Parallel Seduction (30 page)

This time he really did buck up. "You're treading on thin ice, Lieutenant."

She leaned in close to him, seizing him by both shoulders, and—stepping up onto her tiptoes—whispered in his ear. "I didn't laugh when you kissed me because I thought you were ugly." Scott jerked back, but she wouldn't let him go. "I laughed because I thought you handsome. You are handsome, sir. Now go to her."

Then, just as quickly as she'd released her ballistic missile, she stepped apart from him, smiling smugly. What Anna couldn't know was that in his deepest heart, he always knew there was a hulking, monstrous Antousian hiding just beneath the surface—it was his other skin, as hard and hideous as the rough hide that covered that form's body.

He shook his head. "No idea what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes, still grinning at him. "Just keep on telling yourself that, sir. Now go to her. Go, and know that every last woman in these ranks thinks you're gorgeous." She turned, shaking her head, then fired a final, parting shot. "How you could have ever thought otherwise is way, way beyond me. Don't you own a mirror?"

He stared slack-jawed after the departing soldier, gesturing, still searching for some sort of return parry, but all he could think to do was curse his future self for having such a loose tongue. Damn it all to hell, the man had betrayed his heart's secrets. Then again, he supposed, they were Jake's secrets to tell as well.

With a slow and measured gesture, he raised his hand and knocked on Hope's door.

J
ared moved quietly about
their quarters, not wanting to wake Kelsey, who lay sprawled on their bed, sleeping. She was going to need a great deal of sleep in the coming months; of that much he was certain—growing a baby inside her belly would take every ounce of strength and energy his lovely wife possessed.

"Stop tiptoeing," she called out to him, and he froze right beside his desk.

"You need to rest."

"Want to see a picture of your baby?" She eased up in the bed, plopping a pillow behind her.

"Of course—is that even possible?" He couldn't help sounding breathless.

Reaching underneath the pillow beside her, she produced a small piece of paper, and he took it from her, staring down at the colored image in his hands. Their baby! A lovely, glowing D'Aravnian, bright and powerful already. "Really?" he asked, daring to meet her twinkling eyes.

"Pretty amazing, huh?"

He nodded, still studying the image, turning his head first one way, then another, to truly get a full view. "Ah, so lovely." Then he looked up again, seriously studying his queen. "Are you still angry with me?"

She tilted her head. "About what?"

"Your father, and how I didn't want you to phone him."

"Are you saying that I can? That you won't argue with me about it?"

Jared settled on the side of their bed. "After aligning with the air force and the FBI, I'm beginning to think the risk might not matter nearly so much."

"Good," she told him, but there was a slight chill to her tone, so he rushed onward.

"I want you happy, sweet wife. I want you to be with me, but not as my prisoner or this Rapunazel you mentioned."

"Rapunzel
.
She got locked in a tower for most of her life."

"This base of mine shouldn't be your tower; it should be your home," he pressed, waving the piece of paper. "Just as this babe will make a home with each of us."

She leaped toward him, wrapping her arms about his neck. "You're saying I have your blessing about calling my dad?"

"Yes, love. I don't want to hide you away or make you less than what you are—besides, I also think you might be right. His connections could be very valuable to all of us."

"Thank you, Jared." She showered his face with kisses. "Thank you so much."

"Tomorrow we will discuss the best way to go about approaching him—your phoning him, I mean. We will figure it all out together."

She reached for his hand, placed it squarely over her abdomen and, with sparkling eyes, said, "We are definitely in this together. All three of us."

S
cott took cautious steps
into Hope's room, thankful that it was mostly dark inside. It was on the lower level
of the cabin, so there was never a lot of light filtering into the interior, and given today's gloomy weather, it was darker than the last time he'd been in her quarters.

"So you finally decided to come see me?" She lay propped on her lower bunk, a book clasped within both hands.

"You're reading." He could hardly suppress a smile. She must be seeing perfectly well already.

"I haven't read a book in two years—it was sort of one of the things I had to do right away."

"What book is it?"

"Some Shakespearean sonnets that Kelsey gave me. A collection of Jared's."

"Of course." His king adored Shakespeare—the plays, the sonnets, it hardly mattered which.

"Not my usual thing; I'm more of a Julia Quinn or Lisa Kleypas kind of girl."

"I'm not familiar with their work."

"I didn't figure you would be." Hope giggled, and he didn't quite understand the reason why, but put her reaction down to human proclivities.

Scott hung back, propping his hands on the top bunk rather than drawing much closer so Hope could get a good look at him. "How are you feeling?"

He cursed himself for seeming so dull.
Way to go, Dillon. That's an interesting opener.

She closed her book, dropping it onto her knees. "You're just going to hang way back there?" Great, she'd seen right through his bullshit.

He deigned to take another step closer. "I'm concerned about you."

"So concerned that"—she sat upright in bed—"I went through my surgery, then recovery, and actually got dismissed before you came to see me?"

"I'm sorry." He grunted.

"I want to know why, Dillon." He shook his head, and she continued. "Because I know how you feel about me—really do know, deep down in my spirit—so for you to stay away … well, I figure it must have cost you quite a lot."

He dropped his arms away from the top bunk, swinging much closer toward her. "I wasn't ready," he admitted throatily.

She sat up in the bed, her clear gray eyes wide. "For what? To be with me? To make a life together, like you've led me to believe we would?"

"That's not it. Not at all."

She eased her legs off the bed, scooting closer to him. She had those amazing eyes of hers fixed right on him, had to be able to see every detail of his cursed face. "Then please—honestly, please—tell me what the problem really is."

"I'm not that good-looking, Hope." He met her steely gaze, never blinking or looking away. "This is me, with my once-broken nose, and my fair skin, and … and," he sputtered, "I'm an average-looking guy. I couldn't deal with you seeing me. Really seeing me, close like this."

"Oh, I get it," she said, drawing her words out, but never looking away. "When I was blind, I was a sure thing—"

"I'm not saying that."

"Then what, exactly, are you saying?"

He dropped his head. "You felt my other form at the warehouse. You saw, in your own way, the truth of my nature. That's one thing, and the other.… None of my own people find me the least bit attractive."

"Huh, that's funny—because Anna told me that every single woman under your command has a crush on you."

"She was lying."

"No, she wasn't, and you know how I know that for sure?" she asked, rising up to her feet and closing the small distance that separated them. "Because I'm looking at you, right now, me and my newly acquired twenty-twenty vision, and I can see the truth with my own eyes."

She took hold of his hands, drawing them to her lips, and kissed him across the knuckles, long and tantalizingly slow. "And what I see, Scott Dillon"—she peered up into his face, raking her gaze across his features—"is one of the handsomest men I've ever encountered."

"Passable at best. Better in bed."

Her blonde eyebrows shot right up to her hairline. "Better in bed? Is that a promise or a threat?"

He rubbed his eyes. "You're a piece of work, Hope Harper."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

He chuckled, grasping her face with both of his hands. "I'm calling you my life. The woman I want to be with. I just can't believe you're looking at me—right at me—and find this"—he waved at his face—"appealing."

"Whatever gave you the idea that you weren't gorgeous?"

"It doesn't matter. I just never found much company among the ranks."

"Because they're totally intimidated by you, hello? Anna told me that much."

He cast a shy glance at her. "Really? Is that what she said?" Anna's words from the hallway, about how she'd found him incredibly handsome, echoed in his ears. Memories of all the women he'd seduced around Jackson traipsed through his thoughts as well.

"Know what I think?" Hope asked softly, drawing his face down toward her own, and kissing him full on the lips.

He returned her kiss. "Huh?"

"You don't know what to make of your Antousian self. That's why you wrestle with all of this."

He recoiled, taking several steps back. "Don't, Hope. Okay? Please?"

She wouldn't be denied, following him. "Because otherwise, a gorgeous, beautiful man like you? You'd get what you do to a woman like me."

She slipped her arms about his neck, reaching up toward him, and all at once they were utterly
inseparable—like they'd been in the warehouse: his body molding against hers, her body giving in to his. There was no dividing line between their twin souls, where they ended and where they began.

Next thing he knew, she was tugging him back toward her bed. "Let's make out," she whispered in a husky
voice. "I want to kiss you all the way down to your toes."

"I like the sound of that," he agreed with a hearty rumble. "But no making love?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. We need to go back to square one for a while."

Collapsing onto her bed, he groaned. "This is Antousian gorabung torture, is that it?"

She cradled his head against her chest, stroking his hair. "I'm not sure what that is, but I just know this:—a first time when we were prisoners isn't the
right
first time, not for us. So we back up for a while."

"For a while." He rolled her beneath him, feeling his erection grow firm and long. "Just don't make me crazy."

"Not
too
crazy." She laughed low in his ear, nibbling at it, and he felt chill bumps form along his forearms.

H
ope nestled against Scott's
chest, feeling his languid kisses across her brow; even now, long minutes after they'd finally halted their sexual advances, they still lay together. Somehow, amazingly, she'd managed to stop Scott at the proverbial door, but just barely. They'd tussled and made out, had their almost-way with each other, but ultimately she'd managed to dissuade him from actually making love. It was obvious to her that he was a man with immense sexual urges. That was fine by her, because she was a woman who shared those appetites.

Still, they'd finally pulled back, shirts and jeans and uniforms undone, and stilled in each other's arms, just stroking and caressing. She couldn't believe he was as absolutely beautiful as he was—though, of
course, she'd
already seen him in her visions. For some reason, however, she didn't let on quite how clearly she'd already seen him in her mind. He needed to believe this was her very first time seeing him up close. It seemed linked to his acceptance of her freely given love.

Now they lay curled together in her bottom bunk, night having fallen outside, and other thoughts began to intrude on Hope's mind, questions she'd been considering for the past few days.

"Back in the warehouse," she ventured, "Veckus said something that I haven't been able to shake—I know it's why you're afraid for me to receive genetic therapy."

She watched as Scott's face—a face she was so grateful to glimpse—grew troubled and serious. Despite his reaction, it felt good to know his thoughts with only one easy glance.

"I wondered if you'd caught all that," he answered softly, stroking her hair.

"I need to know what he was talking about." She captured his hand, bringing it to her cheek. "And why the idea of genetic therapy terrifies you so much. It's all linked together; I've figured that part out."

Scott brought her palm to his lips, kissing her in the center of her hand. "None of it matters, sweetheart. Let it go."

She shook her head adamantly. "It's extremely important to me. I'm in the middle of this war now, Scott, and I want to know what the stakes really are." She dropped her voice low. "And I need genetic therapy; I don't want to be sick anymore … but I need to know why it frightens you first."

Scott exhaled, leaning back from her, still holding her hand. "It's like I told you before. There was a virus back on Refaria … it didn't affect my adopted people—"

"The Refarians," she volunteered, for the sake of being clear.

"They're my only people." He met her gaze seriously. "I feel no affinity for the Antousians, my … natural capabilities aside."

"Do you honestly think I care what kind of shifting you're capable of?"

Scott hung his head. "You didn't really see me back there in that warehouse."

"And I didn't need to." She gave him a resolute look. "But explain this virus and its consequences to me."

Scott leaned toward her, burying his head against her chest. "I don't want you to hear any of this—it's so ugly, and just terrible, all the way through."

"Do you really love me, Scott Dillon?" She stroked the black hair atop his head. "Do you know I won't leave you?"

He made a plaintive, terrible sound. "I'm not sure, Hope."

She shoved him away. "Then we've got nothing more to talk about, not if you don't know my heart any better than that."