gaian consortium 06 - zhore deception (18 page)

She didn’t want to answer that question.

Then it was time to go, letting the door shut behind her, riding down in the lifts. She used her handheld to call for an automated taxi, since the light rail let out a few blocks from Zhandar’s apartment, and she didn’t want to walk that far carrying this duffle with her. That would broadcast her intentions a little too clearly.

On the taxi ride to his place, she stared out the window but didn’t really focus on anything. By now, these streets were familiar enough to her — the wide walkways of close-cropped ground cover, so springy and friendly under your feet, the black-clothed figures that moved serenely along, as if no one was ever in a hurry. The plants and flowers growing everywhere. Torzhaan was alive in a way no city she’d ever lived in before had been.

She wished she didn’t have to leave.

The taxi stopped in front of Zhandar’s building. Trinity quickly swiped her credit voucher through the reader and then got out. At least by now dusk was upon them, and the duffle she carried might not be quite so obvious.

Trying not to look too hurried, she made her way to the building’s entrance, then over to the lifts. She did let out a little sigh of relief when the elevator door closed behind her. No one else had gotten in, and so she had this small space of time to compose her thoughts.

Because she knew this would be her greatest challenge yet. So far she thought she had done a fairly good job of keeping her thoughts hidden, only allowing the smallest drifts of emotion to get through, just enough to let Zhandar know that his feelings were reciprocated. But having to maintain that control while he was making love to her?

Actually, if she had the choice to keep everything tamped down, that would be easier. Now, though, she’d have to open herself enough that he would think she was truly sharing with him, while at the same time maintaining strong enough barriers that her true intentions, her true state of mind, wouldn’t slip through.

All while letting an alien touch her, make love to her.

Not an alien,
she thought then.
Zhandar
.

Sometime over the past month he’d shifted from the alien she was supposed to seduce to the man she loved, and she didn’t quite know what to do about that. Nothing, she supposed. It was a pleasant fantasy to think she could somehow find a way to stay here, to be with him, but she knew that was impossible. About the most she could hope for was that he’d never discover the truth.

Enough of that. The elevator doors were opening, and she stepped out, chin held high, even though no one could really see her. But for some reason it felt better to be striding forward confidently, acting as if this had all been her idea, instead of some diabolical plan foisted upon her by her masters.

She pressed the chime next to Zhandar’s door. He must have been close by, since it opened almost immediately. Then she was inside, and he was taking her bag from her.

“You see?” he said, a laugh in his voice, even though she couldn’t see his expression. “I didn’t work too late.”

“I’m glad I gave you a reason to come home.”

“Oh, yes.” He set down the duffle, then reached up with both hands to push her hood away from her face. There was something formal, almost ceremonial, about the gesture, and Trinity forced herself to stand quietly and let him do so. It wasn’t that they hadn’t spent their private time together uncloaked…more that she knew this time, taking off their hooded robes was only the first step.

He bent and kissed her. Ah, that was better. With his lips spreading sweet fire throughout her veins, it was a lot easier to focus only on him, rather than worry about the future. And when the kiss was done, she pushed his hood back as well so she could see his silver-gray eyes staring down at her intently.

“I have a bottle of
zhir
waiting for us, and some light refreshments. But if you’re hungrier than that, I could get something else.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she replied, then smiled up at him in what she hoped was an appropriately wicked way. “That is, I am hungry…but not for food, precisely.”

His eyes gleamed. “I can understand that. But a little bite to start might be a good idea, if we want to keep our energy up.”

“I can see the wisdom of that.”

Zhandar picked up her duffle again and led her into the living room. After guiding her to one of the couches, he disappeared down the corridor for a moment — to deposit her bag in his bedchamber, she guessed. She did note the tray of pretty little delicacies on the low table in front of the sofa: artfully cut fruit on sweet, thin wafers; a variety of cheeses; thin curls of a local vegetable called
arzha,
topped with savory cream. And the bottle of
zhir,
this one of beautiful glass swirled with shades of blue and green. It must have been a special vintage, since she’d learned that the fancier the bottle, the rarer the liquor inside.

All this, for her.

She stomped on the guilt that reared its head in that moment. The risk that Zhandar could detect the burst of emotion was simply too great, and she couldn’t have this end before they even got started.

He came back into the room, and Trinity made herself smile at him. By then she was in control. She had to pray she’d be able to stay that way, no matter what happened.

“This all looks lovely,” she told him. “However did you have time to put this together?”

As he settled himself on the couch next to her, he replied, “Well, I might have called the local food delivery shop as soon as you left the office.”

“Ah, and here I thought you’d come home and worked away in the kitchen.” Her first impulse had been to say “slaved away,” but the Zhore had no concept of slavery. Luckily, her language conditioning quickly stepped in and course-corrected.

“I decided my energies might be better spent on other things,” Zhandar said, leaning over so he could pick up the bottle of
zhir
and pour a measure into one of the two glasses that had been waiting on the table.

“Wise decision.”

He poured for himself as well, then handed her a glass. She took it from him. They both still wore their gloves, even though their faces were now revealed. Trinity supposed those gloves would come off soon enough, along with everything else.

A little shiver worked its way through her, but because her body was still shrouded by the robes she wore, she didn’t think Zhandar had noticed. At least, she hoped he hadn’t.

“To weekends,” she said, and he smiled and raised his glass.

“To weekends together.”

They touched glasses, but gently, and then they drank. The
zhir
was a mild intoxicant, nothing more, and so Trinity knew she couldn’t rely on it to blur the edges all that much. No, she’d have to do this while in full possession of all her faculties.

“You are nervous,” Zhandar said.

Damn. And here she’d thought she had things more or less under control. Well, probably the best thing to do would be to admit to some of the truth, just not all. “A little,” she replied. “After all, this is not your first time. But it is mine.”

He nodded in understanding. “I will be gentle.”

Did she want that? Not really. She knew the effect his kisses had on her, and if she was going to do this, she wanted the same wild heat and abandon in their lovemaking.

“Don’t be gentle,” she said fiercely. “I don’t want you to hold back, Zhandar.”

His eyes widened, and then he plucked the glass she held from her fingers. In the next breath, his arms were around her, his mouth on hers, and she tasted him as he pressed her down into the soft cushions. This was the first time she’d ever felt him like this, his weight on her. Even the heavy robes he wore couldn’t quite conceal the physical evidence of his arousal, pressing into her thigh, so very close….

But there were probably about ten layers of clothing separating them, and she knew it wouldn’t be quite that easy. Her fingers were at the clasp at his throat, undoing it, then tugging at the thick fabric so she could slide it off his broad shoulders.

The cloak seemed to get caught at his elbows, though, and he pulled away from her, eyes glinting. “I fear we are not quite in the best position to get rid of all these clothes.”

His fingers plucked at her own robes, and she nodded. “I also hadn’t quite imagined this happening on a couch.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, because in the next second his arms were going around her again, only this time to lift her from the sofa and carry her from the living room.

Although she’d been at his apartment many times over the past few weeks, she’d never ventured all that far into it, seeing only the public spaces — the living and dining areas, the kitchen, the restroom reserved for guest use. Now he carried her into his bedchamber, nearly as large as the living room, decorated in the cool hues the Zhore loved so much, blue and green and a pale taupe. It had something of the feeling of stepping into a small wood, since delicate trees lined the walls, and in front of those trees a narrow band of water trickled its way over a bed of smooth gray stones.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“Then it is a fitting setting for you, Zhanna, as you deserve to be in a space as lovely as you are.” While he spoke, he set her down — but only so he could undo the clasp of her robes and push them to the ground, then finish shrugging out of his own hooded cloak.

They had both been here before — the outer shrouds of their robes gone, facing one another in the close-fitting tunic and pants the Zhore wore underneath. Now, though, Trinity realized they were about to go much further than that. She would have nothing left to hide behind.

Her tunic fastened down the front with a line of pressure tabs. Zhandar undid them one by one, each of them coming loose with a tiny
pop
before he moved on to the next. And then the tunic was open, and he slid it down her arms, then tossed it onto the low chest of pale carved wood that had been placed at the foot of the bed.

The air felt cool against her bare skin. No, she wasn’t completely unclothed. Not yet. The chest support still covered her breasts, and she still wore her pants and boots. But even this was more than she had imagined — his eyes on her, taking in the contours of her body. Neither of them seemed to breathe in that moment.

Her hands moved of their own accord, mirroring Zhandar’s actions of just a minute earlier. Undoing the tabs on his tunic one by one, then pulling the fabric away from his body and tossing it on top of her own discarded shirt.

She’d known from the breadth of his shoulders that he was not a slight man, but even so, she wasn’t prepared for the heavy muscles of his arms and chest, nor the way the light seemed to ripple over his skin, all those tiny scales shimmering and bringing the shape of his body into higher relief, rather than obscuring it. Tentatively, she reached out and ran her fingers down his chest, from his collarbone to the tiny nipples, black on black, that topped his pectorals.

He let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan. In response, she moved her fingers lower, finding the fastener for his trousers.

“Wait,” he said, and she looked up at him in surprise. They’d come this far, and now he wanted her to wait?

That wasn’t the true reason for his protest, however. He bent and yanked off one boot, then the other. Seeing his intention, Trinity did the same. And then there was nothing stopping them from removing the other’s trousers and adding them to the growing pile of clothing on the carved wood chest.

Now they wore only their undergarments. Zhandar’s might have hid his groin, but that loincloth thing he had on certainly wasn’t enough to conceal his erection. She reached for the fastener on one side, but again he stopped her.

“Come to the bed,” he said.

All right, she wouldn’t argue with that. Silently, she allowed him to lead her to the bed. He kissed her, his tongue touching hers, sweet and sharp with the taste of
zhir
. And as a new wave of desire rushed over her, she felt him reach behind and undo the clasp of the breast support she still wore. She gasped, even as he bent to take a nipple into his mouth.

Oh, God, it might have been wild honey running through her veins, rather than ordinary blood. That was how she felt right then, as if all the sweetness and fire in the universe had somehow concentrated itself in her body. In that moment, she didn’t care that someone might be watching, didn’t care that it wasn’t her skin Zhandar touched, but something grown in a lab so she could be placed here as a counterfeit, a spy. No, all she wanted was his touch, his mouth, the heat of his body next to hers.

Her fingers yanked at the tabs holding his loincloth closed. It fell away, and her hand moved lower, found him, took him into her fingers, feeling his girth, the heavy strength of him. He was bigger than she’d imagined, and if she’d truly been the virgin she was pretending to be, his size might have frightened her a little. Now, though, she could only shiver at the thought of him inside her, filling her in a way no one else ever had.

He groaned, and she gasped as she felt the vibrations from his deep voice seem to travel through her, penetrating her even before they actually truly touched. And then, as if he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he tore the loincloth she wore away from her body and flung it to the floor. The next thing she knew, they were falling to the bed, the two of them pressed together as if attempting to meld their separate bodies into one.

His fingers moved up her thigh, then sank into her. She gasped, then began to rock with him, little whimpers escaping her throat as he stroked her. God, how did he know to touch her like that, to find the exact spot that sent shudders of ecstasy moving through her?

Empath,
she realized, with one of the last scraps of rational thought left to her.
He senses what pleases you most, and focuses there.

Of course.

But she didn’t dare lose all control. No, even as her body was bucking and spasming against him, Trinity couldn’t let go all the way. She couldn’t allow a single thought to bubble up about concealing her identity from him, or worrying about how Gabriel must be watching her with Zhandar and growing increasingly incensed, since she knew she was gasping and screaming like a madwoman, and looking the very opposite of someone who wasn’t supposed to be enjoying all this.