Legend Beyond The Stars (35 page)

As the heir apparent to the great guardian Darkon race, his time had been filled with duties, responsibilities, training; what little time he had free he had spent it with his mother, sister and brother. Much to his father’s disgust, deploring what he viewed as weakness. But Tarak had continued to visit them.

Now memories were all he had left of his family.

“Go and speak to him. Talk to him.” The familiar voice jerked him back from the past.

Alana stood in front of him, her firm chin tilted upwards, her gaze steady.

His Alana
.

A fierce need to possess her, to demand her unconditional surrender to him, to wipe her carefully contrived expression of indifference from her face rocked violently through his
body. To lose himself in the heat of her body, to feel her slender and yet strong arms enfold him tight as they melded together in a passion, that even here stunned him with its depth. She could give him solace; take away the pain which ripped through him. As he gazed into her blue-green eyes, the temptation to sweep her into his arms and seek the privacy of his quarters tormented him.

Tarak shuddered.

No, he had made his decision. His need for her had already caused untold damage to her and the other women. With iron control, he banked the blazing fire in his blood. His legs heavy and clumsy, he forced himself to turn his back. Never had he experienced such agony. It roared through him, leaving desolation and a despairing acceptance in its wake.

He focussed on the still form of his brother. With infinite tenderness, he clasped Dion’s fingers, noting the absence of nails and the remnants of dried blood. He blanked his mind to the images of torture visited upon his younger brother.

In a strained voice, he spoke of when he and Dion had stolen a flyer and taken off to the planet Mirus in order to view for themselves the marvels of a water planet, to experience the exhilarating danger of boating off the cascades. When they had gone to see the fiery pits of Zersk where they had fought off the coda worms together. He spoke of their mother and sister.

And all the time he spoke, her presence just out of his reach gave him immeasurable comfort.

Something nudged his arm and he saw the container of water she held towards him. She stood close enough now for her to see inside the medie tube.

”Drink,” she said in gruff tones.

Tarak nodded his thanks and took the offering. He chugged the liquid, the coolness a balm for his scratchy throat.

“I’m sure he can hear you.”

He grunted. He did not dare look at her.

“Do you … do you know what he was doing on Isla?” Her voice sounded hesitant and stilted.

So it was only the desire for information which kept her at his side. Tarak’s lips twisted. “No.” Even he could hear the coldness in his voice. But he must not soften. He would maintain his distance if it killed him.

She responded with equal coldness, “No doubt you wouldn’t tell me even if you did know.”

With difficulty, he resisted the urge to shake her till her bones rattled in her body. He would then have to smother that scornful mouth of hers with kisses until she had no breath left to berate him. His mind filled with forbidden images. When she suddenly clutched his arm, the jolt from her touch scorched all the way to his booted feet.

“Tarak, look!” Her grip tightened. Excitement laced her voice. “Look, his eyes flickered. I think he’s waking up!”

With eager swiftness Tarak returned his attention to his brother.

Dion’s eyelids lifted, closed and lifted again.

As Tarak watched, the confusion in his brother’s eyes cleared. His chest tightened as if metal restraints were squeezed hard around his heart.

A delighted recognition flooded Dion’s face.

Tarak seized Alana’s hand.

“Is it really you, Tarak?” Dion’s voice sounded rusty and ill-used. In the weak tones Tarak heard the effort it cost his brother to speak. “Too long have I wanted to see you again.”

“It is.” Tarak managed to return. “You are safe. You are here with me on the Ark.”

“The Ark?” Dion murmured, then gasped. A spasm of pain rippled over his face.

Tarak had never seen such weary eyes. “I am glad to see you, my brother.”

A smile flittered over Dion’s gaunt face and Tarak’s heart contracted. Absorbed, his eyes fixed on his brother’s drawn features, he watched his brother’s gaze wander over what he could see of the medie tube, then back to him.

Dion squinted as he registered the small figure at Tarak’s side. “This is your mate?”

Tarak ignored the quick look Alana shot at him and before she could open her mouth to deny, he affirmed, “She is mine. She is called Alana.”

“Alana,” repeated Dion. Yellow light flickered, a tiny candle of life in the depths of his eyes. “Yours. I knew that. She questions you. She has courage.”

“Yes.”

Dion’s eyes drifted shut.

Tarak checked the data on the monitors, then relaxed. At his side Alana remained quiet and still, her fingers linked around his.

“Tarak.”

He winced and braced himself at the urgency in his brother’s voice.

“I am here.”

Those infinitely tired eyes opened to fasten on his face. “My life force is ebbing. No, do not deny it.” Dion licked his cracked lips. In a voice as thin and insubstantial as the mist on the lakes of Darkos, he continued. “I must speak while I can. The battle in the Ural sector. Wounded. My ship foundered, my warriors dead around me. Abandoned my ship.”

Tarak waited in patience while his brother paused to regroup some strength. The decision to abandon a Darkon ship was never made easily, he could only guess at the guilt Dion had suffered at sundering his bio connection and leaving it to its fate.

“Made it to moon of Mirus. Remember Mirus?”

“I remember.” Tarak managed a short laugh.

“Long time. Picked up. Two ships. Isla.” A shudder racked his frail body. Tarak kept one hand in a light clasp around his brother’s fingers, the other mangled Alana’s hand.

“I know of Isla, brother. Atolo will pay for his crimes,” Tarak vowed. He ignored Alana’s start of surprise.

”Aaaah. Betrayed us. Betrayed all of us. Said we were no use as warriors. This was our duty.” Dion’s lips trembled as he stared up into his brother’s face. His fingers twitched beneath Tarak’s hold. “Decreed by royal command.”

“What?”
Tarak’s mouth formed the word but no sound emerged.

“He knew, Tarak. He signed over our bodies. We still lived.” Dion’s voice rose in bewilderment.

Tarak could not speak, held transfixed by the rage roaring in his brain. He met his young brother’s gaze; read the agony of betrayal in their depths.

“He killed us. Our father. Yours and mine …”

Chapter Eighteen

The star deck observation cube jutted out from the very outer edge of the Ark. Made entirely from reinforced blast proof flexiglass, it provided a three hundred and sixty degree view of the surrounding space.

It was here Alana found Tarak.

He stood, his armoured hands loose by his side, feet braced apart, staring out at the vista of darkness towards the brilliant swirls of space dust that partially obscured a massive planet the Ark was passing. Alana stepped with caution out onto the platform. It was like walking on nothingness, she thought as she approached him. She saw by the slight tensing of his armoured shoulders, he had registered her presence.

Following the revelations by his brother, Tarak had reeled out of the Analysis Chamber a broken man. Or a man on the very edge of losing himself in a maelstrom of bitter destructive emotion. She had seen his face as he had brushed past her.

Alana had remained behind only long enough to wave Tina over and ask her to stay by Dion’s side, before she had gone in search of him.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to give him comfort she thought as she had stomped along the corridor, her footsteps heavy with anxiety. No, she was after information. That’s all it was—nothing to do with this terrible driving need to seek his company. She absolutely would not give in to the urge to hold him close, to breathe in his unique scent, to kiss him back to life. That way laid folly. Heartbreak. She had to focus on her mission it was the only thing holding her together.

And dammed, if she didn’t want some answers!

She was sick to death of men hiding their secrets from her, whether out of personal ambition or out of a desire to protect her. She didn’t need protecting—she was a soldier, a mature woman—not someone’s pampered poodle.

Alana reached his side. Their eyes met in the reflection of their images on the flexiglass. Despite all her good intentions, she could not hold back an inner tremor nor stem the warming of her blood as his narrowed gaze swept her reflected image. Tarak maintained his silence and she resisted the urge to shuffle her feet.

He was good at this. She could imagine how easily he could break a prisoner by his fierce aura alone. She gripped her hands tightly behind her back and stood at ease.

Her chin lifted.

His sombre expression lightened.

Her lips twitched in response.

She wanted to roll her eyes in exasperation. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck.

Damn it!

She didn’t want it to end like this—he on one side and her on the other. She wanted to scream with denial over the hand life had dealt her.

Alana scowled. He quirked his heavy black brows in query.

“We need to talk.” The words came out loud with accusation.

He remained silent.

She hastened into speech and softened her tone. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me what had happened to your people?”

He shrugged and sighed. “I did not think it important. A Darkon warlord does not explain to a slave.”

Alana struggled to speak over the sharp pain in her heart. Eventually, she managed, “I see.”

Blindly, she turned away to leave. He reached out and gripped her arms and turned her back to face him. She kept her eyes fixed on his armoured chest as he gave her a little shake.

“Alana, look at me.”

She raised her eyes to his, aware he would read the world of hurt swimming in their depths. He loosened his punishing grip and raised his hand to cup her chin. Warmth and life radiated out from where his fingers touched her skin with tenderness. She could see the strange yellow flame burning so bright in his intense, obsidian eyes.

His lips curved. His breath feathered over her upturned face when he spoke in the deep rumbling voice she loved so much. “We both know you are no slave.”

Heat scorched her cheeks. She was drowning in a sea of sensation as she stared at him.

“To speak of such matters to his female is not the Darkon way. Always the warriors have been the protectors of our race and others. We do not seek assistance, nor do we seek
comfort—that is weak. Not the way of a true Darkon warrior. Not the way of the next Darkon ruler.”

Alana opened her mouth to argue.

He tapped her lips with his fingers. “That was part of the old traditions. One of many I had hoped to change.”

There was weariness etched deep into his visage. Without thinking, Alana reached up and cradled his face. She stood on tippy toe and pressed her mouth against his in a gentle kiss. In an instant, his arms swept around her, pulling her against his hard body, their weight warm and heavy against her back. Alana revelled in the feeling of safety his embrace gave her. His chin rested on her head and he nuzzled her hair. The thought entered her head she was where she wanted to be, where she belonged. She tried to push it away but it didn’t budge.

Maybe she should enjoy it whilst she could. There were about a million reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this but Alana closed her eyes, her bones melting as she snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest, a smile trembling on her lips.

Just for a little while, the rest of the world could wait.

“Are you going to put that in writing? You know, tell everyone or issue a decree I’m not a slave.”

“Perhaps.”

She could hear the answering smile in his voice. “There’s no
‘perhaps’
mate. I want it out there in case you change your mind.” A trail of warmth followed as he smoothed a hand along her back. “I am so tired of secrets,” she admitted, her voice a mere breath of sound.

“What is it you wish to know?” Tarak asked.

“Actually, I’m not really sure where to start … I guess you could tell me whether it’s true the women and children of your race have perished? Atolo mentioned something about a virus.”

He was silent for so long, Alana thought he would not respond.

“It seems so long ago now. We had been at war with the Relics for several cycles. Liama had recently been appointed Supreme Leader by the Ruling Council. Already the war was long with great destruction and loss of life. One reason why Liama was able to gain such power. The other races were terrified they would be drawn into our battle and would be decimated too. Then our people were betrayed from within. A retrovirus unleashed upon our world of Darkos. It was the young who died first and then our females.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “It was slow, Alana. Terrible to watch. Our scientists worked incessantly but could find no cure. This was when the research camp was established. We sent voyagers filled with our females and children away from our solar systems but alas, they also perished.”

Although she had learned most of this already from Atolo, she could not help feeling fresh horror at the agonies this race had endured.

Everything ‘
he’
had endured.

Tarak kissed the top of her head and rubbed his hard cheek against her hair.

”After it had wrecked its destruction on our world, we found we were impotent. Long cycles passed. We waged war in vengeance and out of honour. We would not surrender. And we searched for females, any females who could cure us and bring life back to our dying race. But there was none and in desperation, our methods of research became barbaric, cruel. The camp was a shameful secret known only to the upper echelons of Darkon society.”

Tension slivered through her body. Alana licked her dry lips as her heart rate raced out of control. She had to ask, “Did you know exactly what they were doing there?”