Star Fire (4 page)

“Shut up, Jarvis,” Lala said. “The gods and their host have this ceremony in hand.” She moved aside, her skirts gracefully swirling. With a formal bow in Kiev’s direction, she indicated where he should search. “Host of Our Ancestors, the release mechanism is here.”

How could he have forgotten? He wanted to smack his head. Kiev hurried to Lala’s residence, finding and pressing the three buttons in the remembered sequence. The memory of waking up, several times, in the coffin-like confines of the chamber was why his funeral rites always included cremation.

The lid slid away, revealing the silent, battered woman. Her tunic and pants were a bloody ruin. Her short, red, star-fire-gem bright hair surprised him. Ancient Arosans had straight black and brown hair. Now his people’s colouring was a bit lighter, but not as pale or brilliant as the alien’s.

Quickly, he reached in and scooped her out, doing a quick vitals check. He found a faint, receding heartbeat but no breathing. Tilting her head, he placed his lips over hers and forced air into her lungs. Switching, he used firm chest compressions against her sternum to stimulate a steady heartbeat. Twice more he repeated the process.

Finally, the woman convulsed. Kiev raised his hands, giving her room while he monitored her. She choked in great gasps of air. In the background, his men kept the crowd contained. Kiev made a mental note to acknowledge his second, Morgen, for keeping things calm. The red-haired woman stared at him with blue-green eyes, almost the exact shade of the ocean.

“All is well,” Lala soothed from over his shoulder. The scarves of her sleeve draped down, tickling the inside of his elbow. For a delirious moment, he wanted to see the alien woman dressed in the type of frilly, feminine clothes Lala had always worn. The alien woman was a beauty, suited to the flashy, swirling fabrics with bangles and red star fire gems shining against her delicate, pale skin.

A sudden pang of loss hit him, reminding him of every day of his two thousand years alone. After bonding to any new host, every woman paled to the memory of his lost love. He had thought that he was beginning to let go, instead a tight uncertainty bound his chest—hope. It had to be Lala’s constant insistence that this alien was his destined mate when he’d only truly loved one woman. NaTashamarilla had often worn long, filmy nightdresses. The woman had been too strait-laced for scarves, but her flowing, sheer nightgowns had driven him mindless with desire.

“Rest easy, Star Fire. Calm your mind. Inhale. Exhale.” The situation brought too much of the part of him that was Dirrel to the surface. Kiev-Dirrel murmured in the old dialect, hoping that the new part of her would understand him. Obviously, as she was an alien, they would not have the same primary language. His own people did not understand the old dialect, unless they hosted one of the old souls.

He tried smiling, taking in her sleek lines and the contained energy. That wild mop of red hair reminded him of a comet, the same energy that he’d sworn powered his NaTashamarilla. “Your body is adjusting, Star Fire.”

The woman shook off Lala’s mothering touch and sat up, looking around the room. Obviously, if her scowl was an indication, she did not like being the object of the council’s intense scrutiny. A couple of members, Javis included, stepped forward. They stopped at a negative murmur from Lala.

Giving into the need to assist her, Kiev held the stranger’s elbow as she gained her feet. Then he stood by as she silently examined the new, pink tissue of her healed wounds.

Kiev touched her shoulder, marvelling at the delicate strength. This was the woman his mother had prophesied for him? An alien host. He was both amazed and grudgingly accepting of how often Lala’s mystical ways were proved right. But, then again, wasn’t science itself just explained magic?

The woman stiffened under his hand. Without warning, she struck his face in an open-palmed slap. Her accusing eyes fixed on him like a blue-green laser beam.

Kiev stepped back, holding up both hands in a non-threatening gesture. He motioned with a flick of his eyes for Morgen and the others to maintain their positions. “Shh, we mean you no harm.”

“Oh, shut your trap, Dirrellen. I do not need your psycho-babble to calm me.” Sending him an evilly satisfied expression that he remembered clearly, NaTashamarilla glared out at him from the alien woman’s ocean eyes. “I have a headache and need a bath.” She pointed a delicate finger at him. “I’m also pretty pissed at you for ditching the evacuation ship, you moron.”

That last part wasn’t quite the NaTashamarilla of two thousand years ago. He watched, shocked as she pushed past him and bowed perfectly to Lala, speaking in a halting foreign language. “Sasha Tran-Tasha, lady. I am honoured to meet you.”

As he’d expected, Kiev did not have the slightest idea what she’d said. He deduced that she was introducing herself from her open body language and friendly-sounding tone. Lala returned her greeting, pointing to her chest when Sasha straightened. “Lala. You may call me Lala.”

To his mother’s obvious delight, the infuriating woman cosied up to her and linked arms. “Lady Lala, I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.” Weariness pinched around the alien woman’s eyes. Her warm, open smile for Lala while she gave him her back threw Kiev off balance. Finally, after all this time, she’d come back.

To him, her strange words held an edge of warning. NaTashamarilla had been a force to be reckoned with, but still a genteel lady he measured all others by. This new blend of woman left him interested, aroused and very confused.

With a final, dismissive blue-green glance at him, she allowed Lala to guide the way out of the science hall turned cathedral. Sasha Tran-Tasha smiled and bowed to the council members. Kiev barely restrained his urge to follow. He might still think like the scientist he used to be, but he was now a warrior with a job to do.

“Morgen.” The warrior appeared at his side. Kiev followed the women with his eyes as they passed under the great draperies at the entrance. “Pick someone and take over duty at the entrance. I don’t want the women out of sight until they are safely home.”

“And Councilman Jarvis and the others?” Morgen asked. Sometimes Lala extended the services of her guard to visiting council members, but she had not left instructions to do so this time.

Kiev shook his head. “Stay with our people. Pass word around that my nephew has probably escaped his guardian again. I do not like the idea of him roaming around with so many different council factions in the city.” And he wanted NaTashamarilla—or rather her incarnation—well protected. He’d waited two thousand years and wasn’t about to lose her to a political power-play the way he’d lost his sister.

Kiev’s sister and brother-in-law’s deaths had almost forced Lala to allow the vote to pass the merging of two large houses. Had that happened, the newly formed house would have had too much advantage over the other houses. It would have given one house two seats on the council, a previously unheard of power-play that Kiev still felt had been the cause of his sister’s death. If something happened to Radan, it would destroy Lala.

Chapter Three

Julian Horoscope day forty-two—

Do not just work hard. Work smart. Otherwise, it is an exercise in futility.

Trust is as fragile as the foundation it is built on. Once broken, trust is far more difficult to mend.

Sasha was falling. She screamed and jerked awake. She sat in the middle of a soft, round bed and scrubbed her scalp alive with her fingertips. The gesture wasn’t hers, but felt right. Nightmares never used to plague her. Sliding out of the bed, she realised that a lot of small things would probably change. Tasha was a part of her now, so it stood to reason that Sasha would carry over some of those habits.

Yesterday had been crazy insane, but she’d liked Lala instantly. The woman had barely understood her, but Sasha had felt comfortable putting herself temporarily in Lala’s care. She’d been right to do so. Her hostess had had a room prepared, with the survival pack already stowed in a small dresser that held several of the flowing outfits Sasha had seen the women wearing. Last night, she’d barely had the energy to bathe and slip the sheer, voluminous nightgown over her head before falling asleep.

Wide awake and full of energy, she pulled the antique survival pack out. She’d never actually taken one apart to see what it contained. The ones she’d ordered for
Fortune
were supposed to be the new ones, with an anti-gravity feature to monitor a person’s fall and adjust accordingly. Not a ridiculous, archaic parachute. The new ones were made so that the wearer could land on her tiptoes without the least bit of strain, not blown into a stand of trees waiting to shish-kabob her.

There should have been a miniaturised dermaplast unit to seal small to moderate wounds. Nutrition tablets guaranteed to meet the basic requirements of a stranded person for two Earth years. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of the half-sandwich she’d eaten before ‘leaving’ her ship. If only she had one of the new packs with an SOS beacon.

Sasha scrubbed her scalp with her fingertips again. Why would Hobbs give her this piece of shit survival kit? She sighed. Because he’d never placed the order she’d given him for the better ones.
Bastard.
He probably pocketed the money set aside for the purchase too. A hefty thousand credits per pack now lined his pockets.
Bastard
.

Spurred on by anger, she shook out the meagre content. An old fashioned K-bar knife, a bottle of antibiotics that had expired decades ago, possibly two weeks’ worth of nasty nutrition paste—also expired—adhesive bandages, and a slim day-planner case.

The first surge of hope caught her breath. Hobbs had taken the time to pack her day-planner. Carefully, Sasha picked it up, and the tablet flickered to life. Tears dampened her eyes at the familiar sight of her daily horoscope greeting. Reverently, she touched the application buttons.

If the day-planner’s signal wasn’t disrupted by the planet’s natural magnetic field, she could send out her own SOS!

Sasha’s plans came to a screeching halt. Walking to the window, she stared up at the looming planet Atmos.

What if her—Tasha’s—suspicions were right? The ghost was now a major portion of her psyche. Sasha rubbed her fingers through her hair again as memories of Tasha’s life resurfaced.

In all her plotting to save Aros from a second attack, she’d never accounted for Dirrellen being hosted out at the same time. Her eyes narrowed in speculation. As one of the scientists heading the project, he’d certainly been intelligent enough to engineer the feat. Men did not take rejection well.

To say they had parted on bad terms was like saying Hobbs had fallen in with the wrong people. Those descriptions were technically right and very PC. The reality was that she and her old lover had parted on vicious terms, and Hobbs was a treacherous, thieving pirate capable of anything.

Sasha strode to the dresser for some proper clothing. Getting off Aros without being noticed had suddenly become her number one priority. And not necessarily to return to the Galactic Interdependent or report back to the Northern Star Trading Company.

* * * *

Inside the shining stasis cube, the ship was as pristine as it had been over two thousand years ago. At least as far as Sasha could tell the ship was in amazing condition. If Earth and the GI worlds could do that…
Wowsies
. The maintenance and repair bills would drop like a sinking stone. Or a mutinied captain in freefall. Either way, Aros had been pretty damn advanced to be able to stop the effects of entropy.

She turned away in search of a high-tech control panel and walked into a primitive breastplate. “Aah!” she shrieked, and jumped into a basic self-defence stance.

Dirrellen, or at least the guy he was now, stared at her impassively. She had to admit, for a guy dressed in what resembled ancient Earth Roman armour and possessed by a two-thousand-year-old ghost, he was pretty hot.

The fine lines of his lips and the downward crouch of his eyebrows radiated irritation.

Sasha finally realised the meaning behind the phrases ‘hooded bedroom eyes’ and ‘rakish stubble’ in her private hoard of digital romance books buried in her day-planner.

”Leaving so soon, my love?”

Ack!
Sasha reared back, shocked to her core. So much for thinking he didn’t recognise her alter ego. But then again, she had slapped him. She might have told him off, but her memory after waking was a bit blurry. Dirrellen was far from an idiot—he’d have put two and two together and come up with a working theory fast.

She dropped the stupid self-defence stance and headed around him. “I’m not your anything,” she replied in ancient Arosan and stalked to a likely panel. As Tasha, she’d flown frequently enough, but wasn’t familiar with ground crew duties. “Go away, lecher. I’m sure there are plenty of native chicks around here who are dying for your attention.”

She could feel his breath on her neck when he followed her.
Damn nosy man.
She wouldn’t admit that her gut twisted at the idea that he might be involved with someone. It was like discovering you were one of those freaks who stalked holo-vid stars.

“My name is Kiev. What is a ‘chick’?” he asked. His deep, exotic voice did a hot number on her libido. Her nipples hardened as she remembered the intense attention Dirrellen had given to
all
his projects, especially lovemaking.

Sasha slapped at the fingers that stealthily teased the ends of her hair, sending a tingle of awareness right to her pussy. Her inner walls contracted, dampening at the idea of him naked. Damn, she hadn’t been laid in forever. She could definitely put all that hard warrior muscle to rigorous use. In Tasha’s case, it had been a
lot
of forevers. They definitely needed to get laid again soon.

Tasha’s Dirrellen had been a nerd to the core. Somewhat athletic, he hadn’t been skinny, but the scientist had known how to make her body sing.
All that experience…
She quivered inside at the mental striptease playing in her head. She’d love to unwrap that Roman kilt-looking thing he wore and see if he was as impressive as she hoped.