"Bits," he agreed, his expression growing serious. "But not enough to satisfy me." Then he smiled and said, "I think only you can do that, Kelsey."

Feeling suddenly shy, she avoided his piercing gaze, and glanced around them at all the jeweled pillows. Kelsey had the feeling that she'd landed in some prince's harem. "This place is amazing," she whispered, pointing around them.

"Ah, my people," he said, dropping his head. "They spoil me too much."

"How?" she asked, as he pressed his lips close against her throat, kissing her there.

"They know how I love a warm fire at bedtime," he said.

"That's hardly spoiling." She panted as his strong arms wrapped about her waist, urging her backward onto the pillows.

"Well, all these pillows are new," he said softly in her ear. "But one or two of my people know just how I feel about you."

They rolled onto their sides then, still touching and exploring every inch of each other. Reaching a tentative hand to stroke his cheek, Kelsey outlined the small scars there. For the first time, in the firelight, she noticed lines around his eyes. This surprised her-almost as much as the nearly imperceptible shots of silver-gray that the firelight caused to gleam in his hair.

"How old are you?" she asked, and he glanced upward, surprised. She ran her fingers over his bristling hair. "There's silver in your hair."

With a deeply self-conscious gesture, he lifted his hand as if he meant to shift his appearance, but she stopped him. "No, don't change it," she said. "It's lovely."

"I didn't want to be dishonest," he admitted with a hesitant smile. "So I kept the gray. I wanted you to know about our age difference."

She wondered if perhaps he was a great deal older-if his species aged on a different timetable altogether. "Just how old are you then?" she asked, bracing herself for some shocking revelation.

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. "Old enough to know that I can't afford to feel the things you bring out in me. No warrior can."

"You're still a man." She watched the emotions that played across his serious face.

He cut his eyes sideways, meeting her gaze. "I am thirty."

"Geez, Jared!" She began to laugh, relieved. "I thought you were going to tell me you're, like, four hundred years old or something. That's only two years older than I am."

"But they have been hard years," he explained, rolling back onto his side to face her. "Destructive, aging years, Kelsey. Very aging years."

She sensed that there was more-something important he withheld from her about his age, or their differences- but she also understood not to push him. "How is it I know so little about you?" she asked. "And you know so much about me?"

"Does that matter?"

"I-I'm not sure." He nuzzled at her neck, nipping her there with his teeth. A strong voice inside urged her to trust him-to have faith, even though he seemed so unknowable.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her close to his side. "You do know me, Kelsey," he answered, almost as if he'd heard her thoughts. "Already better than most in this camp."

"I want to be closer."

Graceful as a wildcat, he accepted her invitation, rolling her on top of him. Her strong thighs closed around his, and she felt his coiled power beneath her hips. And that wasn't the only thing she felt. Oh, boy, not by a long shot.

A slow, devilish-and decidedly human-expression formed on his features. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with himself. And with his size.

"Is that honest too?" she teased, rocking against him.

"I do not understand this humor."

"Like the silver in your hair," she explained. "Is this"- she paused, lifting up so she could caress the hard ridge that jutted from within his jeans-"all you?"

His lips parted, his eyes drifted shut, but he said nothing at first. Then, after a quick reply in his native language, he groaned, "AH Refarian, all me."

She outlined the bulge, rubbing it harder, and noticed that his body seemed to tense in reaction. "Poor human men," she said. "But lucky, lucky me." She laughed, growing more intense in her stroking, and this caused him to cry something in Refarian, and while she couldn't understand the words, they aroused her wildly nonetheless.

"What does that mean?" She sighed, arching her back.

"I said, it's important that my anatomy meet"-he paused, eyes sparkling as he unsnapped the fly of her jeans-"all human requirements."

She giggled, daring to slip one palm beneath his shirt, feeling the flushed heat of the flat, muscled abdomen she'd glimpsed earlier. "You'd know that answer better than I."

Lifting his hips in invitation, he purred, "Quite compatible, I am certain." His dark eyes narrowed to catlike slits as he tugged on the zipper of her pants.

She reached a hand to cup his cheek, feeling the bristling of his beard stubble, the warmth of his skin. He blinked beneath her examining touch, but did not squirm or flinch. That was when she realized what he had done: he'd allowed himself to be in the p.r.o.ne position, allowed her to be the one in control. Their physical positioning couldn't be an accidental choice, not with a warrior like Jared. No, he wanted her trust. And he wanted it badly-badly enough to risk a.s.suming the vulnerable role in their first genuinely physical encounter.

Their eyes locking, she began to shiver uncontrollably. Between the way his body had begun to tease her into a fevered state, and her uncertainty about what he was truly inviting her to do, she couldn't seem to stop the trembling. Then, quiet as a Sunday-morning snowfall, she heard him in her center. Heard his words. Feel me! Touch!

And if she hadn't been sure of the invitation, he gave a slight, affirming nod, urging her to continue. Sliding both palms farther beneath his turtleneck, she found the rough casing of body armor and gave a little cry of frustration. He made several quick motions with his wrist and it fell open, exposing his chest, his stomach, his body. He shrugged out of his turtleneck, then discarded the body armor, revealing a golden-brown chest dusted with only a few silken hairs, and those low on his abdomen, threading their way downward into his jeans, suggesting a predefined path of exploration like a well-lit runway at night.

But she chose the opposite direction, caressing his warm chest with both hands, feeling his nipples bead with arousal at her touch. The longer she touched him, the more his chest heaved with uneven breaths. He licked his lips, swallowing visibly, his moody eyes drifting shut. For some reason, she recalled her first image of him from a week before: the blazing wall of power, erotic, bright, burning. Nothing like the much more physical man she straddled and stroked at the moment.

"This isn't even your body," she whispered, staring down at him. It was such an eerie feeling, this overpowering attraction-but to what? To whom, really? His dark eyes fluttered open again, fixing on her. Studying his handsome face, she continued, "Or, it is your body, but it's not your only body. Is that it, Jared?"

His black eyebrows narrowed. "It's one of my bodies," he answered in a soft voice, his chest rising and falling visibly. Beneath her hand, she could feel his heart's staccato, frantic rhythm.

She kept her open palm positioned right there, over his heart like a pledge. "Who is the golden one?" she whispered. "The one you showed me... that night?"

He slid his own hand over hers. "Me as well."

"Are there others?" She had to know, had to understand this man who had touched her very soul.

He hesitated, watching her with a wary, guarded expression. But then something in his face changed, softening. "Many others, Kelsey."

"Then how can I possibly know you?" she cried, feeling tears burn at her eyes.

Clasping her strongly by the waist, he steadied her, saying, "This is me, Kelsey. Me." His dark eyes searched her face, begging for her trust. "You see me. You feel me. Why does the form matter?"

"Because it does," she said, touching his face, outlining his strong cheekbone, then trailing her fingertips along the straight line of his nose. He had a beautiful, ruggedly formed face, and it literally caused her breath to catch as she touched it in appreciation. "It matters completely to me."

Words that he'd heard before, spoken by another woman in another time on another planet: the memories swam to the surface, causing a sharp stab of pain behind Jared's eyes. He blinked, trying to focus on the woman he held now, a woman whose eyes were open, accepting, who did not judge a man for choices he'd been forced to make. But she does not even know of those choices. He pressed his eyes shut, fighting the flood of images, of Lahrae's long black hair spilling down to her hips. Images of a young warrior who longed to love her, but feared his feelings more than the war he found himself fighting. If only he'd understood the reasons behind his fear of loving Lahrae: that Kelsey had been ripped away from him so traumatically.

"What's wrong?" Kelsey asked, caressing his cheek. "Jared, I don't want to hurt you."

I don't want to hurt you, love. I do not. Lahrae's voice, Lahrae's words in their shared Refarian language. The refrain of a woman who yearned to love a man who refused to be loved. Until it was too late. A man who had already loved once, but been made to forget-no wonder he had been unable to love Lahrae.

"I just want to see you," Kelsey whispered in a hoa.r.s.e voice. He allowed his eyes to flutter open, and found her blue-eyed gaze fixed on him. "That's all, Jared. To see you."

His answer came out gruffer than he intended. "You have seen my core selves."

"Core selves," she repeated, searching his Refarian features. "How many are core?"

Maybe if he could make her grasp his dual ident.i.ties, she could understand him. But he did not answer, and instead released a guttural sound, one that instantly caused her to shiver atop him. "This is me," he growled, and he felt the fire between them grow cold as he rolled her off of him. She spilled awkwardly onto the pillows beside him, sprawling there with a soft gasp of surprise. "You'd best learn now that I am not given to sentiment."

She turned on him, clutching one of the pillows against her chest. "I don't believe that," she insisted, her voice rising in anger. "You're crazy if you think I buy that for one minute! It goes against everything you've told me since I got here."

Staring at the ceiling, half praying for guidance, he made a simple grunt of displeasure, but said nothing more. One week was d.a.m.ned fast-too much control, too much power given into this alien woman's strong hands-and it terrified him.

"I do not like this hold you have upon me," he snarled at her, rubbing his hand along his jaw. "It is too powerful for a stranger." Although he, of all people, understood that they'd ceased to be strangers that night one week before.

"In what universe am I the stranger?" she shot back at him, then hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Oh, that's right-that would be your universe. On this planet, last time I checked, you're the alien."

Kelsey Wells had spirit-true backbone-and it instantly penetrated all his old fears about love and abandonment. "I stand corrected." He gave a grudging smile. "Smarter minds obviously prevail in this relationship." To punctuate the apology, he bowed slightly in respect.

"So you're admitting it's a relationship now?" she said. "One minute, I'm just a stranger, but now I'm part of a twosome?"

"You confound me, Kelsey Wells."

She set her jaw, blue eyes flashing with fire. "Hey, maybe it's time someone did."

"These emotions, this connection... I find it most confusing," he admitted seriously, adjusting his jeans so that his erection didn't hurt so d.a.m.ned much. Bad strategy, falling into a disagreement with the human at such a prize moment as this one.

She knelt before him, leaning in close until her steady gaze locked with his own. "Tell me what this is between us," she insisted, her voice growing softer again. "I think you know what's really happening here. I think you can explain it to me. And I don't think it has anything to do with data you put inside of me or even our past together. This is about right here, right now."

Such trust-both in her statement, and shimmering in her firelit eyes-and something about seeing that complete trust there unraveled him. It caused all his poise and self-possession-his attempts to gain control over his skittering emotions-to crash down around him like shattered ice.

Leaping to his feet, he cried, "I have bound you to me! That is what I have done!" He began pacing before the fire, the agitation in his heart swelling. "I have taken you and mated your soul to my very own. And for one purpose, Kelsey Wells. To preserve information that might save my people. And yours." Gazing up at him, she remained in the kneeling position, there on the pillows, like a captive offering herself to him. "That is the sort of man I am-that is the sort of man you are dealing with here. I've taken you against your will, by the G.o.ds. And not only that. I allowed you to give yourself to me in return. That is not the behavior of an ally, but of an enemy. And yet-we are mated. We are fully bound to one another, human. Mystical, pure... and yet utterly, utterly wrong."

Her features hardened. "When?" she demanded. "When did we... mate?"

"The night of my crash. That is what happened there, Kelsey," he said, punctuating each word with his finger in the air as he paced before the fire. "That is why we can't stop hungering this way-not because of love or tenderness or attraction. Not even memory! Because I forced my will upon you."

"Forced?" she whispered, and he dropped down before her, so that he was kneeling just as she did.

"And yet you think you care for me," he continued, schooling his features into a cold, fearsome expression. "You think me beautiful? A man you might love?" He couldn't seem to halt the fury, the deep pain, so long etched into his heart, and now that she'd uncorked it, it seemed like acid, overflowing onto the gentle, strong human before him. "You think me a man who might not harm you, given the chance? If so, you think wrongly! Perhaps now you understand."

Frowning, tears pooling within her eyes, she studied his face and whispered the one thing he least expected: "I don't think that I could love you," she said in reply. "I know that I could."

With a rough sound, he rose and strode from the room like a firestorm, all quake and thunder and fury. Sprawling on the pillows, Kelsey watched Jared's retreat, shocked. Her mouth still felt swollen from his kisses, her body still ravaged by his fever. But even as she blinked back tears- tears caused by his horrible admission of how he'd taken her against her will-the quietest of voices argued that Jared had not told her the full truth. There is more to this situation, the scientist within her resolved. There is much more to this man you've already come to care for-and who has obviously come to care for you.

In her heart, she heard his words from last night in the car: no other human. She was the first and only one on her planet whom he'd ever allowed to glimpse him. And what was all this about their souls being mated? She had to know more, had to understand what he had revealed.

Rising to her feet, she went out the same door he'd used, past the sitting area and into what appeared to be his dressing room. There, bent over the sink, the alien warrior stood, shirtless, splashing water on his face-a face that could be described only as ashen. Without looking up at her or even meeting her gaze in the mirror, he demanded, "Why do you follow?"

She stepped closer, her eyes fixed on his reflection. "I think you care for me."

He made a slight groaning sound, as plaintive and despairing as it was angry. "I have told you what exists between us."

"But it isn't all the truth," she pressed, reaching a hand to touch his bare shoulder. A long mark graced his back, running down along his shoulder all the way to the small of his back-a jagged, angry scar, and for some reason, she felt the need to caress it. Lifting delicate fingers, she traced the outline, and he visibly flinched, jerking upright. His blazing eyes locked with hers in the mirror.

"Kelsey, it has to be the truth," he said in a low, pained voice, much like the sound of a wounded timber wolf, baying at the moon. "Human, it must be. I must lead this revolution," he continued. His voice a.s.sumed an even, placating sound. "I must be focused. Not distracted by someone as... perplexing as you."

"Are you not allowed to love?" she asked, c.o.c.king her head sideways and studying him in the mirror.

This comment seemed to garner a strong reaction, his black eyes flaring bright with harnessed energy. Alien eyes, masquerading as human.

"I am allowed whatever I choose to venture."

"Oh," she said, her hand withdrawing from him to flutter to her collarbone protectively. "Then you must not want to love me."

A terrible broken sound erupted from his chest- something foreign and decidedly inhuman-and he swept her into his arms with unbridled force. She could barely breathe, feeling his strong ribs pressed hard against her, feeling the untamed rhythm of his heart. With every moment that unfurled between them, he seemed to become more alien. Less human. The change aroused something primal within her.

Murmuring words that she did not recognize, he ran his strong hands all over her body, almost as if he needed to feel her shape. Her substance. He made another cry, a harsh, angry sound. "If I am not careful, Kelsey Wells," he confessed, pressing his lips against the top of her head, "I will love you. It is what I fear most right now."

"Why is that something to fear?" she argued, wrapping her arms around his lower back, holding him close.

"Because no man has ever slain me."

Suddenly, she understood. "But a woman has."

He turned, pulling free from her arms, again putting his back to her. Kelsey followed. "Was she... bound to you?"

"Never," he said, their eyes locking in the mirror. "Never before have I taken a bondmate. Never a mate."

"Why not?"

He didn't answer, so she reached to touch his lower back again, feeling the thick scar beneath her fingertips. "I can't imagine anyone refusing you."

With the unexpectedness of a snow squall, he whirled upon her, shape-shifting in the flare of an instant to the fiery, blazing ball of energy she had first seen on the lake-sh.o.r.e a week earlier. He shot past her, back to the bedroom, hovering over the pillows where they'd been lying together only moments earlier. Swallowing hard, she followed him, taking cautious steps toward the place where his radiant form blazed in compet.i.tion with the flames in the fireplace-not touching the floor or the ceiling, but occupying nearly the entire s.p.a.ce between both boundaries.

"Jared," she said, keeping her voice calm as she measured out her steps. He wanted her to be terrified, wanted to demonstrate that anyone in her right mind would be afraid. In fact, he seemed eager to prove that point to her.

The hearth behind him was little more than a dim candle compared to his wild brightness, towering high over her- much higher than he had that night at Mirror Lake.

"Jareshk, did this frighten the woman you loved? The one you wanted to bond with?" she asked, craning her neck to take in the full height of him, fury and all. But the brightness proved too much, forcing her eyes shut.

Would you mate with this? he shouted inside of her mind, the words searing her heart. Willingly?

"Yes."

Then you are insane!

Forcing her eyes open, she gazed upon him, refusing to flinch-refusing to back down or away. "I have never seen anyone more beautiful in all my life."

The roaring storm grew hushed, still. Like Christmas Eve on Main Street back in her hometown, all expectant and magical. Beautiful, he repeated, and she shivered, feeling his deep, shocked pleasure.

"Oh, yes, Jared," she said, smiling. "Amazingly beautiful. Just as I told you before."