Season Of Strangers Part 17

His mind replayed the incredible experience he had shared with Julie, more intense than he could have imagined. Their bonding had been so powerful, so consuming, there were times he wasn't sure he would survive it. It was Julie's encouragement that had overcome his fears and enabled him to continue. In the end, with Patrick's memories to guide him, they had both attained unimaginable pleasure, a feeling so new, so acute Val had thought he might actually come apart.

He smiled as he remembered, his body beginning a now familiar pulsing, a steady throbbing heat that stirred his arousal and made him go rock-hard.

He wanted her again. His memory said it wasn't surprising. Patrick's virility, combined with the newness of the experience and Val's own heretofore unexplored s.e.xuality, set up a hunger that left him burning with desire for her. He would get up for a while, then wake her when he returned, take her again as soon as he came back to the bedroom.

His strides grew longer on the way to his study. He closed the door, picked up his apartment keys from the top of his black teakwood desk, silenced their soft jangling, bent and unlocked the bottom drawer he always kept carefully closed. Inside were some of Patrick's personal files. Beneath them, Val kept his journal, as well as the small communications device he usually carried with him. Tonight, with Julie in the apartment, he had locked it away in here.

He picked up the device, flipped it open and saw, to his surprise, the small red light was on. Glancing toward the door to be sure he had closed it tightly, he responded to the call and discovered he was being summoned immediately to the Ansor for a meeting with his superiors.

He keyed in his response. Must wait at least another six Earth hours. Time enough to get Julie up and dressed and returned to her home. For some odd reason, he found the notion of her departure disturbing.

A new row of symbols appeared. Request your arrival now, Commander.

He thought of Julie, his mission, and what he had learned of his subject that night. Not possible, he put in. Request six-hour delay.

The screen remained blank a few seconds longer than before. Six hours confirmed. The Ansor signed off and the powerful device went dark.

Val turned off the instrument and locked it in the drawer. The transfer to his s.h.i.+p would be made from his apartment at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, though his human form would remain behind in a state of suspended sleep. With luck, he would be back in time for lunch. He smiled to think what Julie might have to say about the speed of his upcoming journey.

Brian Heraldson listened to the empty ringing at the opposite end of his cell phone, finally gave up and ended the call. d.a.m.n, he knew she was there. He would give her another hour to cool off, then dial her number again. If she didn't answer the next time, he would drive over there and make her let him in.

He grumbled something at that. Not exactly a gentle bedside manner. More like an aggressive alpha male determined to resolve a conflict with his woman, a thought that sat no better that the first. d.a.m.n, Laura Ferris was getting under his skin and he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like the hot rush of desire he felt whenever he looked at her, and he didn't like the fact that he was worried about her.

He didn't like the argument they'd had any better. A discussion that had started over lunch the day after he had driven her home from Long Beach, an argument about her attendance at Winters's alien abduction group that had turned into a shouting match and wound up with Laura slamming her apartment door in his face.

For G.o.d's sake, he was supposed to be a trained psychiatrist. Instead he had reacted like a worried spouse. Well, he wasn't her husband, but the worried part was correct. And on a far too personal level. Thank G.o.d, he'd been smart enough to end his professional a.s.sociation with her.

He thought about the fight they'd had, escalating the moment they left the intimate Venice Beach restaurant and continuing all the way to her apartment. "It has to be something else," he'd said. "There are no such things as aliens."

"You're the one who suggested I see Dr. Winters."

"I know, but that was before I heard those supposed abductees talking."

"Those people are telling the truth."

"The truth as they see it. But the fact is, there are at least a dozen explanations-we'll find the one that fits and work this thing out."

"All your so-called explanations add up to the fact that I'm crazy."

"I never said that."

"Delusional. Hallucinatory. Paranoid-maybe even schizophrenic-that's your answer to this. G.o.d, I couldn't even say that word until this happened."

"You're having emotional problems. That doesn't mean you're crazy."

"I'm not having emotional problems. I was abducted, just like Robert Stringer and the rest of the people in that group."

"Matthew Goldman is schizophrenic."

"All right, all right, not him. But the others have all been victims. Whether you believe it or not, it happened. And you know what else?"

"What?"

She stood in front of him in the living room, her hands set with determination on her hips. "I think my sister was there, too. In the back of my mind, I remember seeing her there. How do you like that?"

He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. "My friend Aaron Newburg is a competent psychiatrist. More than competent, and he'll keep an open mind. Promise me you'll see him."

"Go home, Brian."

"Promise me," he said, backing toward the front door Laura had opened.

"I'm not promising anything. I'm going back to Dr. Winters's group. I'm going to hear what the others have to say. That is the only promise I'm making." She backed him out on the porch. "Goodbye, Brian."

"d.a.m.n it, wait-" But the door slammed solidly in his face and that was the last conversation they'd had.

Now, sitting at the desk in his office, Brian picked up his coffee cup, found it cold and full of thick black dregs, and set it back down on his desk. Laura Ferris had him spinning in circles. He didn't like it, but he couldn't seem to stop.

Now she was dragging her sister into this whole unbelievable mess. He vowed not to mention it to Julie and hoped Laura would have sense enough to forget it.

Hovering twenty-five miles above the surface of the Earth, the Ansor's green-and-red sensor lights flashed in the rim of its silver sh.e.l.l. It was disk-shaped with the exception of a rounded surface that rose at the top, rather like a bowl turned upside down. It was difficult to see in the daytime, and often mistaken for a satellite or pa.s.sing aircraft at night. Inside the s.h.i.+p, three hundred crewmen attended their myriad duties, keeping the s.h.i.+p operational and on course.

In the science wing, Commander Val Zarkazian stood at the end of a long rectangular table, its clear, hard surface allowing him to see through to the spongy dark blue floor. Around him all ten members of the s.h.i.+p's High Council had come together to hear his progress report and discuss the observations he had made during his time thus far on Earth.

Val glanced down at the journal resting in front of him on the table. Reviewing the thoughts he had transcribed each day, he finished a brief summary of what had transpired to date, excluding the mating ritual, which he wasn't yet prepared to discuss, then sat down to an extensive round of questions. By the time his superiors had finished, he was beginning to tire, and becoming more and more uneasy about the direction the meeting was taking.

One of the ministers spoke up from the far end of the table, his voice vibrating with disapproval. "We appreciate your thoroughness, Commander. You've presented an interesting array of observations, but a study of your surroundings was only your secondary a.s.signment. Your primary task was to study the female subject Julie Elizabeth Ferris. What you have told us so far-what all of this rhetoric comes down to, is that you have gained little more insight into the human in question than you knew before."

"On the contrary," Val argued. "I believe I've made great strides in understanding the subject, as well as others of her species. These people, though extremely primitive by our standards, are far more complex than we at first imagined. As I mentioned in my report, they are creatures of intense emotion-a subject Torillians understand only in the abstract. More and more, I'm coming to believe it is these emotions, in one form or another, they use to resist the probe."

"Emotion..." Calas Panidyne, his immediate superior and head of the council, ran the word distastefully over his lips. "Feelings are not unknown to us, Commander. Torillians experience pleasure and displeasure, happiness and unhappiness. I can't see how human emotions-"

"It is the degree of emotion they experience, sir, that makes them so different. Where our spectrum of feelings might be likened to gently rising hills and shallow valleys, theirs would be more closely equated to towering peaks and nearly bottomless pits. They feel things with such intensity it colors every thought, every reaction, every response they make."

"Even if emotion is the key," said one of the female members of the council, "that still doesn't tell us what sort of emotion accounts for the resistance presented by the Ferris female and others like her."

"I suggest we bring the subject in for more testing," the minister said to the group. "Every hour Commander Zarkazian remains on the surface heightens his element of risk. Unification is still in the experimental stages. We don't know what side effects might occur once the commander is permanently back aboard. Testing the woman-"

"No!" The negative cracked across the table like a meteor hurling through s.p.a.ce. Even Val was stunned by the force with which he had spoken. He was angry, he realized, knowing now what had caused the unexpected outburst. Anger had no place on the Ansor. It was an emotion that did not exist on Toril, hadn't for ten thousand years. He couldn't be angry, he told himself. Only Patrick Donovan could do that and Patrick wasn't there.

Val forced himself under control and prayed his a.s.sociates would not suspect what had just occurred.

"What I meant to say is that finding answers is never easy. It is bound to take some time. Every day I encounter vast amounts of useful information. In a few more Earth months-"

"Weeks, Commander." Panidyne studied him with fathomless dark eyes. "This study was never designed to be a long-term project. We were hoping a brief interlude might help us resolve a problem that has arisen a number of times and a.s.sist in ending any further loss of life. However, if your observations cannot give us what we need, we shall be forced to resume our tests."

Val's mouth felt dry. The thought of Julie being returned to the Ansor, of her continued resistance and the near certainty of her death, was enough to make him sick.

"Perhaps you're right," he conceded, not meaning a word of it. "However, in the time remaining, I am convinced I'll be able to find the answers we need. a.s.suming that is the case, there'll be no need to subject the woman to further examination."

Panidyne smiled blandly. "That would certainly be the preferable solution."

Val forced himself to return the emotionless smile. "Then you may count on it, sir. Which means the sooner I'm back at my task, the better the odds for success. If the council has no more questions, perhaps I might be excused to return to my work."

"Does anyone have anything else to add before we end our session?" Panidyne asked.

At the negative mumble from the group, Panidyne turned in his direction and excused Val from the meeting. Fifteen minutes later, he was gone from the Ansor and back in his penthouse apartment. He was exhausted, more so than he would have expected, and yet adrenaline pumped through his veins.

Since he was once again linked with Patrick, he told himself it was all right that he was still angry.

And that he was afraid.

Babs pounded with vigor on Julie's office door, turned the k.n.o.b without waiting for her pet.i.te friend to answer and walked in. As usual Julie was on the phone with a client, the receiver clamped between her ear and shoulder. Her cell phone was ringing in her purse.

Babs was undeterred. She was used to Julie's back-breaking schedule. Taking a seat on the sofa, Babs crossed her legs, pulled a fingernail file from her newly purchased Dolce & Gabbana bag, and began a feverish attack on a rough-edged red polished nail.

Julie finished her second call, then with a glance at Babs, punched the intercom b.u.t.ton and instructed s.h.i.+rl to hold anything new coming in. She turned off her cell phone, as well.

"All right, I know that look, Babs. What's going on?"

The look Julie referred to was one of exasperation tinged with an edge of alarm. "I came here to ask that same question of you, my impossible friend, but I'm afraid I already know the answer, which is the real reason I'm here."

"What are you talking about?"

"In a word-or I should say two words-Patrick Donovan."

A flush crept up Julie's throat. "What about him?"

"You're sleeping with him, aren't you?"

The flush increased, fanned up into her cheeks and down into her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I'm not sleeping with him. I slept with him. Once. You're always telling me a little casual s.e.x would be good for me. You ought to be happy I took your advice."

"Casual s.e.x with Patrick Donovan? Come on, Julie, who are you kidding? It might have been casual for Patrick, but it certainly wasn't for you."

Julie straightened in her chair. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know very well what it means. You've always been physically attracted to Patrick, maybe even a little in love with the man you believed he could be. Until lately you've been smart enough to realize that Patrick isn't going to change, that loving a guy like that can only lead to heartache. What I can't figure out is why you've suddenly weakened. Just because the man had a heart attack-"

"That isn't the reason." Julie rolled back her chair and stood up. Rounding the desk, she walked over and sat down on the sofa. "Patrick has changed, Babs. Surely you've noticed the difference. In a lot of ways, he's the same man he was, but in other, more important ways, he's different. Patrick says I mean something to him, that he wants more from me than just s.e.x. I have to find out if it's true."

Babs hardened her heart against the wistful, hopeful expression on her best friend's face. "He was out with Felicia Salazar the other night-did he happened to mention that? I suppose he wants more than just s.e.x from Felicia, too."

Before Julie could reply, a sharp knock sounded, and Patrick walked in. Ignoring the women on the couch, he headed straight for Julie's desk, laid a stack of files on top, then turned to Babs.

"Felicia was a mistake," he told her bluntly.

"How did you-"

"I didn't sleep with her and I don't intend to, not her or anyone else."

"You were listening," Julie accused but there was no bite to the words.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I heard you through the door." Patrick smiled at Julie. "How about dinner? I'm taking up cooking as a hobby. I'll fix something special if you'll come over after work."

Julie's smile turned radiant. "I won't be done until eight. If you can wait until then I'd love to come."

"Eight is perfect." He looked at Babs, his expression surprisingly earnest. "I know we've have had our differences. I know you're worried about Julie, but you don't have to be. I'm not going to hurt her. As long as we're together, Julie's the only woman I have the slightest interest in."

Babs said nothing, just sat there in shock. Perhaps Patrick had changed-a little. It was the "as long as" part that bothered her. Babs wondered if Patrick actually believed that when he stopped seeing Julie, she wasn't going to be hurt.

After a supper of simply cooked vegetarian dishes and a magnificent several hours of lovemaking, Julie awoke in Patrick's bed. Turning toward where Patrick should have been, she discovered the place beside her was empty. The bedroom door was closed but a sliver of light leaked in at the bottom. Padding naked to the closet, Julie grabbed one of Patrick's half-dozen expensive designer robes, this one a thick blue terry, and pulled it on, made a pit stop in the bathroom, then followed the light to its source, Patrick's office down the hall.

"Patrick?" She knocked lightly and tried the k.n.o.b, was surprised to find it locked. She knocked again, "Patrick are you in there?" She heard the sound of papers being shuffled, then footsteps approaching.

He smiled when he opened the door. "Sorry, love, I couldn't sleep. Thought I might as well get some paperwork done." His hair was slightly mused, several onyx strands curling over his forehead. Dressed in a burgundy silk dressing gown that hung open to his waist, he stepped into the hall, closed the door behind him, and eased her into his arms.

"Perhaps now that you're also awake, we can find a way for both of us to get some rest."

A long kiss followed, rousing her from the last remnants of slumber. She could feel his arousal beneath the robe, feel the heat of his hard, lean body, and desire rose sharply. She hadn't come for this, but she liked the idea, tilting her head back, allowing his mouth to move unerringly to the sensitive spot behind her ear, along her neck and down her shoulders. Long fingers worked the sash on her robe. He lifted a breast into his palm and teased the nipple, then lowered his head and took the fullness into his mouth.

Julie moaned and arched toward him, heat sliding through her, dampness building between her legs. His hand moved over the flat spot below her navel, parted the folds of her s.e.x and he began to stroke her. With expert skill, he worked the sensitive bud until she was moaning, pressing herself against him. She expected him to carry her back to the bed, to make slow languid love to her. Instead he opened his robe, lifted her up, and impaled her on his hardened length.

A hot, deep-tongued kiss, her legs wrapped around his lean waist, he surged into her, filling her completely. Julie clung to his broad shoulders, her nails digging in, her mouth finding his for another ravaging kiss. Heat and need washed over her in great numbing waves. She climaxed twice before Patrick allowed himself to follow. She clung to his neck until the tiny ripples of pleasure finally faded away.

Patrick kissed her softly, then let her slide down his body till her feet touched the floor. Chuckling softly, he carried her down the hall to his bedroom.

"What are you laughing about?" she asked as he settled her beneath the covers in his big bed, then slid in beside her. "It isn't particularly rea.s.suring, you know, to hear a man's laughter just minutes after a round of wildly heated s.e.x."

"That's what I was laughing about."

"What? The fact that we had wildly heated s.e.x?"

"No. The fact that having it at two o'clock in the morning, standing in the hall, seemed like such a good idea."

Julie just smiled. No wonder women were so drawn to him. Patrick was an incredible lover, pa.s.sionate, inventive, determined to give as well as take; his appet.i.te for lovemaking seemed nearly insatiable. And after eight long years, this new, incredible Patrick was hers.

At least for the moment.

The thought drained the smile from her face.

Val faced Julie across the breakfast table in his apartment. It was a sunny room, done completely in white from the Formica countertops to the s.h.i.+ny white enamel appliances, efficient and state-of-the-art. In a white terry robe as snowy as the kitchen, Julie's dark red hair looked appealingly tousled, her face still flushed from the lovemaking they had enjoyed just before they climbed out of bed.

It was amazing how easily he had slipped into Patrick's routines. Well, his more pleasant routines at least. Val no longer felt threatened by the mating ritual Patrick valued so highly. He had, in fact, come to enjoy it a great deal himself.

And bonding with Julie was enormously enlightening, increasing his awareness of her, his understanding of her innermost feelings, wants and needs.

Val looked over the top of the calendar section of the L.A. Times he was reading to study Julie's s.h.i.+ny head bent over the real estate section. Seeing her nearly enveloped in the folds of his robe, he couldn't help smiling at the charming picture she made.

Charming and vivacious and so full of life. Just looking at her made him feel alive in a way he had never felt before. He thought of the mate he would eventually take back home. She would stir him no more than a friend or a sister. Not like here. Here people lived, people died, they mated, they bore children, but they rarely remained unmoved by anything that occurred.