With a tender touch, he disinfected the small scrapes, spraying them with an antibacterial agent. It stung and Nallah drew her breath inward in a sharp little hiss.
Harryx looked up quickly.
“Sorry, baby—did that hurt? Here…”
Leaning forward he pursed his lips and blew a cool stream of air over her hurt knees, easing the stinging. Then he dabbed soothing salve on the small wounds and covered each with a healing wrap.
Looking up at her he asked, “Better now?”
Nallah, who had never known such gentle treatment from her husband in her life, had no words. She simply nodded, unable to take her eyes off him.
“Good.” And then he did something even more surprising. Bending his head, he placed soft kisses on the tops of her knees, just above the healing wraps. Then he straightened up and pulled the sex garment down. “All right, it’s late. How about we go to bed?”
At once Nallah stiffened—so he had put off taking her because he wanted to do it in the bed. Harryx did that sometimes, when he wanted to savor her submission and draw it out. The results were never pleasant.
But her husband seemed to read the expression on her un-veiled face because he quickly shook his head.
“No, I meant I’m tired and I want to sleep. I’m not asking about the bed so I can…can assault you.” He made a face as though the words were bitter, though they made no sense to Nallah. How could a husband assault his wife? Anything he did to her from physical punishment to sexual domination was right and proper, wasn’t it?
Still, she rose from the edge of the tub and nodded in the direction of the doorway.
“Let us go, my husband. Should…should I keep on my sex garment? In case you wish to use me in the night?” Sometimes Harryx liked that too—to wake her up by thrusting himself inside her, whether she was ready for him or not.
He made that face again—the almost pained expression which looked so foreign on his normally stoic features.
“Gods, no. I’m not going to hurt you in the middle of the night, sweetheart. Just wear whatever you normally do to bed and don’t worry about me. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
Nallah could hardly believe him. He wasn’t going to touch her? He would really leave her alone? Did he really mean to allow her to completely forgo her submission tonight? She could scarcely believe it and yet…it seemed to be true.
“I…thank you, my husband,” she said quietly. “In that case, let us get ready for bed.”
Harryx stretched and yawned, his broad chest and muscular arms flexing as he did so.
“Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”
Wondering if he really couldn’t remember the way to their sleeping chamber, Nallah led him silently down the hallway. The blow to his head really must have changed his personality…but how long until it changed back?
Chapter Eight
Reeve waited until he heard Nallah breathing evenly and deeply beside him before risking a return to his own body, light years away aboard the Mother Ship.
His soul flew through time and space, as swift and silent as an invisible bird until he reached his true self. He sat up with a start, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs and flexed his fingers and toes. Looking down at himself, he saw he was dressed much as his host’s body was dressed back on Hascion Five—in thin black sleep trousers and nothing else.
“Oh, Commander Reeve!” The startled voice belonged to a blonde nurse with pale gray eyes who had been sitting in the corner of the room reading a book. Before he had left his own body for the host’s, Commander Sylvan had introduced her as Olivia—a nurse who also happened to be the mate of his brother, Baird.
“Olivia will take good care of your body,” Sylvan had promised him. “I’d trust her with my life and so I trust her with yours as well.”
Reeve was glad to see the human woman was keeping watch over his sleeping body. The risk of snatching was that you had to leave your own mortal shell in order to inhabit another. And if you weren’t careful, any number of nasty things could happen to your body while you were gone.
“Are you all right, Commander?” the human woman asked, coming over to check on him.
“Not a fucking Commander,” Reeve growled and coughed. “Got any water?”
“Here.” Quickly she held a squeeze bulb to his lips and he drank thirstily. There was only so much the fluid drip could do for him. But speaking of the fluids he’d been getting, they had clearly been adding up.
“Can you unhook me for a minute so I can use the fresher?” Reeve held out an arm and Olivia hastened to detach the drip’s flexible tubing, allowing him freedom to move around the room.
“Thanks,” Reeve muttered. He found the fresher—a small room in the corner—and relieved his needs. After a quick cat-bath in the sink, he felt immensely better. He had been out of his own body for hours and hours—much longer than he usually spent during a snatch.
It was good to see his own face staring back from the 3-D viewer. Bronze skin, scar across the bridge of his nose, black eyes and hair—he looked nothing like his host, that asshole. It was good to remind himself of who he was which was not General Harryx Parokk.
When he came out, Olivia was just putting down a communicator.
“Sylvan is in the middle of a Council meeting right now. He says you can either wait an hour or so for him to be done or give me any information you have to share—he’s given me clearance in this matter because I’m the main nurse assigned to you.”
“Yeah, Commander Sylvan said you had clearance.” Reeve nodded. “I’d better talk to you—I don’t want to risk that bastard coming out of his coma while I’m gone.”
Olivia arched one eyebrow delicately.
“That bastard? You mean your host?”
“Uh-huh. General Harryx Parokk—first class asshole.”
Olivia’s silver-gray eyes widened.
“Really? Why do you say that?”
Reeve sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Just some of the things I’ve been picking up from his memory and his wife.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m pretty sure he hits her. Probably, uh, forces her too. Gods…”
“Oh no!” Olivia sounded shocked. “That’s awful!”
“The thing is, that’s their whole fucking culture—they think that’s normal, at least as far as I can tell.” Reeve rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, trying to release some of the tension he felt. “Maybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. Maybe it’s just Parokk who acts like that. It’s hard to tell because I haven’t interacted with hardly anyone but his wife, Nallah yet.”
“So you haven’t been able to get a look at the wormhole plans yet?” Olivia sounded disappointed.
Reeve shook his head. “Afraid not. When I ‘woke up’ inside him I was in a med center bed. I thought it might look pretty fucking strange if Harryx ran off to work first thing after coming out of a coma.”
“Well, that’s probably true,” Olivia acknowledged.
“I’m hoping to go to his office bright and early tomorrow morning and see what I can find out,” Reeve said. “I’m fairly acclimated to his body now—it shouldn’t be a problem. Hopefully I’ll have more to report tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be waiting—or Sylvan will,” Olivia promised. She bit her lip. “So…how are you handling things with his wife? I mean, she must know him better than anyone, right? Do you think she suspects anything?”
Reeve sighed. “I’ve told her that the bump I took to the head has made my memory a little ‘fuzzy’ and she seems to be buying it. Then again, it’s hard to tell. She’s so fucking scared of my host—of Harryx—she’d probably jump off a cliff if he told her to.”
“That poor girl.” Olivia’s big grey eyes were melting with sympathy. “We’ve had a little experience with that here. I had a friend called Tessa—another Kindred bride—who was running away from an abusive human husband.”
“Did she get away?” Reeve asked.
/> Olivia nodded. “She bonded with a Kindred warrior—a Rai’ku Kindred, actually.”
Reeve’s eyes widened. “You mean the kind with a ravenous dr’gin inside?”
“Exactly.” Olivia’s eyes sparkled. “Actually, his dr’gin came out and ate her abusive ex. Talk about poetic justice!”
“I wish I could do something to fuck up this son-of-a-bitch whose body I’m snatching,” Reeve growled. “If I’m right about half the things I think he’s done to poor Nallah, he’d deserve it.”
“Nallah? Is that his wife’s name?” Olivia asked softly.
Reeve nodded. “She’s got this amazing gold and silver hair and her eyes—well, they’re almost all you can see since the women there have to wear veils—but those eyes of hers…” He trailed off, feeling foolish. Here he was waxing poetic about a female’s eyes when he was supposed to be on a top secret mission. “Anyway,” he ended gruffly. “She deserves better than him.”
Olivia smiled. “Maybe she does. Maybe the Goddess knows that and she sent you with Nallah in mind.”
Reeve made a derisive noise deep in his throat.
“The Goddess? Please—she doesn’t care for the likes of me. Snatchers are scum, didn’t Sylvan tell you that?”
“Sylvan sees the good in almost everyone,” Olivia said softly. “I think that’s one of the things that makes him such a good leader. He wouldn’t have asked you to come aboard the Mother Ship if he didn’t believe there was good in you too.”
“Well…thanks I guess.” The idea that there was any good in him seemed laughable to Reeve, but he wasn’t about to say so to Olivia’s face. That would be fucking rude. He sighed and stretched again. “Well, I’d better go back.”
Olivia frowned. “You really think there’s a chance your host will come out of his coma while you’re gone?”
Reeve shrugged. “Probably not. He seemed pretty deep asleep when I was in him last. But why take a chance, right?”
He didn’t add that what he didn’t want to take a chance on was Harryx coming back in the middle of the night when Reeve wasn’t there to stop him from hurting Nallah. But to be honest, that was uppermost in his mind. No matter how slim the chance his host might wake up, it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take where the lovely little female was involved.
Olivia nodded. “I understand. Okay, let’s reconnect the nutrient drip and I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night. Or Sylvan will.”
“See you then. And, uh—thanks for looking after my body,” Reeve said gruffly.
She smiled as she reconnected the drip.
“My pleasure. Good luck and the Goddess be with you.”
Reeve thought about saying again that the Goddess didn’t want anything to do with the likes of him but he decided just to keep his mouth shut. He was anxious to get back to Nallah’s side and he didn’t want to waste time in philosophical debate. Instead he just nodded and lowered himself back onto the sensu-bed which would keep his limbs exercised and limber even while he was away from his body.
Then, with a deep breath, he closed his eyes and released his soul, flying back to Hascion Five…back to Nallah.
* * * * *
It was the strangest morning Nallah could ever remember spending with her husband. He didn’t shout at her or ignore her or glare at her when his breakfast didn’t come quickly enough.
Instead, he was pleasant, if a little quiet, as though he was thinking. He praised her cooking and insisted that she sit with him to eat again and made certain she had enough food.
Then, as he was leaving the house, he actually kissed her goodbye!
At first when he leaned towards her Nallah flinched away by instinct, thinking he was going to shout in her face or maybe even bite her—he had done both before.
But his face got that pained expression again and he cupped her cheek.
“Nallah, baby, please,” he’d murmured. “I know I’ve hurt you in the past and I’m so damn sorry for that. I swear I’m not going to hurt you now. I was just trying to kiss you goodbye.”
“Kiss me goodbye?” It seemed like a foreign concept although Nallah had heard of men who were fond enough of their wives to offer such a token of love before they left for the day. Her own father was known to drop a peck on her mother’s cheek from time to time, back when he had worked outside their domicile. But Harryx had never offered to kiss her except for the one cold, dry kiss he had placed on her lips during their marriage ceremony and that was only to make the contract binding.
She looked at him closely…was he serious? Did he really want to be sweet to her after three years of ignoring her or growling out terse commands for supper before he left for work?
He had already withdrawn, an unhappy look on his chiseled features.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want me to.”
“No, no,” Nallah said quickly. “A wife must never refuse her husband physical intimacy of any kind.” This had been drilled into her from childhood by her mother and every other woman she knew.
Harryx frowned, looking almost angry although she somehow knew this time his anger wasn’t directed at her.
“Don’t want you to let me kiss you because you don’t feel you can refuse me, sweetheart. No one has the right to take anything you don’t want to give—not even your husband.”
Nallah had stared up at him. This was all so confusing! Harryx had been doing exactly what he wanted to her from the first day of their marriage and now, here he was, saying he had no right to be doing the things he’d been doing.
“I suppose you hate me,” Harryx muttered, more to himself than her. “Can’t say I blame you, sweetheart.”
Nallah considered the man who was her husband.
She didn’t hate him exactly, though he had done some awful things, such as killing poor Pitta. She did, however, fear him. But once, back when he had first come into her life and made an offer to her father for her hand, hadn’t she wished to love him?
Nallah had an intensely loving heart and for the past three years she had been starved for love and affection. This whole thing—the change of personality and the tendency to be gentle instead of cruel—might be an elaborate hoax on Harryx’s part. Or it might be that his new personality was only temporary and would disappear when he completely recovered from the blow he had taken to the head.
But part of her—the love-starved part that longed to be held and cuddled and cared for without the fear that her lover would suddenly turn cruel and vicious—yearned to believe the new Harryx was real. That he meant what he said when he told her he wouldn’t hurt her.
“I…I don’t hate you, Harryx,” she’d whispered. “You can…can kiss me goodbye, if you really want to, my husband.” Tentatively, she tilted her face up to his.
Harryx cupped her cheek and leaned down to her, his eyes filled with some emotion she couldn’t name. For a moment, they almost seemed a different color than his usual cold, pale blue—a darker color—like the midnight waves of a sunless sea. But Nallah told herself she must be imagining it.
His lips had pressed gently to her cheekbone, just above the white lace veil she wore that morning. A sweet, gentle, lingering kiss that made her feel funny inside somehow.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he’d murmured in her ear. And then he had nodded at her and told her he would see her after work.
As she watched him go, gliding away in his hovercar, Nallah wondered again if the change she saw in him was permanent…or only temporary.
Chapter Nine
Thank all the Gods he was able to find some instructions in Harryx’s memory banks on how to get to work. The Hascion male had his mind shut up tighter than a vault and accessing his memory banks was a chore which half the time yielded little to no results. Reeve thought he had never snatched a host who was so completely buttoned up—so mentally rigid. Harryx’s mind was practically encrypted.
The hovercar, on the other hand, was simple to operate. So at least there was no n
eed to look up directions for it. But then, as a Kindred, Reeve had an innate ability with languages and vehicles—it was simply part of his heritage.
Before he knew it, he was driving through the tall, dull silver gates surrounding the massive military complex which housed the headquarters of the Inner Circle. He was a little worried that he might need some kind of badge to get in but the gate guard seemed to recognize him because he bowed low and opened to admit the hovercar without comment.
Reeve found a parking area which was meant specifically for Inner Circle members and got out. Today he was wearing another one of Harryx’s uniforms—this one had a deep maroon jacket instead of green, with several important looking medals hanging from the lapels. He wore the tight black trousers which flared at the knee and the gem-encrusted boots as well—he was almost getting used to them, although they still seemed ridiculous.
There was a guard at the door of the massive gray building as well but this one didn’t simply wave him through.
“Arch-General Parokk!” He looked surprised. “I thought you were in the House of Healing.”
“I was.” Reeve had decided it was better to keep his responses as terse as possible. “I’m well now. Let me in.”
“I’m afraid that’s against protocol, General,” the guard said apologetically. “You know we have to do a retinal scan first.”
“Oh. Of course.” That shouldn’t present a problem as long as Reeve stayed well to the back of his host’s mind. Accordingly, he took a mental step back as he took a physical step forward, pressing his host’s right eye to the metal aperture the guard pointed to.
There was a brief, blinding flash and then a hole melted in the gray metal side of the building.
“There you are Arch-General. You can enter,” the guard said, nodding.
But for a moment, Reeve couldn’t go anywhere. He felt stirring in the back of the brain he was inhabiting—a questioning sound as though his host was waking. Had it been the brilliant flash of light? Or the fact that they were back at Harryx’s place of work? Whichever it was, Reeve couldn’t tell but he didn’t want to take a chance.