“You know her plenty well after all that time you spent together during her training,” Bastian said.
Zasha and Phelan had spent months together at the academy. The unique information and combat training he provided for the P. I.U. had been a fulfillment of the treaty signed sans the Awakening. The Shar would be allowed citizenship provided they completed a successful induction into society and earned their own keep. Documents and testing was allowed on the Shar’s genetic makeup and unusual powers to prevent any nasty surprises down the line. It had been Marsden D’Shar’s brilliant idea to equip the earthlings with a way to do battle with the Shar on even ground. Weapons were modified to incapacitate the superior race, and the P.I.U., and A.A.C. were born.
As one of his prized pupils, Zasha had filled him with pride. She was a fast learner, eager to graduate and enforce the law. It was the other sentiments she’d garnered that caused him to backpedal away from the friendship they’d formed. The bland black uniforms were a work of art when they folded over her ample chest, full hips, and well-rounded ass. It made him feel like a pervert; an older teacher who lusted after his young student.
“That was years ago,” he said.
It was not on his agenda to admit he’d yearned for the statuesque brunette ever since.
“Perhaps, but I never saw a problem with mixing a little business with pleasure,” Bastian said.
Phelan clenched his teeth and counted to ten in his head. His pace measured and unhurried, he beat back the instinct to punch his brother for the backhanded insult. Zasha wasn’t some woman he wished to use for a night of pleasure. She’d become an infection in his blood that ravaged him from the inside out. Every moment spent with her etched in his brain. The faded memories had become insufficient to keep his hunger for her at bay with the passage of time.
“Lay off him, Bast. He has enough to worry about with the ball coming up,” Kade said. “You two are always too serious.”
“And the Secretary of War isn’t?” Phelan asked. His voice distorted by the laugher that spilled forth.
“Only when it’s necessary. When you go into battle as much as I have you learn the importance of enjoying every moment you can,” Bastian said. The statement a reminder of the wisdom that often got lost in his playboy façade.
“I’ll up the play time, Bast,” Phelan said.
He was touched by Bast’s concern. Often the most closed off, Bastian had left home at a young age to train. The separation placed a barrier between them they still worked to tear down. It was hard to feel close to someone you spent the majority of your life parted from.
“Good. I still think you should start with Zasha at the ball, but I know when to leave well enough alone,” said Bastian.
Satisfied that he’d spoken his peace, he swung his long legs up onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. His fingers laced behind the back of his head.
“Are you sure we’re related?” Kade asked.
The playful banter made Phelan’s lips curve into a smile. It was nice to know some things didn’t change, no matter what galaxy he was in.
“You could do with some loosening up yourself, brainiac,” Bastian said.
“I’m plenty loose.” Kale's face distorted with indignation.
“Oh yeah, you’re a regular wild man,” Phelan said dryly, as Kade rose to his feet.
“Since you guys are in a pick on Kale mood I’ll see myself out.”
Kale’s gangly body was stiff as he moved quickly out the door.
“I meant what I said earlier about you and Zasha,” Bastian said. His face was drawn and serious as he resurrected the topic once Kale disappeared around the corner.
“I know, Bast, but now isn’t the time,” Phelan said.
If he didn’t hold on tight to the rules he’d set for himself, he would be lost to the siren call Zasha sung. That he invited her at all was a lapse in judgment he hoped did not change life as he knew it.
“Then when is?” he asked. “You are our King, Phelan; don’t you think it’s time we gained a Queen?”
Bastian’s words filled Phelan with a panic that consumed. Did he know how much he craved Zasha? He often longed to feel the length of her body pressed against him. Even now he had to force himself to remain in his office when all he wanted was to track her down and lose himself in the bliss offered. For the Shar, the Wanting was a pleasure unparalleled by anything else. He’d love her until no other man would ever do and fill her with his seed. It was sick and twisted, but he saw her as his. The savage lust and possessiveness of his ancestors was at war with the modern man he needed to be.
“How did we go from a scratching an itch to marriage?”
“I’ve seen you with Zasha, Phelan. She triggers the Wanting doesn’t she?” he asked.
The statement brought attention to the closet of secrets he’d keep shut tight and bared his skeleton for all to see. Phelan set down the letter he had yet to send, took a shaky breath, and nodded. This was why he avoided Zasha as much as possible. The Wanting was a biological response every Shar male experienced when he discovered his mate. The animalistic sex it caused would be disturbing to most humans for a number of reasons; his eyes would bleed to black, his ejaculate was tinged blue, and the clincher. His need to fill her with as much sperm as possible in hopes of conception.
Does anyone else know?” Phelan asked.