Wildcat (15 page)

“You left your homeworld by choice. Mine was blown to bits along with all of my family. I haven’t had a real home since.” His eyes swept the room. “Nothing like this. It’s no wonder I wound up in a brothel on Rhylos. And then Audrey was murdered because of what I am. I’m sorry if it sounds selfish, but I
need
you, Sara. Most of all, I need you to understand.”

She could’ve sworn there were tears in his eyes—or were those her own tears clouding her vision? Nodding, she sank down in the chair he’d offered, her gaze locked on his. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

He blinked, and yes, there really were tears. She could see them glistening at the corners of his eyes. “Our enemies had been very thorough. There was no way off the planet. We could see the asteroid heading straight for our world, and there wasn’t a damned thing we could do to stop it.

“Then a ship landed, and my parents made sure I got on it. I was five years old and the only child they had left. I was screaming my head off when they handed me over. I didn’t understand why they couldn’t come with me. There wasn’t room for them—I realized that later, but at the time…”

He paused, shaking his head. “Then the ship lifted off and left orbit just before the asteroid hit. Some of us were only babies, but the rest of us were watching the viewscreen and saw it happen.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Our entire planet was gone in a matter of seconds. I’ll never forget the screams of those children until my dying day.”

He brushed away the tears. “Later on, we were told that Rutger Grekkor, the husband of our rescuer, was responsible for the war against our kind. Amelyana had taken a Zetithian lover, and Grekkor, a very rich, powerful, and insanely jealous man, had retaliated by attempting to kill all of us. She stole one of his ships and did what she could to save as many children as possible.

“We spent the next twenty-five years in space, waiting until she deemed it safe to land. It wasn’t until Grekkor was killed and the bounty was no longer being paid on any survivors that we came to Terra Minor. Grekkor’s assets were then divided among the remaining Zetithians. We went from penniless to rich almost overnight.

“Some of us settled here. My friends Tarq and Onca and I decided to pool our funds and open a brothel on Rhylos. We’d been trapped on that ship for so long… I guess we were all a little nuts. Anyway, we made a fortune, but then Audrey was killed—and you know what that did to me. I came here to live and try to forget and maybe get back to normal.” He sighed. “I’m not quite there yet—if I even know what
normal
is. Anyway, that’s my story. When you’re ready to tell yours, I’ll be here to listen.”

Sara sat gazing at him, trying to imagine the depths of his pain. The darkness in her own past was
nothing
compared to what had happened to him. Nothing, and yet she still couldn’t find the words to tell him about it. She had
never
been able to speak of it—to anyone.

As if he read her thoughts, he went on, “And don’t be thinking that what happened to you seems trifling compared to my history. Nothing hurt me. Not directly. I suffered no injuries—emotional trauma, yes, but nothing physical. I believe it was different for you, and therefore even more devastating—more critical to your life and who you are. When you do decide to tell me, don’t make light of it, Sara, and don’t compare your pain to mine or anyone else’s. Believe me, it won’t do any good. All that matters is how it affected
you
.”

The only time Sara had initiated physical contact with a man was when Jerden had been lying unconscious in her bed. If she was ever going to do it with a
conscious
man, the time was now. Getting to her feet, she held out her arms.

And he walked right into them.

The impact of his body against hers was even more intimate than when he’d kissed her. She’d never clung to anyone like that before, and he returned her embrace with a fervor that shocked her to the core. Tears slid down her cheeks and onto his chest as she cried for those he’d lost, those he’d loved, but most of all, for him; one of the few left behind to remember the horror—who had to go on living, trying to be normal, trying to stay sane.

Sara had no idea what to say to him. What words could possibly make a difference? “I won’t tell you to go. I’ll… get used to you being here. I need you too.”

She felt the tension leave him as he pressed his lips to her cheek. Apparently she’d said the right thing.

“Then I’m staying.” He released her slowly, reluctantly, his tentative smile steadily gaining strength. “And I
will
be fixing dinner.”

“We’ll do it together.”

This is Jerden
, Sara reminded herself as she pulled the ingredients for
hunela
out of the stasis unit.
Jerden.
Not Nate, and certainly not that asshole she’d once made the mistake of going to the movies with. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in a spacious kitchen, acres in size, with plenty of room to retreat if necessary. Taking a deep breath, she willed her hands to be steady as she selected the chicken breasts, vegetables, and cheese. A sidelong glance revealed Jerden perusing her spice rack, looking like the answer to every woman’s dream. Tall, tanned, and muscular, with black hair that hung to his waist, he was still wearing that same loincloth. Strangely enough, she would’ve preferred that he’d left it at home. True, it covered all the more erotic parts of him, but it also disrupted the natural flow of his skin and the perfect symmetry of his body—similar to a beautiful horse wearing a saddle.

Not that clothes didn’t do that to everyone—and there were plenty of people who should never be seen undressed, no matter what species they happened to be. Jerden, however, fell into a different category of beings—one that made any covering or adornment completely unnecessary.

Of course, she would never tell him so. Any comments to that effect would surely be misconstrued as provocative, suggestive, and that was a thought she didn’t want him to have. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps not ever.

Sara found it difficult to believe that a man like Jerden would want to marry a woman who might never want him sexually. It seemed to go against everything she’d ever heard about Zetithians. Granted, Zetithian
women
showed little interest in sex, which might explain why the men were seduction personified, but at least they had the
potential
to be enticed.

It occurred to her then that she was probably more like the women of Zetith than those of her own world. Human females had desires and they acted on them. Sara felt no desire and wouldn’t have known how to attract a man if her life depended on it.

Wear
something
low cut and show lots of cleavage.
Someone had told her that once. Sure. That was a great enticement, but for it to work, a woman had to have something to reveal. Sara’s figure wasn’t the slightest bit voluptuous, being more like that of a lanky teenage boy than a female in her thirties.

Why
am
I
even
thinking
about
this? He’s already here. He even asked me to marry him.
The thought made her shudder—or was it a quiver? He didn’t need to be seduced or attracted to her, did he? All she really had to do was avoid pushing him away and quit acting like she was afraid of him.

She hadn’t been afraid at all when he held her in his arms.
How
very
peculiar…

“I like to put
lycaque
root in
hunela
,” he said as he selected various jars of herbs. “Makes it more authentic. Do you have any?”

Sara was relieved to have this neutral topic to divert her thoughts. “No, but there are plenty of Twilanans living around here. It’d probably be easy to enough to find.”

“Maybe next time, then.”

Obviously this lack of culinary perfection wasn’t something he was going to lose sleep over—or berate her for not having. Considering the number of herbs and spices that were available throughout the galaxy, Sara considered her stock to be fairly decent, if not comprehensive. She’d have to add another room onto the house if she wanted them all—
and
take out a loan to pay for them.
Not
a high priority.

Then again, Jerden apparently had money to burn. She’d be a rich woman if she married him, and if she wanted to add a room, she could. It might have been better if she hadn’t known he had money—and would make her seem less mercenary, which was probably what everyone would think of her now.

Assuming that Jerden would prefer to do something manly and exciting, like chopping vegetables, she handed him a knife. “I’ll make the sauce.”

He winked at her. “Minus the
lycaque
root.”

“Yeah.” She got out milk, butter, eggs, and flour. Scooping some butter into a saucepan, she set it over low heat to melt.

“I’m glad you’ve got a real stove,” he said as he peeled the onions. “All I’ve got is one of those flash ovens, and it doesn’t do a damn thing for me. At the time I moved in, I didn’t really care. But now I do. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.”

He was making small talk and winking at her. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have bothered to do either one—had acted like the wildcat he was rumored to be. Now, he only
looked
like one, though less so than when he’d been naked all the time. The loincloth made him seem a bit more civilized. Even so, he could have taken it off and she wouldn’t have minded. After all, Reutal never wore clothing. Zatlen preferred boots, jeans, and a T-shirt. Drania wore coveralls and no shirt. It was purely a matter of personal comfort…

He nodded toward the iron skillet sitting on the stove. “I like that kind of skillet, too. Food just tastes better when it’s cooked that way.”

“I’ve always thought so.”
He’s talking about cooking utensils and I’m thinking about whether or not he should wear clothes. What’s wrong with this picture?

After pouring some olive oil into the skillet, she turned on the burner and switched on the deep fryer. She was about to suggest he lose the loincloth when she glanced at his bare chest. Sautéing vegetables without the benefit of clothing might not be the best plan—not to mention deep-frying the chicken. “I’ve got an apron around here somewhere—not sure it’ll
fit
you, but…”

His brow went up in surprise and then dropped to a frown. “Should I have worn a shirt?”

“No, that wasn’t what I meant. You can wear whatever you like—or nothing at all, if you prefer. I just don’t want you to get splattered with hot oil.” There. She’d said it. The ball was in his court now.

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Why, Sara, how sweet of you to be so concerned for my safety.”

His words might not have acknowledged everything she’d said, but his expression and inflection certainly did. Arching an eyebrow, he eyed her speculatively, waiting for her to speak.

She shrugged, feeling somewhat helpless. “Well, why
wouldn’t
I be concerned? You’re my… boyfriend. Sort of.”

“Yes, I am,” he said. “Sort of.” Setting the knife down, he took a step closer. “And since you don’t care whether I wear this thing or not…” He hooked a thumb in the open side near the waistband. “I’ll take it off.” His smile intensified, allowing his fangs to peek past his lips. “Later.”

Sara’s face suddenly felt hot and tingly and she swallowed hard—actually, it was more of a gulp. “W-whatever you like.”

Sara could’ve sworn he winked at her again. Returning to his task, he transferred the onions to the skillet along with a handful of
chuelas
and then began slicing the zucchini. “On the way over here, I was thinking about what Nate did last night.”

His voice had lost its seductive note so abruptly, Sara questioned whether it had ever been there at all. “And?” Dumping some flour into the melted butter, she whipped it vigorously.

“I don’t think I should leave you here alone anymore—especially at night—out of concern for your…
safety
.”

So, he was going to stay all night and take off the loincloth.
Great. Now you’ve done it, Sara. Made him think you’re going to fall into his arms and make mad, passionate love with him. All night. Every night. Maybe even until death do us part. Oh, my God…
Hell, he’d been sobbing in her arms just a few minutes before. Was he pretending all of it? Could she really trust anyone whose moods changed so quickly? God knows, hers did too. She inhaled sharply. “If you think that’s best.”

“I do.” His sidelong glance glowed with anticipation. “I think we should sleep together, too. I never told you how much I liked waking up next to you, Sara. I should’ve told you at the time, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.” He turned his catlike eyes on her, holding her gaze effortlessly, completely. “When I woke up and found you in bed beside me, I picked up a scent that surprised me. I couldn’t leave you then. I wanted to stay with you and find out why your dreams were so… haunted. Then I started purring and your despair seemed to lift a little. After a bit, I got up and almost went home. But I couldn’t make myself leave, so I crawled back in with you.” He paused to sprinkle a pinch of
yishush
on the onions. Within seconds, the aroma of the pungent spice filled the air. “I
liked
being there with you, Sara. Did you like waking up next to me?”

Knowing it wouldn’t do a bit of good to deny it, she told him the truth. “I was a little afraid. I liked the warmth and the purring, but…”

“That’s okay,” he said quickly. “I understand.”

“No, you probably don’t,” she said ruefully. “I don’t even understand it myself.” Adding milk to the pan, she continued whisking the mixture, thinking that maybe if she stirred it hard enough, the answer might come to her.

It didn’t, of course. Thankfully, Jerden didn’t pursue the subject any further.

She set the pan back on the stove and cracked the eggs with more force than necessary. That didn’t help, either.
Careful, Sara. You’ll break the yolks.

Jerden was probably thinking the same thing, but he kept quiet. Tossing the zucchini into the skillet, he then cut the chicken into paper-thin slices. Sara caught herself watching him and shifted her focus back to the bowl full of eggs. She stared at it, unable to remember how to separate the yolks from the whites.

Gravy
ladle.
Getting the ladle out of the drawer, she used it to fish out the yolks and add them to the sauce. More whisking. For once, she didn’t mind the monotony, as it gave her something to do with her hands. If she’d simply sat and let him do it all, she’d have gone mad.

Jerden made quick work of the chicken, crushed a few cloves of garlic, and added them to the vegetables before giving them a stir. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he seasoned the meat, adding a dash or two of the various spices he’d selected before dipping it in the egg whites. After dredging it in flour, he rolled it into perfect little scrolls. His actions were smooth and practiced, his lack of hesitation demonstrating that knew what he was doing.

“So, you learned to cook on the refugee ship?”

“Yeah, we had to take turns.” He dropped the chicken scrolls one by one into the fryer. “And trust me, if the meals you prepared weren’t any good, you
heard
about it.”

“Kind of like cooking for my gang,” she said with a chuckle. “They’re pretty vocal, as you may have noticed.”

“You like them a lot, don’t you?”

She nodded. “They’re my family.” Which was perfectly true. She cared as much about Reutal, Zatlen, and Drania as she did her real family, perhaps even more.

“Reutal certainly acts like a brother out to protect his sister. He gave Nate quite a tongue-lashing after he kissed you. I’m surprised he didn’t take a swing at him.”

Sara laughed. “He doesn’t like Nate any more than I do. Probably dying for the excuse.”

Noting that the sauce had finally thickened, she added salt and pepper and then set it aside. She slipped past Jerden and stooped to pull a baking dish out of the lower cabinet, doing her best not to stare at his powerful thighs. She set the dish on the cutting board and Jerden tipped the contents of the skillet into it.

He lifted the basket from the fryer, briefly inspecting the chicken scrolls before tossing them in with the vegetables. Sara poured on the sauce and Jerden smoothed it out with a spatula. “Got any
surlea
cheese to go on top?”

Sara snorted a laugh. “In your dreams, rich boy. Do you have any idea how expensive that stuff is?”

He shook his head. “Not really, but I do know it’s worth it, whatever it costs.”

“The best I can do for now is Asiago.” She handed him a bowl of the grated cheese. “I’ve never tasted
surlea
, though from what I understand, it’s pretty similar. I’m not even sure you can buy it in Nimbaza.”

“Guess I got kinda spoiled on Rhylos. They had
everything
.”

She switched off the fryer. “Terra Minor is coming up in the galaxy, but it’s still basically a frontier planet. There are lots of things you can’t get here.”

Asiago wasn’t exactly cheap, either. Jerden didn’t seem to care, adding a liberal amount to the top of the
hunela
. Her gasp of dismay only made him grin. “You know something, Sara?”

“What?”
Aside
from
the
fact
that
you’re going to eat me out of house and home.

“I think you and I need to discuss the advantages of being my wife.”

Jerden put the
hunela
in the oven while he waited for the idea to sink in. Being married to him would have perks Sara obviously hadn’t considered yet.

“Such as?”

“Among other things, as the wife of a Zetithian, your property taxes will be significantly reduced. As the wife of a
rich
Zetithian, you can afford to buy pretty much any kind of cheese you like. Granted, I’m not making money hand over fist anymore, but I’ve invested wisely and have a steady income from the interest. What I don’t spend is automatically reinvested.”

“So I’d be an idiot
not
to marry you?”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just want you to know that getting Nate off your back isn’t necessarily the only perk.”

“Everyone will think I’m marrying you for your money.”

“I doubt it. Of course, there are disadvantages, as well. You got a taste of it while we were in Nimbaza. People here think I’m some kind of crazy hermit, but I’ve been called lots of other nasty little names—man-whore, prostitute, gigolo. Does that bother you?”