Raen was in such a fury when he left the councilor’s office that he was at the door of his quarters before it even occurred to him that he had gone straight there. He stared at the door panel blankly for several moments and finally turned away. Intent upon going to the prison to learn the progress of the interrogations, he stopped again when he reached the intersection of the corridor as it occurred to him that it was unlikely much progress had been made in the few hours since he’d last checked.
Instead, he turned along the corridor that would take him to the city above. His anger sustained him until he left the ship proper and then seemed to desert him altogether once he was outside. For a time, he simply stood staring at the city, noting the progress that had been made toward reconstruction without really registering it. Finally, ignoring the weariness that had begun to weigh heavily upon him as soon as his anger had deserted him, he strode down the main thoroughfare until he reached his home.
He had not made a great deal of progress in restoring it. He’d had little free time since they’d awakened, and what little he had he had devoted almost entirely to his pursuit of Cassie.
Irritation flickered inside of him. After a few moments, he went inside and walked around, studying the building, trying to decide where to start—short of demolishing it and beginning fresh.
He didn’t want to do that, though, and it had nothing to do with either a shortage of funds to do so—although that was certainly a consideration—or the sense of urgency he felt to complete it for the woman that was not likely, now, ever to live in it with him.
He’d grown up in the house. The little joy he’d known in his childhood dwelt here. The need to preserve it was too strong to ignore—however maudlin or sentimental anyone else might consider it.
He’d lost both of his parents and his younger brother in the span of no more than five years. He hadn’t wanted to think about it then, and he didn’t want to think about it now.
But he’d needed his grandfather’s love and support in those years, and his grandfather had ignored him because of his mother.
How dare the old bastard try to intrude into his life now, he thought furiously!
He
didn’t
need
him now! And he gods bedamned sure didn’t need his gods bedamned advice! He could fuck up his life with the best of them!
Too restless and agitated to even consider assessing the damage and planning repairs, he strode from the house and stood in the backyard for a time, trying to coax some of the memories from his childhood that he found soothing to his spirit. Instead, he remembered the day he’d brought Cassie and they’d looked out over this same view.
Releasing an irritated breath, he moved to the edge of the channel and settled on the hard rim—now bare of earth and the soft, lush grasses that had once covered it. He and his brother, he remembered abruptly, had often sat here, staring into the distance at 156
the sailing ships of the hopeful, determined traders who occasionally managed to find their way to the ‘continent’ of Atlantis.
And the brigands who’d thought to plunder the continent of its wealth as they plundered everything else in their path—raping, killing, stealing, destroying what they couldn’t carry off.
His father had been High Sentinel then.
And his father had died protecting them from some of those same mindless brutes.
He’d been too young and terrified then to understand what was happening, but as he struggled to resurrect the memories, he realized he understood far better now. His father had allowed a trading ship—he believed—into port, a rare occurrence and a serious error in judgment—one spawned by his father’s desire to buy something pretty for his mother. It hadn’t been a trading ship, however, but only disguised as one.
His father had died protecting them, alright, but he’d died because of his arrogance, because of poor judgment, for trusting when he had no reason at all to trust the vicious brutes that sailed the seas in those days.
He shook the thought off with determination. It did no good at all to dwell on the past. It was not going to bring him any peace, and he needed that before he returned to his quarters to face Cassie.
He was reluctant to go at all.
His grandfather was right. He
was
like his father. He’d felt so gods bedamned superior to the natives it hadn’t occurred to him for one moment that he couldn’t play with fire and not get burnt. There had been no ignoring the physical attraction he’d felt toward Cassie right from the start, but he’d thought he could explore that interest and still remain aloof.
Because she was human, after all.
They couldn’t be trusted. He knew better than most that they couldn’t. He knew what they were capable of. He’d seen it. He’d never been able to get the images out of his mind, despite the physician’s efforts to remove them. Much of it had been blocked, enough to keep him sane, but not all.
He got up when the false dusk of the Andromeda’s shadow became true night and the urge to simply lay back and sleep where he was became so strong he knew he would if he didn’t get up. The long walk back seemed almost too much of an effort when it had never bothered him before. He hadn’t slept the night before, however, nor eaten in hours—he had no idea how many. He could barely remember what he’d eaten.
She was already curled up in bed when he entered his quarters at last. A covered tray waited on the table. He lifted the lid, examined the cold food with little interest, and finally set it aside and ate anyway.
He became aware as he ate that Cassie was not sleeping but merely lying with her eyes closed.
To avoid him, he wondered?
Very likely, he thought, considering how unpleasant he had been earlier.
Not that she hadn’t deserved it!
Rising when he’d finished, he dragged his robe off, dimmed the illumination in the room, and went in to bathe. The hot water soothed some of the tension from his muscles and made him even more weary.
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The moment he hit the bed, however, every sense came alive. His mind roused to full alertness and refused to shut down no matter how determinedly he held his eyes closed.
He rolled onto his side after a while and lay staring at Cassie’s back, watching the faint movements of her breaths, wondering if she’d fallen asleep while he’d bathed.
She was too tense, he decided after a moment, to be sleeping.
The rigidity of her posture was a clear warning to keep his distance even if not for the fact that she was perched on the very edge of the bed, in danger of falling off with the slightest untoward movement.
He rolled onto his back again and dropped an arm across his eyes, wondering abruptly who was punishing who. It was gods bedamned obvious that he wasn’t going to get one wink of sleep with her in his bed.
The delicate scent of her skin drifted over him, teasing him, and he found himself breathing deeply just to drag the elusive, tantalizing scent into his lungs. Releasing a huff of irritation when he realized what he was doing, he rolled away from her and presented his back, resolutely closing his mind and his eyes and determinedly reaching for the sleep he needed. If his cock would cooperate and go to sleep, he thought with disgust, then he might just manage it.
He was sprawled across her when he woke up. His body recognized the form beneath him a full minute before his brain did and reacted instantaneously. Fortunately for his dignity and her peace of mind, it was only the upper half of his body draped over her.
Tensing, he pushed himself up and looked down at her through sleep blurred eyes.
Either she’d rolled into him in her sleep and he’d rolled over her, or he’d dragged her underneath himself and curled around her as if she was a pillow. He wasn’t certain which, but he was certain he would’ve roused immediately if she’d tried to fight him off.
That realization stirred another wave of desire, but he resolutely ignored it and rolled out of the bed.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Natara had appeared with the morning meal. Cassie had rolled onto her belly and dragged the pillow over her head.
He planted his hands on his hips and studied her for a moment. “Councilor det Ophelia has requested that you meet with him this morning,” he said, keeping his voice neutral with an effort.
She tensed and finally dragged the pillow off of her head and pushed herself up to look at him through heavy lidded eyes still dull with fatigue. “It’s morning?” she asked vaguely.
“Bathe,” he said gruffly. “It will help wake you.”
She looked around a little blankly. Finally, she nodded and stumbled out of the bed and into the bathroom. A faint smile curled his lips as he watched her. He banished it as he glanced away and discovered Natara was watching him. “You brought her a fresh robe?”
Natara bowed her head respectfully and lifted a hand to indicate the robe she’d lain across his chair. Moving to the bed, she straightened the linens as Raen went to his locker and removed a fresh robe for himself.
“The outlanders will be going soon?” Natara asked quietly. “I will be glad to see the last of them.”
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Raen, who’d just straightened from donning his robe, jerked a look in her direction and then glanced toward the door of the bathroom. He frowned at the uncomfortable clenching in his chest at her comments. “You dislike them?” he asked neutrally.
Natara’s lips tightened, but she shrugged. “They are always trouble.”
“They are guests,” Raen retorted pointedly.
Natara glanced at him, lifting her brows. “They are not prisoners? They have never behaved as guests should. They have no respect for our customs.”
“They have no understanding of our customs.”
“They would not respect them if they did. They are still little more than arrogant, violent, unkempt savages. They are just more clever now and use that cleverness to create chaos and disaster where ever they go!”
Raen’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Are they responsible for your poor manners and disrespectful attitude?”
Natara reddened and bowed her head. “I beg pardon, my lord,” she said stiffly.
He studied her bowed head assessingly. “Lady Cassia mistreats you?”
“She is always surly and demanding,” Natara said after a moment.
“And the others?”
She shrugged but didn’t look up at him. “I have heard the other servers complain.”
“Then they are also liars,” Raen said tightly. “They have been monitored since they arrived. To my certain knowledge not one of them has ever mistreated any of you.
Get out. I will not need you to serve my lady again.”
Natara sent him a startled look but reddened angrily in the next moment. “
Lady
?”
She sniffed in outrage. “I do not know why you would take their part when they have caused nothing but trouble since they have been here! You are just like the other males—sniffing after those—genetically defective
primitives
! They will not choose any of you!
Primitive as they are, they will
still
choose their own males above any of you because they will not want to cross breed. And
we
will not choose any of you afterward for having no better discrimination that to lie with dogs!”
“
Get out!”
Raen roared with barely suppressed fury.
Natara’s eyes widened, but she flounced to the door and departed.
Raen glared at the door for some moments after she’d disappeared, struggling to regain control of his temper. Finally, remembering Cassie and wondering how much she’d heard—realizing abruptly that he had no idea whether they’d been arguing in their own tongue or hers—he glanced toward the bathroom.
She was standing in the doorway studying him, but he couldn’t tell by her expression whether she’d understood what had passed between him and Natara or not.
She’d certainly had no trouble grasping the anger in their voices. Her face was pale and her eyes wide.
“Well!
Now
I’m awake,” she finally said dryly.
Raen felt a flush of embarrassment mount his cheeks. He wasn’t certain but what there was a germ of truth in at least some of Natara’s complaints. He had never had nearly as much trouble controlling his temper in his life as he had of late. Either their tenuous hold on their emotions was infectious, or the strain of the situation was beginning to tell on everyone involved.
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Shrugging off the urge to blame the natives—as Natara obviously did—for his own failings, he acknowledged that the lack of sleep was the most likely culprit. There’d been little enough time to seek his rest since this had begun, and his fixation on Cassie had disrupted his peace until he could scarcely rest when he had the opportunity. “She was … distressed,” he finally responded lamely.
Cassie lifted a brow at him, but since she could see he had his temper well in hand, she moved to the table. “She’s jealous,” she contradicted.
Raen looked at her in surprise but settled across from her. “Jealous?”
Cassie gave him a look. “Don’t tell me that isn’t an emotion that plagues Atlanteans. I won’t believe you.”