Chapter Twelve

Back to square one. Scott awoke, adjusting himself against the pillows of yet another hospital bed. Feeling his right leg, he discovered a thick bandage wrapped about his thigh. Last he remembered, he'd been in Hope's motel room, trying to convince her that they should go ahead and make love.

But not really. The actual last thing he remembered, now that he'd managed to force his medication-addled thoughts into focus, was that he'd almost died on the side of the road. Somehow Anna had gotten him back here to the compound. Splintered images of the transport, the medics working on him in midair, these things filtered through his mind.

Yeah, totally back to square one, he thought again. Only worse. She's with him, not me. He'd slip-spirited her, completely entered her sleep and connected with her. It had been sublime, feeling her in his arms, so close—but it had almost shattered his heart. After all, she trusted an Antousian, his enemy. Not only that, but she actually believed that Jake knew she was going to die; that she was, in fact, already dead in that man's future.

Damn it all to hell! If this Jake had loved her, why hadn't he protected her? And where had he, Scott, been during all that apparently went down in that future? One thing was for damned sure: He wasn't going to let anything happen to so much as a hair on her head. Not on his watch. Nothing and no one would get to her; at least, not if he had any say in the matter.

"You aren't going to die, Hope. I won't let it happen." He flinched, realizing he'd actually spoken the words aloud. For a moment his eyes drifted shut, and he saw her just as she'd been in the motel room, straddling him. Her shimmering blond hair, loose and long; her compact, lightweight body astride his. How wet she'd been for him, how ready, just the tip of his erection pushing against the thin veil of her panties. Just his hands about the sultry curves of her waist and hips, the feel of her full breasts swelling within his palms. They'd been so close to making love, so very close, but he'd been the one to put the brakes on.

Of course, did any of it really matter when you were talking about a spirit meeting? Who'd stopped the action, who'd lusted, who'd wanted to thrust deep inside the other. What did any of it even amount to, anyway? All was lost; she was lost.

None of it, not a scrap, had been real, he thought, rubbing his bandaged leg hopelessly.

He slammed a fist against the bed rail, not even feeling the pain as it penetrated his fingers, the heel of his palm. Hammering his fist against the metal bar over and over again, he sought to simply numb the suffocating grief that strangled his heart.

One more slam, and this time he drew blood when his fist impacted the railing latch. "Medshki, fliishki! Medshki!" he yelled. He shouted several more curse words, then finally fell silent, bringing his bleeding knuckles to his mouth.

"I'll take that as a signal of your frustration." It was Jared, standing in the room's doorway, assessing him with a slightly bemused look.

"Jareshk, as you can tell, I'm not exactly good company right now."

Jared strode toward him. "Nor do I expect you to be."

Scott turned in the bed, shutting his eyes. The last thing he could deal with was his best friend and king. Jared's footsteps echoed off the ceiling, the sound of his boots a rhythmic pattern as he came to stand beside the hospital bed.

"I lost him." Scott clutched the sheet between his fingers, still looking away. "I'm so sorry, but I failed you, my lord."

"Friend, you followed well and long, making excellent progress in tailing the Antousian."

Scott's eyes flew open. "I lost her."

Jared took hold of the bedside chair and spun it around, straddling it. "You didn't lose her; you lost the trail, but you'll pick it up again—later." Jared gave him a faint smile, the kind that meant he was seeing straight through Scott's bullshit. "Once you get some recovery time in, and have the chance to heal a little, you'll be on the chase anew."

"Until then?" Scott stole a glance at his commander.

"You rest, S'Skautsa. Too many years this war has gripped you, exhausted you, and you've finally hit a wall. You've no other choice now but to rest."

Scott shook his head. "There's no time, not while that vlksai'sgot her. I'm not worried about you, Jared. You're safe here, deep within the compound. We've elevated security levels, heightened all the perimeters, but Hope"—he clutched his head with both hands, pulling at his short hair in desperation—"she's vulnerable; she needs her insulin shots … she can't see well. Anything could happen to her out there in that godforsaken cold. Jake Tierny could do anything to her; she's totally at his mercy. I don't have any other choice but to go after him. And I will chase him and chase him until I find him, by all that is holy in this universe."

Jared propped his chin on his hands, his expression growing contemplative. "These human women are fighters and have feisty, strong streaks. You shouldn't underestimate their lot." Unexpectedly, his king chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Believe me, I am married to one, and that's why I know Hope Harper will be all right."

"I'm afraid for her life." Scott gripped the bed rail and sat up urgently, searching the room. For his clothes. A crutch. A way out of the hospital so he could start his pursuit once more.

Jared's gaze locked with his meaningfully, planting a staying palm against Scott's chest. "Lie down, S'Skautsa. Gather your strength."

Weaker than even a moment before, Scott knew that Jared was right. Slowly he sank into the pillows, defeated and morose. "What shall I do, Jared? Please just advise me. Please, brother."

"For now? Take comfort. Because in all this absurd fliishki, you have found her."

"Jared.…" Scott shook his head, confused. "I just told you, she's lost. I have no idea where she is or where Jake Tierny took—"

"But you've found her! That singular female who, out of this vast universe, is your one true soul mate. You have found her." Jared broke into a beaming smile as he leaned back in the chair, folding his arms in smug satisfaction. "And there you were, giving me such unrelenting grief about my feelings for Kelsey."

Scott shot him a sheepish look. "I always told you their species was delectable in bed."

"Yes," Jared said, an undeniable smirk on his face, "we've discussed your insatiable taste for human women."

Scott's face burned. In fact, what Jared had observed just a few weeks earlier was that Scott's "taste" for human women could hardly be satisfied. That was exactly how his king had put it. Scott stared at the ceiling, willing the heat in his face to somehow cool. "Maybe I was always looking for her, all those nights in the bars." He released a cynical, bitter laugh. "And now I'm back to searching for her all over again, only this time the stakes are dangerously high."

Jared grew serious again, his black eyes narrowing keenly. "There are other ways we can trail her while you recuperate. Even if you are the best damned Antousian tracker I've ever seen, we still have our other methods."

Scott shook his head, staring at the tiled ceiling overhead. "I had his trail and I couldn't keep up."

"You can't blame yourself for being injured." Jared shook his head emphatically. "You can't blame yourself for any of this."

Scott bolted up in bed, exclaiming, "I blame myself that she's in this at all! Don't you get it? I love her, J. I love her and told her I'd protect her … I promised her that."

Jared put a hand on his arm. "My dear friend, it's not always your responsibility to resolve everything. To take care of everything. Sometimes, S'Skautsa, you should let the rest of us take care of you. I will find her for you—and this Jake Tierny. I will find them and bring them both back into the camp."

Scott tried to argue, but a hazy sleep began to overtake him very suddenly. Glancing sideways at his IV, he realized too late that new pain medication had been uploaded via the bedside computer. Obviously, it was some heavy duty medication, too.

He chuckled woozily. "You bastard." He pointed a wavering, accusing finger at his king. "Y'knew I'd've tried to go. You've fuckin' drugged my ass."

He heard his best friend laugh, a slow, sluggish, and drawn-out sound. "The only way you'll ever get well is to rest."

And then Jared's smiling face appeared over him, slightly off-kilter, and Scott hurled a few more choice insults at his commander before sliding into sleep's welcoming arms.

Jared needed to eat. Kelsey had actually been the one to point out how infrequently he stopped to take care of himself, asking if his species took meals less often than humans did.

"No, I simply stay too occupied much of the time," he'd told her, and seen the immediate look of reproach in her clear, beautiful eyes.

So, at present he was famished and, determined to be an obedient husband, he strode into the kitchen to see what their cook had in the works for lunch. It was still early yet, but with his upcoming council meeting, he knew there wouldn't be time later in the day for a meal. At least not until nighttime, when he hoped to dine fireside with Kelsey, slowly and delectably feeding her himself. Ah, a thrilling thought! But it wouldn't satisfy his current mealtime needs.

Standing in the center of the kitchen, the smell of vegetables wafting through the room, he welcomed the familiar scent of mushrooms on the stove, and greens and fresh tomatoes on the chopping block. Lately Cook had begun preparing baked chicken just for Kelsey. The rest of them were vegetarians, although they did occasionally eat seafood. At the moment, however, his nose registered the absence of any kind of meat in the oven, including the shrimp Kelsey seemed to love so much.

"Cook," he said, stepping near the stovetop with a prying look, "what are you preparing for the queen today? Only vegetables? Please remember that her diet is quite different from our own."

The heavyset man gave a light bow, wiping both hands on his long apron. "My lord, the queen specifically asked that we only cook the vegetables for now. No more meat—thank the gods! I could hardly stand the smell of it myself."

Rubbing his brow, Jared wondered what the impetus had been for her latest dietary request. "When did she ask this?"

"Just today, Your Highness … came in here and said the smell of the baking chicken made her feel ill. I immediately removed it from the oven. Right away, sir."

Jared nodded, but the revelation didn't make much sense. Why would Kelsey suddenly be turned off of her natural diet? It was confounding indeed. Perhaps she worried that she was making unique demands? Jared wasn't clear at all; Kelsey had never been afraid of expressing her needs.

"Cook, did she say anything else?" he ventured.

"Only that she required baked potatoes." The cook began to laugh. "Several of them, my lord, that's what the lady said. Requested that they be 'loaded,' whatever that means. I didn't want to ask her; no, I didn't."

"Loaded? Like a gun?" Jared scratched his head, more puzzled than ever.

"So she said, sir." The cook gave another slight bow. "Perhaps you might ask my lady what she means about these gun-like potatoes? I'm afraid of asking, sir. Just afraid to rankle a lady when she's … you know. In that way."

Jared planted a hand on his hip and stared at the man who had served his meals for the past six years. "In that way, Cook? What way? The way she wants these heavy ammo potatoes? You must explain this culinary situation to your commander."

His cook actually blushed. "Ah, sir, never you mind me." He gave a light wave, then blustered his way back to the stove. "Just go and ask the lady."

The doctor had agreed to a confidential visit, not in the quarters that Kelsey shared with Jared, but in Thea and Marco's smaller rooms. Thea had, of course, grinned conspiratorially at her request. "Oh, I so hope this is it," she had whispered in Kelsey's ear, giving her an impulsive, heartfelt hug.

Now as the two of them sat on Thea's loveseat, waiting for the doctor to arrive, Kelsey felt the need to backpedal a little. Maybe she'd jumped the gun based on flimsy evidence: The strange burning in her belly that hadn't stopped since last night, and her revulsion when she'd encountered the smell of cooking meat. It wasn't much to go on, not really, and even more than that, the timing just didn't add up to a pregnancy. Not this soon, alien or not.

"Thea, I might be wrong." Kelsey turned sideways on the sofa, hugging one of the pillows against her stomach. "It can't even be possible, not really. We just made love last night."

Thea beamed at her, raising an eyebrow. "And you've also been making love for almost a month, right?"

Kelsey bowed her head, feeling her face flush. "Of course, but the feeling"—she patted the pillow where it rested over her belly—"this fiery sensation really only began after we made love last night."

"Which would make perfect sense since he's in heat." Thea's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I can sense it. He's been in season for a few days. And he's been in high heat for the past day or so. He's totally fertile, burning up with it, so if it were going to happen, now would be the time." Thea fanned herself, her fair face suddenly flushed. "Oh by the gods, at this rate, Marco might be next, what with all the pheromones flying about the lodge."

Kelsey cast a curious look. "Marco? But he's not a royal. Why would he—"

"Oh of course Marco would not." Thea made a great show of looking extremely mortified, then quickly changed the subject. "I believe my thoughts are clouded by all the excitement. Kings in heat, queens with babe. I am not an easily excitable woman, but … well, I suppose you would forgive me, given Jared's current condition?"

Kelsey couldn't help laughing. In this culture, so much of the emphasis was on the males: their fertility, their ability to father children, their hormones. It was utterly foreign to anything Kelsey had ever imagined, much less lived. "Well, really it's my potential condition, right? He's not the one about to get a pregnancy test."

"No, but he's the one in high heat. A true miracle, Kelsey. Many, you must know, believed it would never happen for him."

"So I heard." Kelsey closed her eyes, trying not to cringe from sheer embarrassment; it was just too bizarre that her sex life was literally a subject of intergalactic interest now. But as awkward as the topic was, she needed to understand more about how all the alien birds and bees really worked.

Slowly Kelsey opened her tired eyes again, meeting her friend's gaze. "How are you so sure about Jared and his"—Kelsey made a set of air quotes with her fingers—"condition?" Even putting it that way made her cringe in embarrassment.

"I'm an intuitive; of course I know. I see it on him, smell it." She smiled almost shyly at Kelsey. "Besides, I've been cycling since I was a teenager, so I can sense it in any male of my kind. The royal blood … calls out, I suppose you'd say. To me, I mean."

Kelsey rubbed her knees, glancing toward the door. If the doctor would just arrive already, then maybe they could stop speculating and really get down to the truth. "But I might not have even been ovulating. Just because it's the right time for him doesn't mean it's the right time for me."

Thea laughed, shaking off her question. "It's all about his seed. It doesn't matter what's happening in your body. In our species, it's the male who sets the stage and brings about conception. You've got to remember, he's not human, Kelsey … I know it's easy to forget."

"But if the egg doesn't, well, drop down in there—"

"His essence draws it out. Plain and simple." Thea rose to her feet, patting her arm. "Stop worrying so much! Of course you're pregnant."

Kelsey pressed a hand to her cheek, flushing even more. "Just like that, huh? I'm totally carrying his baby?"

Thea moved to the door, opening it before the doctor who stood on the other side of the threshold had even knocked. With a glance back at Kelsey, she said, "Some things, my lady, an intuitive will always understand." She waved the doctor in. "This man will confirm what you and I already know to be true."

Kelsey had the bizarre urge to run giggling from the room, at the sheer absurdity of every part of their unfolding royal drama. Yet the doctor who approached her gave a low bow, only reinforcing the fact that nothing about her life was a dream—and that she was, in fact, most likely pregnant with a future alien king or queen.