He set his jaw, nodded.
And Kaia knew that despite his intelligence, he had a pride as idiotic as all six of her male cousins. "Wait--I'll be back in three minutes."
She was breathless by the time she returned . . . and he'd managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed in the interim, the hair-rough skin of his lower legs and thighs capturing her gaze. The edge of the blue sheet hovered far too high up those thighs, his hand fisted in it to keep it across his hips.
Skin threatening to burn, Kaia snapped her focus to his face.
He was breathing hard, his other hand braced on the bed and his head slightly lowered. She dared look down, saw that he was flexing his feet back and forth. Already checking his strength, already figuring out his capabilities, already becoming a risk to the station and all the people within it.
Her blood chilled.
"Here." She thrust the cane toward him. "Use it. Even if you only lightly hit your head in a fall, it could ruin the experiment."
Bowen Knight closed the fingers of his free hand over the smooth head of the cane. "What would I do without your tender care?" he said with the faint hint of a smile on his lips.
Narrowing her eyes, Kaia stepped back. He hadn't spoken to her in a biting or harsh or even sarcastic tone. It had been . . . She didn't know what it had been, and--she told herself--she didn't care. "Shower cubicle is there." She pointed out the doorway about ten feet from the bed and to the left. "Any questions?"
The ebony of his hair caught the light as he shook his head, the waves of it far too soft for this hard man.
Fingers curling into her palms, Kaia spun on her heel and headed to the door. She was about to step out when he said, "Kaia?"
She halted but didn't look up, not trusting her body and its stunningly traitorous response when it came to the security chief of the Human Alliance.
"Thank you for the window."
Chapter 7
SR: Did you hear Atalina's brain is awake?
JG: Atalina's brain is always awake, genius.
SR: Ha ha. No, doofus, the human brain she's being all mad scientist on.
JG: Whoa! Seriously?
SR: Yeah. Wanna go look in his window?
--Messages exchanged between Scott Reineke and Jayson Greer on Ryujin Station
THE WOMAN WITH the angry eyes and the gentle touch who, instead of reveling in his embarrassment, had turned away and given him a distraction just pulled the door shut behind herself.
Her scent, however, lingered in the room, cinnamon and a lush tropical bloom. His chest expanded on the inhale, eased on his reluctant exhale. For a heartbeat there when she'd put the alarm strap over his head, he'd caught the scent directly from her skin--it had been richer, deeper, more innately sensual.
"Focus, Bo. And not on the warrior princess who wants to fillet you."
Leaning heavily on the cane with one hand, his other on the bed, he levered himself down to the ground. Just as well that he'd braced himself because his knees nearly crumpled. Breath harsh, he stood there for long minutes until his muscles stopped spasming. Then he stretched out his legs one at a time--and very carefully.
The muscles felt like jelly, but they held.
Regardless, it took him five long minutes to navigate his way to the shower. The air was cool against his skin--likely because he was covered in a layer of fine perspiration. As if he'd pounded the pavement for miles when he hadn't even made it a few short feet. Bo wasn't complaining; that he could walk at all right after coming out of a coma was a miracle.
His fingers were bone white on the head of the cane by the time he stepped inside the doorway, and his breathing had gone from uneven to flat-out ragged. Bracing his free hand against the wall, he took in the spacious area with towel railings and a narrow but tall shelf filled with amenities to his left. To the right was a short passageway that held a washbasin attached to the wall and ended in a smoked glass door.
That had to lead to the john.
As for the shower, it was straight ahead. No separate door because the floor had been designed to ensure that water would flow away from this entrance area. Shoulders in knots, fingers stiff, and his teeth tightly clenched, he walked in another step. It gave him just enough maneuvering room to shut the main door behind himself.
Once inside the shower space, he didn't even pretend not to need the seat fitted within. Collapsing down onto it, he reached forward and managed to hook the cane to an empty towel rail, then sat back and tried to catch his breath. At this rate, the orderly would be checking on him before he'd even turned on the shower.
Bo frowned, realized it might be a good idea to wait.
Staying in place, he gently exercised his muscles group by group; the bugs seemed to work with him, as if programmed to follow a patient's lead after that patient became active. By the time the orderly knocked on the door, he had his breath back. "I haven't even got the water going yet, man. Give me twenty more minutes."
"You sure you don't need help?" The other man's voice had a grittiness to it that hovered on the right side of too much. "Name's KJ and I swear I've seen it all before. You can't compete against a colossal squid clanmate who refused to shift into human form for treatment. Tentacle hooks and meter-long arms everywhere."
Bo stared at the closed door even as his brain helpfully presented him with an image of an uncooperative giant cephalopod clinging to the towel rail. "I just came out of a coma, KJ. Stop trying to mess with my head."
"I wish I were joking," was the world-weary statement. "Asshole wrapped one of his tentacles around a bolted-in piece of furniture and used his free tentacle to push me away. I tell you, I've never before wanted to eat calamari, but that day, I was ready to become a goddamn calamari chef. Especially after the fucker started squirting ink at me--those assholes swim so deep their ink isn't black. I ended up glow-in-the-fucking-dark."
Laughter built inside Bowen's chest, a slow-rolling wave. "You have to finish the story now. Was he high?"
"Nah, just scared of needles."
And the laugh burst from him in a throb of aching muscles. "I don't have tentacles," he said after it passed, "but I'm pretty sure I can handle turning on the shower while seated." The controls had been deliberately placed for such access. "Kaia will also brain me if I slip and knock my head, so trust me, I'll be careful."
KJ's chuckle was as gritty as his voice. "All right. Just press the alarm if you need an assist back to the bed--I've got the receiver tucked into my ear."
Bo heard the sound of the door to the room shutting seconds later.
Confident now that KJ wouldn't burst in on him without warning, he took a few minutes to examine the metal bugs attached to his body--each about a quarter inch wide and twice as long, they were literally hooked into his skin. He was guessing they'd shot in fine tendrils that reached all the way down into his muscles.
Curious, he touched one of the bugs, pressed a little.
Nothing. No pain. No change in the pulse.
As for the sensor wires laid directly against his skull, Dr. Kahananui had left them in place but they were so fine he could only feel them if he rubbed his fingers directly against his scalp. The doctor had also confirmed they were waterproof, built to be put on a subject and left in place for the long term.
Satisfied he knew about all the tech currently on--and inside--his body, he activated the large square touchpad placed on the right wall. The system came online, asking him for his water temperature preference and suggesting a "comfortable" range.
Bo slid it up to this side of boiling, then pushed Go.
Blissful hot liquid poured over him, the thin needles stabbing deliciously into his scalp and skin. The last time he'd consciously felt the touch of water had been in that Venetian canal, cool dark closing over his head. He couldn't actually remember hitting the water, but he remembered Lily's frantic eyes and searching hands, remembered the starburst in his chest, remembered the water sliding into his mouth and into his lungs.
&nb
sp; Not about to be held hostage to an act of violence, he raised his face deliberately to the droplets raining from the showerhead. As they sluiced away the past, running over his face and down his shoulders to his chest, his mind flashed to that semisecond when Kaia had been within touching distance, the curves of her a siren song.
His body stirred.
Shoving his hands through his hair, he shook his head to dislodge the sensory impact of her. But no matter what he did, her scent continued to haunt him. Even after he used the shampoo and soap from the dispensers on the wall, a hint of cinnamon and the luscious bite of a tropical flower lingered on his tongue.
As did the black wave of her fiercely contained rage.
Bo shut off the water with a frown. He let himself drip dry for several minutes before he leaned forward and dragged a towel from the rail. Rubbing his hair with the towel, he considered everything Kaia had said and done. She was angry with him, incredibly angry, yet she'd helped Dr. Kahananui secure Bo for the experiment.
". . . I can't say no to family."
That explained her cooperation, but not her fury.
His instincts stretched awake. Bo had spent his adult life unearthing secrets and unraveling enigmas. It seemed fitting that he spend what might be his final two weeks as Bowen Knight attempting to solve the mystery that was Kaia.
His gut twisted.
And he made a decision--he wouldn't waste the time he had and he wouldn't focus on the ninety-five percent chance of failure. He'd live. Protect his people. Laugh with his sister and his friends. Cross swords with a cook with long dark hair and a scent that frustrated and haunted.
If Bowen Adrian Knight was to cease to exist, he'd go out on his own terms.
Chapter 8
Baby girl, while it's just us two, let me tell you a secret. One day, you'll start to like boys, or maybe other girls, as more than friends. When that happens, watch out for the crazy in your bloodline.
--Elenise Luna (29) to her newborn daughter, Kaia
KAIA, HER SKIN cold from the inside out, arrived back at Bowen Knight's room to find KJ just coming out of it. "Any problems?"
The short and compact male who looked deceptively normal in terms of strength, shook his head, the reddish blond strands of his hair glinting brightly under the simulated sunlight. "In bed and out for the count."
She quietly released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I'll take over from here." Attie needed a couple of specific scans that could be done with a handheld, but her back was killing her today.
Ordering her cousin to rest, Kaia had volunteered to return to the human who threatened to make her a traitor to herself. "I saved you a piece of pie."
KJ pumped a fist into the air. "You're the best!" After smacking a kiss on her cheek, the scent of the peppermint gum to which he was addicted a cool wash, he all but ran off down the corridor.
Kaia's responsive smile faded nearly as quickly as it had appeared. Even though she knew Bowen was asleep, those penetrating eyes no danger to her, she had to take a second before she could step inside his room. The first thing she noticed was the scent of soap, the second that her cousin's experimental subject was once again half-naked.
He'd obviously found the duffel bag she'd asked KJ to drop inside while Bowen was showering. It was Lily Knight--petite and with skin and eyes that made it clear she wasn't Bowen's sister by blood--who'd thrust that bag into the arms of one of the kidnapping team. "Clothes for Bo," she'd said, her cheeks hollow and the shadows beneath her eyes bruised purple. "So he'll have his favorite things when he wakes."
Kaia hadn't had the heart to let Malachai tell her they'd planned to bring Bowen and only Bowen back with them. She'd put the duffel on the stretcher and silently dared Mal to take it off. He'd just shaken his head very slightly and mouthed marshmallow heart at her while Lily was distracted saying good-bye to her brother.
Kaia would've decked the big smugface if she could. She did not have a marshmallow heart. It was pure cast iron with only tiny apertures for those who were her own. She didn't care about humans or what happened to them. But Lily . . . she'd been so sad. And Kaia had stood in the other woman's shoes once, helplessly watching two people she desperately loved slip away from her.
It had just been a momentary burst of sympathy, that's all. "Nothing whatsoever to do with marshmallows." Pushing the open duffel safely to the side against the wall, she made herself look at the human who'd caused her to burn a pie, she'd been so preoccupied.
He'd fallen asleep on his front, with a pair of dark gray sweatpants hanging off his hips and his black hair not so much damp as still wet. He'd also fallen asleep on instead of under the blanket she'd given KJ at the same time as the duffel. In order to get it out and make him more comfortable, she'd have to interrupt KJ's pie eating. It might even take two orderlies to move Atalina's subject.
Bowen Knight was a big man.
Strange, how he'd gained size after waking. As if the vital energy that burned in his blood had affected her perception. Then there were the tattoos that covered his back, the biggest a dragon in flight, one wing stretched out over his right shoulder, the other dipping lower on the left side of his back, while the creature's sinuous tail spiraled down the right side of his back.
Kaia could feel the movement, sense the dragon's powerful turn.
Color drenched every inch of the design, the mythical being flawlessly rendered in shades of orange, rust, and a deep bronze. It was a piece of living art and it was another thing that didn't fit: what kind of pitiless security chief thought about fantastical creatures like dragons? It was strange, too, how well his tattoo fit on Ryujin.
The station logo was a woodblock print of a dragon rearing to strike.
Kaia knew she shouldn't, but she gave in to the compulsion to press up against the side of the bed and examine the lines of the tattoo more closely--only to keep becoming distracted by the silken brown of his skin. Even the muscle trainers hooked all over his back didn't detract from the look of him.
Curls of sensation deep inside her, the creature that was her other half rubbing against her skin as it swam in inner waters.
Bowen Knight shifted.
Jumping back, Kaia stared at him. But he didn't wake, didn't catch her betraying Hugo and all the others. She pressed the heels of her palms to her heated cheeks in a futile effort to erase the burn before she went to the data panel and checked his stats.
He was in a deep natural sleep.
Deciding to forget about the blanket, she increased the room temperature instead. Then--teeth gritted against her disturbing response to him--she went and found a fresh towel, since the one he'd used was crumpled near where he'd abandoned his bag.
"It's like a disease that crosses racial boundaries and is confined to the male sex--use towel, drop it," she muttered to Hex as she began to dry the hair of the enemy.
Her pet white mouse popped his head out from the specially sewn top pocket of her apron, his tiny paws on the edge and his nose twitching with interest. When he clambered out of the pocket and down her arm to sit on Bowen's lower back, she scowled at him. "You know you're not supposed to do that." For some reason, big, strong men were often scared of Hex.
What did they think he'd do? Nibble them to death?
Unrepentant, Hex curled up against Bowen's lower spine and closed his eyes.
Ignoring her troublemaking pet for now, Kaia continued to dry the human security chief's hair with gentle motions. She knew it was soft, with a wave in it when dry. Wet, it licked the bottom of his neck, the strands appearing longer than they did when dry. The softness of that hair was a lie, of course.
Even in sleep, Bowen Knight had a tension to his face.
"Stratagems and double crosses," Kaia said softly, her eyes falling on the beaded wooden bracelet around her wrist that had been a gift from Hugo. "That's what he's dreaming about."
She went and hung up the towel in the bathroom a short while later, then picked up the dirty one and placed
it in the small laundry basket tucked at the bottom of the shelving unit that held extra towels, razors, toothbrushes, and the like.
Walking over to Atalina's dangerous living experiment afterward, she scooped Hex's relaxed form into her palm . . . and the back of her hand brushed the molten heat of Bowen's back. She nearly dropped Hex. No wonder her pet liked snuggling up against the security chief's back.
The man was burning hot.
She quickly put Hex in the pocket where he liked to spend his time when he wasn't making her clanmates shriek by appearing on their bookshelf or in their shoe without warning, then checked the data panel.
Bowen's temperature read as within a normal range for humans.
Yet the back of her hand continued to sizzle from the contact.
"Damn it, Kaia." Her particular direct family line had always been known for bad choices when it came to lovers. Look at her highly intelligent mother. Before mating with a brilliant musician with a sly sense of humor, she'd dated two bad-boy convicts who'd ended up back in the slammer, an unemployed drifter who'd drifted away with most of her ready cash, an older man who'd had fluid feelings about fidelity, and a professor who'd cheated on her with a graduate student.
All before Elenise had turned twenty-three.
The only reason Kaia knew about the bad boys was that she'd pretended to be asleep in back of the family caravan while her parents shared a bottle of wine and rehashed their dating histories, both of them giggling tipsily. She hadn't understood most of it at the time, had just liked listening to their happy voices while she lay tucked snugly into her bunk, but as an adult, she understood very well that she had a line of crazy in her bloodstream when it came to men.
"No." She rubbed the back of her hand against her dress with harsh movements as the memory faded into pain as it always did. Because her mother had never had a chance to teach her about boys or about watching out for the crazy. She'd been dead and buried in the deep long before Kaia had come of age.
Her murderers had all been human.
As human as the sleeping male who caused a tug deep inside Kaia that she refused to acknowledge. She knew exactly who Bowen Knight was to her and it had nothing to do with that disturbing sense of intimacy. It had to do with war.