Parallel Seduction (31 page)

He stared down at her, tears glinting in his eyes. "Don't you get it? Don't you see how much I hate my mixed heritage?"

"Yes," she whispered quietly. "I've understood from the beginning.''

"I share a bloodline with them—with Veckus, all of them. I'm a monster in my blood, a killer in my DNA."

"But you are here, S'Skautsa. You are here."

"The only thing that's my saving grace."

"Tell me what happened back on Refaria," she insisted.

"Okay, I will," he told her coolly, casting a sideways glance at her. "But it's far from pretty, the truth about my species."

"I have to know if I'm going to make a future with you—and be part of this war."

He gazed at the ceiling. "Roughly sixty years ago, the Antousians reached a point where technology had surpassed their natural capabilities, their mental capacities. And so they made a decision: They chose to become enhanced." He stared at her meaningfully. "They allowed themselves, the whole lot of them, to become implanted with quantum cyberchips, nanochips that were barely more than microscopic so they could"—his face became a grim, sarcastic mask—"embrace the best of their future; that's what they all said. That's what my people said."

Hope had long heard talk about the possibility of humans accepting computer processor chips in order to outpace technology, to keep up with what she'd heard termed the "singularity"—the point when computers became "smarter" than mankind. Still, this was the stuff of science-fiction novels, and she wasn't sure how to respond.

"Sounds frightening," was all she came up with, "to give yourself over to machines that way."

"Precisely. Why would any living being think that merging his intellect with that of a computer would be a wise thing? But for a while, it actually worked. They lived on Refaria, you must realize, a massive population of them, and for a very long while the Antousians and Refarians lived in great harmony. It was a time of advancement and peace—all except for one little detail: The Refarians refused to become cybernetically enhanced. They didn't want to be implanted with these chips, and there was a lot of debate about that fact. Back and forth, until.…" His voice faded, and he closed his eyes.

"Tell me the rest, Scott. I have to know."

He blew out a sigh. "Until the virus came, just like I told you before."

A strange thought began developing in her mind. Scott had told her all about the virus, how the Antousians believed that the Refarians had unleashed it upon them as a form of biological politics, only he'd never told her what
kind
of virus had plagued the Antousian people.

"It was a computer virus," she whispered softly.

He nodded. "And it wiped out most of my 'people' who had been enhanced, shutting down their biological bodies as their technological side became infected. There was no way for them to survive except—like I told you—to assume their ghost form. Become ether, and then what to do? They couldn't live forever like that, so they sought out the species that for some unholy reason was most compatible: yours. And they started a war on the very planet that had welcomed them as friends, brothers. They warred against the Refarians, always blaming them, forever claiming that the virus had been developed to wipe their own species out."

"Was it true?"

He turned on her, his face pale and livid. "Of course not! They were ambitious and overreaching—and the results were that it destroyed them."

"That still doesn't explain your aversion to genetic therapy, and why you don't want me to have it."

"Because that's how they tried to treat the virus, but it only infected a much larger portion of the population … spread it, contaminated even the Antousians who weren't carrying processors inside their heads. It was a bloodbath, all because of genetic therapy."

"I see," she said, sinking back into her pillow. It was so much to digest, and she could totally comprehend his adamant position against her receiving genetic therapy.

"I'm not saying it wouldn't work for you, Hope, but it terrifies me, all right? Scares the living crap out of me."

She leaned close against him. "It's not something we have to decide anytime soon. I've lived my whole life, practically, with my diabetes."

"I want you to get well … I just don't want you to die in the process." She could see the raw fear in his eyes. The man didn't want to lose her—especially not to the fate that had devastated his home back on Refaria.

"Let's just think about it," she said softly.

W
hen Scott returned to his
quarters, he was surprised to find a note pinned to his door. The handwriting was absurdly familiar—a slightly more rugged version of his own. Whipping the note off the door, he entered his room and began to read.

Hey, Chief:

I would talk to you in person, but I think we've both seen what happens if we so much as breathe the same air. Listen, I'm hitting the road, so we won't be bumping into each other, at least for a while. Before I go, I want to make sure you know something—a fact about my own future that I think you can avert.

I spent a lot of time afraid for Hope, afraid that if she got help that something terrible would go wrong. The truth is, buddy, that she was always sick and only got sicker in my future. Her diabetes caused a lot of problems for her, especially during her pregnancy. In one way, it's part of why she died, all those pregnancy complications.

Fear never gets you very far. Love her. Love her with everything inside of you, and don't be so damned afraid all the time. If my gamble has gone right, you've got nothing more to fear.

I suppose from now on I should call you my brother.

Jake

For a moment, he stared down at the paper in his hand, read his own writing over and over again, and then, making his decision, he crumpled the thing and tossed it to the ground. And ran—no, sprinted—back to Hope's side.

A
fter parking the Suburban
outside the brightly lit, gorgeous Snake River Lodge—it was all twinkling and like something from her fantasies of a honeymoon night—she let Scott take her hand and lead the way across the slippery, iced-over path. This was the way he'd chosen to celebrate her healing—her full and total medical miracle of the genetic therapy. Her diabetes had been eradicated once and for all.

"Watch your step," he cautioned protectively, and she tightened her grip on his hand in response. Normally she'd resist protectiveness from any man, especially when it meant someone was trying to limit her. But now, within the safety of Scott's guiding hand, she felt relaxed. As if it would be okay to relinquish just a bit of her control and rebelliousness—at least, with this particular man. He would never strip her of her independence, or deny her the adventure and challenges she wanted; all he would do was give her the right amount of freedom, helping her become more at one with herself.

As she entered the lodge a waft of warm air blew in her face, and her eyes instantly watered at the contrast. "You stay here a second," he told her quietly, and strode confidently to the concierge desk. He and the clerk spoke in quiet tones, the concierge nodding and then finally slipping a pair of keys and registration information across the desk. Hope was perplexed that, given their secluded, expensive military operation, they had funds for something as frivolous—at least, relatively speaking—as this night away.

They entered the elevator, completely alone, and he watched the numbers as they climbed upward. Funny, but she would have almost sworn this strapping warrior was nervous.

"How can you possibly afford this?" she asked.

He smiled, never taking his gaze off the elevator lights. "Easy. Didn't cost me a dime."

"That's not possible."

The elevator dinged, signaling their floor number, and he took her by the hand, again leading the way. "Just come with me, sweetheart. Stop worrying so much."

Once inside the privacy of their penthouse, Hope could hardly speak: Two stories tall, with an opulent great room and connected kitchen—with a Sub-Zero freezer, no less—the suite defied imagination. Surely now, in the middle of skiing season, the place had to rent for more than two thousand dollars a night.

Walking into the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and discovered bottles of champagne nestled amidst fresh fruit and expensive cheeses. It was a sultan's holiday.

One arm propped on the fridge door, she studied the array of delicacies. "No way this didn't cost you a fortune, Dillon."

He appeared behind her, slipping both arms about her waist. "Yeah? Well, you'd be surprised to learn all the places we have operatives."

She rotated slowly within his grasp, and he shoved the refrigerator shut, pinning her back against it. "You're saying that concierge is an alien."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Aron's been with us from the very beginning. We found long ago that it was beneficial to place numbers of our people in the ordinary world. In this case, Aron monitors a number of political activities that take place in this area—the vice president's visits … the secretary of state was here recently.… We also know for a fact that a few
vlksai
freaks occasionally take a break in this lodge. It's a good opportunity for intel."

He slid one powerful thigh between her own, rubbing. "We've got better things to discuss than how I'm paying for this night. Are you happy with it?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Romantic enough?"

She placed both palms against his chest. "You know that it's out of this world."

"Ah, so it's alien indeed."

Giggling, she gave a nod, but had to add—because she had to know, "But how does Jared finance all of this? The weapons, the military operation, your food, all of it?"

Scott's gaze darkened immediately. "We have many supporters back on Refaria, beleaguered though they may be. They provide much of our equipment and technology, but we also possess an incredible storehouse of gems and minerals. We were able to get those out, and they are exactly like their counterparts found here on Earth. Remember, Refaria and Earth are twin planets in many ways."

"So you trade gold? Diamonds?"

He nodded. "And other things. It finances what we do."

"Amazing. It's like I've fallen into this bizarre alter-universe."

Scott stepped apart from her, surveying the kitchen and their surroundings. "You
have
fallen into an alternate universe, remember? And as far as I can tell, this is the better of the two so far."

S
cott luxuriated in the flow
of the shower, thankful for such great water pressure and piping-hot steam. Living in the compound and sharing quarters with so many others, he had to think strategically if he ever wanted a shower this hot. After he turned off the spigot, he wrapped a towel about himself and stepped into the bedroom, only to find Hope naked and studying him.

"That's what I like to see!" she proclaimed with a giggle. "And really see—man, I'm so thankful to have my eyesight back. Now I can ogle you anytime I want."

Funny, he never blushed with a woman, not about sex, but he felt his face burn as he adjusted the towel around his waist. "Is that what you're doing?" He allowed the towel to slip dangerously low about his hips. "Ogling?" Oh, gods, her obvious pleasure at the sight of his body pleased him endlessly.

He took a step toward her, but she surprised him by bounding to her feet and leading the way into the main living room—naked and all. He never took his eyes off of her as he followed, taking in her rounded hips, the way they swayed with each step. For a small woman she sure did pack a fabulous set of curves.

In the living room she spun to face him, looking him right in the eye. "Now I want you to do something for me, Scott—okay?"

"Anything." He swallowed, letting his gaze rove over her gorgeous body.

"I want you to Change."

"My clothes?" She was confusing him with this barrage of succulent nakedness, and now this bizarre request. "Put my clothes back on? I don't understand."

She smiled up into his face. "Your form. I want you to assume your natural Antousian one."

Throwing both hands up, he backed away from her. "Never."

"I need to see you, and I figured if I was naked, too, then you'd feel safe."

Putting his back to her, he buried his head in his hands. "How can you ask that of me?"

"Because I love you."

"Then you wouldn't ask."

He felt her hands slip about his waist, her firm breasts press into his back. "I'm asking it because I do love you—because I have to know everything about you. And you need to know that I accept all parts of you. All sides."

With a cautious glance over his shoulder, he could see that she absolutely meant business. And it was strange, but he also felt a part of himself release, almost exhale—as if sharing such a hidden part of his nature was what had always been meant to be between the two of them.

"You aren't going to like it," he threatened hoarsely. "It's not pretty at all."

She stepped away from him, backing toward the sofa, and waved for him to continue. "I want to see you anyway."

"T
his has never been me."
His voice had a strange, waterfall quality, as if breaking over hard rocks.

"But it is you, Scott. You're kneeling here right in front of me, and this is part of you." She shook her head from side to side. "You're not like most of your own people; you haven't committed genocide—to be proud of who and
what
you are doesn't mean that you are a part of your people's crimes."

He hung his head, blinking his black, fathomless eyes. "I am ugly. It's what Veckus said, a monster."

She pressed her face against his, rubbing her nose over his affectionately. "You're a beautiful man, no matter what form you take."

Inside she'd begun to quiver oddly; to truly see Scott as the alien he was—through and through and with her own eyes—was intoxicating. Arousing. He just didn't seem to totally get his effect on her, even in this form.

Pulling back, she saw that his naturally tan-colored skin had grown ruddy across both cheeks. So, even Antousians blushed. She lifted her hand and rubbed her fingertips over his hard jaw, over the plates that covered his facial features, tough and yet shockingly pliable, too. But his lips were what surprised her most, with their much softer sensuality—softer than any of his other harsh features. Bending forward again, she placed her lips over his, not knowing what to expect. Hell, he might have five tongues deep inside that Antousian mouth of his. But he didn't—because when he tilted his head cautiously to the side, slowly opening to her, it was no different from kissing him in his humanized form. His movements were a bit shyer and more tentative than his usual aggressive ways, perhaps, but it was just as warm, just as provocative, just as tantalizing as every other time she'd ever kissed Scott Dillon.

Slipping her arms about his massive shoulders, she pulled his body closer to hers, and couldn't help but moan in arousal. In turn, he made an alien, low-pitched sound of desire that caused her hair to stand on end. Like his voice, it seemed to rumble from some hidden place deep within his chest. She stroked her fingertips along the back of his bare head, feeling the unusual ridge that ran down the center of it. As she caressed him that way, he began to tremble all over.
Note to self,
she thought, as he wrapped his powerful arms tight about her,
that thick skull of his is an erogenous zone.

"Bend down," she whispered, breaking the kiss. His black eyes narrowed.

"I don't understand."

She gestured with her fingers, waving him lower. "I can't reach where I want to go unless you bend down a lot lower."

Cautiously he complied, bowing until she had a perfect bull's-eye mark for the crown of his bare head. She slid her hands along the base of his scalp and drew her lips against the top of his head, trailing her tongue and licking, like he loved in his other form, and kissing him slowly there. Bending into her chest, he trembled, clasped her hips with his extremely large hands, and purred. He moaned a few unintelligible words in Refarian, and purred some more as she stroked her hands across his colossal shoulders, feeling the tough muscles, the drawn tendons and hardened skin.

He was alien; no doubt about that fact, and maybe it was her immense love for the man, or maybe it was that their hearts were calibrated perfectly to each other, but she'd never seen a more gorgeous creature in her entire life than Scott Dillon, right now in his natural Antousian form.

Finally, she stilled her lips against the crown of his head and whispered, "You're two feet taller than I am." And she began to giggle. "That's a big height differential."

He pulled back, meeting her gaze. She saw unimagined depths of emotion in his large, almond-shaped eyes. "Your point?"

He was loosening up, sounding more like his usual cocky self, and had the same familiar glint of sardonic mischief in his eyes as he normally did.

"I don't think we can have sex with you Changed like this." With a flirtatious toss of her hair, she reached for his extremely long, permanently erect length. "And this … well, I don't think it will even fit without killing me. Might even pop right back out my throat." She giggled, slowly stroking his erection, feeling the hardness of it, the way it was ridged and yet incredibly soft underneath, one massive vein running the full, thick nine inches of it.

He snorted, reeling backward from her. "I can't believe.…" He paused, clearing his throat.

"Don't be so self-conscious about your voice. It mesmerizes me."

He dropped his head into the palm of his hand, hesitating, then finally said, "I can't believe you'd entertain sex with me, like this"—he thumped his chest with his fist—"all huge and monstrous and rough."

She flung herself forward at him, wrapping her arms about his neck. "Don't you get it, you stubborn, irritating man? I am in love with you. I may not have known you very long in real time, but I've known you absolutely forever in my heart, and in my future, and in my dreams. I might as well have been with you from the very beginning of time with the way that I love you. All of you, damn it." She ran her hands along his shoulders, down along his chest. "Don't you see how you're turning me on?"

He reached very gently and touched her cheek. "I've always been a man at war with myself. It's going to take some time for you to heal that in me."

"I can prove it to you."

He cocked his head sideways, blinking his large black eyes. "Prove what?"

"That even this body of yours totally turns me on."

He waited, watching her, and she took his calloused hand and drew it between her legs, slowly stroking his long fingers over her folds of skin, and along the slick wetness that he'd caused so easily by arousing her. Very gently, she drew one of his long fingers closer, placing it against her slippery opening. "Try me," she urged, leaning back into the sofa.