The Krinar Captive Page 16

  “What about humans?” Emily asked next. “Are there any living on Krina? I mean, you guys have been coming here for a while, so…” She let the sentence trail off.

  “Oh, sure,” Ellet said, picking up a piece of roasted Ipomoea batatas—sweet potato. “We have a number of humans living back home.”

  She didn’t elaborate further, and Zaron realized that his colleague had caught on to the fact that it might not be wise for Emily to know too much. Tomorrow morning, he’d have to let her go, and she would be free to share her knowledge with the others. They had to make sure they didn’t tell her anything the Council wouldn’t want the human media to know.

  “So what do my people do on your planet?” Emily persisted. “Are they there because you’re studying them, or are they considered something like immigrants? In general, what kind of rights do they have?”

  “There aren’t many humans on Krina currently, so there are no formal laws in that regard,” Zaron said before Ellet could answer. “Maybe that’ll change now that we’ll be in contact more.”

  The truth was that humans had no rights on Krina. Over the millennia that his people had been visiting Earth, hundreds of humans had been brought to Krina, and Zaron suspected that not all of them had come of their own free will. Most of the older Krinar saw nothing wrong with that; they’d been around when Emily’s species had lived in caves, so to many of them, humans were just a few steps above animals. But the younger Krinar, those of Zaron’s and Ellet’s generation, held more nuanced views, and Zaron was no exception. To him, humans weren’t all that different from the Krinar—at least not in the ways that mattered.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Ellet said to Emily. The human biology expert now seemed eager to change the subject as well. “Why did you come to Costa Rica, and how did you get hurt so badly?”

  Emily smiled politely and explained that she’d been on vacation and went hiking in the rainforest without considering the recent rains. “It was stupid of me, I know,” she said with a wry grimace. “I shouldn’t have tried to cross that bridge—at least not when I saw that it was wet.”

  She continued, explaining how she’d hung there by her fingernails, and Zaron’s gut clenched as he remembered Emily’s broken body lying on those rocks. If he hadn’t heard her scream, if he hadn’t gotten there in time… The agony that shot through him at the thought was as sharp as when he’d learned of Larita’s death. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the knowledge that he’d almost lost Emily—lost her before having the chance to know her. Another few minutes, and her life would’ve been cut short, her bright mind extinguished in the shattered shell of her body.

  “Damn right you shouldn’t have tried to cross that bridge.” The words ripped out of him, terse and harsh, startling the two women into silence. “What the hell were you thinking, hiking alone like that? You could’ve been stung or bitten; there are all sorts of venomous creatures here—not to mention, you were fair game for any criminal asshole who’d crossed your path. How were you planning to protect yourself? You could’ve been raped, robbed… killed. Have you no survival instinct, no common sense?” As he spoke, Zaron found himself on his feet, his hands crushing the edge of the table. “What kind of idiot goes on a trip like this solo? What the fuck were you thinking, Emily?”

  The human girl was staring at him like he’d lost his mind, and so was Ellet. Zaron couldn’t blame them; he could hear the barely controlled rage in his own voice, and he knew he was acting like a madman. But he couldn’t help it. Ever since Emily had become important to him, he’d purposefully tried to avoid thinking about her accident—and it was precisely for this reason.

  He couldn’t handle the idea that the human who’d filled the dark, painful void inside him had come so close to dying.

  For a few moments, there was nothing but tense silence. Then Ellet said, “I think I should probably get going. I have quite a bit of work to do today, and—”

  “No, please, you don’t have to leave.” Emily jumped to her feet, her falsely bright smile appearing on her lips. “I’m sure you and Zaron have some work matters to discuss, and I just remembered something I’ve been meaning to do. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ellet. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  Turning, she disappeared into the living room, her footsteps light as she crossed the room. Then there was silence again, and Zaron knew Emily had gone back to her room, extricating herself from an uncomfortable situation as speedily as she could.

  “Well, okay, then,” Ellet said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I think I should get going too…”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Fury was still a toxic pulse in his veins, but Zaron forced himself to sit down and relax his coiled muscles. “You don’t have to leave. You haven’t even finished your meal yet. I promise I’m going to behave.”

  “Are you sure?” Ellet asked dryly. “You don’t want to yell at your human guest some more?”

  “No.” Zaron took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Please, sit. Let’s finish our meal, and I’ll apologize to Emily afterwards.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure. I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel.”

  “It’s not a lovers’ quarrel.” Zaron almost bit out the words, but managed to soften his tone at the last moment. “Emily’s accident brought back some unpleasant memories, that’s all.”

  “Oh, I see.” Ellet’s eyes widened with understanding, all traces of amusement disappearing from her face. “Of course, Zaron. I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me. After your mate and all…”

  “What?” Zaron frowned. “No, this has nothing to do with Larita. It’s just that—” He broke off, not knowing how to explain the strange tangle of feelings inside him. “On second thought, maybe it is because of Larita,” he said, seizing the conveniently provided excuse. “I’m sorry I ruined your visit.”

  “Oh, no, I’m fine,” Ellet said, and demonstratively dug into the remnants of roasted vegetables on her plate. “You have nothing to worry about,” she mumbled around a mouthful. “Now, please, tell me about the plan for tomorrow. When are we presenting the finalized locations to the Council?”

  The rest of the meal passed in conversation about work, and by the time Ellet got up to leave again, Zaron was feeling much calmer. “I’m sorry about that,” he apologized to Ellet again, leading her out of the house. “I hope I didn’t make things too awkward.”

  Ellet stopped under a Pachira quinata, a pochote tree, some dozen yards away from his cave and gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course you didn’t. Not at all. But, Zaron…” She hesitated.

  “What is it?”

  “Have you considered making this girl your charl?”

  Zaron’s expression must’ve reflected the shock that froze him in place, so Ellet quickly pressed on. “I know it’s none of my business, but it seems like this Emily might mean something to you. If she doesn’t become your charl, she will die. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but in a few short decades. Have you thought about that?”

  Zaron hadn’t—because that way lay dark temptations and broken promises. He’d been so focused on the present, on enjoying every moment he had left with Emily, that he’d chased away all thoughts of the future and the cold, painful emptiness that awaited him after her departure tomorrow. He would survive it, he’d told himself. The fact that a human made him feel so alive was a good sign. It meant that he was healing, that the grief that had consumed him for eight years was finally lessening. He hadn’t let himself think beyond that, but here was Ellet, bringing up the fears and dreams he’d been trying to hold at bay.

  In as level of a tone as he could manage, Zaron said, “I can’t make her my charl. I promised her that this is only temporary, Ellet. I can’t just keep her—”

  “You can.” Ellet’s hazel gaze was unwavering. “You can do anything you want, and you know it.”

  Zaron felt her words like a puncture wound to his lungs. She was right. Who would stop him if he d
ecided to keep Emily longer? The Council couldn’t care less about the fate of one human girl, and the human law held no sway over him. He could keep her in his house—and in his bed—for as long as he wanted her.

  “No,” Zaron said hoarsely. It was a denial of his own twisted desire as much as Ellet’s words. “I can’t do that to her. Not when I promised that I’d let her go.”

  Ellet regarded him silently for a moment; then her lips tilted up in a smile. “I knew you were one of the good ones. This girl of yours is luckier than she knows.” She turned away, as if to keep walking, then spun around to face him again. “Zaron…” Her voice was soft. “Have you considered simply asking her to stay?”

  Zaron stared at her. “You mean, permanently? As a charl?”

  Ellet nodded.

  “No,” Zaron said slowly. “Not really.” Did he want that? Was he ready for such a big step? It was one thing to keep Emily with him for an extra few weeks or months—maybe even a few years—but taking a charl was a lifelong commitment. More than that, it would mean acknowledging to himself how much Emily had come to mean to him—and letting himself be vulnerable again. More vulnerable than with Larita, because Emily was human, with all the weaknesses and frailties of her species. What if Zaron took her as a charl and then lost her, like he’d lost his wife? A human body was so fragile, so breakable…

  He must’ve stood frozen in thought for some time because Ellet said gently, “All right. It’s obviously up to you. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “Yes.” Zaron shook off the uncharacteristic paralysis. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks for stopping by. It was good to see you.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Ellet gave him a warm smile. “Take care, Zaron, and good luck.”

  She turned and disappeared into the trees, and Zaron went back into the house, his mind filled with possibilities and his chest aching with emotions he couldn’t acknowledge.

  Chapter Thirty

  Emily lay on her bed, her eyes burning as she stared at the ceiling. Could it possibly be true, what she’d overheard? Did Zaron’s people actually drink blood?

  Extraterrestrial vampires. It sounded ridiculous, like something out of a fifties sci-fi movie. If anyone had mentioned this to Emily a month ago, she’d have laughed her head off. But the Krinar were real, and their traits—biological immortality, superhuman speed, and extreme strength—were something people had ascribed to creatures of the night for centuries. Could it be? Could the Krinar have been the source of all those legends?

  It had taken every ounce of willpower Emily possessed not to betray herself, to smile and shake Ellet’s hand like everything was normal. To act like she was simply curious about humans living on Krina instead of wondering in horror about the possibility of blood farms on Zaron’s planet.

  Ellet had asked if Zaron had done it again—“it” being Zaron drinking Emily’s blood. That meant that her captor had done it at least once before. Was it when she’d lost her memory? She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it fit. At the time, he’d said that her mental fuzziness was a “natural” outcome of their coupling, that he hadn’t drugged her in any way, yet he’d promised that it wouldn’t happen again—which meant that something other than regular sex had taken place between them. That promise must’ve been what he’d been referring to with Ellet.

  Getting up, Emily strode into the bathroom and splashed warm water on her face. She would’ve liked it to be cold, but the intelligent Krinar technology wasn’t intelligent enough to read her mind. The sink insisted on giving her water of comfortable temperature, even though comfort wasn’t what Emily was after. She needed to clear her mind and chase away the conflicting emotions crowding her chest.

  She needed to think about what to do next.

  Returning to her room, Emily sat down on the bed, staring at the wall through which Zaron would arrive. As far as she could see, she had two options: she could talk to Zaron about her suspicions, or she could keep quiet and continue to pretend that she hadn’t heard anything. Each option had its own pros and cons, but option one carried the greatest risk. If Emily hadn’t misunderstood—if Zaron’s people did indeed drink blood, and he’d been trying to conceal that from her—he might not let her go as promised. In fact, Emily recalled with a sinking sensation, when she’d tried to question Zaron about her memory loss, he’d explicitly said that he couldn’t tell her what she wanted to know without violating the mandate. This must’ve been the reason for his caginess: the Krinar had to know humans wouldn’t be comfortable with vampires coming to their planet.

  The upcoming invasion was the equivalent of a pack of wolves settling in a henhouse.

  “Emily?” The wall dissolved in front of her, and Zaron stepped through, a frown etched into his inhumanly beautiful face. “Are you okay?”

  Emily’s pulse spiked as she jumped to her feet. “What?” Did he know? Did he realize she’d overheard?

  “I’m sorry about earlier.” Moving with his customary flowing grace, Zaron crossed the room to join her by the bed, and this time, there was no doubt in Emily’s mind.

  His stride was that of a predator, sleek and deadly.

  “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” he continued, and Emily realized she’d forgotten about his strange behavior, all her thoughts occupied by his inadvertent revelation.

  Pasting on a smile, she managed to say, “That’s okay. It’s no big deal.”

  Her palms were sweating, her heart drumming frantically in her chest, and she wondered if Zaron could hear it… if he could smell her fear. Emily was fairly certain the Krinar didn’t need to kill humans to drink their blood—at least, Zaron hadn’t needed to kill her that time—but just the idea of him preying on her like that was enough to fill her stomach with lead.

  A vampire. The man in whose bed she’d spent the last two weeks was a vampire.

  Emily should’ve been terrified, repulsed, but as she stared up at him, all she felt was the familiar dark heat, that humming, buzzing awareness that made her skin prickle and her breath catch in her throat. She was afraid he knew she’d overheard, terrified that he might detain her to keep from breaking their mandate, but she wasn’t afraid of him. She knew Zaron wouldn’t truly hurt her—she felt it with every fiber of her being—and as she saw the answering heat in his black gaze, the anxiety bubbling in her veins transformed into something else… something just as disturbing.

  She licked her lips, her mouth feeling dry all of a sudden, and his eyes followed the movement, his jaw tensing and his powerful chest expanding with a deep breath.

  “Emily…” Her name was a rough exhalation on his lips as he stepped closer, crowding her against the edge of the bed. “Angel, I need you so fucking much.”

  “Zaron, I—” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, but it didn’t matter because he was already on her, claiming her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. His hands caught her wrists, stretching her arms above her head as he bore her down to the bed, and Emily felt the heat inside her ignite to a blistering flame. He was often like this with her—feral, dominant—yet even during those times, he reined in his shocking strength, careful not to hurt her. It turned her on, this controlled savagery of his, and her sex grew wet, her nipples constricting to tight, aching points. Moaning into his mouth, she arched against his powerful body, desperate to quench the pulsing ache between her legs, and felt the hard bulge in his jeans.

  Vampire. The word whispered through her mind, bringing with it a disquieting chill, but it wasn’t enough to suppress the fire liquefying her insides. She wanted Zaron, needed him in a way that made her forget everything but the dark, dizzying pleasure of his touch. Nothing mattered in this moment but him, this stranger who’d saved her life and stolen her freedom, who’d become so essential to her in the last two weeks. The way he made her feel was both terrifying and exhilarating, as if she was scaling a cliff with just a thin safety line.

  Keeping Emily’s wrists imprisoned in one of his big hands, Zaron s
lid his other hand down her body, delving under her skirt to touch the soft, aching place between her thighs. His eyes were pure black as he lifted his head, holding her gaze, and his skilled fingers parted her folds, seeking the throbbing bundle of nerves within. Emily gasped, her core knotting tight when he pressed on her clit, gently at first, then with rougher, crueler pressure. And all the while his hard-muscled body kept her pinned to the bed, making her feel helpless and small, weak with need.

  “Zaron.” She wasn’t sure if she whispered his name or exhaled it, but his nostrils flared, his gaze sharpening with predatory intensity. There was something in his eyes she’d never seen before, something that frightened her despite the arousal blazing through her body.

  “Emily, angel…” His voice was a dark, rough whisper as he held her restrained, his fingers still playing with her clit. It was hunger in his gaze, she realized, and something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Don’t go tomorrow,” he whispered, looking down at her. “I want you to stay.”

  His words slammed into her like a hammer. Emily froze, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but stare up at him in mute shock. What did Zaron mean by that? Did he know? The panic bubbling through her swept away the haze of arousal, leaving only fear in its place.

  “But you promised,” she managed to whisper through numb lips. “You promised you’d let me go.”

  The strange emotion in Zaron’s gaze faded, replaced by a cold, hard gleam, and his mouth thinned to a dangerous line. It was like watching a man transform into a granite sculpture—a sculpture that radiated rage.

  “Fine,” he said harshly. “So be it. You leave tomorrow. But until then, you’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Zaron knew it was wrong to feel such anger over Emily’s refusal, but he couldn’t help the volcanic fury that burned in his chest as he gazed down at her, seeing the fear in her blue-green eyes. It sharpened the pain of her rejection, intensified it until he felt like he was bleeding from a thousand jagged cuts.