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Authors: Bianca D'Arc

BOOK: Harry's Sacrifice
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“Thank you, Ronin.” Hara clasped hands with the Patriarch. “I don’t want anyone to die on my behalf. Too many have died already. But I appreciate the sentiment and your vigilance. This will be a difficult time for everyone on this planet, but we will weather the coming storm and come out stronger for it in the end. Such is my hope.”

“Mine as well. I will leave you now,” Ronin said, heading for the doorway. “I will return tomorrow and will coordinate the tour Caleb recommended. I will get you to the appointed place at the appointed time. For now, good night and welcome back.”

Ronin left and Harry stood as well. “Uncle Caleb has a guest room for the times I stayed over with him and the couch is pretty comfortable. I’ve slept there a time or two when we were up late talking. I assume you two will stay here tonight?” Harry asked Hara and Percival. Both men nodded.

“We still have much to talk about with your uncle,” Percival added, standing as well.

“I’ll get the pillows and blankets so you’re all set to crash when you can’t stay awake anymore,” Harry volunteered. He knew where Caleb kept everything in his little apartment and wanted to help out before he too took his leave.

This small apartment would sleep three with one squeezing in on the couch, but it would never hold six comfortably, and Harry rather suspected he would end up with Ro and Cormac wherever he went. He had an apartment of his own in this same building, near his mother’s. It was on a floor reserved for the science team she headed, and none of the rooms were secured as this one was. Harry and his guests could come and go as they pleased.

Hara and Percival, having chosen to stay in Caleb’s prison with him, made a very subtle, yet stark statement. The fact that the ancients had allowed their destination and even the initial meeting with Caleb to be recorded meant they intended for it to be known that they stood in unity with Caleb. It was a good way to draw attention to his imprisonment without saying a word. Harry thought it was very clever.

Mara 12 had never let Caleb’s presence in the city be widely known. Harry wondered what regular Alvians were already saying about the fact that a human had been held prisoner inside the city for years now without their knowledge.

He stifled a yawn as he dragged the spare blankets and pillows out of the hall closet. Soft hands touched his arms as Ro came to help. He gave her one blanket and a pillow while he carried the rest.

“Where will you sleep, Harry?” she asked, almost shyly.

“I have an apartment on another floor of this building.”

“Is there room for me? And Cormac?” She seemed so hesitant, and part of him wanted to reassure her, but another part of him still wanted to distance himself from this ready-made Alvian family.

He had never wanted an Alvian mate, much less have to suffer another Alvian as the third member of the marriage. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it all or what to do about it. He’d promised Ro he’d wait and see, but he was still conflicted on a basic level.

Harry sighed. It was too late tonight to settle anything and they were all tired.

“Yeah, there’s room. We’ll go right after I get the ancient guys settled. They’re new here and they’re guests. I want to be sure they’ll be as comfortable as possible.”

Ro smiled at him. “That’s nice of you,” she said softly, reaching up on tiptoe to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was a sweet gesture that was very un-Alvian of her, and it touched him on several levels.

“What was that for?” he asked curiously, smiling down at her, a little perplexed by her playful behavior.

“It’s for your being kind even when it would be easier to give in to your own fatigue and seek your apartment without helping your uncle and his guests. It’s because you are thoughtful and put others’ comfort before your own. That is special and to be valued.”

She turned and headed back down the hall to the living room. Bemused, Harry followed behind her. “If you say so.”

 

Roshin was nervous. At least she thought that’s what this feeling was called. She wasn’t sure about Harry’s feelings. He’d seemed resigned to having her and Cormac in his apartment. Not eager. Not happy. Just willing to go along for now.

That’s not what she wanted for the future. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. With him and Cormac. She loved both men. The feeling in her heart when she thought of either of them was the most amazing thing she had ever experienced.

She had hoped Harry was coming around after their last talk where they’d agreed to go slow and see where things led. Instead, he seemed to have drawn away again. He was holding part of himself in reserve, and she didn’t like it. Time would tell, she supposed. A lot had happened in a very short amount of time. She had to be patient with him and with the entire situation. Perhaps things would settle in her favor given time.

Roshin helped Harry get Caleb’s small apartment ready for the ancients and then left with him and Cormac, who followed silently behind as Harry led the way to the lift. She nodded to her
Zxerah
Brethren who would watch over Caleb, Hara and Percival, knowing they would keep them safe—or die trying.

The ride in the lift was quiet and nerve-wracking for Roshin. She bit her lip, worried that Harry was not exactly happy about having her and Cormac invade his personal space.

If only she were telepathic, like many of the humans. Or empathic would be better, she thought. If she were empathic, she’d be able to feel what Harry was feeling and know for certain whether or not she was welcome or merely tolerated.

How she’d hate it if he was only tolerating her presence. Roshin discovered she wanted to be loved. Loved the way she loved Harry. He’d already said he loved her, and she hugged those words close to her heart. But he’d cooled. He hadn’t said it again and she feared he never would. And if he couldn’t give that to her freely, she thought she finally understood what humans meant by the term heartbreak.

Harry led them to a door that had a normal locking mechanism—very much unlike the one-way security lock that had been on Caleb’s door. He placed his palm against the reader and the door slid open. Roshin noticed, and was emotionally hurt by Harry’s silence on the topic of whether or not to code Roshin and Cormac into his lock. Most friends allowed free access to others in such a way. That Harry didn’t even mention it caused a pang of pain deep inside.

But maybe she was being overly sensitive. Roshin schooled herself to calm. She had to wait and see how this would all play out. Jumping to conclusions based on little to no evidence wasn’t productive.

“It’s not much,” Harry said, sighing as he dropped downward into an overstuffed chair in the main area.

It wasn’t a very Alvian design. The oversized chair looked more like something Roshin’s human Brethren decorated their personal spaces with. Roshin realized again, for all that Harry looked Alvian, he was also human and had been raised—at least partially—among them.

“I think it’s very nice.” Roshin sat on the matching couch and Cormac settled next to her. Suddenly she felt tired. It had been a long, eventful day. “The colors in this room are very peaceful.”

Harry looked around at the soft-blue walls then back at her. “I like blue.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t important, but Roshin thought she sensed his pleasure at her compliment and appreciation of the calm mood he’d created in this room.

“Where will we sleep?” Cormac asked quickly, decisively, looking around the room as if seeking the answer.

“The bed is big enough for two.” Harry looked tired and fed up, if Roshin was reading him right. Frustration and a simmering anger echoed through his words. Not a blatant rage, but more like a low-boil annoyance with everything in general. “I’ll take the couch.”

“That’s not right,” Roshin said at once. She was upset that he would divide them. They were meant to be three. Didn’t he understand that yet?

Cormac stood, taking her hand. She had little choice but to stand also. Harry rose as well and led the way toward one wall where a discretely sealed arch led into what had to be the bedroom. The door opened as he approached.

The room was decorated in a similar style to the outer room, only somewhat bolder colors with patterns and images of people displayed on the walls. There were more images framed on the low table by the bed that held a small com unit and various other controls for lighting and sound.

“Who are they?” Roshin asked, moving to the first image of a smiling group of young humans.

“My family,” Harry answered simply. “I took that photo of my siblings when I was living at home one summer. I was fifteen.”

He pressed a control on the wall and the image changed to one of an Alvian Roshin recognized as Chief Engineer Davin with a human woman and man. The woman was between the two men, which intrigued Roshin.

“That’s my sister, Callie, in the middle,” Harry said softly. It was clear he felt tender emotions toward his sister, but he didn’t mention the men.

“And the Chief Engineer,” Cormac blundered in, bringing attention to something Harry seemed to not want to discuss. “Who is the other man?”

“Callie resonates with both Davin and Rick.” Harry stared wistfully at the image of his sister.

“Chief Engineer Davin is a throwback,” Roshin observed in a small, sad voice. “And Rick is clearly human. All three of them always had emotions.” Roshin looked from Harry to Cormac and back again. “I know it bothers you that Cormac and I are fully Alvian and have come to emotion late.”

“That’s not your fault,” Harry said in a firm voice, but she knew in her heart it bothered him.

“Then why are you pulling away from us? From me?” Her voice caught, nearly choking her with emotion. She didn’t like this feeling at all.

Harry sighed heavily. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we all get some sleep and talk about this in the morning.”

“That’s not an answer—” Roshin would have gone on, bullying him as best she could into discussing it now, but Cormac’s big hand on her shoulder forestalled her words.

“I have observed that emotions run high when one is fatigued,” he said in as mild a tone as she’d ever heard from him. “Harry is right. Nothing productive will come of arguing now. It is clear we all need to recharge ourselves and talk about things when we are of clearer mind.”

Roshin turned to him, looking up into his troubled eyes and nearly crying in her desperation to make the men understand. “How can I sleep knowing Harry does not return my feelings? How am I to rest with this uncertainty hanging over us all?” Tears flowed down her face, but she was helpless to stop them.

But then Cormac drew her into his arms and let her cry against his strong chest. And a tentative hand settled on her shoulder from behind.

“I’m sorry, Ro. I’m doing my best.” Harry spoke in a pained voice from behind her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m just so confused right now. I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” Cormac said, his strong voice a rumble under her cheek. “Stay with her tonight. I will take the couch. For now.” Cormac drew away and looked downward to meet her gaze. “I love you, little Roshin. I always will, and nothing and no one will ever take me from your side. Only death will part me from you in this lifetime if I have anything to say about it. Do you believe me?”

Roshin’s heart soared. Cormac had never declared himself so plainly and his words caused her worry to lessen. He would stick by her. Now all they needed to do was convince Harry to complete their family. For Roshin would not be completely whole without both of them. She knew that in her heart of hearts.

“I believe you, Cormac,” she whispered. He sealed his declaration with a short, hard, claiming kiss and then released her, turning her by the shoulders and pushing her into Harry’s arms.

“Do not hurt her anymore,” Cormac instructed Harry, then turned to take a blanket and pillow off the bed and headed out the door.

Roshin noticed he left the archway deliberately open after him. They may not be in the same room, but they would be able to hear each other.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, Ro,” Harry whispered, meeting her gaze as he held her loosely in his arms.

She didn’t know what to say to that. He might not mean to do it, but he hurt her every time he turned away from her, regardless of his intentions.

But he was here—with her—for now, and Cormac was right through the open portal. She would try to sleep now and face things fresh in the morning. Maybe things would be better then.

Chapter Thirteen

Roshin tried to sleep. She really did. But as soon as she drifted off, strange, scary dreams assaulted her subconscious. Nightmares, she’d heard them called. She sat bolt upright in the bed she shared with Harry, clutching the sheet to her chest as her body quaked in fear.

“What is it?” Harry’s groggy voice came from her side. She must’ve woken him with her movement. “A bad dream?”

“Yes.” She felt her lower lip quivering as she hugged herself. She felt awful.

Harry seemed to understand. He sat up and took her into his arms, rocking her gently as she clung to him.

“It was only a dream. I’m here, sweetheart. You’re okay now. It wasn’t real.”

“You were gone.” She hiccupped, remembering the terror of her dream.

“I’m not. I’m here, Ro. I’m with you,” he crooned.

“But will you be tomorrow?” Cormac’s voice came from the doorway. Roshin looked up to see the other man leaning against the doorframe, silhouetted in the ambient light coming from the other room.

“I don’t know.” The stark pain in Harry’s voice struck her. Was he as uncertain—as emotionally at sea—as she was?

She looked up at him, just able to make out his features in the dim light. She thought she saw pain on his face as well.

“I know you wanted to wait until morning to discuss this, but I think we really need to clear the air now, if possible,” she whispered, daring greatly.

Roshin had never been a very forward woman. She’d been quiet and competent. She’d done her tasks well but never really pushed her own agenda in any way. She’d been a good little Alvian—and an even more obedient
Zxerah
—following all the dictates of the Patriarch without question.

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