Starkissed (8 page)

“Well, excuse me, but I wasn’t a boy scout when I was a—a youngling.”

He tilted his head to one side, the way he always did when he was perplexed.

“I would not think you would be a
boy
anything. Unlesss, I have confusssed your language again.”

“Not at all,” she said, puzzling him further.

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44

Lanette

Curington

She led the way to the clearing, parting the brush for him to pass through. If he hadn’t been injured, she would have released it to slap him in his supercilious face. His disapproving comment on her skills hurt more than it should have. She hadn’t been trained as a warrior so how could she be expected to act like one.

He
expected it of her.

She thought she’d done a damn fine job of locating the perfect campsite—even if she’d had to trip over it to find it. Her feelings bruised, she didn’t offer to help him to the fallen tree, but she watched him until he was safely seated, his leg positioned to cause the least amount of pain.

She tossed the flightpack to the ground at his feet. “I’ll gather some wood for a fire.”

It didn’t take long to find an armload because deadfall covered the ground. She dumped it and went for another load. She placed a handful of dried leaves and grass in the center of the clearing, then a double handful of twigs, and larger pieces of wood on top of that.

With the laserlight set on medium intensity, she aimed it at the leaves and grass.

Smoke curled upward and flames licked at the twigs. She changed the setting to array and balanced the tube on the log. As larger pieces caught fire, she put on more until it was hot and bright and they didn’t need the laserlight array anymore.

Leith didn’t realize how cold she was until the heat warmed her skin, even through the material of her trousers. The Commander, his injured leg held at an angle, eased himself to the ground beside her and rested his back against the log.

“All we need now are marshmallows,” she commented as her stomach growled.

“Marssshmallowsss?”

“White puffs of pure sugar. You put one on the end of a stick and hold it over the fire until it’s toasted brown and the inside is melted. Scrumptious.”

“Ssscrumptiousss,” he repeated slowly.

She was close enough to him that she could feel him shiver.

“Are you warm enough? I think the temperature’s dropping by the minute.”

He didn’t answer. Was he going into hibernation even with the fire and the solar film? Leith, too, felt the cold on her back, the part of her away from the fire. The only way either of them was going to get warm was to double up in that solar film.

“Here. Maybe this will help.” She pulled the magnostrips free and shook the film to its full size. He shivered violently from the exposure. She draped it over them and sat beside him, fastening it securely again. He was drawn to her body heat, leaning into her, and she didn’t think he was completely aware of it. She drew the filament tie at the edge www.samhainpublishing.com

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45

and the material crinkled as it gathered. She left a hole large enough for them both to watch the fire.

He drew even closer to her. Tentatively, she put her arms around him and held him.

His breathing grew stronger, and his shivering stopped completely. She rested her head on his shoulder, the wool-like fabric of his war jacket soft against her cheek. She had expected it to be scratchy, but it was as fine-textured as cashmere.

Trapped beneath the film, all she could smell was
him.
She yawned, her jaws popping. Still, warm, quiet. Sleep lured her by making her eyelids heavy. She forced them open. She had to stay awake to keep the fire going or the Commander would phase-out again.

“Sssleep,
saàloh
,” he said, and the tips of his fingers caressed her cheek briefly. “I will watch the fire.”

”””

It was a hindrance, J’Qhir decided, that could sometimes be beneficial—his kind’s weakness to the cold. Otherwise, he would not have had the chance to be this close to the
saàloh
. Her body heat radiated to him, permeated his skin, awakened him. He had been in a sleepy haze ever since the chilling winds began. The film helped but it only radiated his own body heat back to him. Her added warmth was more than enough to bring him fully alert.

His nostrils filled with warm air, saturated with her scent, and he finally recognized it—the
jhuhn’gha
flower. She smelled of flowers in the heat of the sun. He drew in her scent again, and his
vha’seh
tightened pleasantly.

He enjoyed the sensations he had not felt in a long time, but there would be no alleviation, no matter how alluring he found her. She was
qaành’al,
forbidden. Anyone non-Zi would be
qaành’al.
Yet, at this moment, with her asleep on his shoulder, her warm arms holding him, he allowed himself the luxury of thoughts of the forbidden.

Once again, he had found himself atop her. If he had not been injured and in pain, he would have enjoyed the experience so much more. Both times had been brought about by extenuating circumstances, but both times he had felt her softly rounded curves giving in to the hard planes of his own body. Once, he would like to lie along her length just to feel her softness and smell her flower scent. But he could think of no way to do it without frightening her—or perhaps raising her expectations? He shook his head.

His
jha’i
hardened at the thought of her lying pliantly beneath him, but he did not think she considered him in that way. He was probably
qaành’al
to her as well. She depended upon him for protection and survival and companionship. Nothing more, he www.samhainpublishing.com

46

Lanette

Curington

thought sadly. They were too different, culturally as well as physically. Yet, they would spend a lifetime here together, whether that be days, weeks, or decades. In time, would he not give up his beliefs and traditions when the nights were too long? Would
she?

Together, they had experienced more in the past twenty-four standard hours than he would have experienced with his lifemate in a lifetime had she lived. Certainly, their conversation had more substance and meaning. Very few, if any, lifemated couples struggled with life-and-death decisions every minute of their lives together, even at the height of the Crucian wars. And how many Zi
saàloh’az
would manage it as well as she?

None, he feared, not even T`hirz.
Saàloh’az
never voiced opinions, never took control of a situation, never did anything to attract attention to themselves except in the meticulous order of their lairs and the excellent care of their younglings. Was it because they could not, would not, or were not allowed to? Somewhere along the way, the reason had blurred and faded from the memory of his people. It was the way it was because it was that way.

The Zi answer to all questions that had no answers.

She murmured in her sleep, and her arm dropped to his lap. Her hand always had a way of being in the right place at the wrong time. The light pressure was enough to cause him further discomfort. He thought he was at the point that the weight of a grain of sand would have the same effect. Yet that grain of sand would not have her warmth or her softness or her scent of the
jhuhn’gha.

Carefully, he moved her hand away from that area. If she awoke, she would be embarrassed and so would he. He shifted his body in another position, easing the constriction of his
jha’i.
He should think of other things now, such as survival. Their first priority, in the morning, would be to find a source of water.

But the image of her, as she flew at him, hurling her passionate accusations as well as her fists, exploded into his mind. She was correct, of course. He had warned Hancock that he would not succeed, that he would be found and justice would be served. That should have been enough. Why did humans insist on ignoring the truth? Why did they demand those truths to be repeated until all meaning was lost? However, if Hancock’s plan succeeded then the Zi would have no reason to hunt him down and kill him. Sss’t, perhaps his threats were empty after all.

After they landed on this planet, he had said nothing more because he had said all he had to say to Hancock. Besides, the
saàloh
expressed her concerns and her fears—all of which he shared—quite eloquently. She had asked every question, made every point, so that he had no need to say anything.

What her human mind could not grasp was that the Zi mind did not easily use subterfuge, even as a last resort. Simply, he had not thought to bribe Hancock with the www.samhainpublishing.com

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47

promise of more jewels. Truth, logic, reason—these were the weapons with which he fought. And, in the end, lost to Hancock’s obsessive madness.

He had failed.

There was no other way to describe the outcome. He had tried his best, constrained by the Zi code of honor, and failed. Ideally, he should present himself to the Council of Elders, and perform the ritual every Zi youngling memorized but hoped never to engage.

For the average Zi, the ritual would be carried out before the clan council. For him, as the Warrior, it should be performed before the Council of Elders—an impossibility right now.

He would not tell her because she would insist he not do it, give a multitude of reasons why he should not, and he would be tempted to listen to her. If carried out quickly, he would manage it before she could stop him.

The thought of the ritual was enough to drive everything else from his mind. He would pay his penance as soon as they found a permanent camp.

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48

Lanette

Curington

Leith awakened with
something
tickling her nose and crawling down her face.

Instinctively, she slapped it away, swallowed a scream, and sat up. A withered leaf fluttered to the ground. She picked it up. The porous surface looked and felt like a piece of dried sponge. It crumbled to dust when she squeezed it.

She was alone—but she wasn’t supposed to be. She was outside, beneath a canopy of twisted trees… Suddenly, everything flooded her mind. The meeting on Arreis, Steve, how he’d kidnapped them and abandoned them on Paradise.
Them.
The Commander—

Leith flung aside the solar film and scrambled to her feet. “Com-man-der,” she tried to call out, but her voice broke. Her mouth felt as if all the moisture had been wicked away, leaving her tongue as fuzzy as a wad of cotton. She chewed her tongue to make the saliva flow and swallowed hard. “Commander! Where are you?”

“Here,
saàloh
,” he called from amid the trees.

She followed the sound of his voice, making her way through the twisted trees that looked as eerie in the daylight as they had at night.

“Over here,” he called again, guiding her.

When she found him, she watched him from a distance for a few moments. She was again impressed by how big and imposing he was. Propped up by the crooked tree limb he used for a crutch, squeezing something into a little tin cup from the mess kit, and his face drawn in concentration, he still wore his dignity like an aura, an innate part of himself. She stepped closer to see what he was doing.

“Do humansss alwaysss sssleep ssso much? It hasss been daylight for over an hour.”

She shrugged, unsettled by his censuring remark. “Stress,” she said and swallowed again. “And interruptions.”

He had awakened her twice to feed the fire, and it was for
his
benefit, after all. She could have made do with the solar film. He had done it gently, apologetically, but it had interrupted her rest, and both times she’d had trouble falling back asleep. Either he didn’t understand her jibe or chose to ignore it.

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Starkissed

49

“The leavesss of the twisssted treesss sssoaked up the morning dew.” He plucked another leaf and squeezed. A few drops fell into the cup, and he handed it to her. “Drink,
saàloh.
Thisss will quench our thirssst until we can find another sssource of water.”

She peered into the cup and gave only a passing thought to what bacteria it might contain. Her parched mouth needed the moisture. She closed her eyes and gulped it down greedily.

It tasted like pure sweet water, and she told herself the spongy leaves had filtered out any impurities.

“Thank you.”

“Now, we fill the canteen.”

They spent an hour squeezing the precious drops into the cup and finished filling the canteen. She had grown bored with the process in five minutes, but he seemed to have an unending supply of patience. By the time they filled the canteen and the cups again, Leith’s hand was cramped and her fingers stiff, the skin wrinkled like a prune.

When they returned to the campsite, Leith removed her jacket. The morning had grown warmer by the minute, even beneath the deep shade of the trees, and dappled sunlight played over everything. They feasted on a protein pack. Leith broke the grainy bar in two and gave him the larger piece. His body mass was bigger, and he was injured.

It seemed only fair. They washed it down with their cups of water.

As Leith chewed the tasteless foodstuff, she thought of bacon and eggs and pancakes dripping with butter and syrup and hot aromatic coffee. To take her mind off
real
food, Leith spread her jacket and investigated its secret pockets.

“A mini omnilyzer! I had no idea it was here.” The wafer thin, rectangular computer was about as big as her hand. Most analyzers were specialized, but the omnilyzer could do a little bit of everything, such as analyze the chemical content of potential food, chart their course, diagnose simple ailments and injuries, and suggest treatment. It didn’t go into depth on any one thing, but was a survival tool like the rest of the gear in her jacket.

She glanced at her cup then the Commander. “Should I? We’ve already drunk the water.