Between Darkness and Light (39 page)

He lifted his head, straining both his ears and his mental senses to try and hear them.

You will say nothing, do nothing, that could endanger what must be,
said the original voice eventually.

“I will do everything in my power to help him!” Vartra retorted.

Pain gripped him in claws of fire, squeezing him till he could barely draw breath. Blood roared in his ears but through it all he could hear the voice repeating like a litany,

He came to, not in the temple on the Outpost, nor in the one at Haven—not even at Stronghold, but on the grass at the edge of a small stream.

Groaning, he sat up—and saw Her sitting opposite him, feet dangling in the water, shaping a clump of mud from the bank in Her hands into a ball. He looked into eyes as green and distant as the forest behind Her.

“Ghyakulla!” He sucked in a breath of shock, knowing She'd brought him here from the Void when the Camarilla, finally finished with him, had cast him out. It had been some time since the Green Goddess, Mother of all things living and growing on Shola, had called him to Her presence.

Her ball completed, She threw it into the stream beside him, laughing gently as the water splashed over his face.

He blinked, rubbing it from his eyes as Her thoughts filled his mind.

By the time he could see again, She'd gone. Only Her footprints in the mud at the side of the stream remained.

Leaning forward, he lapped at the water, drinking his fill, feeling the strength and energy returning to his limbs, quieting nerves still tender from the Camarilla's torture.

As he sat up, the landscape around him faded, becoming a mist which gradually swirled and eddied until it coalesced into the Outpost temple on Kij'ik. He was back, but he knew instantly he was too late. Trying to get up, he found his limbs refused to respond, they were leaden weights that anchored him to the floor. Once again, the Camarilla had conditioned him so he had no option but to obey.

Tears of anger and frustration burned his eyes but he brushed them away with his forearm. There was no time for that; if Ghyakulla said there was much he could still do, then he had to find out what it was.

At the end of the covered walkway that led out into the hydroponics level, Kusac opened the air lock iris and looked carefully through. The lighting levels had been reduced to station night. Only the safety lanes, outlined by small pinpoints of light, were visible. Closing the door behind him, he began to pad silently down the pathway. Ahead, to his right, he saw a glimmer of light shining through the empty security office. The TeLaxaudin was still awake.

Keeping to the deep shadows where possible, he dropped down to his fours and crept silently past the office toward the buildings opposite the empty fields. At the end of the herb plot, he slowed, checking down the main side corridor for any of the crew working in the waste recycling plant, but the irises were closed.

At last he reached the narrow corridor opposite the lower field that Zayshul said led to the pool. The herd beasts' barn was down there and sniffing the air, he searched amid the animals' scents for hers. He found it easily, and automatically sending out soothing thoughts to the cattle, followed her scent down past the vet's office to where the entrance stood. There was a moment of panic until he saw she'd left the security lock off for him.

He'd dreaded—and longed for—this moment, he realized, remembering the erotic dreams from which his alarm had awakened him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the access panel and waited for the door to slide open. Stepping inside, he found himself in a world more alien than the one they'd visited on the hunt. Semitropical plants and shrubs surrounded him, forming a border to the winding paved path that stretched ahead. It led, he assumed, to the actual swimming pool. As he locked the door from the inside, he remembered Zayshul had said it was far more than just a pool, that it had a religious purpose for her people. Its very existence was a reminder of just how alien the Primes were.

The air was warm and redolent with the smell of vegetation and damp earth, making him think of the Taykui forest. Between one step and the next, he stopped as thoughts of home filled his mind. What in Vartra's name was he doing here? He'd been torn by guilt over the one sexual encounter they'd had on the
Kz'adul
, had hidden it from everyone even though he'd been an unwitting participant. But there was an electricity between them, a strange attraction that he found almost impossible to resist. If they were alone together, it would happen again, he knew it would, and this time, he'd have no excuse. How could he live with himself, let alone face his family? What if there was another child? Was that why Zayshul had lured him here? He'd been insane to even consider her invitation, let alone agree to it!

He forced his panic back, reminding himself that he was here because she'd promised to answer all his questions truthfully. If he could just keep his distance from her . . . then her scent shouldn't affect him, but he needed her answers. Just as he'd had to come to terms with what J'koshuk had done to him, so, too, did he need to know what part Zayshul had played in the genesis of his son. Then, perhaps, he could also lay that part of his past to rest.

His mind made up, he began to head along the path.

There's an island in the center,
she'd said.
Meet me there. Security's used to me going to the pool late at night. If you're careful not to be seen, we shouldn't be disturbed.

The heat and humidity were beginning to make him uncomfortable and light-headed. Reaching for the neck of his tunic, he pressed the seal, pulling the front open by several inches.

He could smell the water now as the path began to widen out, leading him toward the poolside. A narrow wooden bridge spanned the water in front of him, leading onto a small vegetation-covered island. The air was even more humid here, carrying an underlying smell of minerals. It was obviously a mineral spa. Walking onto the bridge, he stepped into the open, stopping for a moment to take in the undeniable beauty and complexity of the place.

To either side, and beyond a second wooden bridge, where the trees and shrubs met the water, small, partially concealed artificial beaches had been constructed. It was a feat of engineering as well as landscaping, and completely out of character here in the heart of an ancient Valtegan military outpost.

Still following her scent, he crossed the bridge and rejoined the path on the other side. It meandered through more thick shrubbery, this time in full bloom. Rounding the first bend, he found himself facing a small clearing with a narrow grass-covered path off to his left. At the far side stood a couple of low benches, a long table, and a pile of mats. Beyond them, the path continued.

Her scent drew him on, through the picnic area and toward the clearing he could see beyond. As it grew stronger, once more he began to doubt the wisdom of agreeing to this meeting. At the end of the paved area, he hesitated briefly, then hearing the sounds of someone moving in the water, stepped hastily back into the cover of the bushes. Zayshul's head came into view as she reached up to grasp hold of the safety rail of a small ladder and began to climb out of the pool.

Naked, she stepped out onto the grassy area, reaching for the towel she'd left over the handrail. He caught a flash of iridescent markings on her flank then it was hidden as she rubbed the towel briefly over her upper body before wrapping it round her waist and beginning to walk toward the mats and him.

He retreated further into the bushes, praying she hadn't seen him, embarrassed at watching her without her knowledge.

She stopped some ten feet from him, bending down to pick up a blue robe from her pile of cushions. Turning her back on him, she began to put it on.

Her scent called to him, teasing his nostrils, evoking memories he'd tried to forget, memories that he now remembered had haunted his dreams before coming here. Memories of cool, faintly textured skin, of a firm body pressed close to his, and a tongue and hands so versatile that . . .

He shook his head, trying to dispel the images—and found himself standing behind her, taking hold of her robe. Intending only to help her, his palm accidentally brushed against the bare skin of her neck. Where they touched, it was as if a river of fire flowed between them. Instantly, his every sensation was intensified. He'd have pulled back, as he had at dinner that first night on Kij'ik, but he found it impossible. His mind was wide open as her emotions surged through him, and her confusion at this strange attraction between them exactly matched his own.

While part of his mind recoiled in terror, the rest betrayed him by welcoming it. He forced himself to concentrate on the back of her head and neck, trying not to notice her scent but instead to focus on how different she was. The fact that her neck was long and slim, qualities guaranteed to excite any red-blooded Sholan male, didn't help.

His vision began to blur, and he remembered the Prime analgesics he'd taken. They were what was destroying his self-control, muddling his feelings for her. She was green-skinned and utterly hairless, how could there possibly be anything about her to attract him? But there was a more primitive, reptilian, part of him that couldn't—wouldn't—let her go, that wanted her again, and that compulsion was every bit as strong as his Leska Link to Carrie had been.

He closed his eyes briefly, not wanting to think of the life he'd had to leave behind, aware that his hand, still resting intimately on Zayshul's neck, had begun to caress her. As if in a dream, he found himself leaning forward, touching his cheek to hers, drinking in the aromatic smell of her skin.

 

At first startled by his sudden appearance, she began to tremble, doubting her ability to carry through her plan to release him from the scent marker. It was one thing to intellectualize about becoming intimate with him, quite another to find him standing behind her, feel the heat of his body, and his scent, laced with hers, radiating his desire for her.

Trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, she said, “You're early. I didn't expect you so soon.”

He began to purr softly, his cool nose nuzzling against the edge of her jawline. She caught herself leaning against him, matching her body to his, and tried to pull away, but his hands grasped her by the shoulders, preventing her.

“We were going to talk, Kusac,” she said, trying to buy time. Dear Goddess, but she was responding to him physically as if he were one of her kind and the scent marker really was hers! How could that be possible? She'd miscalculated—he was too different, she didn't have the courage for this!

 

“We'll talk later,” he heard himself whisper as he moved closer. Talk wasn't what either of them wanted, he knew that even if he knew nothing else. His hands slid over her shoulders, pushing her robe down till she clutched at it, stopping him.

“Kusac, we must talk,” she insisted, making a token effort to free herself from his grasp.

“Later,” he growled, his tongue rasping across her cheek. Her skin tasted of almonds, a taste that brought back even more images of that night. Primal instincts took over as his eyesight narrowed, becoming huntersight as he continued to lap at her skin.

Her scent altered, becoming stronger, deeper. He recognized it instantly. Suddenly light-headed, he forced her round to face him, ignoring her halfhearted attempt to pull away.

“I'm afraid,” she began.

“No need for fear,” he interrupted, his voice hoarse as he cupped one hand around her neck and with the other, teased the robe from her grasp so it fell to the ground. “It isn't as if we haven't done this before, Zayshul.”