Just as he had done on so many other nights, the stallion woke Jerden from his nightmare with a ringing neigh at the window. Jerden had actually gone to bed this time, something he hadn’t even attempted in weeks. Whether he’d been feeling better that evening or not, he should have known it wouldn’t work. Sleep never did. The best he could say was that he hadn’t resorted to drugs or alcohol. No one could accuse him of losing himself in the scents of other women, either. He didn’t overeat, nor did he starve. Vigorous, relentless exercise was the only thing that helped stave off the dreams. That and the stallion.
Getting up from his bed, he crossed to the window. “Go home. Sara needs you more than I do. I can run the hills until my muscles scream. Then I can sleep. You don’t need to monitor my dreams.”
Which was what the horse seemed to do. The horse. “I’ve got to ask her what your name is. I’m sick of thinking of you in such an impersonal way. I need to connect, need to feel, need to know. I’m so tired of not knowing anything.”
As before, the nightmare had sent him sinking back into the abyss, splitting his mind apart. Despite the fact that he was awake, his nerves were still on edge. “Leave me alone and don’t come here again!” he shouted. “I can’t do this! I need something else! I need to be able to fuck again so I can go back to the Palace and live out my life as a fuckin’ man-whore. It’s all I’m good for.”
No, that isn’t true. He could do plenty of things. Raise horses. Hell, he could raise dogs and cats. He seemed to be well on the way to doing that already. There were tons of them around, just waiting for a bit of animal husbandry. Even this thought didn’t stop the howls of anguish rising from his chest. Cria stood with her back arched and her hair standing on end. The dogs outside were restless and whining.
“I can’t do this anymore!” he bellowed. “For God’s sake, someone help me!”
His plea went unheard by anyone who could answer him. In desperation, he stormed out of the house. The stallion was standing by the porch as always, and Jerden swung up onto his back without a thought, his salvation as elusive as ever. Turning his head toward the mountains, he thought to ride up them, but the stallion ignored him this time. The great beast spun on his haunches and leaped forward, racing around the lake and up the hillside in the direction of Sara’s house.
Jerden made a few feeble attempts to turn him using his seat and legs, but the horse plunged onward through the night. Finally, weaving his fingers through the long mane and melting into the stallion’s back until they became one being, Jerden simply let him run, sweeping across the open field like a wildfire.
Skirting the fences, they came clattering into Sara’s stable yard and rode right up to the house. His limbs no longer obeying his mind, Jerden slithered from the horse’s back, falling in a nerveless heap on the back porch. Shouts rang out from the barns. He’d managed to awaken just about everyone, including Sara. The door flung open and she stepped out into the darkness.
Moments later, her hands touched him, and he felt life and fire and purpose flood his being. “Are you all right?”
Jerden couldn’t answer. He was beyond knowing. Beyond thinking or speaking. Her eyes gleamed brightly in the moonlight and her face was softer than he remembered, as though the moon had washed over her skin, leaving her unearthly and ethereal.
Reaching up, he touched her cheek. Help me.
The others gathered around. The Norludian was the first to speak. “What should we do with him?”
“I’ll take care of him,” the Rutaran volunteered. “He can stay in my room.”
Sara spoke again, seeming not to have heard the Rutaran’s offer. “Zatlen, you and Drania put Danuban back in his paddock. Reutal, help me get this man inside. I don’t know what his problem is, but I can’t leave him lying on the porch.”
The sound of Cria’s purring filled his ears as she nuzzled his neck. As always, she had followed him. Cria… Jerden knew he’d said the leopard’s name aloud, or tried to, but the attempt failed, just as it had done when he’d begged for help. No sound, barely a breath issued from his lips. He was dying. Finally. Thank all the gods above. Despair and misery filled him again and he was lost, bereft of hope and of joy.
When her hand gripped his, he felt lighter. She lifted him so easily, the Norludian must’ve taken hold of his feet to assist her. She wasn’t that strong. Or perhaps she was. He knew nothing about her, except that her touch was feeding his spirit with strength while it sapped his ability to move.
What an odd contradiction. He couldn’t say it aloud, and even though he felt like laughing, once again, no sound passed his lips. Is this insanity?
His body swung to and fro as he was carried across the threshold. Light hovered above, seeping past his eyelids to pierce his brain like a blade. It hurt. He needed darkness; something to shroud him from the light.
Shroud. That was the right word. He was already dying, or insane, needing either restraints or a shroud. Sara probably had all kinds of leather. She could tie him down before he hurt anyone.
Pain. Great waves of it deluged him with its horror. He hadn’t been injured, but every muscle and joint was on fire with it. Why is there so much pain?
“Here, on the bed,” Sara said. She wasn’t panting with the effort, nor was she groaning under his weight. She must be very strong. Jerden sank into the cool sheets, feeling partial relief, yet he was still unable to move or open his eyes. A cool hand rested briefly on his forehead. “He’s burning up. I’d better call Vladen and hope he isn’t on the far side of the territory.”
Another finger touched his arm, igniting a new focus for the agony. “Think he’s got the flu or something?”
“No idea,” Sara replied. “Vladen will know if there’s anything going around.”
Vladen. Jerden remembered the name. He was the regional physician who had pronounced Jerden fit and healthy upon his arrival to Terra Minor. He was an odd sort of fellow, but then, Levitians usually were, and his peculiar sense of humor was something Jerden was in no mood for. Besides, he didn’t need a doctor. He needed a priest or a holy woman to help his spirit cross over to the great beyond.
Smooth fur brushed against his hand, accompanied by vibrations that penetrated clear to his bones as the contact grew stronger. Cria. She hadn’t left him. Who would care for his animals when he died? That was one concern he didn’t need. Bonnie, perhaps? She was very kind and had all sorts of animals on her farm. He wouldn’t have to tell anyone to do it. She would do it whether he asked her to or not.
As Jerden’s mind registered that this was no longer a problem, Reutal spoke again. “Do you need me for anything else?”
“No, go on back to bed for what’s left of the night.” Sara’s sigh conveyed some sort of emotion. Irritation? Resignation? Jerden couldn’t decide which. “Looks like tomorrow is gonna be a very long day.”
The Norludian’s flipper-like feet made slapping sounds on the smooth floor as he left the house. A door closed. Now, only Cria’s purring was audible. Until she started growling.
“I’m only going to call the doctor. You can keep an eye on him until I come back.”
Sara’s tone was much more soothing than it had been a moment ago, but who else was there with her in the house? Then as Cria licked his hand, his fevered brain registered that she had been talking to the big cat. She probably talked to animals as much as he did. We have so much in common. The irony almost made him laugh, except that, as before, his body wouldn’t respond. Helplessly paralyzed, he had no idea why he couldn’t move. He only knew that he must be lying naked on Sara Shield’s bed.
And the possibility of making love with her was about as likely as a hailstorm in space.
With the sound of Sara’s retreating footsteps, Cria’s touch became lighter—or was it simply that he couldn’t feel it anymore? For one brief instant before darkness engulfed him, he knew he was correct.
***
Sara was still shaking. She’d done her best to remain calm—something she normally had no problem doing in a crisis—but the beseeching look in Jerden’s eyes had struck a chord with her unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was almost as though their souls had touched.
She shook her head, banishing the thought. Souls didn’t touch or connect or any of the mumbo jumbo mystical nonsense that people wrote sonnets about. It simply didn’t happen. It was a trick of the moonlight, or a feeling of compassion, no more.
That’s what Ebenezer Scrooge thought.
Sara stomped her foot in protest. “I am not being visited by ghosts. And I am not like Scrooge. Besides, that was fiction.”
If there was one thing Sara prided herself upon, it was being firmly grounded in reality. There was a simple, rational, logical explanation for everything. Granted, there were aliens with strange powers, but those abilities were natural for them. In Sara’s opinion, humans who claimed to have supernatural talents were just plain lying. The feeling she’d had was probably brought on by the lack of sleep, for which the man now resting on her bed was largely responsible.
That sounded odd. Men were not normally anywhere near her bed, for any reason whatsoever, and she liked it that way. Giving herself a mental shake, she went into the living room and tapped the comlink pad to call Vladen.
A few moments later, the Levitian’s image popped up on the screen. He appeared to be fully awake, but his bright blue eyes looked tired and his short blond hair, which normally stood straight out like the bristles on a hairbrush, was lying flat on one side. “And here I thought I was going to get to sleep the night through for the first time in weeks.” Sighing, he ran a hand over the bony ridges along his jaw. “What’s up, Sara?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “Jerden Morokovitz just rode up on a horse and then collapsed on my porch. I don’t know the normal body temperature for a Zetithian, but he feels hot to me.”
Vladen snickered. “They’re all hot, Sara. I’m surprised you had to touch him to realize that.”
Sara rolled her eyes but didn’t laugh. She’d never felt less like laughing in her life. “Would you mind telling me what their normal temperature is, or would you rather come and see him for yourself?”
“Don’t need to. Zetithians are better at healing themselves than anything a mere doctor can do. Just put him to bed and let him sleep for a day or two. He’ll wake up good as new.”
“A day or two?” She was beginning to wish she’d left him on the porch. “I’d like to get a little sleep myself.”
Vladen wasn’t stupid. He knew precisely what she’d done with him. “You just snuggle up beside him. He won’t bite if he’s asleep, and you’ll keep each other nice and warm.”
“Maybe I could sleep on the couch.” She’d have slept in a second bedroom if she’d had one, but her house was a simple one-story cottage with only a small attic and a basement for storage.
“No need for that,” Vladen said briskly. “Just cover him up and leave him there. He won’t bother you. His heart rate and respirations will slow way down, but that’s normal. And don’t worry about him wetting the bed. They never do.”
This was a problem Sara hadn’t even considered yet, but, since most of the galaxy’s remaining Zetithians lived in his territory, Vladen obviously knew what he was talking about. “But what about that big cat of his? She followed him into the house and is sitting right there beside him, licking his hand and growling at me.”
Vladen appeared to consider this for a moment. “Well… you could treat her for fleas, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She snorted a laugh. “I’m worried about getting eaten alive—and not by fleas!”
Vladen was patient but firm. “Now, Sara. You know a lot about animals. If she’s protective of him, then don’t act like you’re trying to hurt him and you’ll get along fine.”
Sara took a deep breath. Part of Vladen’s ability to tend to the medical needs of an entire region was in knowing when to act and when to take a wait-and-see approach. In his eyes, this was clearly not an emergency. “Okay. ’Nuff said. I’ll keep him warm and his leopard fed.”
“You do that.” Vladen yawned, revealing double rows of sharply pointed teeth. “Meanwhile, I’m going back to bed.”
“Good night, and thank you.”
“No problem. Feel free to call me again if you get worried.”
After terminating the link, Sara returned to her bedroom to find the leopard lying on the floor beside the bed, purring contentedly, the tip of her tail twitching in a lazy rhythm. Jerden lay right where she’d left him, flat on his back, the contours of his perfect body accentuated by the pale moonlight. Both he and the cat seemed harmless enough at the moment, but one glimpse of him made her heart start pounding again. Vladen may have been reassuring, but he hadn’t known anything about that part of the problem.
Having grown up with two younger brothers, Sara had never shared a bed with anyone—let alone a man who was essentially a stranger. Fortunately, snoring wasn’t an issue; Jerden’s respirations were so shallow, the difficulty would lie in determining whether or not he was breathing at all. He could die during the night and she’d never know it. Lying down next to a strange man was one thing. Waking up beside a dead man was quite another.
Oh, just crawl in beside him. It’s no big deal…
Reutal would have a field day with it, though. That he hadn’t made any suggestive remarks when they’d hoisted Jerden onto the bed was nothing short of a miracle. Then again, he was probably saving up a whole slew of comments for tomorrow.
If only they hadn’t put him on her side of the bed! Granted, it was nearer to the door, but his head rested on her favorite pillow, and she wasn’t about to risk waking him up by switching them. Sighing with resignation, she went around to the far side, pulled back the sheets, and got in bed with a man for the first time in her life.
As she flipped the sheet up over him, his body heat flowed back toward her in waves, his scent carried along with the warmth. Tempered with the fragrance of horse—a smell Sara had always found pleasing—Jerden’s own unique aroma was nothing short of delightful. Simply breathing it in calmed her nerves and allowed her heartbeat to return to a normal rate. Hair as black and shining as the stallion’s mane lay on the pillow and she reached out to touch it without a second thought. Softer by far than the mane of any horse, the texture of his tresses drew her to him like forbidden fruit.
With her next breath, her heart filled with pain, for that was what he was. Forbidden. And if not technically forbidden, he was certainly not something she was entitled to, or ever would be. The thought of what might happen when he did wake up sent chills running down between her shoulder blades. It was wrong of her to touch him in such a manner when he lay sick and helpless. He’d asked for her assistance, nothing more.
Tears dampened her pillow, frustrating her further. She never cried. What was it about him, simply lying there asleep, that dragged so many different emotions from her? This was foolish, pointless behavior. She needed to be monitoring his condition, not weeping over him. Taking his wrist, she felt for a pulse. It was faint and slow, just as Vladen said it would be, and he drew in one shallow breath for every four she took herself. She reminded herself that he’d only come to her because he was riding her horse and she was his nearest neighbor. Proximity. That was the only reason he was there. His presence in her house didn’t mean anything else.
She couldn’t explain why she thought it should mean anything more. Perhaps this was why Zetithians had nearly been exterminated; they made you covet things you had no business wanting in the first place. After all, a woman had been killed to enable another to get closer to this man. He was a dangerous brew—intoxicating, deadly, and probably addicting. Sara was a fool to keep him there in her bed and decided to send him away as soon as possible. Bonnie could look after him far better than she could, and if she couldn’t do it, Salan would take him in a heartbeat.
Poor Salan. She’d been bitten by the Zetithian bug long before Lynx had come to work for Bonnie. She’d fallen for Leo Banadänsk, the golden-haired husband of the Mordrial/Terran witch, Tisana, who traveled together with Cat and Jack Tshevnoe and their families aboard the starship Jolly Roger. Now, with more Zetithians to choose from than ever, Salan had renewed hope, but her blatant attempts at seduction had made her something of a joke within the Zetithian community. Not that they would ever openly laugh at her. They were too polite and kind, just as Jerden would be if he weren’t drowning in grief.
Sara could imagine his smile, could almost hear him purring. No, she knew better than to think he would ever be interested in her. Men seldom were, and she was okay with that now. A lifetime of being the maiden aunt wasn’t so bad. She had her own life. In another place and time, she would have been looked down upon, even ridiculed for being a spinster. But this was not that time, nor was this society one in which she would be good for nothing except as a governess to someone else’s children. She would leave Jerden for another woman to heal with her love, and she would stick with her horses. She had all but lost a horse to him already. She wasn’t about to hand over her heart.
The big cat let out a loud purr and then fell silent, apparently trusting Sara enough to sleep. Wish I felt that way. Closing her eyes, she tried to forget about Jerden and his leopard, but with every cell in her body screaming at her to get closer to him, he was impossible to ignore. And what difference would it make? She could snuggle up next to him and he would never know. Vladen had even told her to do it.
Jerden had lain with a thousand different women. What was one more? Lifting his arm out of the way, she crawled up beside him and laid her head on his shoulder, her own arm draped across his chest. She held her breath, waiting for him to stir, but he never moved. At last, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with his scent as her arms absorbed his warmth. The heartache she felt was fleeting this time, rapidly giving way to a deep, overriding sense of contentment and belonging.
None of these feelings made any sense to Sara, but as she drifted off to sleep, she knew one thing for certain. It wouldn’t last, and when Jerden awoke from his healing slumber, he wouldn’t remember any of it, nor would he wish to. He wanted nothing from her except Danuban, and if she were to sell the horse to him, he might never darken her door again.
In any event, she wouldn’t agree to the sale without the stipulation that she could still breed her mares to Danuban. Perhaps when he recovered from this illness of his, Jerden might even be more… friendly.
Yeah, right. And pigs might fly.