Yes, applying makeup could be time-consuming, but she’d always found something soothing about it as well, something almost zen in selecting the colors and using the brushes and applicators she’d collected over the years.

What had happened to all her things, anyway? The clothing and toiletries she’d been given at the Consortium base had all been new. She’d left behind an apartment in Barstow, a place that held everything she’d accumulated in her life so far — clothes, a few pieces of furniture, jewelry and electronics and shoes. Had the apartment been emptied, everything given away? Destroyed?

She supposed Gabriel would know, but she’d never ask him what had happened to it. That would let him know that she cared, and caring about something would give a man like him leverage against her.

Once everything was packed and placed in a small duffle-type bag she’d purchased a week or so ago, knowing this day would soon come, she took a look around her apartment. There was no reason to think she wouldn’t be coming back here after the weekend was over, but a little shiver went over her anyway.

Don’t freak yourself out,
she scolded herself.
You’re a psychic, but you’re not
that
kind of psychic.

True enough. Her talent had always involved reading thoughts. She definitely didn’t pretend to be able to see the future. If she really had possessed that kind of ability, she wouldn’t have gotten herself mixed up with Caleb Prescott, and none of this would have ever happened.

Would that have been better, to never have known Zhandar at all?