Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06] Page 2

  Boy, she wished he'd hugged her instead.

  She'd said hello after all. She'd said it in Kalquorian, but she'd done it. And he was so pleased with her. She smiled at his undisguised delight.

  Finally Conyod was able to speak. “Excellent, Ray-Ray!” He nodded at her handheld. “I saw on the reports you were studying my language, but I never thought to have you speak it instead of your own. Well done!”

  Rachel ducked her head, a little embarrassed to be praised so highly for uttering one word.

  But she knew it was a huge breakthrough. She kept her eyes on Conyod, enjoying the sight of him smiling so broadly.

  He picked up his handheld and tapped its surface in short, quick bursts. “It’s safe to speak Kalquorian because so few Earthers understand, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. As always, he’d seen right to the root of the issue. The man’s intuition made him a very good psychologist, at least in her opinion.

  Conyod chuckled and put his handheld down again. His steady gaze enveloped her in warmth. “Wonderful! I’m so proud of you. Now … I believe I owe you a reward? What is it you want?”

  Rachel deserved a reward all right. And suddenly she decided she would claim it rather than ask for it. It was the only way to ensure she’d get what she wanted.

  In one smooth motion, as if she’d not left Earth with nearly a dozen badly healed broken bones, Rachel shifted from a cross-legged sitting position up onto her knees. She grabbed her startled therapist’s face between both hands, leaned forward, and closed her lips over his.

  His lips were as soft as she’d imagined. In his shock, Conyod’s mouth opened to gasp, and Rachel brazenly took advantage of the opportunity. She flicked her tongue inside his mouth, tasting him.

  She’d forgotten how raspy the Kalquorians’ tongues were, how like raw silk the texture of that flesh was. He tasted of sweet spice, and she uttered a weak groan.

  Conyod’s arms, as strong as she’d dreamed, wrapped around her, pulling her up against his broad chest. She felt the strength of his muscled body and rubbed against him as desire, denied over almost a year while being his patient, overtook her.

  Conyod growled a little, and his tongue invaded her mouth in a passionate kiss. Rachel’s insides melted to pool into her panties; hot, wet need. She climbed onto Conyod to rub her sex against his with wanton desperation.

  He suddenly gasped and pulled his face from hers while simultaneously pushing her away.

  She whimpered and strained against his hands. Her heart thudded painfully.

  Conyod slowly shook his head. “Rachel, this isn’t appropriate. I’m your doctor.”

  Rachel detected a scent she’d smelled before and glanced down at his groin. The crotch of his pants was tight around an obvious erection. Her gaze met his again, and she arched an eyebrow at him.

  He reddened. “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it. But it’s wrong for me to act on this. I cannot take advantage of my patient.”

  Rachel blew out a frustrated breath. She could see his point and appreciate the awkward position she was putting him in. Still, he looked so damned good and felt twice as wonderful.

  She leaned back, putting the distance he needed between them. Smiling ruefully, she settled back on her seating cushion and picked up her handheld to type.

  Let’s see what you think of this, my gorgeous, ethical doctor, she thought as she wrote what she wanted to say:

  You and Dr. Govi said my fear of speech was the only thing keeping me here. That once I spoke, I could be released. Would you like me to fire you as my psychologist right now so we can explore this?

  Not that she meant a word of it. No doubt a man like Conyod already had a woman. Maybe his clan even had a Matara, a lifelong female mate. She’d never asked because she didn’t want to know he was unattainable. But now that she’d spoken, the clock was ticking on the time she had left as his patient. It was better to know now rather than later just how unavailable he was.

  Even if he is without a mate, he’d never want me. Not broken, scarred, and ugly Rachel Hicks. He could definitely do better.

  She was willing to settle for one glorious round of lovemaking. With the memory of being in Conyod’s arms to sustain her, she’d at least have that to treasure for the rest of her life.

  She handed him her handheld, noting how it trembled the least little bit in his grip. He read it and gave her his patented Rachel-you’re-being-naughty-and-you’re-not-getting-away-with-it frown. He could be so paternal sometimes.

  “You know there’s more to being cured than getting you to say one word,” he chastised.

  She took the handheld back from him. Rachel decided it was time to go for broke and to give Conyod his chance to put an end to her dreams and her desires. To deny her the love she ached for him to return. Once he did that, she could start to plan for a productive, Conyod-less life, as empty as it would be.

  She typed, I’m a grown woman who knows my own mind. I’ve had men, one of whom was Kalquorian. I want you. If you feel nothing for me beyond your professional compassion, tell me now.

  Conyod read the message, and his eyebrows shot up. Rachel was just surprising him all over the place today. If she wasn’t so certain this session would end with her heart broken, she’d enjoy it.

  Instead of telling her it could never be between them, Conyod said, “I wasn’t aware you’d been intimate with one of us. Were you coerced? We’re not allowed—”

  Oh for heaven’s sake. Rachel leaned forward and put her hand to his mouth to shut him up.

  His breath was warm on her palm, and the thought of how his mouth had felt on hers made her insides clench. He watched her face and waited. She took her handheld back from him and sat back down. Typed another message.

  I was very much the seducer, my rescuer’s first woman. You asked what I wanted in exchange for a word. I will tell you exactly.

  She watched him read it, and when he looked up at her questioningly, she opened her mouth.

  It’s not English. The words are Kalquorian. Say them.

  “Imdiko Conyod.” A strengthless croak that came from her straining throat.

  He heard it nonetheless, and his large, beautiful eyes shut with feeling. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was disgusted with her answer or enthralled because he’d cured her inability to speak.

  Handheld again, because she only knew a few words of his language. If you don’t want me too, say so. It will hurt, but I can take it. I’ve lived through worse.

  He read it. Then Conyod lifted his gaze to hers. She braced herself.

  “I do want you.”

  The entire world stopped in that instant. I didn’t hear that right. My wishful thinking made me hear something I wanted to. There is no way this man could care for me beyond doing his job.

  But he was nodding slowly, his shoulders lifting as if a huge weight had been released. “I have almost from the moment you got here. From the second I laid eyes on your beautiful face and saw the strength behind the agony in your eyes — and now, hearing my name come from your lips—”

  Conyod stopped, as if overcome. His hands covered his face, but not before Rachel saw the mix of despair, hope, and longing on his expression.

  He sat that way for a few seconds, and she let him. She had no clue what to say or what to do. She simply waited for him. All the while, her thoughts yammered , He wants me! He wants me!

  But something was wrong with the situation, something beyond the sacred doctor-patient issue. When Conyod emerged from behind his hands, his words bore that out.

  He looked at Rachel and gave her the saddest, most heartrending smile she’d ever seen.

  “You are the only good thing I’ve known for a long time. But Ray-Ray, things are complicated right now with my clan. This … I need to think about this.”

  He’d said clan, but not a word about a Matara. Rachel couldn’t help but allow a flicker of hope.

  It was obvious Conyod wasn’t going to let himself be overcome by desi
re at this time, but Rachel could live with that. She would settle for a token of affection.

  I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but I have very intense feelings for you. I know it’s not proper, but I really, really need you hold me.

  As soon as he’d finished reading that, she added, “Krewet? ” Please?

  Conyod looked at her, his expression that of a man who felt as lost and frightened as a child alone in the woods. He took a deep breath and held his arms out to her.

  Rachel went to him, sitting in the cradle of his crossed legs. His arms curled around her, surrounding her in warmth and protection. Rachel burrowed her face against his chest and sighed. His cheek pressed against the short cap of curls on top of her head and rubbed back and forth against the softness.

  Rachel sighed again. She almost felt safe. She thought she could shelter in Conyod’s arms forever.

  * * * *

  Dramok Erybet fumed, though he kept his expression still as he walked down the well-lit hallway of the hospital’s Matara psychiatric wing. Damn Conyod. Of all the times for his Imdiko to work late, he had to pick this evening. Which led to another thought: was Conyod being difficult on purpose? Just to get back at Erybet for his silence, a silence he was under orders to keep?

  The clan’s Nobek strode silently at Erybet’s side, his soft-soled feet making no sound even as Erybet stomped echoingly, the one betrayal of his anger. Sletran’s face was as stoic as the Dramok kept his. But Sletran rarely looked any other way these days. Even when the strong-featured Nobek had been caught hacking his hair off with a knife, driving Conyod into near hysterics, the look on his face had been pure indifference. Erybet had no doubt that the Nobek’s impromptu haircut was a sign of a growing storm of self-destructiveness. But the chilling lack of discernible emotion from his clanmate kept anyone from knowing when Sletran would perform an act of self-inflicted harm or when he’d pull one of his many disappearances.

  In contrast to Erybet’s finer, almost pretty features, Sletran’s face was made of broad planes, strongly cut bone, somehow balanced with shockingly sensual lips. The Nobek was handsome in an almost brutal way. And his hair was growing out again, now nearly chin-length. However strained his emotional state may be, Sletran was a striking man, one that made the Mataras stop and stare. Well-muscled without being ponderous, he would no doubt impress the Earther woman they were meeting tonight.

  If he would come out of his funk long enough to try. And if Conyod didn’t fuck everything up by making them late for their date.

  It was their third attempt to attract a female mate. A third hope for Erybet that having a woman to devote themselves to, to protect, to care for, would at last fix his broken clan.

  He could understand Sletran’s difficulty in reaching out. The man was still in shock from the war. No, not the war; that was not where his clanmate’s difficulties had sprung. True, the fighting had been terrible while they were in the thick of it. But it was what came after, when Earth had fallen and all that was left to do was clean up the aftermath. That was when hell had truly begun.

  Conyod, however, was simply being stubborn. He refused to see that with his clanmates bound to secrecy by their superiors, the answer was a new start. A fresh start a Matara could bring. Yet he kept dragging his feet when it came to attracting one, even though their chances were beginning to fade.

  It was pure chance for any clan to come up on the lottery, the system that allowed them the opportunity to add a childbearer to their group. Kalquorian women were rare; fertile ones of childbearing age almost nonexistent. Few Earther women from the nearly annihilated race were willing to choose Kalquorians over their own kind. It took a lot of luck to get to impress one.

  And the lottery only allowed a clan five chances to do so before the opportunity passed them by.

  If his Imdiko would just cooperate!

  The sound of sobbing distracted Erybet from his angry thoughts. An orderly escorting a young, crying woman came down the hall, heading in their direction. The medic had an arm around the Matara’s thin, shaking shoulders and he whispered gently to her as they walked. Her gaze was locked on Erybet and Sletran, and she began to resist coming closer to them.

  Erybet realized he had clenched his fists at his sides, showing his upset over his ruminations.

  He quickly released the tension in his body and slowed his progress, approaching the pair carefully. He gave his gentlest smile to the poor little blonde, whose black-hollowed eyes gave her frightened face the visage of a skull.

  He didn’t often visit Conyod at his work. Seeing the damaged Mataras from Earth, the ones who’d endured so much trauma that they couldn’t join the lottery or be sent to the scattered Earther colonies, was hard. Looking into haunted eyes of such fragile creatures made him hurt.

  Better than seeing them ripped apart physically, his mind whispered . Like the ones at New Bethlehem after you gave the order…

  Erybet’s mind skittered from the memory. He would not think about that. Would not.

  Now the young woman was trying to hide behind the orderly. He continued to whisper gently to her, but she wanted to be nowhere near the unfamiliar Kalquorians. The orderly smiled apologetically at Erybet and Sletran, shrugging a little. “It’s all right, Matara. No one wants to hurt you.”

  Erybet glanced at Sletran. His Nobek had emerged from his emotionless state to look stricken. Erybet hoped it was only because seeing a crying woman was so awful, and not because Sletran was remembering New Bethlehem too.

  Not daring to look at his clanmate for too long lest Sletran take the attention the wrong way, Erybet stepped close, but not too close, to the orderly and his patient. Sletran stayed by his side.

  They bowed deeply to the frightened Matara.

  Taking his cue from the orderly’s whispering, Erybet very quietly said, “Good evening, Matara. Please accept my apologies if our appearance frightens you. I hope you have a pleasant night.”

  For a wonder, Sletran also spoke. His voice was soothing in its deep tones. “I too apologize for having upset you, Matara. We will be on our way and distress you no more.”

  She abruptly stopped crying, her eyes wide and wondering as she looked at them. The orderly chuckled. “See? There’s no one to be afraid of here.”

  He nodded to Erybet and Sletran, ushering the woman past them. She cast nervous but much calmer looks at them over her shoulder as she went.

  Erybet and Sletran continued on their way. The Dramok had wanted to ask if the orderly had seen Conyod, but the woman’s obvious fear had kept him from doing so. Fortunately, he saw another orderly escorting a hover cart down the hall, stopping at each patient’s room to access the closed doors and drop off a meal.

  They drew abreast of the broadshouldered Imdiko. Erybet kept his voice low, not sure how well sound carried from the hall to the patients’ rooms. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for Dr.

  Conyod. He’s not in his office and I need to see him right away.”

  The orderly jerked his head back in the direction from which they’d come. “He’s probably in Matara Rachel’s room. He usually checks in with her one last time before leaving for the night. Room 786, right over there.”

  Erybet nodded. “Thank you. Come on, Sletran. Let’s round up our Imdiko and see if we can salvage this night.”

  As they headed back, Erybet went back to seething at his unthinking clanmate. For making us late to have dinner with a potential Matara, this Matara Rachel had better be in a bad way.

  Immediate horror followed the thought. He did not want any female to be suffering. The Earther women had endured enough from all that had happened to them. Most of them had been on Earth when the nuclear blasts had happened, making the planet uninhabitable. Before that, they’d been second class citizens among their own kind, kept subservient because of a religion that saw them as inherently sinful.

  And women on the colonies hadn’t fared much better, had they? Erybet’s stomach curled in on itself as he remembered body parts scattered
around a blackened blast site.

  He had returned to Kalquor, but Erybet knew he would never truly escape New Bethlehem.

  Yet another headache pulsed behind Erybet’s eyes as he and Sletran neared the room where Conyod might be hiding, once more avoiding them as long as he possibly could.

  * * * *

  Rachel had managed to move Conyod from cuddling to kissing. Knowing he had feelings for her, she was eager to press her advantage.

  Now that she had him going, there was nothing tentative about her doctor’s embrace. He held her close, his mouth firm, even demanding, as he tasted her. His tongue stroked hers, and she moaned in his mouth. The delicious way he kissed her had her senses rioting. Maybe she was wrong for insisting he break the rules, but damn it, she needed this. She grew needier by the second.

  Rachel moved against Conyod, passion insistent. He made a sound deep in his throat, something very much like a growl. Despite their intelligence, she knew the Kalquorians possessed a primal core, and that suited her fine. The threat of feral reaction excited her.

  As Rachel readied to make her next move, a knock sounded at the door. Conyod tore his mouth from hers with a gasp. He looked at her and laughed shakily.

  “Your dinner has arrived, I suppose.”

  Conyod stood, holding her in his arms. He set her on her feet. Rachel fought not to pout like a three-year old. But damn it, she’d been enjoying him so much!

  Conyod went to the door, his face still flushed. “Enter,” he commanded, and it slid open.

  His jaw dropped in shock as he looked into the hall. “My Dramok, my Nobek. What are you doing here?”

  A low, angry voice answered him. “I could ask the same of you. We have an appointment in five minutes, an important one. Why have you not come home?”

  Conyod shot a glance at Rachel and swallowed. She stared. He looked absolutely miserable now. “I – I guess I fell behind on my rounds. My father Vel stopped by for a visit today, so I’m playing catch-up.”