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Had I overstepped the line? I could hear Nadir grinding his teeth. Just when I thought he intended to ignore the questions, he spoke. “No, I am not a virgin. As a commoner before my induction, I was...active. My position doesn’t require virginity, only celibacy.” The skin over his cheekbones darkened with discomfort.
Some people said I spoke before thinking and butted in where I didn’t belong. They were probably right. Nadir’s sex life, or lack of one, was none of my business. Sometimes, you were better off not knowing personal stuff about people. There was a reason some things were deemed private.
I’d been kidding when I’d suggested abstinence had caused his bad mood, but couldn’t there be some truth to it? He hadn’t given up just sex, but also close emotionally intimate relationships. His vow prevented him from having a bond-mate, someone to confide in, to hug and snuggle with, someone who would comb his fur at the end of the day. He needed support more than most because of the isolating nature of his position.
He’d been forced to become an island unto himself, alone and lonely, no longer a commoner, but not a royal either. He didn’t fit in with the people above him or those below him. Without peers, I suspected he didn’t have a single person he called friend.
While I hadn’t met Mr. Right, I’d had relationships, and I had many friends.
The king and queen demanded way too much for the honor and prestige of serving them. Why should he be forced to live like a monk? Celibacy? In this day and age? His disapproving manner had vexed me to no end, but his service and loyalty to the king and queen were above reproach. I knew they respected him and relied on him—yet probably never considered the cost to him. Wouldn’t they receive even better service if he had a way to de-stress and blow off steam?
The sun had started to set, casting long shadows, but, as I looked at him, I saw him in a whole new light. A man who walks alone. I saw the usual pride and arrogance, but also humility and loneliness. Determination and faithfulness. If he could take a bond-mate, he would be as loyal to her as he was to the monarchy.
“It’s not right,” I muttered. “They expect too damn much.”
“Who does?” he asked.
“The king and queen.”
“They do not expect more than I am able to give. I owe them more than I can repay. I am forever in their debt.”
I halted. “Yeah, yeah you owe the monarchy fealty. I get it. And if called upon to defend the kingdom, you owe your life as does every citizen. But, you shouldn’t have to give up everything else.” Companionship. Sex. A normal life.
“You don’t understand our culture or my specific circumstance.” He dismissed my concerns in his usual supercilious way, except, this time, it didn’t push my buttons.
“Then, enlighten me.”
“The king elevated me to a position I never believed I could achieve. He and the queen were willing to overlook my disreputable history.”
“What was there to overlook?” Had he been a criminal? What could he have done?
His posture went rigid. “I’m a half-breed. I am not a pureblood Arasetan.”
Big deal. What difference did that make? Besides, he appeared Arasetan to me. Close enough. “What are you?”
“My father was an Arasetan aristocrat; my mother was Copan,” he said. “A Copan commoner.”
So his elite father had a fling and knocked up a Copan chick. The story was as old as the universe. “Is that it?”
By half-breed I’d expected something more exotic, like maybe one of his parents was an alien with electrified tentacles and a stinger shooting out of his ass. I hadn’t observed more than a hair of difference between Copans and Arasetans. Copans had lighter-colored horns than Arasetans, blonder fur, but what the fuck? So what?
“Being a half-breed meant both sides shunned me. My opportunities were limited. My father, who is a member of the royal court, was horrified when his half-breed mistake was appointed advisor to the king, forcing him to acknowledge my presence. He looks like he swallowed something noxious every time he sees me.” A small smile touched his lips. He glanced at me. “I didn’t aspire to the position because of that, but it is an added bonus.”
“I guess it would be.” I didn’t know his father, but I disliked him. My heart ached for the innocent Arasetan-Copan child Nadir had been. I understood him so much better now. This must be how he’d learned his disdain of humans. I paused. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t Aeon supposed to bond-mate with a Copan? How does that jive with the Arasetans and Copans not inter-mating?”
“It serves as another example of the king’s progressiveness and openness. He wished to stop the fighting between the two kingdoms and bring our peoples together. But the Copans’ involvement in alien species trafficking made that impossible.”
“Open and progressive? The king disinherited his own son when he bond-mated with a human.”
“He allowed the union to continue.”
More like he couldn’t stop it because the more-open-and-accepting queen put her foot down.
“So, what is the objection to us? What is it about us your people don’t like? Is it because we’re aliens?” I couldn’t buy the notion we’d been ostracized because of the Great Nuclear War. It had occurred centuries ago, and it didn’t affect anyone in the galaxy except us.
“Your species is unstable, unpredictable, and bellicose,” he stated as if quoting irrefutable fact.
This was the kind of crap that torqued my gourd. But I’d learned he was more than what he said, more than what he believed. I’d seen the whole, complex man, his ignorance and his wisdom, his arrogance and his pain.
“You destroyed your planet and nearly your species. Who knows what you will do if allowed to run amok through the galaxy?” he concluded.
Of course he and others would think that because they lacked the facts. They didn’t know what really started the Great Nuclear War because nobody had bothered to ask us. But, I knew—as did every single New Terran. The cause of the war had been drilled into our heads as schoolchildren.
I had to set Nadir straight. “Yeah, about the war—” I cocked my head at a high-pitched whistle.
“Get down!” He shoved me to the ground and piled on top of me as the huge column next to us exploded. My ears rang from the percussive blast. Debris showered us. What’s happening? Oh my god, we’re under attack! We’re going to die!
My face pressed into the dirt; my heart thudded against my rib cage. Nadir’s rapid heartbeat drummed against my back. Even in terror, I appreciated his chivalrous, albeit futile gesture. He’d have to be made of aramid fiber or something similar to protect me.
I waited for the next explosion, fearing every breath could be my last. If we get blown up, will I feel anything? A split second of excruciating pain?
For long minutes, we lay there, and then he lifted himself off me. “I think we’re okay now. It was just the one blast.” He assisted me to my feet. “Are you all right?” He scrutinized my face.
“Y-yes.” My voice shook. “Are you?”
He nodded. “I am fine.”
Around us lay the shattered remains of the column. Thick gray dust coated Nadir’s fur.
“Oh my god, that was close.” I wet my dry lips and then spit out grit. Even though he’d shielded me, I was covered with dust, too. I touched my icky hair. We were both filthy, but we were alive. For the moment.
“Why would anyone try to kill us?” I hunched my shoulders and glanced around.
“Could be we were more collateral damage than targets.”
“Dead is dead,” I responded.
“True.” His eyes were serious.
His assessment did provide a modicum of reassurance. If they—whoever they were—weren’t aiming at us, then maybe there wouldn’t be another attack. But I needed more than a guess. I required proof, facts, evidence.
“They shot down our ship. Now the pillar right next to us explodes. That’s two attacks. It certainly looks like we are targets.” I’d never forget that high-pitched whine seconds before the column got blown to smithereens.
“Well, they could be aiming at us.”
There he goes again. Waffling. I hate that.
“But, if they had been aiming at us, I doubt they would have missed. You don’t use a missile to kill two lone individuals.” He patted the weapon on his hip. “Someone would have confronted us and shot us.”
That made sense. But did the bombers have any sense? You had to be kind of deranged to do something like this. “This city is in ruins. Why hit it again?” I gestured at the blown-out buildings, the mounds of rubble.
“My guess? It was a rogue missile,” he surmised. “They were shooting at something else, and the missile went astray.” His brow furrowed.
“That’s good news, isn’t it? Why do you look so worried?”
“Because the blast suggests the conflict isn’t over.” He briefly grabbed his horns with both hands, something Arasetans and Copans did when they were frustrated.
To see this controlled, always-put-together man be less than perfect was endearing. There were rips in his tunic and leggings. Covered in dust, his fur was clumped and unkempt. And, like a hero fresh from the fight, he looked...ruggedly handsome.
“I’m afraid your initial assessment might be correct—we might have landed in a war zone,” he said.
Oh, now, he agrees with me? I had said that in the beginning, not entirely serious, hoping he’d disagree with me.
“Scheduling a summit on a war-torn planet is unconscionable,” he continued.
“The LOP hasn’t impressed me much, but it’s a big leap to assume Aurelia is engulfed in a war. We’re not seeing any signs of smoke, like towns are burning,” I argued as much for my benefit as his. I did not want to think we’d crashed into a war zone.
“That’s true,” he admitted.
“Could a beacon have drawn the fire?” I asked. “Maybe a transmitter got buried in the rubble?”
“But if the conflict has ended, why would it still be drawing fire?” He eyed the sky. “It will be dark soon. Let’s move away from here while we still have some light.”
Night descended early and fast on Aurelia; we’d only been walking a few hours. The sun had dipped below the wall. In dusk, the city looked even more ghostly, the crumbling towers casting long, ominous shadows.
Suddenly, I felt exhausted. Adrenalin crash. And an actual crash. A conk on the head. Then a bombing. Was it any wonder?
We tromped over the debris and scooted around fallen pillars, rubble piles, and charred remains. I suspected his night vision was better than mine as he remained surefooted while I stumbled over stones and debris in the waning light.
I could hear chitters and chirps of small animals becoming active in the night hours. I wondered if we’d be visited by Aurelian rats while we slept. New Terra had no such pests. Earth had had rats, mice, and other vermin. New Terra had lush plant life but no native animal life. The only animals we had were the ones the original settlers had brought with them. For obvious reasons, they had left all the vermin on Earth. The Great Nuclear War had achieved what man had been unable to do for thousands of years—eradicated the vermin. Of course, it had killed everything else, too.
We’d walked for perhaps a quarter hour when he halted in front of a hollowed-out building. “We can camp here for the night. What do you think?”
The building front had been shorn off and the roof caved in on one end, but otherwise, it looked sturdy. Or maybe it was too dark to accurately assess the damage. It was, however, the most intact building we’d come across, and I was ready to drop. My knees and ankles were fomenting a rebellion. But, I couldn’t forget the incredible exploding pillar. “What if we’re inside and someone blows it up?”
“We’ll be killed,” he said matter-of-factly. “The same as we would be if we were outside and got hit.”
The man never waffled when I needed him to.
“The building will provide some shelter from the elements,” he added. “Inside, we can use the illuminator.” He shrugged off the pack, rooted around inside, and pulled out an emergency light stick.
“You have a light?” I gaped at him. “I’ve been stumbling around in the dark, twisting my ankles, and you had a light?”
“I did not wish to draw attention to our location.”
I stomped inside. He followed me and switched on the illuminator. Half-buried by rubble were shelves and counters, leading me to conclude the building had been a business, perhaps a shop. However, I saw no merchandise at all, got no hints of what had been sold here.
“It appears the shop was looted after the bombing,” he echoed my very thoughts. Once again, we seemed to be on the same wavelength. A coincidence. Anybody looking at this could see what happened.
Finding an area relatively free of debris to bunk down for the night, we cleared it more, tossing some twisted pieces of metal into a scrap pile. “We won’t need the temporary shelter since we have a roof over our heads.” Nadir began removing items from the pack.
“You have a tent in there?”
“The pack is the tent. Pull the ripcord, and it expands into a shelter.”
I’d wondered what the dangling handle was for. Note to self: don’t pull the ripcord. “I’m going to do a quick check around.” We were in one big room—the sales floor, I imagined—but there were several other rooms attached.
“Take this. I can see well enough without it.” He passed me the illuminator.
I peeked into the smaller rooms and got lucky on the last one. A restroom—or elimination station as they referred to it. I tried the button over the commode, heard a whoosh, and the air dryer came on. The unit worked! Thrilled I didn’t have to venture outside, I completed my business.
“You know all the best places to stay,” I said upon returning. He had pumped up a bed and set out a water bag and a couple of food bars—all without light. He really could see much better than I could. “There’s a working rest— elimination unit in the back,” I said.
“I’ll check it out.”
I offered him the illuminator, but he waved it off. “You keep it. You must be hungry. Go ahead and eat. There are a few other varieties of nutribars if you don’t like those.”
“Okay, thanks,” I responded, remembering how he had provided for us at the palace and how little gratitude or even acknowledgment I’d shown. Anything we’d asked for, he had provided, and I’d taken it as our due, assuming he’d been following orders. One of us had acted like an asshole, and I was pretty sure now it had been me.
He strode across the shop to the elimination room, tall and sure, his ass shifting with every step. Nice butt. Nice bod period. He had that masculine V-shape, wide shoulders tapering to a slim waist and hips. Long legs. Muscular thighs. Nadir was hot.
And celibate. What a tragic waste of masculinity.
The elimination room door closed, and I rifled through the pack. I couldn’t tell one bar from another as I couldn’t read the languages on the labels, but I did want to check the emergency supplies. I recognized a first aid kit by the contents: bandages, several loaded and capped hypos, some packaged wipes, and a couple of bottles. Antiseptic, I hoped.
He’d gotten a pretty nasty cut on his head. It should have been tended to a long time ago. What if it got infected?
He returned.
I held up a spray bottle from the first aid kit. “What is this?”
“A topical antiseptic.”
“And this one?” I held up a little bottle with a roller tip.
“Wound sealer.”
“Perfect. Sit down. Let me doctor the cut on your head.”
“It’s fine. It doesn’t need tending.”
“Is that what you would say to me if I had a gash this big?” I held apart my thumb and index finger, exaggerating the distance only a tad.
“You are human.”
“Ah. The weak, fragile human. You’re the big, tough, invincible Arasetan?”
“Something like that.” His cheeks dented.
How could I have not noticed his dimples before now? Maybe because he scowls more than he smiles?
“I’ll take care of it myself after we eat,” he insisted. “I’ve gone this long. A little longer won’t matter.”
“You can’t see the wound to tend to it,” I pointed out.
“We will eat first.”
“Fine. Whatever you say.” I tore the wrapper off a nutrition bar and bit into it.
Ugh! What is this? I’d never eaten fermented, moldy seaweed, but I imagined this was what it would taste like.
My reaction must have shown on my face because he roared with laughter, an uninhibited deep, masculine rumble. Time stopped, and I stared, the sound of his amusement waking up all my erogenous zones. His laughter was the sexiest damn thing I’d ever heard. It made biting into the disgusting bar worth it. Almost. I swallowed and forced it down; the bar was gross.
Grabbing the wrapper, I squinted at the unfamiliar writing. Maybe I hadn’t bitten into a food bar at all. “Did I make a mistake? Is this edible?”
Still chuckling, he replied, “It’s edible. It is a mix of different plant proteins. You might like this one better.” He handed me another bar. “I’ll finish yours.”
It was better. Not great, but better. It tasted a bit like sweetened cardboard but with a spongy texture.
We ate in silence and passed the water bag back and forth, drinking from the same container. Placing my mouth where his had been felt intimate. He gave no indication he felt the same.
The bar proved filling. It was probably soaking up water and swelling in my stomach. One nutritious sponge bar will keep you feeling full all day. Lose 10 pounds on the Alien Diet Plan or your money back!
After we stowed our trash and empty water bags in the pack, I grabbed the first aid kit and pulled out the needed supplies.
Nadir protested with a grimace of annoyance. “This isn’t necessary.”
Men! Human, Arasetan—they’re all the same. I repositioned the illuminator and knelt in front of him, the better to examine him. The shoulders of his tunic were stiff with dried blood. Dust from the blast streaked his cheeks. The cut had oozed more, bleeding into fur and mixing with dust.
The wound should be washed before being disinfected.
With a cleaning pad, I gently wiped his lacerated forehead. The jagged cut was as long as my pinkie, but not as deep as I’d feared.
He pressed his lips together, his expression stoic, his posture rigid.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
“You are not used to having people tend to you.”
“I am the one who tends to others. I am not comfortable with the reverse.”
His admission gave me a tiny peek into his psyche. “I’m the same way,” I said.
I leaned in to peer at the cut. Nadir’s warm exhalation breezed across my face. My breath caught in my lungs, and respiration became something I needed to think about. I dropped my gaze to find his smoldering eyes on me.
“That’s uh, about as clean as I can, uh, get it.” I leaned back again and fumbled with the antiseptic. I uncapped the bottle. It was an atomizer.
“The other bottle is a wound sealer,” he said. “If you insist on tending to me, you should use that, too.”
“Okay. Good idea. I’m going to spray the antiseptic now. You should close your eyes.”
He closed his eyes. Shielding his lower forehead with my hand, I squirted the cut. He jerked but didn’t utter a sound. I applied the wound sealer with the tiny disposable applicator that came with the bottle. He hissed.
“Sorry. Sorry. Worst part is over.”
He opened his eyes. They were still smoldering.
I dropped the bottle of wound sealer. Then I couldn’t get the lid on. He took it from me and capped the bottle. Our fingers brushed, and something hot and elemental sizzled between us. A shaft of heat shot straight to my core.
Yoo-hoo! He’s celibate. And you don’t even like him.
Except I didn’t dislike him anymore. Maybe I never did. Maybe slinging barbs at each other enabled me to ignore the attraction, pretend it didn’t exist. Animus had vanished when I needed it the most.
All thumbs, I ripped open a bandage. As carefully as I could, I covered the cut. I could feel his gaze on me. Was it only my libidinous imagination that his breathing had gotten heavier? My heart and stomach fluttered.
“There.” I said with false cheerfulness. “That ought to do it.” Thank god he’s celibate. Otherwise, the temptation...
“You were wrong,” he said.
“Do tell me how and when.” Please. Say something nasty to me. Make me dislike you again.
“You called yourself weak and fragile. You are neither. You are indomitable.”
No, no. That’s not what I need to hear. Tell me how awful you think I am. “Be careful. I might think you like me,” I quipped.
“I do like you.” I’d swear his amber eyes were on fire. What the hell was he doing? Was he coming on to me? Had playing doctor gotten him hot and bothered? What happened to the whole celibacy thing? Or was I misreading the situation?
“You shouldn’t. I’m human, remember?”
I had to put some physical distance between us, but I’d become rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to concentrate. Where was my sharp, cutting wit? Where were my ready insults? Why was I mesmerized by his eyes, his voice, his smell?
“You are different from other humans.”
Like a splash of cold water, his simple words hit with the wake-up call I needed.
“No, I’m not. I am a fair representation of my people.” While I liked to think of myself as exceptional, I rejected acceptance conditional on being an exception to my species. Like me, like my people. I am human and damn proud of it.
Leaping to my feet, I collected the first aid supplies and returned them to the kit. I’d gone from aroused to pissed off. He hadn’t changed an iota. Maybe he’d warmed toward me, but he was still the ishta he’d always been. Judgmental, prejudiced.
My anger ramped up, confusing me even more. I’d gotten my way, hadn’t I? I’d prayed for Nadir to do or say something to douse my desire and, when I got what I wanted, I was...disappointed. Because I really didn’t want him to be an ass. I wanted him to be noble. Little flaws, okay, but big character flaws...not okay.
Big, little—why should any of it matter? I would go home to Earth, and he would return to his celibate existence and serve his king.
Perfect. Just what I wanted.
