Light of Kaska (31 page)

Stryker felt a wave of shame sweep over him. He’d already proven that redemption was way out of his reach. "You keep her clean to wash away your own grime," he observed with a bitter twist of his mouth. When Harle nodded, Stryker met his gaze grimly. "My shit doesn’t wash off. I’m the wolf, remember?"

Harle rolled his eyes. "Well, your attitude’s shitty, anyway. You got a second chance here. You should try workin’ it."

"
Kessu,
and you call me a knobhead," he muttered in disgust. He waved an impatient hand down at the little girl. "You ever hurt her?"

"Never," Harle said with a frown.

"Well, that’s the difference between you and me," Stryker said with bitter finality and stalked out.

Chapter 16

After three days, Sukeza was ready to kill Chase. The man was avoiding her with expert thoroughness. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him and it was driving her crazy. And Harle, the big, thick-headed jackass, wasn’t helping her. He knew Chase’s haunts, readily admitted to knowing where the man was most of the time, yet he wouldn’t tell. He’d even done something to the security system so the House wouldn’t tell her either. She was ready to kill Harle, too. She fumed and made her family nervous. They’d never seen her so openly furious for such an extended period of time. The only one who didn’t walk on eggshells around her was Rogue, who had no sense of self preservation and a very warped sense of humor.

By the end of the third day, she was willing to add her brother to her list of impending homicides. She had a standing order to refuse all candidacy offers, her conception the perfect excuse to decline. But Rogue kept sneaking hopefuls into the house, ambushing her at odd moments. The Mater House’s reputation and political standing forced her to be polite when she turned them away, which didn’t help her temper. She wanted to scream at them to get out, to leave her the hell alone. She wanted to throw things at Rogue’s head, but he conveniently disappeared after each candidate presented himself.

But the last straw was when Rogue brought up Chase’s candidacy status at dinner on the third day. "He’s got to be sticking around for some reason. You know, there are plenty of
naevas
around—maybe he’s spreading the wealth."

"
Oh,
that’s it!" she snarled and jerked to her feet, infuriated as much by the idea of Chase going to other women as she was by her brother. Rogue just grinned, but several of her dinner companions scrambled to escape. She barely noticed.
"Harle!"
she bellowed across the courtyard.

He poked his sandy head out of the communal kitchen doorway, looking strangely unsurprised by her behavior. "Yeah?"

"If you do not tell me where Chase is
right now
I will make sure Nade cuts you off."

He shifted, glancing back into the kitchen uneasily. "Cuts me off from the food?"

"We’ll
start
there," she answered ominously.

His response was immediate. "Observatory."

"Thank you, Harle," she called over the general laughter and spun on her heel, stalking away from the courtyard and toward the stone stairs leading down to the grotto. So help her, the damned man was going to catch hell this time.

Angry as she was over his avoidance, what infuriated and pained her the most was his excuse for doing it. He’d told Harle and Nade that he’d hurt her, so therefore he would stay away from her. It was a bullshit argument and she meant to explain that to him in exquisite detail at the top of her lungs. She deserved better—if he was no longer interested, he should just tell her so. And then get the hell out of her house.

She skimmed down the stairs without bothering to turn on a light, the stone under her feet as familiar as her own breath. Flying into the grotto, she could see by the glow in the water that the playground was lit. That was a curious thing, but her mind was occupied with other matters and she didn’t dwell. Spinning, she headed for the narrow passage to the observatory, grimly satisfied to see the faint light on the stairs. Someone was down there and she was coming through the only passage in or out of the observatory. He was not going to get away from her this time.

When she stepped into the bowl, she was on the attack even before she saw his form by the transparent wall. "Chase Stryker, you arrogant, selfish son-of-a-bitch! How dare you avoid me? You think you can—" At that point, she became aware that he wore only a wetsuit pushed down to his waist, baring a debilitating expanse of warm cinnamon skin and muscle. "That you can—can just…" She spluttered to a stop then threw her hands up in the air with an aggravated sound in her throat. "How am I supposed to focus when you’re half naked?" she demanded.

"Your temper and that see-through dress ain’t doing me any favors either," he growled, sidling away from her with a dark look.

With a frown, she glanced down at the pale, linen dress. "It’s not see-through."

"Close enough," he muttered, angling toward the stairs.

She scrambled to get between him and the exit. "Oh, no you don’t! You’re going to listen, even if I have to get Harle to strap you down."

He backed away from her, which twisted something deep inside, but the flash of dangerous heat in his dark eyes suspended her thoughts for a moment. "Harle switch sides?"

"I learned how to threaten him," she said with a steadying breath.

He snorted. "So get on with it, farm girl," he snarled and his contempt was like acid on her skin, reawakening her fury.

She held onto her temper enough not to scream, but her fists were tight at her sides and her whole body shook with the strength of her emotions. Through clenched teeth, she said, "You’re a free candidate. There’s no reason to make up stories to avoid me. If you don’t want me any more, that’s fine by me—actually, no, it’s not fine. I want you to be with me, but if you want to move on, I won’t stop you. But I will not tolerate you offering candidacy to anyone else in my own house. So if you’re done with me, you will stop skulking around the place and get the hell
out!"
The last word slipped her control and came out as a shout, but she took a deep breath and continued with more calm, "Since I brought you here with nothing, we’ll supply you with—"

"Shut up, Keza," he growled, though for some strange reason, he backed up even further and turned his face away. "I’m not leaving."

"Why not?" she retorted, folding trembling arms across her chest. With her initial burst of fury expended, reaction was setting in, muscles twitching from adrenaline and conflicting emotion. Her heart felt physically bruised and she wanted to blame him for that too but couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault she’d been so incredibly stupid as to fall in love with him.

He didn’t answer for a moment, turning his shoulder to her while he looked out into the water. She suddenly noticed that his hands were clenched into fists and his sleekly muscled form was hard with tension, his face drawn in sharp angles of conflict. A surge of resentment burned in her throat. She was giving him his freedom—what did he have to be upset about?

"I didn’t make up any stories, Keza. I saw the med report. I hurt you, bruised you again."

"What? The hell you did. Bruised me where?" she demanded, furious that he’d try to keep up the pretense to her face.

He shot a look over his shoulder, his eyes hot whirlpools of midnight. Slowly, scorching her to her bones, his gaze traveled down her body to the juncture between her thighs. A full body blush set her skin aglow.

"Oh,
that,
" she murmured, flustered and shivering from a sudden memory of his body claiming hers with savage abandon.

"Yeah, that," he said heavily, turning back to the watery view.

"Um, that doesn’t really count."

"The hell it doesn’t."

She frowned at his stony profile. "Excuse me? I’m pretty sure I’m the one who gets to decide what counts."

"You started out being afraid of me, afraid I’d hurt you. I keep proving you right. If you were smart, you’d still be afraid of me."

She planted her hands on hips in a resurgence of anger. "You also don’t get to tell me what I feel. And I’m sick of you implying that I’m ignorant and naïve. I know about your past, Chase, but you’ve shown me what kind of a man you are. I have no reason to be afraid of you, because you won’t hurt me. Sex does
not
count—if you were hurting me, I’d have let you know about it instead of begging for more."

Sukeza hurried to clamp her lips shut but unfortunately not soon enough. That last sentence hung in the air like a red-hot flag of embarrassment and she sighed unhappily. He had his arms folded across his chest and turned even further away from her, his whole body radiating rejection. The muscles played across his back as he tensed and her stomach lurched with painful nausea. Nothing she’d said had made a difference.

Desperate to put off what she knew was going to be a horrible, wrenching goodbye, she asked through stiff lips, "Why are you wearing a wetsuit?"

His shoulders twitched as if she’d flung something at the back of his head and he sent her a strange, furtive glance over his shoulder. "Working," he muttered, his face going suspiciously expressionless.

She frowned, looking from him to the water and back again. She wasn’t aware of any underwater projects happening in their region—the presence of the selkies severely restricted most underwater commercial or scientific activities. And she hadn’t even known Stryker could swim. From his file, she knew he hadn’t come from a water world and most career spacers never came in contact with large bodies of water. "Working on what?" she asked sharply, concern prickling across her skin.

He shifted, ran stiff fingers through his dark hair, and sent her another peculiar glance. He looked almost uneasy and that tightened her anxiety up a notch. Then he gestured to the playground and said, "That."

Worry pulled her forward to the glass. "Oh, no! Didn’t anyone tell you not to dive in selkie territory? They scare easily and they don’t like adults—"

"They like me just fine," he interrupted without looking at her.

She opened her mouth to continue her tirade then shut it again when the meaning of his words sank in. "They…what?" she asked faintly.

"Every time I’m down, they come watch what I’m doing. Watch, hell, they try to help. Wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t keep stealing my tools."

His eyes flickered to her and away, as if he was making a confession, but his face stayed unreadable. She stared at him with her jaw unhinged. She couldn’t help it—she had never heard of the selkies swimming with any other adult human. His body edging away from her cut through some of the foggy confusion in her brain. He was trying to escape again. "They help…with what?" she asked slowly, wrapping her arms around herself to contain the ache in her chest. She looked away from him with a painful swallow, scanning the underwater grotto for any changes. It seemed the same to her.

He sighed, muttered something under his breath, and ran his fingers through his hair again. Rubbing hard at the back of his neck and looking out at the water, he said abruptly, "I’ve been working on a design."

"You’ve b-been…" she stuttered into silence, wondering why everything he was saying seemed like a foreign language.

With a grim expression, he said, "House, run Stryker Three." Then he stepped back and folded his arms across his chest while a three dimensional holograph appeared in the air between them.

For a moment, she couldn’t make sense of it under the weight of his darkly vivid gaze. Then she realized it was the playground, renewed and fantastically expanded, a dream-like, airy vista of underwater treasures. She gasped then stopped breathing, unable to take her eyes from the beautiful, flowing structures. His design was exquisite—artful, elegant, and playful all at once. There was joy in the sweeping lines, hope in the arching turns, and hints of laughter in the winding forms. It was a reflection of the selkie soul, the glorious, wild spirits that had stolen her heart so long ago.

How had her dark and brooding panther created this? It wouldn’t have been possible if these elements had not also been part of his soul. He’d kept them so well hidden, she thought with amazement. He had always been beautiful to her, with his savage free spirit and his dark predator’s form. But she’d had no idea that he had this capacity for light sheltered in his darkness. It took her by surprise, overwhelming her with awe and deep emotion. The lovely design blurred and swam in her vision.

"You’re crying. Damn it, why are you crying?" he asked harshly.

"Because it’s perfect. I can’t believe how p-perfect it is…" she gasped in a watery voice, wiping at her eyes with impatient fingers so she could see through the design to its creator. "Chase, it’s so incredible. But what made you want to...?"

Her voice trailed off as she absorbed the sight of him framed by his creation, his eyes lit by ghostly shadows and his body so still. She stepped through the design, because she had to see his eyes clearly, had to see if she was imagining things. She halted in front of him, looking up into the dark intensity of his eyes with a shiver of longing.

"Oh, Goddess," she whispered shakily. "Did you do this for me?"

She watched his throat move with a heavy swallow, watched his vivid gaze drop to her mouth. "Can’t believe you gotta ask," he muttered. "Keza, I can’t—"

She didn’t let him finish. Standing on tip-toe and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she pressed herself against him and kissed him with fierce abandon. She was the aggressor for all of two seconds before Chase overwhelmed her with his response. Hot and carnal, his deep kiss took her past delirious joy and into pure, erotic sensation while his arms crushed her against him. She couldn’t breathe and didn’t care, writhing against him in a frantic effort to get closer, to imprint the hard planes and angles of his body on her flesh. Three days had felt like an eternity, and now she was starving for his touch, the separation of their bodies causing an almost physical pain.

He lifted her abruptly and she wrapped her limbs around him with eager alacrity, barely feeling the hard wall at her back. Her delirious moan rang counterpoint to his feral growl as he settled between her thighs, the thick ridge of his erection pressing against her center. She could
not
wait, needed him inside her
right now,
but with his mouth sealed over her own, she had no way to tell him except to rotate her pelvis into his, nails stabbing into his delicious skin.