Warrior of the Ages (Warriors of the Ages) (33 page)

“What do you want?” There was no way she was letting him off that easy, the big jerk.

“Are you enjoying all this attention?” Motioning towards the neighboring tables, he scowled towards one where three Palmer men sat together. When Beth met their eyes, they all three flashed perfect smiles at her and waved.

Frowning she met Kahtar’s eyes, feeling almost as annoyed as he seemed to be over the Palmer’s.

“Berwick’s proposal held more appeal.” Blurting, oh lovely, and how rude to the pleasant men of Cultuelle Khristos, even Kahtar looked taken aback, and he rarely seemed to permit any expression to cross his face beyond a glare.

“How do you mean?” For once he seemed genuinely curious.

Shrugging Beth looked through the curved glass into the atrium beyond. From the outside, the secrets of Cultuelle Khristos were hidden. Peering through that glass from her seat, all that was visible within was empty hallways and she knew for certain that there was a waterfall right inside of where she sat, though strangely she couldn’t even feel the vibration of the water.

“I mean as repugnant as Berwick was at least he wasn’t perfect. Is that glass computerized?”

“Computerized?” Glancing at the window behind him, that revealed a hallway that didn’t really exist, he offered, “No, we don’t use computers. That is what is really in there. You do realize that no one is perfect, not even the Palmer men.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been living here for weeks. There are no desks and file cabinets in there! That’s the atrium, waterfalls, gardens, and a glacier.”

The genuine smile that lit his face made her heart lurch so that she almost lost her balance, perched on top of a high stool with her heels clipped over a bar underneath, she managed to recover somewhat gracefully and remain erect. Chuckling Kahtar moved Axel’s juice out of his way and leaned forward to murmur.

“Still not asking any questions, Beth?”

“Seems to me I just asked you one.”

“Touché.” Motioning behind him to encompass the main building he said, “Everything inside the main building, isn’t actually inside the main building.”

“What? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, “Try walking into one of the walls sometime. You’ll get the idea. Though it’s only the main area that is an Abstract, an Abstract means space that isn’t really on the premises as it appears to be.”

“There really doesn’t seem much point in asking questions when the answers are nonsensical. Are you telling me it’s a magic room?”

“There is no such thing as magic if you know the science behind it, and I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone to give you technical details. As a matter of fact most of the Palmer’s specialize in Abstracts. There is a reason so many of them are still single. Ask one of them that question, but I will warn you right now, you’ll be sorry you did.”

Daring a glance up into Kahtar’s eyes, Beth was pretty certain he was jealous of those boring Palmer’s. The thought that he might feel something for her, despite his abandonment, was thrilling.

He is a soldier’s soldier, a lifer, don’t be an idiot.
Looking back at her plate she murmured. “Well, even if they aren’t, they sure look perfect.”

“You look perfect, too, Beth.” The voice was pitched low, and there was emotion in it, as though it pained him to see perfection in her.

Looking up into those grey eyes she searched for an outward sign of what he was thinking. “I am far from perfect.”

“Are you?” It didn’t sound like he believed her. “Do you like living here?”

“Believe me, I am the opposite of perfect, and no,” She answered frankly, “I hate living here, but apparently there is nowhere else I can go.”

“You could come stay with me. Join with me.”

Beth spilled her water in her rush to grab it, and give her mouth something to do besides hang open. It filled her plate with a splash and the perfect stuffed mushrooms floated off in a wave. Kahtar put one large elbow right into the mess, ignoring it, those steely eyes held hers.

“I’m not a Palmer, Beth, and I don’t know what kind of a husband I would make. I’d never planned to find out, but I’ve been around long enough to know you and I—for some inexplicable reason—we go together. I’ve given it time to pass—certain that it would—but it won’t.”

Of all the proposals she’d endured over the past weeks, this one was without doubt the only reluctant, insulting declaration. Folding her bare arms across her favorite yellow dress she glared at the gorgeous, flawed giant across the table from her. Angry because for the first time she was actually tempted to accept, and apparently the kind of guy she liked was an idiot.

“A bit short on romance, isn’t it, Kahtar?”

“That isn’t likely to ever change, Beth. I know nothing about romance.”

“Do you know nothing about feelings? I haven’t seen you in weeks! You left me here in Dr. Seuss’s Stepford, Ohio!” Several people at the other tables looked over at them curiously, and then politely away. “Then you drop by to declare, because the feeling won’t pass? Try stuffing your head in the oven, Mr. Darcy.”

By the time she managed to wrest her heel off the stool, it toppled with a crash to the patio. Made of the same soft paving stones as the front entrance, her five inch heels sank down as Beth attempted to stalk off and she was well aware of the fact that she looked ridiculous having to yank each leg up to escape the heel-swallowing patio. Three Palmer men looked up with interest, when wrestling to find the balls of her feet she put her hand down on their table. Six of the most arresting eyes she’d ever seen seemed to find no fault with her unnatural writhing.

“Can one of you, please, explain to me what an Abstract is?”

If she was reading them correctly, these three men had just completely fallen in love with her.

WATCHING BETH WALK through the doorway into the atrium, with what appeared to be a herd of suitors, Kahtar sensed as soon as they crossed through the Abstract. The touch of Beth’s heart vanished. Maybe he should care that half the people lunching on the patio were darting looks his way. Maybe he should be self-conscious or embarrassed to have been publicly rejected. Off-hand he couldn’t remember ever being embarrassed, though surely he had been. Probably thousands of years had just given him time to become immune to the feeling. Too bad all that time hadn’t given him any insight into affairs of the heart. Heaving himself off the table, he bent to pick up Beth’s stool and almost jumped when he stood and Abigail suddenly stood right there.

The woman only came up to his torso, but those sharp eyes and militant librarian demeanor always unnerved him a bit. Maybe because he’d never met anyone like her, he wasn’t sure what to make of Abigail Adit.

“Well out of the frying pan into the fire, eh? For Beth I mean. She’ll regret that little maneuver. I like that one. Not afraid to make colossal mistakes.”

“What do you want, Abigail?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure, you know, that you’re not going to actually go stick your head in an oven.”

Turning away from the woman Kahtar was suddenly glad that at least she was keeping her nails on chalkboard voice lower than normal. Maybe he wasn’t above embarrassment after all. Deciding to hike the long way around the compound, rather than follow Beth through the atrium, he stalked off. Abigail wasn’t one to be ignored though. She huffed and worked those chubby legs trying to keep up with him.

“Do you even know who Mr. Darcy is? Never mind, it’s in one of those paper and leather things we call books. You need a primer for this don’t you?”

“Oh I think I got it, Abigail. Question is why you’re rubbing lemon juice on it.”

Chuckling she managed to keep up with him.

“Didn’t know you had much sense of humor. I’d say you didn’t get it at all though, if you really think she isn’t interested in you.”

He came to an abrupt halt. Abigail trounced on past him and into a patch of wax beans, spinning on her orthopedic shoes, she returned to him.

“Beth doesn’t play games, and I think even you know I sure don’t.”

“I don’t think, you think, like she thinks, my slow thinking warrior. You insulted her and she’s mad. Any woman who refers to any man by the name Mr. Darcy is interested. It’s one of the laws of physics on this planet. Did you happen to notice her heart during her little tirade?”

“There are few times I don’t notice her heart.” Not looking into Abigail’s eyes made that easier to admit, but she had his full attention.

Bouncing up and down on her brown orthopedics, she tormented first.

“Let’s see, I need to use small words so that you understand…oh, glare a hole through me, I don’t care. If you had declared, without making it sound like you found it repugnant—oh wait—that’s a big word.”

“Abigail? Are you saying she didn’t mean what she said?”

“Oh no, she meant it, I think she’d preheat the oven for you.”

“Could you give me a break?”

“No.” Squinting she tried to focus on his face through the August sunshine. “Fine. Declare again. Tell her how you feel without being an oaf—if you can.”

The Elder’s face was sincere, if amused. Abigail obviously had seen something he hadn’t, and she approved. For some reason that was reassuring, even if she didn’t know what kind of a repeating, sinful, freak he really was. That thought sobered him. Maybe he shouldn’t be trying to join anyway. What could be the point in dragging any woman into his crazy repeating life?

“Kahtar?” Abigail’s voice had lost all teasing. It was loving and one surprisingly strong plump hand grabbed hold of his forearm. “She all but accepted you already. Have you never followed your heart?”

The First Law—Love—It is your purpose…
Since the beginning he’d followed the laws of being. And his repeating wouldn’t hurt Beth. It would hurt him more next time, but he didn’t care.

Turning to head back towards the atrium Abigail tugged him back.

“Hold on big fella. It won’t hurt you to let her suffer by comparison. After a few hours with those Palmers, you’ll be golden.”

Turning his head to try to bite back a guffaw, he admitted, “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“Well don’t get a big head, Kahtar, it’s only because it’s Beth. To any other woman in the clan you look like a work horse next to one of the Palmers.”

“Thanks, Abigail.”

“Come on, do you care if you’re pretty?”

“Today? Yes.”

“Then go home and change. You’ve got some kind of sauce all over your sleeve, and who’d you try to kill this morning? There’s dried blood all over you. Do you own any clothes that would be normal to Beth? Not a police uniform either. I think you look creepy in them. Go on, she’ll be hours before they let her escape.”