Heartmate (33 page)

Mitchella ran.

T'Ash grabbed her. His vision dimmed as always before he went berserk.

“Stop!” she cried. “Let me go. I lied. I lied. It's me who's barren. Me. Not Danith. Let me go!”

With his last rational thought, he visualized Danith's house and mentally flung the deceitful bitch there.

 
 
The sound of the timer striking the hour woke him. His
whole body ached. He stretched, but didn't attempt to rise from his sprawl on the floor. His mouth itched. He brushed his hand against it, rubbing away dried froth.

Damn.

His eyes started to feel a little wet. He bit his lip, hard. He'd thought he'd never be so out-of-control again, thought the feral savagery was now beyond him. His steady life had lulled him. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to reveal this one, awful, fault—this unforgivable defect—to Danith. It had been years, and surely was long past. Newly triggered, the bestial berserker incident would be in his immediate memory, easily reached by the mental touch of a HeartMate.

He had wondered if she would accept the earrings, pledge to him, before he had to completely bare his soul. With fatalistic calm, he knew she would never simply accept his new HeartGift, and him. That, somehow, he would have to win her.

But first things first.

“ResidenceLibrary, present Analytical Spell: Truthfulness.”

A small, warm draft bearing words whistled around his ears. He managed to get his tongue around the complex chant. Then he ordered, “Review the events of the last septhour. Interview with Mitchella Clover. Two statements before her teleportation. First Statement: ‘Danith is barren.'”

The chamber hummed around him. His mother's voice answered. “Subject's blood pressure rose, perspiration increased, heart beat increased. Analysis: first statement is untrue.”

The dreadful shadow on his heart began to recede. “Now examine the Second Statement: ‘I lied.'”

“Analysis difficult. Subject in a state of hysteria. All bodily signals are agitated.” There was a moment of silence. “Recommend a Level Four Analysis Spell.”

T'Ash sighed. He stretched again, shifted until he felt more comfortable. “ResidenceLibrary, present Level Four Analysis Spell: Truthfulness.”

This time a murmur of a distant waterfall came to him, and he found the proper Words in the sound. And this time he chanted the spell more easily. “Review the last hour, analyze all bodily signals of Mitchella Clover, at every level, tabulate results on the truth of her last statement.”

A long silence resulted. Long enough for T'Ash to rise and shake his stiff limbs out. He looked around. The desk was kindling, a heap of unrecognizable wood. A pile of indestructible papyrus and info crystals were tumbled in one corner. Shreds of cloth and more wood indicated the remains of three chairs.

Two chairs and the ugly screen appeared untouched by his mad rage, an unbelievable fact. T'Ash ran his fingers over them, felt faint emanations of Danith. His jaw relaxed. He hadn't destroyed anything his HeartMate had used. The bedroll and llamawoolweave cover were also intact. He picked up the soft cover and wrapped it around himself. His robe, too, had been ripped from his body and shredded beyond redemption.

“Conclusion available,” the spell said.

“Play.”

“Last statement of Mitchella Clover, in a hysterical state: ‘Stop!' is truth. ‘Let me go.' Truth. ‘I lied.' Truth. ‘I lied.' Emphatic truth. This emphasis is key to the analysis. ‘It's me who's barren.' Additional truth. The addition of information in a frantic condition leads to the conclusion the statements were completely honest at the time. ‘Me.' Truth. ‘Not Danith.' Truth. ‘Let me go!' Truth.”

“Cease spell.”

T'Ash glanced at the timer. Though it felt like an eternity since Mitchella Clover uttered the fateful word
barren,
it was less than a septhour. Another thing to be grateful for, that his primal berserker seizure burned out with uncommon rapidity.

After one more glance at the timer, he figured that Zanth must be chasing celtaroons by now, burning fat. T'Ash smiled.

He walked from the ResidenceDen to the master bathroom, summoning the D'Rose courtship book on the way. He glanced at it as he adjusted the waterfall temperature in his shower room. As he suspected, the book had both holo and sound capabilities.

“Read to me at highest volume,” he instructed as he stepped into the cleansing downpour. A new strategy to be forged. Time to do it right.

 
 
“Danith, I'm scared.”

Mitchella didn't have to tell Danith. Her friend's wide emerald eyes and pasty skin gave her away. So did the trembling of her body.

Danith pressed another cup of hot and soothing hybrid chamomile tea upon Mitchella.

“The man is wild. His eyes went all blaserhot blue. I thought he'd erupt.” She shivered again.

Danith tugged the llamawoolweave throw around Mitchella, who sat on the settee, and took her own chair across from her friend.

“He has a Downwind background,” Danith said.

“It's more than that. What, I'm not sure. But more.”

“He's a member of the thirteen GreatHouses and of the twenty-five FirstFamilies. They all had great Flair when they left Earth centuries ago to find a place to develop their Flair. They bred for it in the generation starships, and ever since we landed. I've felt T'Ash's huge power. And those Families all have secrets of their own. They aren't like us.”

Mitchella swallowed the last of her herb tea and set her mug down on the table beside the settee. “You're right. They aren't like us. You'd be mad to get involved with them. Let them run the world, but don't let one in your life.” Her restless fingers plucked at the fringe of the blanket.

Danith only partially agreed, and pondered how she'd changed. She once would have completely agreed, yet now a doubt or two niggled at her opinions. But she didn't want to upset Mitchella any further, and she still didn't know what to do about T'Ash.

She slid her eyes to the deck of cards that Mitchella had given her for Discovery Day.

“Have you read them lately?” asked Mitchella.

“No.”

“Let's. A three-card divination—”

“Family. Career. Love.”

Mitchella frowned. “I was going to suggest ‘Future,' ‘Environment,' ‘Helps or Hinders.'”

Danith nibbled on her lip. “Family. Helps or Hinders. Love.” Wondering whether the cards would indicate T'Ash once more in “Love,” kept prodding at her. But she didn't want to face it alone.

“All right,” Mitchella said.

Danith crossed to the table and picked up the cards. She'd only used them a couple of times, yet they felt strong and familiar in her hands. And they also contained an underlying energy that she now recognized as the vibration of her own personal Flair. She smiled and shuffled the cards.

Mitchella drew a table in front of the settee. Danith hooked a foot around a chair leg and dragged it to the table, still imbuing the cards with her question and her power.

She sat, cut the cards three times to the left.

“Family,” she said, plucking the top card from the far left stack and turning it over. Two of Stars, a binary star system of two stars revolving around each other; it signified a situation that could remain in balance or go out of control. Danith shivered, not what she wanted to see.

“Helps and Hindrances.” She flipped over the top card from the second stack. The Fool. Was being impulsive, going blindly, following her intuition, helpful or not? Another equivocal card.

“Love.” She turned over the last one. Lord of Blasers.

“T'ASH ARRIVES!” a stentorian voice announced just before the clap of teleportation.

Mitchella flinched and kicked the table over. Cards flew everywhere.

Danith jumped to her feet.

T'Ash arrived.

He looked awesome. Dressed all in black furra leather, blaser on one hip, broadsword on another, his eyes were as blue and intense as ever against his olive complexion. His long hair looked straight and blackly wet.

He stared at Mitchella, and a midnight blue aura crackled sparks around him. “She's here,” he hissed.

Mitchella huddled in the corner of the settee.

“She lies,” T'Ash said, turning his hard glare to Danith. His eyes might have softened, but she saw the pulse in his temple beat rapidly.

Mitchella flinched.

Danith blinked, looked from one to the other.

“She told me you were barren.”

A hand seemed to squeeze all Danith's insides together. She didn't know what to say, who to defend.

T'Ash's gaze burned. She saw torment, a deep torment that looked as though it had lasted years, in his eyes.

“I thought it would be a measure of his love, to know if he'd still want you if you were barren,” Mitchella whispered.

Danith ached for her. The fact Mitchella was barren was like a great hole she covered up and tried to forget. The Clovers had been very supportive, but everyone knew Mitchella would not add her children to the Family.

T'Ash spoke. “Whatever mate I wanted, T'Ash can't marry a sterile woman. My line, ancestors, demand children. That female lied. Not honorable. Not kind. Not right. Not deserving of friends. Payment due.” He stared once more at Mitchella. She rose and edged toward the front door, looking white as salt.

Danith squared her shoulders. “She's my friend. She made a mistake.”

Mitchella bolted, slamming the door behind her.

Danith closed her eyes for an instant to regain her strength. When she opened them once more, T'Ash was picking up the spilled cards. She bent down to help.

They worked quietly. When she'd gathered the ones near her, she evened the deck. “Is that all of them?”

“One's over here.” He took a couple of steps, and reached down for the last, but halted, mid-crouch.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” The very tone of his voice, leeched of all expression, lied.

“What card is it?” She started toward him.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” He stood and slipped the card in the middle of his stack before she could see the image.

She raised her eyebrows. “You know as well as I that a card falling away from the pack is an omen.”

“Some omens mean nothing.”

He protested too much.

“It wasn't the Cave of the Dark Goddess, was it?”

“No.” Now he squared his bunch and handed them to her. “They feel good. Like you.” His hand closed over her own.

Instant awareness of him as a man flooded her, with the usual sizzle of power pulsing between them.

Danith narrowed her eyes. She could have sworn he'd been furious a few moments before. “You aren't angry anymore,” she said.

His fingers caressed her own until she withdrew, busying her hands with straightening the entire deck.

“Because of your touch. It calms me. Because I now know you aren't sterile. Having you here, in this pleasant home, alone with me, is very nice—comfortable.”

“Where's Zanth?”

“Chasing celtaroons.”

“Celtaroons?”

“He's getting fat. He needs the exercise.”

“They're so poisonous, isn't that dangerous?”

A half-smile curved T'Ash's lips. “Zanth is a match for a nest of 'roons. Besides, Celta now has an Animal Healer.”

Heat climbed to her cheeks. “I'm not trained yet.”

He shrugged. “A fine-tuning of your Flair, only. You need to learn spells and skills.” He lowered his eyelids a little and Danith caught her breath at the intimacy of his gaze. “Zanth would be pleased that you care for his welfare.”

“I—like him.”

T'Ash's smile broadened, his lashes swept up to reveal sparkling eyes. “Not an easy thing to do, often, to like Zanth. He has a unique personality.”

“But he's your Family,” she said softly.

T'Ash's face stilled, the expression in his eyes turned wary.

Pounding came on the door.

T'Ash pivoted, reaching for his blaser.

“Stop that.” She glared at him as she passed to answer the door.

“Don't!” he ordered.

“My house, GreatLord.” She threw the door open.

Pink Clover and his brother, Mel, the two largest men of that Family, both wide rather than tall, stood with Mitchella and Trif Clover on the front stoop.

“There he is!” Mitchella pointed to T'Ash.

Pink gulped but gathered his bulk and walked in, followed by Mel and Mitchella. Remaining on the porch, Trif looked fascinated, but also stood poised to run for help at the slightest hint of danger.

T'Ash bared his teeth at them, keeping his hand on his blaser hilt. No one else was armed.

The air in the room roiled with tumultuous emotions.

Pink eyed T'Ash, slid a hand over his balding head, and spoke to Danith. “Mitchella's concerned about you and the GreatLord. She—”

“Danith is always safe in my presence,” T'Ash said.

Pink stiffened and faced T'Ash squarely. Though sweat beaded his face, he answered the challenge. “Danith is like a daughter to me. I won't have her bullied or intimidated. There are laws that the FirstFamilies must follow, GreatLord.”

With a long, strong arm T'Ash swept Danith behind him. She grabbed at his shirt to keep her balance. “Wait just one minute—”

“Danith is mine. She needs no other Family.”

Mitchella spoke. “She needs us and we need her.”