Roswell Fanatics

Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Zan
Rating: Adult

Note: I’m back! Did you miss me?! Sorry it’s taken me longer than I thought it would to update. Work kept me away. Just a couple of comments before we continue.

I’ve been asked about Lisa’s age in this. Max and his fellow podmates were born as young children. Zan and his cohorts were teenagers when their pods spit them out. Through advances in technology, Mira was able to manipulate Lisa’s gestation, accelerating her growth so that she emerged from her pod as a fully developed adult.

Second, about Lisa recognizing Zan. I think Realistic Dreamer and RoswellScripter (Hi Sweetie!) said it best. Zan spent days and nights in the lab with Lisa before her birth, reading to her, talking to her, touching her pod. A bond was forming even then, and by her reaction just after her birth, it appears the bond goes both ways, not just on Zan’s part.

Realistic Dreamer wrote:… I remember what Liz told Zan on Earth, that he would find what he needed on Antar. Beyond Lisa, I wonder if he realizes the other things that he's gained? His relationship with Ava has become that of a beloved sister. The close friendship he's developed with Kel. Mira, whose admiration and love for him is that of a mother …. I know how lonely he was, but Liz was right. Antar has been good for Zan.

RD, I’m so glad you pointed this out. All the things you commented on are so very true. Antar has been good for Zan. He might not realize it completely yet, but he’s found a home there, something he never could have had on Earth.

So, does everyone remember where we left off? Maybe this will remind you:

From part 10

The slit in the pod widens from twelve inches to eighteen. Lisa’s forearm appears, then her elbow. Her skin looks pale, untouched by the sun. A minute later her shoulder appears, then a wisp of dark hair. The pod splits open from top to bottom, spilling Lisa’s nude body out into the world.

Just as he promised, Zan catches her to break her fall. Her body feels as light as a feather in his arms, though the emotional impact of her birth sends him to his knees. He holds her across his lap, taking in every beautiful inch of her.

“Lisa,” he brushes wet strands of her hair back from her face, seeing goose bumps form on her skin in reaction to her first contact with the cool Antarian air. With a wave of his hand he dries her skin and hair so she won’t be cold. Her eyelids flutter and slowly open.

Their eyes meet, his full of hope, hers filling with recognition. She lifts her hand to touch his face. When she speaks, her voice is soft, weak, as if her birth has drained her energy, but full of something else as well. The sound of it fills Zan with more joy than he’s ever known.

“It’s you,” she sighs. “You came back.”

And then she sleeps.


Afterburn
Part 11


Zan paces back and forth like a nervous father, though his thoughts are far from paternal. Much to his consternation, Mira has Lisa sequestered in a separate part of the lab, one she won’t let him enter. He’s alternating between cursing her, and pleading with her to let him in. He pauses and throws back his head to shout out his frustration.

“MIRA!”

He wants to pound on the door. He wants to use his powers to make it disappear. He wants to see Lisa again.

“Mira,” he says again, softer this time, more like a plaintive moan. He held Lisa in his arms for just a few moments before she was whisked away. He wants to feel the warmth of her again.

He touches his hand to the door that separates him from his hearts desire, but he won’t barrel inside like a bull in heat, no matter how much he wants to. He puts his nose near the seam between the door and the wall and breathes in deeply.

“Lisa …”

He can smell her in there, the unique scent she carries that his senses know so well. He’s dreamed of that scent, he’s longed to experience it again, and now that he has, he needs more. He turns and leans his back into the door, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. The black leather of his pants hugs his thighs, hard muscles straining at the seams. His arms circle around his knees, waiting for Mira to give him permission to see his love again.

* * * * *

A noise brings Zan out of a light doze. His muscles are cramped from sitting on the floor and his neck has a crick in it, but all his aches and pains disappear when he sees what, or rather who, roused him from sleep. He jumps to his feet to confront her.

“Mira! Where is she? Why did you take her away? Why won’t you let me see her?!”

The questions spill from his mouth so fast he doesn’t give Mira a chance to answer. It’s been hours, or maybe just minutes that only feel like hours, since he held Lisa in his arms. The beguiling shade that diffuses Mira’s aura doesn’t help his sense of panic.

“Mira! Tell me what’s going on!”

“Calm down,” Mira chuckles.

“Calm down?” Zan sputters, flabbergasted by Mira’s audacity. He’s a man used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. If he didn’t care about Mira so much, he’d strangle the information right out of her. “How can I calm down when–”

“She’s getting dressed,” Mira says in the calmest of voices. “Do you want to go barreling in there right now, or can you wait until she’s finished? You know, first impressions can be very important.”

Zan slams his mouth closed. His emotions are in such a jumbled state he doesn’t know what he thinks or feels. He only knows he wants to see Lisa again.

“Why did you take her away so fast?” he finally manages to ask.

“We needed to examine her,” Mira says matter-of-factly. “To make sure her lungs are clear, that her pulse and respiration have stabilized, that her human biology is adapting to the Antarian environment without any adverse effects.”

“I could have helped,” Zan rebukes, sounding like a little boy.

“I needed to give her a thorough exam,” Mira stresses. “From head to toe.”

When he just stands there staring at her dumbly, Mira adds, “That included a gynecological exam. I didn’t think you needed to be there for that.”

Zan blinks. “Oh.”

After a pause he asks, “Is she …?”

“She’s in perfect health,” Mira beams.

“Can I – can I see her now?”

“Of course,” Mira nods, “but I have a better idea.”

Zan looks at her in confusion. “A better …?”

“Is this where you want her to live? In a lab, with scientists all around her?”

Zan takes a good look at the stark walls, realizing for the first time he’s never thought about what will happen after Lisa’s birth. He can’t let her stay here in this cold, impersonal place.

“You could take her to the Regence,” Mira suggests, watching him closely. “It is yours.”

“I’ve never lived there,” Zan responds. The people provided him with a home years ago, in the center of the city, with spacious rooms and spectacular grounds, like a castle for a king, but he’s never used it. He’s spent most of his time on the battlefield, or living out of a tent, but now he’s grateful he has someplace special to offer Lisa.

Mira crosses the room and slips her arm into Zan’s. She steers him toward the door. “Why don’t you go fix it up a little? Make it nice for Lisa. It shouldn’t take too long. When you’re done we’ll bring her to you.”

“But,” Zan looks over his shoulder toward the door behind him, the one he senses Lisa beyond.

“Zan,” Mira scolds lightly. “You don’t want to smother her by hovering over her every second of every day. Give her a little room to breathe. She isn’t going to disappear.”

Zan can’t tear his eyes away from the door. He’s spent so many years burying his emotions, they’re running rampant now, nearly overwhelming him. He thinks he’s going to die if he doesn’t see her again soon.

“Go home,” Mira pushes him out the door. “Clean yourself up. Change your clothes. Then we’ll bring her to you.”

* * * * *

Zan hurries down the main hallway of the Regence, checking his clothes to make sure there are no stains or rips or tears. He’s never cared about the way he looks before, but now it’s of the utmost importance. He wants to give a good impression.

He pauses outside a set of massive doors, carved in a galactic design, with a sun and five planets lined up in the shape of a V. Beyond those doors, in the living quarters, she waits for him. She’s only been here for a few minutes, but he can’t wait for her to settle in before he sees her; he has to see her now.

He smoothes down the long strands of his hair, satisfied that it’s presentable, then touches his face. “Oh shit!”

“You look fine,” Mira chuckles from behind him. Zan whirls around to face her.

“She’s here? She’s inside?”

He’s not sure why he’s babbling such inane questions. He knows she’s here; he can sense her on the other side of that door. But his usual rigid self-control has taken a vacation. It’s a strange feeling for him; he never suffered from nerves before going into battle, but war was easy compared to this. War was something he was bred for.

“Go on,” Mira tells him. ‘She’s expecting you.”

He stares at Mira unmoving. He should be racing for the door now, but his current state of mind is so alien to him he doesn’t know how to respond. Zan, the Great Warrior, the Liberator of Antar, is shaking inside.

“What’s she like?” he asks in a small voice.

He knows she was born with all the basic knowledge of life programmed into her while she was nurtured in the pod, but he doesn’t know how that will translate to the real world, or what to expect. Will she know him? Will she like him? Will she feel anything at all for him?

“Go in and find out,” Mira turns him toward the oversized set of double doors.

Zan’s mouth suddenly goes dry. His stomach begins to rumble. This is it. The moment he’s been waiting for. He takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into a new life.

* * * * *

Lisa stands in front of a full length mirror looking at her reflection. Her fingers slide down a strand of her long, wavy hair. Her eyes fall to the white silken dress that hugs her body.

Zan stands several feet behind her, barely able to breathe. Now that he finally sees her, he doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. Her newly bathed skin glows with rich vibrancy, her dark hair gleams. Her eyes lift to meet his in the mirror.

“Mira says my name is Lisa.”

“Yes,” Zan responds, stepping closer. Her voice is soft, lilting, like music in the air. He swallows hard.

“Did you choose it for me?”

“Yes,” Zan nods. Her words come out formal, enunciated with careful deliberation, yet tempered by an underlying intimacy. He holds his breath, waiting for her to speak again.

She turns away from the mirror, sweeping her eyes around the room. He’s made it special for her, with comfortable furniture and muted lighting. He’s never had a real home before, but he’s done his best to make one for her, complete with skylights to showcase the majestic Antarian skies, and double doors leading to her own private garden. He’s recreated paintings on the walls and other decorations, using his memories of Liz’s room to get the details right.

Lisa runs her hand along the soft fabric of a pillowed couch, touches the white petals of a single rose in a crystal vase.

She stands in profile with the sun streaming in the window behind her, outlining her features with an angelic glow, highlighting the soft red aura that radiates around her. She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his, turning his knees to jello.

“Do I belong to you?”

“Yes – NO!” he quickly corrects himself, then frantically searches for the right words to say. “Your name, you can change it if you don’t like it.”

She moves away from the flower vase, her small bare feet peeking out below the hem of her long dress. She glides with grace and beauty around the room, pausing for a moment in front of one of the paintings, moving on to study a porcelain bird, before stopping next to a bookcase filled with volumes of earthly classics. She runs her fingers along the spines.

“Your voice, it’s familiar to me.”

“I talked to you – read to you – before you were … born.”

The memory of it resonates in his mind, the days and nights he spent beside her pod, reading tales whose messages struck far too close to home.

“Yes,” Lisa whispers. She’s silent for a moment, then recites a quote:

“You alone are Mistress here; you need only bid me gone if my presence is troublesome, and I will immediately withdraw. But, tell me, do you not think me very ugly?”

“No –” Zan hastens to stop her recitation, then sags as her words sink in. With a face of such exquisite beauty, how can she not think of him as a beast?

Lisa cocks her head to the side. “You did not read that to me?”

“Yes, I did,” he admits, though it’s not the quote he wants her to remember. “I read you many things. I never dreamed you would remember them.”

She slides a book from the shelf and opens the cover. “I know your voice, your face,” she says, putting the book aside and turning to face him, “but you have not yet told me your name.”

“Zan,” he blurts out, surprised that she doesn’t know. “My name is Zan.”

“Zan.”

The sound of his name spilling from her lips makes his stomach rumble. It’s what he’s wanted for so long, to have her look at him this way, to have her near. To have her be his. She moves in his direction, stopping only inches in front of him. He stares down at her, wanting to kiss her, to hold her, forcing himself not to rush it. He’s afraid of overwhelming her with the depth of his desire.

When she reaches up and touches his lips he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“Soft,” she smiles, then moves her fingers to his cheek. She lets out a tiny laugh. “Rough!”

Zan grabs her hand, encompassing it within his larger fingers. “Whiskers. I didn’t shave.”

She focuses on their entwined hands. Her left hand joins, touching the back of his hand, then gliding up his forearm. When she touches his bicep her eyes lift to meet his again.

“Strong.”

He doesn’t know what to say. She’s exploring her environment: the furnishings, the decorations, him. Her face is full of such innocence; she doesn’t know what her touch does to him.

“You’re a man,” she says, then looks down at herself. She touches her throat, then glides her hand down her chest. “I’m a–”

Her stomach grumbles causing a look of surprise to cross her face.

“You’re hungry,” Zan smiles. “There’s food in the kitchen. I’ll get you something to eat.”

He holds her hand to lead her across the room into the kitchen. She tugs on his arm, bringing him to a sudden stop. He turns to see her looking at him with her head tilting to the right.

“You should do that more.”

“Do what?” Zan asks, perplexed.

“That,” she touches his lips. “When the corners turn up like that, the color around you turns bright blue.”

A sense of euphoria fills Zan. She likes the way he smiles? It’s a look he thinks he’ll wear forever now.

* * * * *

Zan stands in the middle of the kitchen looking completely lost. He’s used to eating military rations, the kind he just opens and eats with hardly a thought of what it actually is. Or sometimes they catch a malama and cook it over the campfire. He can skin it and gut it without any problem, but finding something in the kitchen is proving to be much more difficult.

Lisa runs her fingers along the tiled countertops, the ceramic sink, the stainless steel faucet. She cocks her head to the side for a moment, then recites, “A basin, with a water supply and an outflow pipe. Sink.”

Zan watches her. It takes him a moment to realize what she’s doing. “That’s right.”

“Drawer,” she says as she slides one open. She reaches inside and picks up a fork. “Instrument with two or more prongs used in eating or cooking.”

She turns to Zan, holding the fork out to him. “Do you need this? For cooking? Or eating?”

“Sure,” he takes it from her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She moves around the kitchen again, familiarizing herself with her new surroundings. She touches things, almost childlike in her discovery. Their surroundings are more Earth-like than Antarian; the refrigerator and stove are right off the pages of Better Homes and Gardens, a magazine Zan read somewhere once, killing time while he waited to complete one of his assignments.

“What’s this?” Lisa holds an object out to Zan. He takes it.

“It’s called a cavati,” Zan tells her. “It’s similar to a strawberry, except it’s bigger, like a melon, and it’s purple, not red, and it doesn’t have seeds –”

“So it’s not really like a strawberry at all,” Lisa laughs.

“I guess not,” Zan laughs with her. “Except it tastes like a strawberry.”

When she bites into the cavati her face turns blissful. “It’s wonderful!” she says around a mouthful of fruit. She offers it to Zan who takes a bite of his own.

“It is good, isn’t it?” he chews, handing it back to her. Purple juice drips down the heel of his hand. “It grows out in the gar – DEN!” His voice cracks when Lisa unexpectedly licks the cavati juice from his hand. His heartbeat skips, then races at triple its normal speed.

“Are you okay?” Lisa asks innocently. “Your face, it’s turning red. Do you need me to call Mira?”

“No,” Zan sputters and clears his throat. “I’m fine. The cavati, it just went down wrong.”

“It’s very good,” Lisa takes another bite, seemingly oblivious to the emotions surging through him. He struggles to regain control of his breathing.

“Um, why don’t you just sit down over here,” Zan leads her to the table and pulls out a chair. “I’ll fix us something … less … juicy.”

“Are you sure you’re not ill?” she asks again. She sits on the chair, looking up at him with her brows furrowed together, her face etched in concern.

“Honey,” he leans over her, smiling from ear to ear, “I’ve never felt better in my life.”

“Honey,” she says, tilting her head to the right. “Sweet sticky yellowish fluid made by bees from nectar. No,” she shakes her head slightly, then tries again. “Darling, sweetheart, a form of address. Oh,” she smiles. “Honey.”

Zan finds himself once more at a total loss for words. Looking into her eyes he feels a change take place deep inside him, a shifting from obsession to genuine emotion. Her innocence brings out a fierce desire for him to protect her, but it’s something more than that. For the first time in his life, he’s not concerned with what he wants, or what he needs.

The whole world is new in her eyes. In her presence, he feels new too.

Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Zan
Rating: Adult



Afterburn
Part 12


Zan stands over Lisa’s bed watching her as she sleeps. She’s been with him only a few days now, but already he can hardly remember what his life was like without her. She’s wearing a nightgown of white silk, one of the few belongings Mira sent with her, but soon she’ll need more things. Perhaps he’ll take her to the market tomorrow, to buy her new clothes, new shoes, whatever she needs.

He tucks the coverlet up around her shoulders so she won’t get cold during the night, then turns off the lamp on the nightstand by the bed. He’d rather stay right here for the rest of the night, in the chair by the bedside, or better yet, on the bed beside her, but he’s taken Mira’s warning to heart. He doesn’t want to smother Lisa by hovering over her every hour of the day and night.

“Goodnight,” he whispers to her sleeping form, then silently departs. Each night, after she falls asleep, he retires to his own room, where he lays awake for hours waiting for morning to arrive so he can get up and see her again. He listens to her as she sleeps, hearing every little sound she makes; his hearing is sharp, and the distance between their rooms is only a few feet.

He hasn’t kissed her yet. Hasn’t held her in his arms. Yet he feels no frustration. The old Zan would have taken what he wanted when he wanted it, but with Lisa he’s satisfied to just to be near her. She was born with a wealth of information, a virtual encyclopedia stored inside her head, but in some ways she’s like a newborn babe, looking with awe and wonder at the world. With each passing day he sees her growing, maturing before his very eyes.

Once inside his room he sheds his trademark leather clothes. He drops his vest across the back of a chair, drapes his pants over the seat. A mirror on the wall reflects his nude body as he climbs into bed. Muscular arms and a broad chest tanned a rich bronze by the new sun; flat, ridged stomach and narrow hips; powerful thighs that attest to years of marching across Antarian terrain. He lies back on a pillow, with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. In the other room he hears Lisa turn over in her sleep.

As he lies in bed he smiles, wondering what tomorrow will bring. Each day is a new adventure. He never knew life could be as exciting as this – without war, without death – just the enjoyment of living.

He turns onto his side, tucking a hand under his cheek, the sheet pulled up to his hips leaving his chest and shoulders bare. Outside the Antarian nights are cold, but in the warmth of this place he now calls home he doesn’t feel it. He drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face, something everyone is becoming accustomed to seeing.

Hours later he awakens, sensing something different in the room, or more precisely, in his bed. He’s warmer than he should be, and something is holding down his arm. He shakes the fog of sleep from his mind, and when he does, the realization sinks in that he’s not alone. He blinks open his eyes to see a tangle of dark hair.

He lifts his head from the pillow, instinct sending him into battle mode, but the scent in the air tempers his reaction. Her scent. Lisa. He doesn’t know when it happened, but some time during the night she crawled into his bed.

His sudden movement causes her to stir. She tightens her hold on his arm, which happens to be wrapped securely around her. Her back rests flush to his chest, her bottom fits snug against his lap, his body rapidly responds to her presence.

“Lisa?” he whispers. Is he dreaming?

She sighs, then settles back to sleep.

He feels her chest rise and fall with every breath. The silky material of her nightgown is arousing, intoxicating, though he fights against his inappropriate reaction. He thinks about taking her back to her room, but he doesn’t want to expose himself, literally or figuratively. He’s never been modest before, but in her presence everything is different.

“Zan?” he hears her utter faintly, surprising him. He thought she was asleep.

“Yes?” he whispers back.

She snuggles deeper into his embrace.

“I was lonely by myself. Can I stay with you?”

“Of course,” he whispers into her ear. He doesn’t trust himself to say more.

He briefly thinks about getting up to put something on, but he really doesn’t have anything. He’s not a pajama wearing kind of man. During the day he wears leather like a second skin, but at night his flesh needs to breathe. Normally being seen in the nude would never bother him; he neither flaunts his body nor hides it. Ava’s seen him at his worst, and the Antarians aren’t offended by his natural state. But for some reason he feels self-conscious in Lisa’s presence. Maybe because of her innocence; he wants to protect her from everything – including himself.

“You’re so warm,” Lisa sighs, on the verge of sleep again.

His internal clock is aware of every minute that passes. He hears her breathing slow as she falls deeper into sleep. With her body so close to him, as far as he’s concerned, tonight need never end and tomorrow need never come. He’s living in a perfect moment, one he never wants to end.

* * * * *

Zan turns over and stretches as he wakes. At first he wonders what’s different, and then he realizes he’s alone. Funny, how in one night he’s become accustomed to her presence in his bed, and without her he feels empty. With a touch of disappointment, he sighs and lets his head fall back against the pillow. She must have returned to her own bed as silently as she came into his.

He pulls the covers aside and rises to make haste of his morning routine. These days he showers as soon as possible, then dresses and hurries to the kitchen to prepare the morning meal for his beloved. He has an Antarian cook who could do it for him, but he wants to fix her breakfast with his own hands. He pads across the bedroom floor and enters the bathroom, where he staggers to a sudden stop.

“Good morning,” Lisa smiles at him from the center of the bathroom, with only a towel wrapped around her wet body. Beads of water drip from her hair onto her bare shoulders.

“Lisa!” Zan stands there gaping at her, naked as the day he was spit out of his pod.

“I used your shower. Is that okay?”

“Yes – sure – fine!” he sputters.

“I think this is your towel,” she apologizes. “It was the only one I could find.” She starts to take it off.

“No! You keep it!” Zan blurts out. He feels himself growing hard already; the last thing he needs is to see her standing naked in front of him. “I have more towels – I’ll get my own.”

“Okay,” she smiles at him, the kind of smile that takes his breath away. He wills his body to behave.

Lisa steps around him and heads toward the door. Zan doesn’t move. She’s a good 10 inches shorter than him. He outweighs her by 80 pounds or more. So why is it he’s as helpless as a baby in her presence?

“Zan?” she says from the doorway.

He looks over his shoulder at her. He doesn’t dare turn around to face her.

“Can I make you breakfast today?”

She looks so sweet, he can’t help but smile, despite the fact that his bare ass is on full display. “Sure. Do you know where everything is?”

“Yes,” she smiles, a look so beautiful it makes him believe in a higher power. How else could skin and blood and bone turn into this?

She turns to leave and then stops. Her smile fades as she turns back to look at him.

“Zan?”

The tone of her voice makes his smile disappear. Her seriousness causes his stomach to clench. As she moves back to him her eyes remain riveted to the tiles on the bathroom floor. When she once more is standing in front of him, her gaze lifts, focusing on his lower abdomen. He’s stunned by the next words out of her mouth.

“Why do roses bleed?”

She touches the tattoo on his abdomen, low, inside his right hip. It’s a memento he’s carried with him all these years, a rose dripping blood from its white petals, but since Lisa’s birth he hasn’t thought about it at all. How can he explain to her why it’s there, and what it means? She knows nothing of Liz, or Earth, or Max.

“They don’t,” he wraps his hand around hers and brings it to his lips. “The kind of roses we have here don’t have thorns.”

She raises her eyes up to meet his. “I’m glad.”

Some day he’ll have to tell her about Earth, and everything that happened there, but not today. She’s not ready to hear something like that, and he’s not ready to tell it.

* * * * *

Zan shakes droplets of water from his hair and steps out of the shower. He grabs a towel and rubs it over his face, breathing deeply when he gets a whiff of Lisa’s scent. Her smell permeates the towel, soft, yet arousing, setting off another physical reaction in his body. He wills the growing ache in his groin away, more anxious to get back to her than to engage in self-indulgence. He doesn’t want to waste a single minute away from her.

He dries off and then drops the towel on the floor and hurries into the bedroom. He lifts clean pants from a dresser drawer and slips them on, the black leather molding to his skin. He grabs a clean vest on the way out.

As soon as he steps into the living room he senses something wrong. He forgets all about the plans he’s making for the day. The smell of something burning sends him running toward the kitchen. He arrives just in time to see his Antarian cook dousing the smoldering remains of two pieces of toast. Lisa stands nearby biting on her lower lip.

“Lisa!” Zan rushes to her. His hand smoothes down her hair, using his powers to make sure she isn’t hurt. “What happened?”

“I –,” she starts in a timid voice, “I –”

She looks up at him like the world is about to go supernova.

“I burned your breakfast.”

Her chin begins to tremble, and Zan realizes she’s about to start crying. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest.

“That’s okay. There’s plenty of bread, and if not, we can send for more. You don’t have to cry over it.”

“Really?” she looks up at him with dark liquid eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“No, honey, I’m not mad,” he cups her face and gently strokes his thumb across her cheek. “It’s just bread.”

“Honey?” her dark red aura begins to brighten.

A smile spreads over Zan’s face. Humor sparkles in his eyes. “Honey,” he repeats, “a yellow sticky substance made by bees from nectar. Good on burnt toast.”

Lisa shakes her head. “Sweetheart. Darling. A term of endearment. I like that meaning better.”

Zan’s smile slowly fades. This is it. The moment he’s been waiting for. What she just said, the way she’s looking up at him, all the signals are so clear. He wants to kiss her now. He’s sure she wants it, too. At least he thinks so. But what if he’s wrong? He’s not a man given to indecision. He makes split second decisions on the battlefield, choices that have life and death ramifications, so why is it so difficult to do something as simple as this?

It’s a kiss. Just a kiss. His life hinges on a single kiss.

He can’t fight the pull, the attraction, the overwhelming desire. With his arm still wrapped around her, his head slowly lowers. Her eyes shift to his lips – she’s staring at his lips – her face lifts upwards to meet his lips – and then Ava bursts into the kitchen.

“What’s burning?! Zan! Something’s on – fire.”

Zan bolts away from Lisa, startled by Ava’s sudden appearance. Kel appears behind her. Zan grits his teeth, holding in a groan of frustration.

“Sorry,” Ava has the good sense to at least look a little embarrassed. “I thought something was on fire. I didn’t know it was you.”

Alarmed, Lisa sweeps her eyes over Zan. “You’re on fire?! We have to put it out!” She races toward the sink.

“No Lisa!” Zan rushes to stop her. He grabs her arm just as she’s getting ready to throw a glass of water on him. “Ava didn’t mean it. I’m not on fire. See?”

“Oh,” Lisa calms down.

Ava covers her mouth with her hand but she can’t stop laughing. Not even after Zan glares at her. “Sorry, I was just teasing,” she says, then bursts into laughter again.

Lisa tilts her head to the right. “Teasing: make fun of playfully, unkindly, or annoyingly.”

“It was meant to be playful,” Ava tells her.

“Well it was fucking annoying,” Zan growls. He’s not going to forgive Ava for a very long time. “What are you doing here?” he demands.

“Did you come for breakfast?!” Lisa asks.

Zan opens his mouth to protest, he doesn’t want to share her with anyone, but then he sees the excitement on her face. She’s spent the first few days of her life here, with only occasional visits by Mira and Ava to break his monopoly of her. He feels a stab of jealousy, he wants to keep her all to himself, but he knows he can’t, for her sake.

“So what are we having?” Ava breezes into the room. Kel stays in the doorway silently watching.

“Burnt toast and honey!”

Lisa’s surprising outburst leaves Zan openly gaping at her. He’s never heard her tell a joke before. Her aura sparkles; her face is lit with humor. Her personality is really starting to shine through, which only makes him love her more.

“Toast and honey sounds good to me,” Ava grins, walking over to join Lisa. “How can I help?”

Zan is irritated as hell over Ava’s poor timing, but a part of him is glad she’s here. There’s something he’s been wanting to talk to her about. It will have to wait though, until after the meal, when he can talk to her alone.

Kel moves into the kitchen and silently takes a seat at the table.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Zan takes a seat beside his friend. “Everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Kel answers.

Zan thinks Kel sounds a little defensive, but it’s hard for him to read the shapeshifter. Kel gives off no aura, and his mind is one of the few Zan can’t probe. His genetic makeup is too different.

“Sorry,” Kel shakes his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “I’ve been a little tired. Worn out from the fighting I guess.”

“Good thing the war is over. You can get all the rest you need.”

“Yeah,” Kel smiles, looking like his old self again.

“So, have you asked her yet?” Zan asks.

“Asked her?” Kel frowns in confusion.

“Ava. You said you wanted to marry her. With the war over –”

“No, I haven’t asked her yet. Just waiting for the right time.”

Lisa brings a tray of Antarian fruit over to the table. “Cavati?” she asks, holding a piece of the purple fruit out for Zan. He opens his mouth and she slips it between his lips. All thought beyond her leaves his mind.

Kel falls into silence again, watching those around him.




TBC ...

Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Zan
Rating: Adult


Afterburn
Part 13


Zan walks arm in arm with Lisa through the market in the heart of the city. She points at things, laughing or aahing at what she sees, occasionally stopping to look at something closer. He indulges her every whim.

“Look at that!” Lisa points toward a booth filled with exotic fabrics. “So beautiful!”

She runs ahead and he lets her go. He has no fear of anything harming her here. He sees how the Antarians look at her, and respond to her, as if she’s a princess or a queen. If the Skins were still alive, she would be a primary target, but he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. He feels carefree, just enjoying every moment, something he thought he’d never live to feel.

“She has quite a personality, doesn’t she?” Ava falls into step beside him.

Zan smiles his agreement. As they walk along in comfortable companionship, he says, “I want to thank you.”

“For what?” she asks.

“For being a friend to her. I know how you feel about all this.”

“She’s here,” Ava shrugs. “The circumstances of her birth don’t matter anymore.” After a pause, she adds, “I like her. Very much.”

Zan returns his gaze to Lisa, smitten and not afraid to show it. “So do I.”

“Have you …?”

Zan stops short beside a booth filled with precious metals and sparkling stones. He looks down at Ava, his carefree countenance turning deadly serious. “If you’re asking if I’ve forced myself on her yet, the answer is no.”

Ava’s shoulders slump a little as she lets out a beleaguered sigh. “Zan, I know you better than anyone else. We’ve been through a lot together, and I know exactly what you’re capable of. Forcing yourself on Lisa isn’t even a remote possibility. You would never do that. Not to her.”

Zan’s rigid stance relaxes. He brushes Ava’s cheek with his fingertips. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I was so fucked up back then. I know that’s no excuse –”

Ava cuts his apology short. “I forgave you a long time ago. You don’t have to keep beating yourself up over it.”

“Thanks,” he kisses her lightly on the forehead. “Your opinion matters to me. A lot. That’s why …”

“Why what?” Ava asks when he doesn’t finish.

Zan looks over at Lisa again. She has a length of fabric draped over her shoulder, showing it off to a group of young Antarians who have circled around her. Metallic fibers in the material sparkle in the sunlight. She twirls around, smiling and laughing, radiating health and happiness.

“Can you talk to her?” Zan asks Ava. “There’re things she needs to know about, things I can’t help her with.”

“Like what?”

“Girl things,” Zan admits, looking a little uncomfortable. “She has this wealth of information inside her, I mean; she can talk about the formation of planets or the heat index generated by the sun, but then on the other hand she doesn’t know what a cavati is. She knows I’m a man, and that she’s a woman, but I’m not sure if she understands what the difference means. Sometimes she’s almost child-like…”

“What is it you’re really worried about?” Ava asks.

He was there for Lisa’s birth; he’s been with her almost every moment since. She came out of the pod with a basic knowledge of life, but he’s taught her everything else, from how a toaster works to how to tie her shoes. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong impression about his role in her life.

“I’m not her father. I don’t want her to think I am.”

“Oh Zan,” Ava laughs lightly. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Zan arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Take a look,” Ava flicks her gaze toward Lisa. “Is that the kind of look a girl gives her father?”

Zan looks up to see Lisa fingering a swatch of red silk. He thinks the color makes her skin glow, but then she looks in his direction, with her eyelids half lowered, her mouth curving with just the hint of a smile, her cheeks turning rosy when she realizes he’s looking her way. It’s a look that makes his stomach rumble.

“See what I mean?” Ava chuckles.

Zan moves toward Lisa, oblivious to anything else around him now.

“I’ll talk to her,” Ava says to his back. “But I can guarantee, she doesn’t think of you as a father figure.”

Zan doesn’t acknowledge Ava, or even hear her. He sees only Lisa.

“Zan? Zan?”

He keeps walking.

“Oh, Zan,” Ava smiles, “you have it so bad.”

Zan reaches Lisa’s side. She hands the red silk back to the shopkeeper, her fingers lingering before she pulls them away.

“Did you find something you like?” Zan asks her.

“It’s pretty, don’t you think?” She looks up at him, the warmth of the day coloring her skin, or is that from some internal flame?

“It’ll look good on you,” he says, nodding his head toward the shopkeeper. The Antarian, a female he knows as Dena, bows and removes the silk. “What else would you like? The blue? The gold? The lace? Dena is an excellent seamstress. She made this vest for me.”

Lisa lifts her hand to touch his chest. Her fingers smooth over the dark leather material. “Do you always wear this? I’ve never seen you in anything else.”

Zan looks down, seeing himself through her eyes. Does she think it strange he always wears the same thing?

“I try. Many times!” Dena says in chopped English. “He like the leather!”

“What about this?” Lisa picks up a bolt of cotton-like material.

Zan shakes his head. “I’m not wearing purple.”

“Then how about this?” she drapes a charcoal grey over her arm.

Zan scrunches his nose. He can’t see himself wearing grey. He touches the fabric, using his powers to turn it into well worn denim. He looks at Dena and says, “A pair of jeans. Do you still have my measurements?”

“Of course,” she bows.

“And a shirt out of this?” Lisa picks up another bolt of cloth.

“It’s pink,” Zan objects.

“It’s salmon,” Lisa corrects.

“How about white,” Zan counters, handing her a soft cotton.

“With buttons down the front?”

“Sure,” he smiles. Dena takes the fabric and adds it to the growing stack.

“We start right now,” Dena beams, handing the material to an assistant.

“Bring it around to the Regence,” Zan tells her. Dena bows and backs away. “Is there anything else you’d like?” Zan asks Lisa. “A necklace? Earrings? A bracelet for your wrist?”

A little girl tugs on Lisa’s dress. Lisa squats down beside her, smiling when the girl runs her fingers through Lisa’s hair.

‘Pretty.’

“I think you’re pretty,” Lisa taps the girl on her tiny nose.

The child’s giggle sounds inside Zan’s head. Inside he feels like giggling too. He never dreamed the people would accept her so openly.

‘Sir,’ a male Antarian appears on Zan’s left. He holds out an offering in his elongated hand. ‘For your Lady.’

“For me?” Lisa rises to her feet, transfixed by the blue sparkling crystal. “It’s beautiful.”

Zan lifts it from the Antarian’s hand, noticing the delicate chain attached to the luminous crystal. A pendant of unrivaled design.

“How much?” Zan asks. Antarians love to barter, and with the Skins gone, commerce has taken off. Everyone is eager to rebuild their lives.

‘A gift,’ the gem merchant bows and backs away.

“Thank you,” Lisa acknowledges his generosity with a bow of her own. “That’s so kind of you.”

“Here,” Zan opens the clasp. “Lift your hair.”

He fastens the pendant around her neck. In his mind he hears a chorus of oohs and aahs and looks up to see the whole market watching. If he lives to be a thousand years old he’ll never understand the fascination they have with him, but their response toward Lisa is another matter. She captivated his heart from the moment he laid eyes on her. He completely understands how mesmerizing she is.

“How does it look?” Lisa turns around to face him.

The crystal lies between the swell of her modest breasts. The sunlight makes it sparkle, a perfect complement to her beauty. He doesn’t think he has the words to adequately describe it, so he says the only thing he can.

“Let’s go home.”





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Afterburn
Part 14


Zan finishes fastening the buttons on his white shirt, pausing when he’s done to look at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. His jeans fit him snuggly, not too tight and not too loose, just the way he likes them. He’s had a bit of an adjustment; it’s been nearly a month since he’s worn leather, but the new look goes with the new man. He doesn’t miss the old one at all.

Before he leaves the bedroom he uses his powers to straighten the blankets on the bed. He doesn’t sleep alone anymore. At first she would come into his bed in the middle of the night and he’d wake up to the warmth of her beside him, but they stopped the pretense of separate bedrooms a couple of weeks ago. Now they retire together. He holds her all night long, though they’ve done no more than that.

Dena’s made a dozen pair of boxer shorts for him to wear at night, which he now does religiously. He’s not sure why, Lisa’s seen him naked, but when she’s in his bed with him, he’s grateful for a couple of layers of clothing between them. She’s so new to the world, he doesn’t think she’s ready for a physical relationship yet, and he’s not about to rush it. He’ll know when the time is right.

He leaves the bedroom and makes his way to the kitchen. She likes to make him toast and honey for breakfast, and he likes to eat it now that she’s learned how to do it without burning the bread. When he enters the kitchen he spins around in surprise. She’s not there.

“Lisa?” he calls out.

She doesn’t answer.

“Lisa!” he starts to panic. He races from one room to the next, but the place is huge. His mind whirls with chaotic thought; did she go somewhere on her own? Did someone take her? Is she safe? Is she hurt? Is she wandering around somewhere lost and frightened? He’s sick with worry, on the edge of losing complete control – and then he sees her in one of the antechambers, like a vision out of one of his dreams.

She’s standing on a stool wearing a dress of rich blue velvet. The sleeves are off the shoulders leaving her elegant throat bare. The pendant she was given in the marketplace a few weeks ago hangs nestled between her breasts, its blue crystal dazzling in the light as she swivels left and right.

“Please to stand still!” Dena scolds lightly. She kneels in front of Lisa trying to make adjustments to the length of the dress.

Lisa notices Zan standing in the doorway.

He can’t take his eyes off of her. The dress is like something out of a fairy tale, rich, regal, a gown fit for royalty. It hugs her curves like it’s molded to her skin.

“Zan! Do you like it?” she asks. Her eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Do I …?” he steps into the room. He has to clear his throat before he can finish his sentence. “It’s beautiful. You’re very beautiful.”

Color rises in her cheeks. Her eyes lower while her lips curve upwards. “Dena says I need this for the celebration.”

“Celebration?” Zan’s brows furrow together. “What celebration?”

“You next,” Dena points a long finger at him. “Make new clothes. No leather!”

“What for?” Zan asks. He has everything he wants.

“Celebrate war no more. You big man. Your Lady say make shirt for you in fish color.”

Zan looks confused, until he sees the salmon colored material piled on the nearby table.

“It’ll look good on you,” Lisa tells him.

He turns his gaze on Lisa again. She has an independent spirit, and a strong will, which is becoming more apparent with every passing day. He knows who’s going to be the boss of this house, and he concedes that it’s not going to be him.

“Who said we’re having a celebration?” he crosses his arms over his chest. The material of his shirt stretches tightly across his biceps.

“All town know,” Dena says, adding blue lace to the hem of Lisa’s dress.

“Ava’s been working with Luc and Kel to plan it,” Lisa adds. “My job is to make sure you show up.”

Zan moves his hands defiantly to his hips. “What if I don’t want to?”

“But you do.”

“I do?”

“Of course.”

Zan isn’t ready to cave. He doesn’t like being the center of attention. A party celebrating the end of the war is bound to focus on him.

Lisa steps down from the stool and glides over to stand in front of him. Like an angel on heavenly wings, her dress rustles faintly as she moves.

“The war is over,” she begins. “It’s important for the people to celebrate victory over the Skins, and a return to independence. It’s only natural that they’d want you as the Man of Honor.”

“How long has this been in the works?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“Why am I just finding out about it now?”

“So you couldn’t ruin all the plans.”

“I can’t get out of this, can I?”

Lisa runs her hand up Zan’s chest. “Absolutely not.”

Zan wraps his hand around hers, holding her to him. “When’s the party?”

Lisa smiles. “In three days.”

Zan brings her hand up to his lips. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Lisa’s smile sparkles. “You’ll look handsome in pink.”

* * * * *

Zan finishes with his fitting and slips back into his white shirt, silently conceding that salmon doesn’t look so bad. He goes in search of Lisa; he’s hungry for breakfast, and to see her again. This time, he doesn’t panic when he can’t find her in the kitchen. He feels her close. He follows her scent.

His nose leads him to the garden where he finds her filling a basket with cavati, and other Antarian fruits. He watches her for a minute, mesmerized by the way she moves. She’s wearing a full length dress of white gauze now, with half sleeves, her dark hair falling down her back in waves. Morning sunlight streams down on her making her aura glow. She hums some melody he doesn’t recognize, then he realizes it must be a tune she’s made up on her own. She’s never heard the music of Earth, and Antarians don’t have an ear for it. Her bare feet leave faint impressions on the ground.

Her hand stills in the act of plucking a ripe rumberry. Her head tilts slightly to the right, then she turns, smiling when she sees him. It’s a smile warm enough to melt glaciers. And cold lonely hearts.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“I just finished,” Zan hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Dena says your dress will be ready tomorrow.”

“Good,” Lisa puts the cantaloupe size rumberry in the basket.

Zan stands there for a moment, watching her watching him. The air is pregnant around them. Waiting. Full of promise. Zan is the first to move.

He takes a deep breath; he’s been holding it since he saw her standing there, then walks in her direction. He pauses at an aliria bush, picks one of the small white buds, and takes it to her.

“What’s this for?” she asks.

“You.”

He tucks the bud into her hair, near her right ear. He thinks there was some significance back on Earth as to which side to put the flower on, but he doesn’t remember. He didn’t pay attention to those things back then. He was too busy killing to take the time to look at flowers.

Lisa tilts her head. It’s one of those little habits she has when she’s assimilating things, and learning. She must not like what she’s deciphered this time if the darkening of her aura is any indication.

She lifts her hand and touches his cheek. “Sometimes, you look so sad.”

His eyes travel over her face, taking everything in. Her pert little nose. Her full red lips. The brown eyes that reach inside his heart.

He’s completely honest when he says to her, “Not anymore.”

He’s had many dreams over the years; of kissing under the stars, of making love and being loved, but unlike his dreams, it’s not Liz that he sees now, or feels in his arms. She’s Lisa, a unique individual, with only a resemblance to the girl he used to know.

There’s still innocence in her eyes, but now he sees something else as well. An awareness he’s been waiting for. He feels himself falling into the depths of her dark eyes. Her hand moves from his cheek to thread into his hair; her gaze drops from his eyes to concentrate on his mouth.

“Lisa,” he lets out a sigh when he sees the tip of her tongue dart out to moisten her lips. He lowers his head; he can’t help himself, he has no will power to resist it anymore.

Their lips touch, soft and sweet; no coercion, or force, or duplicity to trick her into loving him. His arms slip around her waist, hers wrap around his neck. Her basket falls to the ground forgotten.

Inside his heart leaps with joy, but he keeps himself in check. He won’t overpower her, or smother her with the depth of his desire. Life’s lessons have come to him the hard way; he’s had his fill of self-indulgence. This time, his needs come second.

When the kiss comes to a slow, satisfying end, their lips part, their foreheads touch, their eyes lock on to each other.

“Kiss,” she sighs, slightly breathless.

“Touch with the lips,” Zan smiles, “especially as a sign of love –”

“ –affection–”

“ –greeting–”

“ –or reverence,” she finishes.

“Oh, definitely reverence,” Zan breathes heavily.

“And affection,” she focuses on his lips again. “Definitely affection.”

“And love”, Zan agrees, right before his lips cover hers again.

Further words go unspoken between them, but not unfelt. Their kiss is gentle, sweet, a moment suspended in time with no past to haunt them. It’s all that Zan needs for now, all that he wants.

Kisses sweeter than honey.




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Afterburn
Part 15


The midday sun shines down on Lisa’s special garden, warming the fruit on the vines. Cavati turns from green to purple. Rumberries turn dark blue. Zan stretches out on a bed of thick ground cover, with his head on Lisa’s lap. She leans back against the smooth trunk of a Jessip tree.

“Tell me about this,” she touches his chest, just above his heart.

“About what?” Zan looks at her hand.

She unfastens the first few buttons on his shirt and pulls it aside, exposing the swirling tattoo on his chest. “This.”

“I’ve always had it,” Zan says vaguely. He wants to tell her about his past, but he can’t. Not yet.

“What about this one,” Lisa touches the tattoo on his right forearm. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the V shape design is clearly visible.

“It’s our solar system,” he tells her, and points at the dot at the bottom of the V. “That’s us. Antar.”

She looks from his arm up to the afternoon sky. “Mira said we used to travel the stars. Do you think we’ll ever go there again?”

He cups her face to bring her attention back to him. “I’m happy right where I am. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“It is beautiful here,” she smiles at him.

“Yes, it is,” he cups the back of her head and draws her down to him.

He raises his head from her lap to meet her lips, but he holds himself in check so he doesn’t flood her with sensation. When their lips touch he gets a flash from her, of how she fell into his arms at the moment of her birth. He’s momentarily stunned by the depth of emotion she felt for him even then, but he can’t offer her an answering connection. He can’t let her see what’s inside him. The life he led. The kind of man he was.

When their kiss ends she touches her fingers to his lips. “I like kissing.”

“So do I,” he sits up, facing her. His stomach rumbles.

“You’re hungry,” she laughs.

“Very,” he mumbles, then shakes himself out of his inappropriate thoughts.

“Maybe you want … this!”

He sees the rumberry in her hand before he can react. She lifts it and squishes it against his mouth. The sound of her laughter drifts on the afternoon breeze.

“Hey!” Zan sputters, grabbing for her hands. Berry juice flies everywhere.

Lisa clambers to her feet darting away from him. She laughs as she runs away.

“Lisa!” he chases after her. “Come back here!”

“Catch me!” she teases.

Her challenge is something Zan can’t resist. He chases her across the meadow, through wildflowers that bring color to the world. She eludes him at first, just out of reach of his fingertips, but then he catches her and they tumble to the ground. Their laughter floats across the terrain.

“We should go back inside,” Zan says when he catches his breath. He looks down at her face, cheeks rosy from her exertions, and just as beautiful as always. His hand brushes back a strand of her hair.

“Will you introduce me to all your friends at the party?” she asks.

“My friends?” Zan arches an eyebrow. “You already know everyone.”

“I don’t mean Ava or Kel or Mira. I mean Hal, and Luc, and all the other people that know you,” she clarifies.

“If you want,” he tells her, brushing his fingers along her cheek. For so many years he’s felt alone here, but in truth, he hasn’t been. Hal’s been with him since first arrival. For years they’ve fought side by side. He’s known Luc for nearly that long, working with him on strategy and keeping the Capital City safe. He realizes now that many of the people he’s met here are much more than mere acquaintances.

On the outside he might look different from the Antarian people, but inside he feels a kinship to them. The same blood runs through their veins. He realizes for the first time that he feels more connected to the people here than he ever did on Earth.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

The rest he can’t tell her; that he’s having a hard time keeping his hormones in check. He feels her body beneath him, certain she’s unaware of the kind of havoc she causes in him. She’s a mess, with grass in her hair, and dirt streaked across her face, but he thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

She runs a finger in a straight line down his nose, over his lips, down his chin and throat, smiling when she sees him swallow hard. He thinks he can see stars in her eyes, and the sun and the moon and the heavens. Looking at her, he sees a future now, where once he felt he had none.

“I’m trying to decide what I like better.”

“Better?” Zan asks, hanging on her every word.

She nods her head, looking serious, but she can’t hide the twinkle in her eyes. She lifts her head until her lips are almost touching his.

“I can’t decide,” she says in a throaty tone. Her tongue darts out and touches his lower lip, sending a bolt of fire right through him. He lunges forward to smother her with a kiss, but she presses her hand against his chest, pulling her head back, just out of his reach.

“Can’t decide what?” he asks.

“If I like you better in leather,” her eyes sparkle, “or when you’re wearing pink!”

She giggles as she pushes him off and scrambles out from under him, eluding his attempt to try to pull her back. She’s off running across the meadow again, with Zan chasing on her heels, laughing like a love struck boy.

* * * * *

The quiet in the living room is broken when Lisa bursts through the patio doors laughing and out of breath, with Zan right behind her.

“Wait!” he calls out.

When she turns her laughter is silenced, trapped in her throat by the sight of a dozen alirias in his hand. “When did you pick those?”

“Just now,” he gives a little nod toward the garden beyond the patio doors. He moves forward to hand them to her.

“For me?”

“Of course.”

“I like the white ones best,” she buries her nose in the sweet smelling buds.

“I thought you would,” he smiles.

She puts them in a vase on a table. Zan comes up behind her and slips his arms around her waist.

“They look good.”

“You look better,” he nuzzles his nose against her throat.

She wiggles out of his grasp, laughing once again. She grabs his hand and darts backwards, pulling him with her. “Come on!”

“What?” Zan asks, feeling dizzy and breathless. He’s intoxicated by her. Mystified and entranced by her. She pulls him toward their bedroom.

“Have you looked at yourself?” she quirks an eyebrow. Merriment dances in her eyes.

“Huh?” he looks down, and then he sees what she’s talking about. His clothes are a mess, rumpled and grass stained. Her dress isn’t any better. Their antics wrestling around on the ground is evident in their appearance.

“Look in the mirror,” she says, just as she pulls him past a large, ornate wall mirror. He looks up just in time to see the reflection of his dirt smudged face, with Antarian grass in his hair, and the happiest damn expression he’s ever worn. It’s a look so alien he can hardly believe it’s really him.

He looks back toward Lisa, just as she peels off her dress and throws it at his face.

“Lisa!” he catches it.

“Come on!” she pulls his hand again.

He isn’t sure if he’s gone weak as a kitten because of her state of undress, or because he’s delirious with happiness.

“Lisa, what are you doing?”

She pulls him into the bathroom and begins to unfasten the buttons on his shirt.

“Lisa,” he grabs her hands.

“You’re dirty. So am I.” She pushes his hands away and finishes the task of unbuttoning his shirt. She peels it off his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor behind him. Before he knows it, she unfastens the button on his jeans and lowers the zipper. He’s not sure if he’s relieved, or disappointed, when she turns away from him and walks toward the shower.

Zan stands rooted in place, unable to move, watching her open the shower door and turn the water on. With her back to him, she lowers the straps of her slip from her shoulders and lets it float down her body.

She wears nothing underneath. She hasn’t quite grasped the need for undergarments yet. Ava’s attempt to introduce her to them met with strong resistance and protests of the garments being ‘too restrictive’ and ‘uncomfortable’. Who was he to argue with that?

He swallows hard, looking at the smooth skin of her naked back, the inward curve of her small waist, the sensual flare of her slim hips, the arousing dimples just above the swell of her buttocks. He knows he should just leave, let her take her shower in solitude, but he can’t move. He’s seen her nude before; floating in the pod, at her birth, in the first days when she was new in the world, but this is different. He was protective of her then, but his reaction to her now is that of a man toward a woman.

He’s been fighting it for weeks, not wanting to force himself on her. His memories still haunt him, of how he treated Ava, of the horrible things he did to her, and to Tess, and what he almost did to Liz.

Lisa turns her head, looking back at him over her shoulder. The humor is gone from her face now, replaced by something more intense.

“Ava said I’d have to be the one to make the first move.”

For a moment Zan finds himself unable to breathe. He’s told himself he’ll know when the time is right, and here she stands before him, telling him what he’s waited so long to hear. But a part of him thinks he doesn’t deserve what she’s offering. She’s a beauty recently awakened, innocent and virginal, and he’s a monster with a hideous past.

“Ava said that?” he manages to say, feeling some of his self loathing ease. If Ava can forgive him, then maybe he, too, can learn to let it go.

Lisa nods her head with her lips curving upwards and her eyes sparkling with humor once again. “You can’t take a shower with your pants on.”

His reaction is instantaneous. Her smile is all it takes to break through his defenses. He tears off one boot, then hops on one foot trying to get the other off. When he finally pulls it free he tosses it across the room and rips his pants off. She’s laughing as he looks up at her, making his face flood with warmth. She holds out her hand in invitation as she steps back into the spray of the shower.

He’s aware of how she looks him over as he walks toward her. Years of fighting have kept his muscles toned, his stomach ridged, his body fit. The new sun has tanned his skin a rich golden brown from head to toe. His tattoos are his only adornment; he no longer wears a silver locket around his neck.

He pauses in the shower doorway as she backs up to make room for him. He barely feels the water hit his skin as he steps inside to join her. He towers over her, her body seems so small compared to his, yet at the same time they feel so suited for each other, like they were made to be together.

She touches his shoulders, his arms, the tattoos that decorate his body. He rests his hands on her hips while she explores him, letting her guide wherever this is going.

She touches his right hip, then lowers her fingers a few inches to his abdomen.

“No more blood on the petals,” she says, looking up into his face. His tattoo, once that of a bleeding rose, is now a pristine white aliria with the petals just unfolding.

“I told you,” he touches her chin, “alirias don’t have thorns.”

He lifts her chin as he lowers his head, unable not to kiss her. His hand lowers from her chin and brushes down her throat, lightly touching her breast before he wraps his arms around her. He closes his eyes and pulls her close as the kiss deepens.

He’s barely aware of the warmth of the water cascading down their skin. His senses are riveted to the feel of her body pressed tightly to his, her breasts against his chest, her hands on his back and moving lower. When she touches his butt he breaks off the kiss and stares into her eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he breathes heavily with water dripping from his hair. “I don’t want to make you do something you’re not ready for.”

“You’re not making me do anything, Zan. I want to be with you.”

He stares into her face, not knowing how to respond. He’s never known this feeling before, of someone wanting him. The thought of it almost sends him to his knees.

“Do you mean that?” he asks, cupping her face with his hand.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

And that’s the truth, he realizes. There are no pretenses with her. No hidden agendas behind her words. Everything she says is straight from the heart. For the first time in his life, he feels he can be that way, too. He kisses her, soft and gentle, then pulls back to look into her eyes.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

Her aura brightens around her. Her lips curve into a smile. “Love. Deep affection; fondness, greatly cherish. Also, sexual passion. Romantic relationship.”

“Yes,” Zan lowers his head to kiss her again. “All of those things. And more.”

He lowers his arm and slips it behind her legs, picking her up as if she’s as light as a feather. He turns her sideways to carry her through the shower door, then straight through the bathroom and into their bedroom. He doesn’t worry about the water dripping from their bodies; with a wave of his hand he can dry it. He lays Lisa on her back on the bed and stretches out beside her.

She’s no more modest about her nudity than he is, she doesn’t try to cover up, or hide herself, or cower beneath the blankets. Unlike the women in his past, she has no fear of him. His fingertips touch her lips, her throat, trail down her skin to her left breast. Neither forceful nor rough, his every touch is a gentle caress.

“You’ve done this before?” she asks. Her hand covers his, holding his palm against her breast.

He looks into her eyes knowing he can’t lie to her. Not when she asks him a direct question. He nods and says, “Yes.”

“With Ava?” she asks.

He lowers his eyes from hers so she can’t see what he tries to keep buried. “Yes.”

When she speaks again her voice is soft. “Do you love her?”

Zan looks up again, but it isn’t jealousy he sees. She might know the technical definition of the word, but in her short life she’s never experienced it. He hopes she never will.

“Do I love Ava?” he cups her chin with his hand. “Yes, I do,” he admits the honest truth, “but what I feel for her is very different from what I feel for you.”

“Really?” her face breaks into a smile.

“I won’t lie to you, Lisa. Ava and I, we’ve been through a lot together. She means the world to me. But you,” he pauses, swallowing so his voice won’t crack. “You mean everything.”

He doesn’t expect her to pledge her undying love for him. He’s not sure if he deserves it. But he silently promises, if she gives herself to him now, he’ll do everything in his power to prove to her he’s worth it.

“Will you show me?” she asks, looking up into his eyes. “Everything I need to know?”

“Of course,” he answers, leaning down to kiss her lips.

He hopes she can’t feel how much he’s trembling. The truth is, while he’s had sex before, this will be the first time in his life he’s ever made love to anyone, and his nervousness attests to it.

“Can I touch you?”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer, but instead circles her hand around his rigid length.

“Is this right?” she asks, stroking her thumb over the head of his swollen member.

He nods, at the moment unable to speak. No one’s ever wanted to touch him before. Not this way. Willingly. With love and desire.

“You’re purple.”

At first he doesn’t understand what she means, but then he sees it, too. Her red aura has merged with his blue. Together, their auras shimmer purple. He’s never believed in signs before, or destinies, but now he thinks he does. He’s never seen this happen to anyone else, except once, on another planet across the stars.

Their aura deepens as he kisses her, caresses her, begins to learn her body as intimately as she is learning his. He’s never done any of these things before, but he knows now, from this moment forward, it’s something he can never live without.

For the first time in his life he’s touching a woman – really touching her – not to take what he wants, but to give. His fingers and lips and tongue search out the places he thinks will please her, rejoicing inside with every sigh, every moan, every reaction his efforts elicit.

He uses the utmost care with her, attentive in ways he’s never been before. Only when he’s certain that she’s ready does he attempt to satisfy his own needs. He holds himself above her on trembling arms, afraid of crushing her, or worse.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers with his hair hanging down around his face.

“You won’t,” she wraps her arms around him and pulls him down until his body covers hers.

Her scent is nearly overwhelming, so arousing that he knows their first time will be over quickly. Her hand surrounds him, drawing him to the place he wants to be.

“Look at me,” he whispers; offering something he’s never been willing or able to give before. But this time, he wants it to be right. This time, he wants it to be forever.

As he slips inside her, he offers a part of himself that he’s always kept hidden until now. By opening a connection, he can keep her pain away, and let her share in every pleasure.

Zan gives Lisa the gift of himself, unmasked and vulnerable. From now until eternity, she’ll be the keeper of his heart.





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<center>Sig banner by BelevnDreamsToo</center>

Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Zan



Afterburn
Part 16


He walks with her, hand in hand along the beach. Their bare toes sink into the black sand, the new sun casts their shadows behind them. The red seas are calm today, lazy waves that roll in to lap around their feet, then out to sea again.

She runs ahead, twirling around in a circle with her arms outstretched. “I love it here.”

He stands with his feet sinking into the sand, hands in his pockets, content to just watch her. She’s so vibrant, so full of life. She makes him feel whole. Complete. Worthy.

She runs back to him, tugging his hands out of his pockets and pulling him toward the sea.

“Come! Let’s swim.”

“We’ll get wet,” he stumbles forward in the sand, but he doesn’t resist her. How can he, when her smile is so beautiful?

“Afraid of a little water?” she darts ahead of him, splashing in the waves. She pulls her dress over her head and tosses it toward the shore. They have the beach all to themselves; their own private paradise.

“Afraid?” he quirks an eyebrow. The sight of her nude body splashing through the waves excites him. A grin fills his face as he strips off his clothes to join her. There’s only one thing he fears in this world. As long as he has her, nothing else can touch him.

“Lisa!” he shouts as she turns and runs deeper into the water. “Wait for me!”

When he catches her they tumble through the waves, as playful as kids. She gives him all the things he was robbed of; purity and innocence and love. She cleanses his soul. The red water crashes against them, but they don’t feel the cold on their hybrid skin. They’re perfectly bred for this harsh, yet beautiful world.

He surfaces and shakes the water from his hair, like a lion shaking his mane. He pulls her tightly to his body, play turning sensual at the feel of her slick skin. He’s not one for eloquent words, or expressive with his emotions, but his eyes are like the windows to his soul. And today, his soul is happy.

He carries her to the shore and lays her on the sand where they make love among the waves.

In the distance, a child’s laughter floats in the air, like a phantom of the life denied him, or a portent of a world that awaits him…

Zan takes a deep breath and stretches. The dream fades, but not the warm hum that resonates inside him. He no longer needs to cling to those brief moments of peace his dreams used to offer. He’s living the dream now, and every day is a new adventure.

He opens his eyes to see Lisa staring down at him. She’s stretched out on her side, supporting her head with her hand, the blanket only covering the lower half of her nude body.

“Good morning,” he smiles. He reaches out to touch her soft skin, solid and warm and inviting.

“It’s full light,” she tells him, with a hint of humor in her eyes. “You slept the morning away.”

He looks toward the window and sees that she’s right. The sun streams in, casting everything in its rosy glow. Turning back to her, he rolls her onto her back and slips a muscular thigh between her legs.

“Maybe we should just stay here all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she submits to his leisurely kisses, a willing participant encouraging him to continue. He kisses his way down her throat to her breast.

“It must have been a good dream,” she sighs.

“Dream?” he mumbles around her hardening nipple. He tongues it, surrounds it, draws it into his mouth.

“You were smiling in your sleep.”

“I was?” he looks up.

“I like to watch you when you’re sleeping.”

Surprised, he arches an eyebrow. “You do?”

She nods with a hint of a blush spreading across her cheeks. She doesn’t often look shy or embarrassed, but when she does, it makes his heart melt.

“Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought and you don’t know I’m watching, you look so serious, or troubled, or sad. But when you’re asleep, your face is so peaceful.”

He settles over her, supporting the bulk of his weight with his elbows. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s because my dreams are of you.”

“They are?” her smile widens.

“Um hmm,” he nods, lowering his head for a kiss. “This morning we were on the beach.”

Her breath catches, but he’s not sure if it’s because he’s found a sensitive spot behind her ear, or from some inner excitement.

“Someday can you take me there?” she asks. “I’ve never been outside the City.”

He lifts his head from her throat. Her eyes are filled with so much life, so much joy, he can’t refuse her anything. “Of course. We can go today if you want.”

“Not today,” she shakes her head.

“No?”

He can’t help the small gasp of pure pleasure that escapes his lips when her hand slips between their bodies and wraps around his rigid length. Every time she touches him he’s like putty in her hands.

“We have other things to do today,” she whispers into his ear.

“Other things,” he echoes with his lips against her throat. It’s not a dream being with her, not a fantasy of the mind. Her body beneath him is warm and inviting. His breathing quickens; his heart rate soars.

“We have a party to go to, remember?”

“Oh that,” he lifts his head and smiles down at her. He pushes upward with his hands, pretending to separate from her. “Is it time –”

“Not yet!” she locks her legs around him, refusing to let him leave. The unconcealed desire on her face makes his heart race even faster.

“We’re not done yet,” her hands grip his butt.

“We’re not?” he teases, while inside he rejoices at the way she wants him, at how her heart and mind wrap around his soul.

Her hand leads a sensuous trail up his back, his neck, stopping only when she reaches his cheek. Her dark eyes look up at him adoringly, like he’s the most important thing in the world to her, but even that doesn’t prepare him for what she says next.

“I love you, Zan.”

He freezes suddenly, stunned motionless by the words she’s just uttered. She’s never said it before, not aloud for his ears to hear. He’s felt it in her, but the impact of those words is like no other. Her image wavers in his suddenly blurry eyes.

“Lisa,” he manages to choke out before his throat tightens beyond speech. He never thought he was capable of real love, or worthy of it in return. To hear her say it is overwhelming.

“Zan?” her voice lifts questioningly when his arms tighten almost painfully around her and he buries his face in her throat. “Are you crying?”

“No,” he denies, but he can’t fool her. She lifts his face, exposing the raw emotion he can’t hide.

Her thumb wipes across his damp cheek. “What’s wrong? You’re trembling.”

His naked response is a rare glimpse into his inner psyche. His voice cracks as he admits, “I’m not good enough for you.”

“Don’t be silly,” her aura shines around her. “I love everything about you.”

He wants to tell her everything now; about his past, and about how she came to be. He doesn’t want any secrets between them, but he’s too emotional to get the words out. He gives himself one more day, deciding tomorrow he’ll take her to the shore, and lay his soul bare before her.

And pray that she’ll find it in her heart to still love him.

* * * * *

“What’s taking them so long?” Zan paces back and forth at the base of the grand staircase that leads to the second floor. The girls are up there dressing, but it’s taking them forever. He fidgets with his clothes, wiping non existent lint from the lapel of his black tux. He touches the placket of his shirt, changing the color from salmon, to blue, to white.

“You better leave it pink,” Kel warns.

“It’s not pink!”

“Sure it isn’t,” the shapeshifter laughs.

“Thank your lucky stars Ava didn’t make you wear purple.”

“I can be either male or female,” Kel reminds Zan. “I have no problem wearing purple. Pink either.”

“I bet you’re the life of the party,” Zan slaps the shifter on his human looking shoulder. He’s just about to razz his friend about being an ugly girl, when movement at the top of the sweeping staircase steals his breath away.

Lisa stands near the balcony with her long hair piled high on her head, with wispy ringlets falling around her face. Her skin looks like porcelain, the graceful way she moves perfection, her blue velvet gown like something fit for a queen. When she sees him looking up at her, her cheeks flush the most beautiful shade of pink. The color looks perfect on her, a compliment to her flawless complexion.

“Wow,” Kel says beside him. Zan shoots him a proprietary look, until he realizes his friend is looking at Ava. She comes into view beside Lisa, looking stunning in a gown of lavender silk.

Zan watches the interaction between the two women. They laugh together, whisper conspiratorially; touch each other like the best of friends. As they glide down the stairs, the two women hold hands, sharing some humorous secret the men aren’t privy to. Seeing Ava’s animated face, Zan has a feeling Lisa hasn’t just healed him; she’s enriched Ava’s life too, giving her the sister she never had before. God knows, Lonnie never was.

When Lisa reaches the bottom step she pauses, looking Zan over from head to toe. “You look nice. Very handsome.”

Zan swallows hard to wet his suddenly dry throat. “So do you,” he manages to say. “I mean, pretty – not handsome – very pretty. Beautiful. You look very beautiful.”

She holds out her hand to him. “We should go. We don’t want to be late.”

“Late,” he echoes. Late for what, he can’t remember. At the moment he can’t think of anything beyond the sight of her in that velvet dress.

“Zan,” Ava brushes past him, grinning impishly. “Close your mouth. You’re attracting flies.”

“Flies?” Lisa tilts her head to the right.

“Ignore her,” Zan slips his arm into Lisa’s, ready to escort her to the town square. “Do you need anything? A wrap for your shoulders? A coat?”

Lisa covers his hand with hers. “I have everything I need.”

Minutes later, their small group arrives in the heart of town. The Antarians have gone all out, decorating the streets with twinkling lights and colorful ribbons. To Zan, it looks like a cross between a Christmas spectacle and a political convention.

“Do you like it?” Lisa beams. Her hand tightens on his arm, excitement spiking the colors in her aura. “It was all Ava’s idea! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Zan looks over his shoulder at Ava. She’s the only one here, besides him, with first hand knowledge of Earth and its customs. When she was young, Ava loved the bright colors at Christmastime, but he never let her enjoy it. Any spark of life she showed was beaten down until she was nothing more than a frightened shadow. Looking at her now, with her eyes sparkling, and a smile covering her face from ear to ear, he knows this celebration is as much in honor of her as it is for him.

When their eyes meet Ava’s smile falters. Everyone knows Zan doesn’t like fanfare, especially her.

“You did this?” he asks.

For a moment Ava looks like that frightened little girl again. She nods her head and swallows hard.

“It looks great,” he tells her. “You did a beautiful job.”

At first her smile is hesitant, as if a part of her still expects some harsh rejoinder or cutting remark from him, until his sincerity sinks in. When it does, her face shines as bright as the new sun.

“You like it?” Ava asks, clearly hanging on his praise.

“It’s perfect,” he tells her. Inside he feels warmed by her sudden squeal of delight.

“I told you he’d like it,” Kel squeezes her shoulder.

“I don’t know why she was so worried,” Lisa snuggles up to Zan’s arm.

Zan knows why, although understanding doesn’t make it any easier. A lifetime of living in fear can’t be overcome overnight. In the three years they’ve been here Ava’s come a long way, grown into a strong woman on the battlefield, but every once in a while, a holdover from the past still comes back to haunt them. He can’t take back what happened between them, but not a day goes by that he doesn’t wish he could.

‘Zan!’ Luc straightens his festive tunic and hurries over to join him. The town square is filled with Antarians dressed in bright clothing, displaying even brighter auras. A grand celebration is underway, celebrating a return to freedom.

“Hello, Luc,” Zan returns the Proctor’s formal bow. When he straightens, he turns the attention to Lisa. “Have you met my – this is – Lisa.”

As Luc and Lisa exchange a bow of greeting, Zan feels a moment of uncertainty. How should he introduce her?

As his wife? But she isn’t.

As his girlfriend? But she’s so much more than that.

As his mate? That would describe it better, but it doesn’t give their relationship the depth it deserves. She’s his life, his love, his heart and his soul. He’s not sure the English language has a name to adequately describe what she is to him.

‘I’m so pleased to meet you,’ Lisa sends an unspoken greeting to Luc.

Zan openly stares at her, amazed with the ease with which she switched from verbal to mental communication, as if it were second nature to her. It’s the first time he’s seen her use any type of ‘power’. He knows she was made like he was, combining human and Antarian DNA so that she could survive in Antar’s less that hospitable environment, but he’s never thought about what kind of power she might have.

‘This way, please,’ Luc’s aura sparkles in an array of colors, clearly taken with her. He points toward a set of double doors.

Zan follows behind Luc, leaning close to speak softly to Lisa. “You did that very well.”

“Did what?” Lisa asks.

‘You spoke to Luc without speaking.’

‘I did?’

“Yes, you did,” Zan almost laughs, realizing it comes to her with such ease she slips from one form of communication to the other without conscious thought, something that took him years to accomplish. The ramifications of it make him almost giddy.

Luc leads them into a grand hall filled with rows and rows of rectangle tables, each decked out with a feast fit for a king. Most of the tables are built low to the ground to accommodate the smaller Antarian frame, except for the one in the center of the room which stands taller than all the rest. There’s no doubt of who is meant to sit there.

“I guess we get the grownup table,” Kel jokes.

The next hour passes in easy camaraderie, bonding over good food and better ale. As the evening progresses, Zan is subjected to the kind of attention he normally shuns, but the people need this outlet in the aftermath of a war more than fifty years in the making finally coming to an end. As speeches are made, the hall rings with the sound of clicking, the Antarian equivalent of applause. Luc rises to his feet and moves to the podium to make an important announcement.

‘It has been my honor to serve as Proctor of this city for many cycles,’ he begins, garnering the rapt attention of everyone present. ‘I’ve seen her many faces, rich and vibrant and thriving during good times, battered and nearly broken during the bad.’

As Luc ‘speaks’ Zan sees a series of mental images flash in his head. It’s the Antarian way of communicating, not just with thought patterns interpreted as words, but with picture images transmitted across neural pathways. He knows everyone in the room is receiving the same images he is: the city before it fell to the Skins, the destruction after the invasion, the recovery now underway.

‘There is one reason why we are all standing here today,’ Luc continues. ‘One reason why we are celebrating instead of hiding. One reason why we are living instead of dying.’

A mental image is transmitted to every occupant in the room, of a day over three years ago when Zan and Ava first entered the Capital City, surrounded by an escort of eight. The way Zan towered over Hal and the others, it wasn’t difficult to see why some hailed him as a god; his height, his imposing size and stature, the very air around him exuded strength and incredible power.

Luc focuses his black eyes on the occupants of the raised table in the center of the room. No one makes a sound as he continues, honoring Zan and Ava by speaking aloud in their native tongue.

“We, the people of Antar, owe you our deepest gratitude, for delivering us from forced bondage to the Skins, for freeing our city, our nation, our world. We are forever in your debt.”

Luc finishes by bending forward at the waist and lowering his head, an act of respect and honor. The entire hall follows suit, each and every Antarian present rising to his or her feet, mirroring Luc’s actions. The room is utterly silent as they stand motionless, heads lowered, paying Zan and Ava the respect they deserve.

Zan shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Lisa covers his hand with hers and gently squeezes. She doesn’t say or do anything else. She doesn’t need to. It’s a simple gesture, the mere touching of two hands, but it gives Zan the kind of love and support he never had before. The tension leaves his face, replaced by a small smile of utter contentment. He barely notices when the Antarians, en mass, return to their seats.

Luc lifts an orb from the podium and activates a holographic display revealing the swirling symbol of Antar. It rotates in a vivid three dimensional display.

“Ava,” Luc begins. The attention in the room focuses on the petite blond in eager expectation. “Since your arrival you have proven your loyalty and dedication to our planet and our people. You have shown strength under battle, and compassion. The ability to lead, and to listen.”

Ava exchanges a surprised look with her tablemates; the attention she’s receiving is unexpected. She’s lived for years in the shadow of Zan’s forceful presence; she doesn’t think of herself as special.

“Ava, in an unprecedented move, the Council has unanimously voted to expand its ranks to nine, and appointed you as a fully privileged member of the Ruling Council.”

Ava’s mouth falls open in shock as the room once more explodes with the sound of clicking. Lisa hugs her. Kel kisses her forehead. Zan beams at her proudly.

Luc steps down from the podium and moves to the table. He opens a small embellished box revealing the seal of Antar. “Please accept our humble offer.”

For a moment Ava can’t move. The room has fallen silent again, waiting in anticipation. She looks at Kel, then Lisa, and finally Zan, who gives a smiling nod of approval. The color of her aura swirls in a rainbow of colors. She’s found acceptance here, and respect and friendship. The love of family and home. All the things she lived without for so many years, now offered freely.

“Yes,” Ava blinks back tears that have sprung up in her eyes. “I accept.”

Luc removes the Council seal from its protective box. He takes Ava’s hand and turns it palm up, placing the seal in the middle. It glows for a moment, changing from yellow to red to blue as the seal transcends flesh, becoming a part of her. When the glow fades, Luc removes the seal, but the image remains, an adornment that goes more than skin deep.

Mentally transmitted cheers join a chorus of clicking as the rite is completed. Ava buries her face in Kel’s shoulder so no one can see her crying. Tears of happiness soak into his shirt. As Luc moves back to the podium, Zan feels the attention in the room shift to him. It’s confirmed when Luc’s black eyes lift to meet his.

“Zan has given us many things,” Luc speaks again as the room falls into a hushed silence. “Freedom, for one, and the tactical expertise to defend that freedom. Leadership for another, of the kind not seen here for hundreds of cycles. Not since the days of Ral, the first Prime Regent, who wrote the founding papers that formed the basis for our modern political structure. Those documents empower the Ruling Council to appoint a new Prime Regent in the event of a catastrophic collapse of the central government. That event happened on the day the Skins invaded. It’s only fitting that the Council has chosen Zan, defender and protector, as the new Prime Regent of Antar.”

Clicking erupts in the grand hall, even louder than before, along with a chorus of audible cheers. At the same time the color drains from Zan’s face. He’s not a politician. He can’t lead a planet. That job should lie in the hands of Luc, or someone like him.

“No,” Zan objects, shocked by such a suggestion, but his words are drowned out by the Antarians wild cheering. He starts to push up from the table, but Lisa’s hand on his arm stops him from rising to his feet. He looks at her with the strain of his internal conflict clearly visible on his face.

“Listen to them,” Lisa whispers. “They want you. They need you.”

“I can’t,” Zan shakes his head. “That’s not who I am.”

“But it is,” Lisa says with calm serenity. “Can’t you see it? Everyone else can. You’re a natural born leader. It’s what you were meant to be.”

For a moment Zan can’t breathe. He’s heard those words before, or something like them, coming from a voice with the same lilt and timbre as Lisa’s. Like an eerie echo from the past flooding over him, reminding him of a time long ago, on a planet far across the galaxy.

‘Your destiny is on Antar. You’ll find what you need there.’

“Zan?” Lisa tightens her hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”

He shakes himself to clear his head, but the echo of Liz’s words still linger. Before he left Earth she told him his place was on Antar, though at the time he didn’t want to believe it. Now he thinks he understands. He has everything he needs here; purpose and kinship and love. His life here has meant something, not just as a warrior, or a protector, but as a man.

His spirit is tied to Antar’s red tinged skies, to the black sands of her majestic beaches, to the vibrant people he feels fortunate to be a part of. He’s found acceptance here, instead of alienation, inclusion instead of isolation, a home with a future where he once felt he had none. He’s changed since his exile from Earth, grown into the kind of man he thinks Liz might be proud of. It’s not power that he seeks, or glory. He’s been that route before, and he’ll never go back. If the people of Antar want him, if they think he can bring honor to such a lofty title, he silently vows to prove worthy of their belief in him.

Luc steps down from the podium and makes his way to the oversized table. As he stands before Zan, his aura flickers with color, attesting to his nervousness. They all know Zan’s aversion for public displays.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Lisa whispers.

Zan doesn’t have to ask her what she means. For years he wanted only for the war to end, yet at the same time he knew a peaceful world meant his purpose would be over. But what if it didn’t have to be that way? What if the lessons he learned on the battlefield can be put to good use, to return Antar to her former glory? Already his mind whirls with ideas.

“Zan of Antar,” Luc’s voice reaches to every corner of the room. “Do you accept the designation of Prime Regent, and the responsibility that said title holds?”

The room is utterly quiet as they wait for Zan’s response. When he gives it, it’s in an unexpected way.

Zan pushes back from the table and stands, towering over everyone present. No one can read his face, or tell what he’s thinking. The tension in the room is thick as he walks around to the front of the table. A unified gasp of surprise is audible when Zan drops to one knee before Luc with his head bowed.

‘It is my proud honor to serve Antar and her people. I am but her humble servant.’

The cheers that erupt aren’t just contained to the grand hall they occupy. In the city people spill out into the streets to celebrate. The word spreads quickly, into the countryside, into far off cities, mental thought transmissions spreading like rings on water.

Luc holds the new Seal of Antar above Zan’s head; five planets in the shape of a V, with two suns flanking it. The room quiets as Luc lowers the seal and places it on Zan’s head. It glows brightly as it’s absorbed through skin and bone, transforming into living matter, becoming a part of his genetic makeup.

Zan feels a momentary flush of heat sweep through his body and then it passes. He rises to his feet and looks at Lisa, who is smiling at him with tears in her eyes. And in that moment, he knows he’s made the right decision. He’ll do everything in his power to give her a better world to live in.

The celebration kicks up a notch; the Antarians joyously toasting in a new age of peace and prosperity. Zan sits beside Lisa and watches their exuberance, at peace with himself and the world.

Kel pushes up from the table waving his arms to get everyone’s attention. While the crowd quiets, Zan groans inwardly. He thinks the ale has gone to his friend’s head. Who knew Shapeshifters could get drunk?

“Most of you know me,” Kel sways a little unsteady on his feet. “I came here more than fifty years ago as a slave of the Skins, forced to do their bidding.”

On Earth, a room like this would have been filled with murmurs and rustling, but the Antarians are quiet, listening to every word Kel says.

“I’ve been from one end of this galaxy to the other. I’ve met more lifeforms than I ever thought imaginable. But in the end, they all pale in comparison to the man I call my friend.” Kel raises his glass to Zan and declares, “I love ya, man!”

“You’re drunk!” Zan declares, his own way of acknowledging how deeply he’s touched by Kel’s heartfelt words.

“Damn right!” Kel clinks his glass against Zan’s amid a new round of energetic clicking.

The instant their glasses touch Zan knows something is wrong. Kel’s hand loses cohesion, for a moment becoming part of the glass he’s holding. Kel’s entire arm begins to droop, reverting to a liquid form, and then it solidifies, once more reasserting its human appearance.

“Are you okay?” Zan puts his glass down.

“Fine,” Kel passes it off as if it’s nothing. “I’m fine. Drunk but fine.” He pushes away from the table and squints toward the back of the hall. “I have to go piss.”

Ava silently watches him maneuver his way through the tables. Zan notices the worried look on her face.

“Is there something going on I should know about?” he asks.

“I don’t know. It’s not the first time that’s happened,” Ava admits. “For the last few weeks there’ve been times when he can’t hold his form. He says he’s just tired, but, I don’t know …”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Worry makes him speak harsher than he intended.

“You’ve been a little preoccupied lately,” Ava responds bluntly.

Zan feels her rebuke, knowing that he’s earned it. His entire focus has been on only one thing since the war ended, to the exclusion of all others. He darts a look at Lisa sitting beside him, seeing the confusion on her face. She doesn’t understand what’s wrong, or why the mood has shifted so drastically at the table.

“I want Mira to examine him,” Zan shifts back to Ava. “She can check him out, see if it’s something physical, or if he just needs rest like he says.”

“I’ve tried to get him to go. He won’t.”

“You get him to the lab in the morning and I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave until Mira’s poked and prodded him from head to toe. If you can’t get him to go, call me, and I’ll come drag his ass out of bed if I have to.”

Ava reaches across the table and covers Zan’s hand with her own. “Thanks. I really have been worried about him. He hasn’t seemed himself lately.”

Zan looks at Lisa, remembering his promise to take her to the ocean tomorrow, and the things he needs to say to her there. But Kel’s problem seems more immediate at the moment, and a part of him feels relieved to put off that conversation for another day.

He wants to be completely honest with her, but what can it hurt, waiting one more day?

Afterburn
Part 17


Zan lies awake in bed staring up at the ceiling in the dark. The tip of his cigarette glows as he takes a drag, then a smoke ring in a perfect O puffs from his mouth and drifts toward the ceiling. Beside him, Lisa sleeps peacefully.

He knows why sleep is eluding him tonight. Kel is like a brother and a best friend all rolled up into one. The idea that there might be something wrong with him is something Zan doesn’t want to contemplate.

“You can’t sleep?” Lisa’s soft voice breaks the silence in the room.

Zan stubs out his cigarette. “Did I wake you?”

Her hand glides up his bare chest, at the moment more comforting than alluring. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“It’s nothing,” Zan lifts her hand from his chest and kisses it. “Go back to sleep.”

“Is it Kel? Is something wrong with him?”

“I’m sure he’s all right,” Zan says, though he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince her, or himself. Lisa snuggles closer with her head resting on his shoulder. His arm curls around her holding her close.

There are moments like this, when they just talk and hold each other, that seem more intimate than the most intense sexual encounter. It’s a bond that transcends physical attraction, a sharing so much more personal than sex.

“Tell me about how you met.”

“Me and Kel?”

“Isn’t he who we’re talking about?”

Zan lets out a half laugh. Lisa never hides behind enigmatic words. She’s always direct and to the point. And this is one story he doesn’t mind telling her.

“It was a couple of years ago, during a raid on one of Khivar’s strongholds,” Zan says, holding her hand to his bare chest. He stares up at the ceiling with a faint smile on his lips. “From intel we’d heard rumors there might be captives, but it never dawned on me Khivar might be holding a Shapeshifter …”


Antar, Day 322

“Hal, you take the right,” Zan points down a long corridor that seems to stretch on for miles. “Take Ava and two men with you. I’ll take Jor, Sul, and Min with me and go this way.”

‘How will I know which are Skins and which are prisoners?’ Hal asks.

“Ava will know,” Zan answers.

They’ve been on Antar for several months now, in the thick of battle for less time than that, but certain patterns are starting to emerge. The Antarians don’t know much about fighting, the high sun seems to be problematic for their sensitive eyes, and he and Ava apparently are the only ones who can see auras. He’s learned quickly that when a Skin invades a host its aura darkens to almost black. It’s something Mira is working on back at the lab, developing some kind of filter the troops can use to see what Zan sees. But for now, his and Ava’s enhanced eyesight is the first line of defense against the Skins.

Zan curls his hand around Hal’s thin arm. “I know you want to rescue any prisoners, but we can’t afford to be benevolent. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

Hal nods. Zan’s word is God. Questioning his orders is unthinkable.

Zan moves to the left, confident in Ava’s ability to lead Hal and the others. She’s blossoming in front of his eyes, buoyed by the knowledge that this time she’s on the right side. Zan’s men fall into step behind him.

The corridor he’s transiting is dark, but his eyes are adjusting to the gloom. Up ahead he hears the distinctive clicking of Skins on the move. He motions the others to flatten against the wall while he inches forward. Through an open doorway he sees a unit of Skins, eight soldiers looking tough, battle ready. Despite his lesser numbers and his troop’s limited training, Zan still likes the odds. On his signal they spring a surprise attack.

Zan fires his blaster at will, taking two Skins out quickly. A third swings his weapon on Zan, but Zan uses his mental abilities to make the Skin turn the weapon on himself. Zan’s bloodlust rises as he sees the Skins’ head explode. He takes out a fourth and fifth Skin, and then steps back in satisfaction, seeing that each of his men has had a successful kill of their own. Eight Skins annihilated in a matter of seconds. When an unexpected ninth Skin comes out of hiding, Zan lifts his blaster.

‘WAIT! I’m not one of them!’

The Skin holds its elongated arms above its head in a sign of surrender. Zan sees him shaking in fear, but that’s not enough to convince him. He levels his blaster straight at the Skin’s head.

‘Please,’ the creature sinks to his knees.

Zan hesitates. He sees no black aura around its body, in fact, no aura of any kind. It’s an anomaly he’s never encountered before.

“Who are you?” Zan demands.

As Zan watches, the Skins’ throat thickens, then an Adam’s apple appears, then a human looking mouth takes form on the Antarian face.

“Kel. My name is Kel.”

Zan suddenly finds himself staring at a mirror image of himself. The same long hair, the same amber eyes, right down to his distinctive style of attire. Zan points his blaster and fires.

Before the energy blast hits him, Kel reverts to a base state. Muscle and bone shift from solid to liquid. In front of their very eyes Kel’s body loses shape and consistency, becoming a mass of liquid substance on the floor.

“Get it!” Zan shouts, firing at the viscous material as it flows under a table. Seconds later, a human looking head pops up behind it.

“I’m not the enemy! Can a Skin do this?” Kel’s form changes once again, this time from human to an avietta, the only winged creature on Antar. It flies through the air flapping its grey leather wings.

Zan throws out his hand, wrapping his shield around the changeling. No longer able to fly, it crashes to the floor. Zan towers over it with his blaster leveled at its head.

Kel changes his appearance one last time, staring up at his executioner with a familiar human face. His voice comes out soft, feminine, begging, “Please don’t kill me.”

Zan’s determination falters. He looks into a pair of dark brown eyes, sees her long dark hair framing her pale face, hears the voice that is so familiar to him. He lowers his weapon.

“What are you?”

“Your loyal servant,” Kel kneels at Zan’s feet. His image shifts from human to Antarian…


“So whose face did you see,” Lisa asks, enthralled by Zan’s story.

“Just someone I used to know,” Zan answers vaguely. He runs his hand lightly up and down Lisa’s arm, anchoring himself to this world. “Kel had seen her image in the Granilith and hoped it would be enough for me to spare his life.”

Lisa’s fingers lightly trace the shape of Zan’s jaw. “Who was she?”

Zan takes her hand and brings it to his lips. “It’s late. Enough storytelling for tonight.”

As Lisa snuggles into the warmth of his body, Zan thinks about the daunting task of telling her about his unsavory past. He doesn’t even know where to start. How will she ever understand what made him what he was, or the reasons why he’s different now?

Sleep comes to him slowly, filled with unsettling dreams. The past colliding with the present, creating an uncertain future.

* * * * *

Zan finishes his honey and toast breakfast and pushes back from the table. Lisa watches him rise to his feet.

He kisses her on the forehead and says, “I’ll be back soon.”

Lisa gathers the dishes together and puts them in the sink. “I’m coming with you.”

“Lisa,” Zan balks. “I don’t think that’s a good idea –”

“Why not?” she turns to face him. “Kel’s my friend too.”

“I know,” Zan struggles for a good reason to make her stay. In the end, he can’t think of one.

“So I’m coming,” she brushes past him on the way to the front door. She holds it open, waiting patiently for him to join her. When he doesn’t move, she arches an eyebrow at him. It’s all he needs to get his ass moving.

Minutes later they arrive at the DOSA building. Zan ushers Lisa inside, noticing the way she looks around at the familiar surroundings. It’s the first time she’s been back since her birth. Scientists stop working as she passes by, bowing to her respectfully.

“This way,” Zan leads her deeper into the building. As they near Mira’s lab, raised voices tell him Kel and Ava have already arrived.

“I don’t NEED an examination!”

“Kel, please. Just let Mira look at you.”

“No!”

“What’s going on?” Zan’s voice comes out strong and stern as he enters the room. He sees Ava and Mira together, with Kel off to the side, looking defensive and stressed.

“I’m leaving,” Kel strides for the open doorway.

“No,” Zan blocks his escape. He keeps Lisa behind him, silently cursing his decision to let her come. This isn’t going at all like he thought it would. “Kel, why are you acting this way? It’s not like you.”

“I don’t need any examination!” Kel shouts. His skin color fluctuates between flesh tone and grey, his eyes between blue and black. He can’t seem to hold on to his form.

“Kel,” Zan steps forward with his hands held out and open, trying to project an image of non-aggression. Lisa skirts around the room to join Ava and Mira.

“Don’t come near me,” Kel warns. He crouches low, like an animal ready to spring.

“Mira’s examined you before,” Zan tries to keep his voice soothing. “We’re all just a little worried about you, that’s all.”

Kel hangs his head. “I tried. I tried to fight it. But I’m so tired.”

“Tried to fight what?” Zan asks. His stomach pitches and churns knowing something is terribly wrong.

When Kel lifts his head, Zan hears audible gasps from the women. Inside, his stomach turns to stone. Kel’s handsome face is marred by an angry looking scar running from temple to jaw. A scar Zan’s seen before, in the ice caves of the Lorimir Flow.

Kel’s human eyes lock on Zan’s. The scar slowly fades as the man inside struggles to reassert control. “Kill me. Now. Before it’s too late.”

“Kel!” Ava cries out.

Kel’s face fills with loss and regret as he looks at her. “I’m sorry Ava.”

She tries to run to him but Mira holds her back. Lisa stands in the corner looking stunned.

Zan makes a move, years of military training coming second nature to him, but the Shapeshifter is ready for it. His solid form turns liquid just as Zan fires an energy blast in his direction. Zan hears Ava’s scream but he can’t let sentimentality deter his objective. Kel’s not Kel anymore.

Zan fires another blast at the viscous liquid slithering across the floor, but it’s moving too fast. He misses. He aims again, this time at the outline of the parasite visible inside the liquid mass, hoping for a direct hit to get it over quickly, but the enemy is too fast. Too late, Zan realizes the creature’s destination.

Kel’s body solidifies behind Lisa, taking human form again. He grabs her around the waist, holding her in front of him like a shield.

“My my, so pretty,” Kel strokes a finger down her throat. The scar once more appears like a vicious slash across his face. His voice takes on a different tone, deeper and full of menace. He locks a hateful gaze on Zan.

“Do you remember what I said I was going to do to her?”

For the first time in his life, Zan stands frozen in fear. He can’t fire a shot for fear of hitting Lisa, but if he does nothing, the creature inside Kel might snap her neck in an instant. Or worse.

“Such a perfect replica of Liz,” an elongated finger strokes across her cheek. “Tell me, Lisa, has Zan told you his life story yet?”

“Let her go,” Zan growls. His hands form tight fists at his sides, with no outlet for his fury.

“I think not,” Kel’s face twists with maniacal glee. “Do you know that your dear Zan spent years on a planet called Earth?”

“Shut up, Khivar.” Zan focuses his energy, trying to get inside Khivar’s mind, but he can’t. The Shapeshifter’s metabolism is completely different; Zan can’t force his way inside.

“And do you know what he did there?” Khivar smirks.

Zan lunges forward, but it only makes Khivar tighten his hold around Lisa’s throat. Zan stands back feeling helpless while his worst nightmare plays out.

“Did he tell you how many people he killed there? Thousands! Men, women, and children, all slaughtered.”

“Lisa,” Zan implores. “Don’t listen.”

“And how about Liz?” Khivar goads. “Did he tell you about Liz? She didn’t want him –”

“SHUT UP!” Zan fires a wild shot. It misses widely, disintegrating a glass window.

“ – so he kidnapped her, and forced himself on her –”

“Don’t listen, Lisa! That’s not true!”

“ – and when she still wouldn’t have him, he made YOU to replace her. His little toy. A replica of the girl he couldn’t have –”

“No!” Zan shakes inside. “It’s not like that! It was never like that!”

“Did you tell her about Max?” Khivar taunts. “Do you really think she’ll still want you after she learns about him? Why don’t you tell her that story, Zan!”

“Kel,” Ava pleads, trying to reach the man inside. Khivar’s scarred countenance looks in her direction. It’s all the distraction Zan needs. He lunges for Lisa, pulling her out of Khivar’s hold. But his emotions are in such turmoil, he can’t hold back the parts of himself he normally keeps locked away. As soon as his hand touches her arm, he sends her a flash of the things he’s tried to keep hidden. Terrible images flashback in his mind.

-Taking a book from a dead woman and child in a park.

-Forcing Ava to her knees in front of him.

-Torturing a teenage boy who looks remarkably like himself, and enjoying every scream he elicits.

-In bed with Ava, forcing her to change her appearance, blue eyes turning brown, blonde hair turning dark –

Lisa yanks her arm away from Zan with a look of shock on her face, like she’s been touched by something foul or vile.

“Lisa,” Zan pleads. He reaches for her again but she shrinks away from him.

Khivar, controlling Kel’s body, attacks Ava and knocks her to the floor. He grabs the blaster from her belt and levels it at Zan. Zan throws up his shield in self-defense.

“Who are you gonna save?” Khivar shifts the weapon toward Lisa.

“Kel,” Ava pushes up from the floor. She holds out her hand. “Give me the weapon, Kel.”

The menace leaves Kel’s eyes as he turns his head to look at her. The scar fades from his face.

“Ava?”

“Kel, please,” she reaches for him. “I love you.”

“Ava,” his voice sighs with deep regret. “I wanted to make you happy.”

Zan levels his blaster at Kel and fires off three quick rounds. Kel staggers backwards. He looks down at the holes in his chest before he collapses to his knees. He looks up at Zan with clear blue eyes. Zan shoots him three more times.

“KEL!” Ava screams.

Kel pitches forward landing face down on the floor. As his body looses cohesion, the outline of the parasite becomes visible, trying to detach itself from the central nervous system at the base of Kel’s melting spine. Zan drops to his knees and reaches inside the viscous fluid, yanking the parasite out. He throws it against the wall and fires at it until there’s nothing left but a bloody mass. Kel’s remains spread across the floor in a dark puddle.

“Kel,” Ava sobs, collapsing into Mira’s arms.

Still on his knees, Zan lifts his head. “I had no choice,” he unsuccessfully fights to hold back his emotions. “He was infected. He knew,” his voice breaks. “I had to.”

“You killed him,” Lisa whispers. She looks from Zan, to Ava, to the pool of Kel’s remains. “He was your friend, and you just – killed him.”

Ava’s muffled sobs ring in Zan’s head. He doesn’t know what to do. His best friend is dead. He’s ruined Ava’s future. And what he feared the most is happening; Lisa looking at him like he’s some kind of hideous monster.

“Lisa,” he reaches for her, but his hand drips with Kel’s remains. He sees her horrified expression as she staggers backward away from him, and with her goes his reason for living.

In a matter of minutes, his life has gone from picture perfect to an absolute nightmare.

Hope everyone is having a great weekend. Here's the next part, better late than never...


Afterburn
Part 18


Zan walks toward the bedroom he shares with Lisa, knowing that she’s there. His senses feel her before he enters the room, but it doesn’t prepare him for the sight of her standing by the bed, folding a dress into an overnight bag. He’s not sure where the bag came from, until he recognizes it as one of Ava’s. He’d seen her toting it through camp before, or Kel carrying it for her. The memory of his dead friend is an open wound that will never heal.

“Lisa.”

Her back stiffens when she hears his voice but she doesn’t look at him. Her hands grip the dress tightly.

Zan moves closer, standing right behind her. When he speaks his voice comes out so soft it’s almost a whisper. “What are you doing?”

“Ava needs me.” For a moment, Lisa stares off into the empty space in front of her, then she busies herself by packing the dress in the overnight bag. “I’m going to stay with her for awhile.”

“How long?” Zan asks, wanting to touch her shoulder, to take her in his arms, but knowing that he can’t. Too much stands between them.

Lisa’s answer is blunt. “For as long as she needs me.”

Zan lifts his hand to touch her just as she moves toward the closet and out of his reach. His hand falls back to his side like a dead weight. She gathers up the rest of her belongings, leaving nothing behind. She’s taking everything with her.

“Lisa, can we talk about this?”

“You killed him,” she turns her tear filled eyes in Zan’s direction. “Without batting an eye, you just killed him.”

“I had no choice,” Zan struggles to keep his voice from breaking. He swallows hard past the painful lump in his throat.

Lisa lowers her head, unable or unwilling to look at him.

“He knew the risks,” Zan tries to make her understand. “We talked about it, what we would have to do if one of us ever got infected. You heard him in that room. He knew what had to be done.”

A tear falls from Lisa’s eye, compounding Zan’s sense of guilt. “There wasn’t any other way?”

“No,” Zan chokes, his throat too thick to form words. “I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t – couldn’t –”

“If it had been me? Or Ava? Would you still have done the same?”

When she looks up at him it almost tears his heart out. He never wanted to cause her this kind of pain.

“Lisa, please. Try to understand.”

She turns away. He sees the slump of her shoulders, the way her arms circle around herself, holding her sides as if she’s cold.

“What he said, is it true?”

Zan feels his stomach lurch. He didn’t want it to come out like this.

“Did you really do all those things I saw? The woman in the park? Her little girl?”

He sees her shudder, feeling as horrified with himself as she obviously is. He can’t deny the things he did, everything she saw was true, but how can he explain to her that he’s not that man anymore?

She holds herself quietly rigid. He thinks it would be better if she screamed at him, fought with him, pounded her fists against his chest. He knows how to deal with physical confrontation, but her quiet heartbreak is something that makes him feel helpless. When she turns to look at him he knows he’s lost her. Her next question hits him like a kick in the stomach.

“Did you make me just to replace her?”

“No!” Zan cries emphatically. When she startles like he’s frightened her it only compounds his sense of failure. She’s taking everything wrong. He doesn’t know how to get through to her.

“Lisa,” he tries again. “I don’t know how to explain it to you. I’m not good with words. I did terrible things. Things I never wanted you to know about.”

“I don’t understand,” she tells him, sounding confused and lost.

Zan wants to scream out at the injustice of it. Kel should be knee deep in wedding plans with Ava, instead of a mass of liquid goo in a bottle in Mira’s lab. Ava should be happy and carefree, instead of devastated and alone, mourning the loss of her lover. Lisa should be lying in their bed, with her cheek resting on his chest, content in the afterglow of their lovemaking, instead of packing a bag to walk out of his life forever.

He knows he’ll never find the right words to explain to her the kind of life he’s led. But he thinks perhaps words are unneeded. He takes a step toward her, relieved in some small way when she doesn’t bolt away from him.

“I want you to understand who I was,” he tells her, moving closer. “It’s not pretty, and in the end you might despise me even more than you do now, but I want you to know everything. Who I was. What I am now. Who I hope to someday be.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t turn away either. He takes a chance, a leap of faith, praying that it won’t backfire in his face. He stands in front of her, only inches separating them. She looks up at him with her dark eyes looking unsure and a little bit frightened, unaware that his life, in fact his entire future, hinges on what he’s about to do.

“I have to touch you,” he says.

Her face gives nothing away. He can’t read her expression. Then she gives the faintest of nods, giving him at least a thread of hope. He bites his lower lip as he wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants.

He’s hesitant as he lifts his hands to her face. He’s touched her many times, but this might be the most important contact of all. His fingers thread into her hair; his thumbs settle against her temples.

“Just look at me,” he says gently.

Her irises expand as he pushes into her mind, forming a connection that links them together. It’s the first time he’s ever laid himself bare to anyone, the first time he’s given himself completely, the first time he’s offered anyone an intimate look deep inside his soul. He feels her shudder as she’s deluged with horrifying images of his past …

A well-dressed man walks down a New York City street. A streetwise punk dressed in leather knifes him in the stomach as they pass each other. Minutes later, young Zan pukes his guts out in an alley in reaction to his first kill.

More images flow from Zan, things he can’t hold back. He doesn’t hide anything from her. He won’t try to cover up what he’s done, or make excuses. He is what he is.

Young Zan shudders as he climaxes, but the feeling doesn’t last. He rolls away from Ava, confused when the bond he expects doesn’t form. She whimpers into her pillow, while he lies on his back feeling empty inside.

His memories assail Lisa without chronological order, in vivid, horrifying detail.

At a sink, washing blood off his hands.

In a dark sewer, shivering naked and cold.

On a dark balcony, lurking in the shadows.

His descent into brutality, stalking his victims and liking it. On a dark stretch of highway, feeling the adrenaline rush as his next victim comes into view.

Images of more kills stream through the connection, the floodgates are open and he’s helpless to stop them.

A woman and child in a park. A political candidate in the middle of a speech. An Air Force pilot lying dead in a hanger.

Then later, an older Zan on his knees, trying in vain to heal the body of a war ravaged Antarian child.

The images sicken Zan, but he doesn’t try to soften them. For every act of repentance there are a thousand or more acts of repugnance he himself finds unforgivable.

Forcing Ava to service him.

Inflicting physical pain to keep his companions in line.

Rape and brutality and torture.

Then confusion, when something long buried starts to awaken inside him. Emotions he can’t understand sweeping over him. He drives through the desert with the wind in his hair, on a collision course with his destiny.

Zan has no ability to stop the memories that are racing at Lisa. She can’t fight off the images she sees.

A boy with Zan’s face, but unspoiled; his path unmarred by acts of violence and murder.

A dark haired girl full of innocence, healed by the boy’s magic touch.

Zan watching from the shadows; torturing the boy for information; obsession for the dark haired girl.

He feels Lisa’s horror grow with each image that she sees.

Zan the Conqueror.

Zan the Murderer.

Zan the Monster.

To save her sanity, he breaks off the connection.

Her face looks stunned, shocked, horrified. Tears pool in her dark eyes, then spill down onto her cheeks. He wants to wipe them away for her, but he can’t. After what she’s seen, he’ll never be able to touch her again. She covers her face with her hands and collapses onto the foot of the bed.

Zan stands frozen; he can’t move, he can’t think, he can’t breathe. What defense can you give for being a monster?

“Lisa,” he finally manages to whisper as she quietly weeps. When he reaches out to her she bolts to her feet and grabs the bag. She clutches it to her chest as she backs away him.

“I have to go,” her voice comes out strained. Her mind is overwhelmed; he’s inundated her with too much, too fast.

Zan wants to beg her to stay, but he doesn’t. He can’t force her to love him. She needs time to absorb everything she’s seen. Time to come to grips with it. Time to maybe find it in her heart to forgive him.

“Ava, she …” Lisa’s words falter. Her eyes dart around the room, avoiding eye contact with Zan. When their eyes finally meet, he’s nearly broken by the depth of pain he sees inside her.

“Lisa –”

“I have to go,” she turns away and flees the room. Zan doesn’t try to stop her, or pressure her to stay. The light goes out of his eyes as he feels her presence leave his house.

He wonders if she’ll ever be back.

* * * * *

Zan sits in the dark, a haze of smoke around him as he takes a deep drag on his cigarette. He reaches for a glass on the small table beside him, but in his drunken state he knocks it to the floor instead. He barely reacts as the glass shatters and amber fluid spills onto the carpet.

“Fuck it,” he slurs, closing his eyes as he sinks into oblivion. When he’s unconscious he doesn’t feel the pain.

Days and nights blur together. Kel’s face haunts him in his dreams. Ava. Liz. Max. Lisa. He hasn’t seen her for days. Their last time together feeds his nightmares; the way he made her cry, the hurt and pain he felt inside her.

The untended cigarette between his fingers burns down to his skin but he doesn’t notice. He’s lost the ability to feel. The air fills with the stench of burning flesh. In his dreams he burns in the fires of hell.

“Zan, wake up.”

The ghosts of his past chase him through dark, rain swept alleys. Rats crawl over his skin when he stops to rest. He hears monsters coming from behind him. He turns to see they all wear his face.

“Jesus, what have you done to yourself?”

He feels hands pushing, pulling. In his dream they belong to an angry mob trying to tear him limb from limb. Tess tries to gouge his eyes out. Liz stabs him in the chest. Lisa reaches inside and tears his heart out.

“No,” he moans, pushing at the hands assaulting him.

“Wake up, Zan. Wake up!”

He feels a slap across his cheek. He opens one eye and then closes it. It’s Tess, with no mouth. She wants him dead. They all want him dead.

“Help me get him up.”

Hands under his arms lift him from the chair and pull him to his feet. They’re marching him away for execution. They’ll rejoice when his lifeless body swings from the gallows, a celebration to mark the monster’s death.

“Let’s get him in the shower.”

Hands pull at his filthy shirt, stripping it from his body. His pants are ripped away, while the people pelt him with stones, and beat him with sticks. Linta stands in front of him, battered and broken, lifting his small hand to point in accusation.

‘You let me die.’

“No,” Zan whimpers, just as a blast of cold water hits him in the face. He sputters from the shock of it, falling backwards against the shower wall. His shoulder absorbs the brunt of the pain. He lashes out blindly.

“Zan, don’t fight me! This is for your own good.”

Her voice penetrates his drunken stupor. He squints his eyes to see, sobering as her features come into sharp focus. Blonde hair. Pale blue eyes. Full lips in a grim line.

“Ava?” he breathes out, losing his combative stance. His legs feel numb, powerless, he slides down the shower wall and crumples to his knees. She kneels down beside him, water drenching her clothes and hair. Her hands frame his face.

“Zan,” she looks deeply into his eyes. “Are you with me now?”

“Ava,” his voice cracks. His hand lifts to grip her small wrist. “I didn’t want to kill him. You have to believe that. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” she soothes. “I know.”

The water stops. A towel appears. Ava helps him to his feet. When he’s dry she leads him from the bathroom and helps him into bed.

“Ava,” he reaches for her.

“Hush,” she pulls the covers up around him. “You need to sleep. I’ll stay here with you.”

“Lisa?” he asks, but the expression on her face tells him nothing. Her lack of response rings volumes, though. Lisa isn’t here.

“Go to sleep, Zan,” she gently kisses his forehead. “It’s the best thing for you right now.”

His tight grip on her hand lessens as a curtain of sleep closes his eyes.

* * * * *

Morning light rouses Zan from a heavy slumber. His eyes feel gritty, his stomach queasy. His head hurts. He rolls over onto his back, wishing for the nothingness of sleep to return, but a presence in the room causes him to jolt upright.

Sunlight streams into the room outlining a petite figure in the chair. For a moment he thinks it’s her, that she’s forgiven him, and come back to him, and then she moves and he sees it isn’t her after all.

“You’re awake finally.”

“Ava,” he closes his eyes and lets his head falls back against the pillow. She rises from the chair and moves to the bed. It dips as she sits beside him.

“You’ve looked better,” she brushes his hair back from his face. He opens his eyes and looks at her.

“I could say the same about you,” he says, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She looks pale, and thin. He wonders if she’s eating. After a long pause, he asks, “What are you doing here?”

He sees the way her face clouds over and it makes his stomach clench. He knows it’s bad news when she rises from the bed and avoids making eye contact with him. He thinks he’s going to be sick now, but he holds the bile back, waiting to hear what she has to say.

“You know you shouldn’t drink like that, Zan. Rumberry wine will eat your guts out.”

“You’re not here about the wine.”

“No,” she says. “I’m not.” When she looks at him he sees conflicting emotions on her face. He braces inside, whatever she has to say is going to be bad. Very bad.

Her hand goes to her side, touching a silver orb attached to her belt. He doesn’t think she’s even conscious of doing it. A nervous habit while she sorts out what she needs to say.

“I made contact with Earth today,” she slowly paces around his room. “With Liz, actually.”

He doesn’t know what to say. They’ve had contact with Earth over the years, updates on the progress of the war, mostly, or the state of the planet. The orb on her belt is their only link to that far off world.

Ava stops near the foot of the bed. “I’m going back.”

“Back?” he sits up. Back where? What’s she talking about?

“Back to Earth,” she says, shattering his world. His eyes follow her as she begins to pace again.

“Liz said I can stay in her old room. She’s not using it now that she’s away at college. She and Max, they have an apartment in Boston. Her parents don’t mind if I stay with them for awhile. Until I get my feet on the ground.”

“You’re leaving?” Zan voice cracks.

She turns to face him, looking raw and wounded. “I can’t stay here anymore. There’s nothing for me here.”

Zan pulls the covers back and swings his legs over the side of the bed. A pair of boxer shorts hides his nudity; he doesn’t remember putting them on, not that it matters. Her announcement is like a physical blow, one that’s about to get much worse.

“Lisa wants to come with me.”

Zan’s head shoots up, staring at Ava with equal parts dread and disbelief. “What?”

“She wants to know where she came from,” Ava looks at him apologetically. “She has questions that can’t be answered here.”

Zan rises from the bed but he doesn’t move beyond that. He doesn’t know where to go, or what to say. The two people he feels closest to in this world are leaving him.

“When?” he asks. His voice comes out small, tight, unable to look at her. If he does he knows he’ll break.

“Today.”

“Today?” his head whips up, panic on his face and in his tone.

“Max is preparing the Granilith,” she nods. “It’ll be ready in an hour.”

Panic slams into him full force, but he fights to keep her from seeing it. An hour? They’ll be gone in an hour?

“She wants to see you before she leaves.”

A burst of hope surges through him. She wants to see him? Maybe she doesn’t hate him after all. Maybe there’s still a chance. Ava touches his arm.

“You’re a mess. Go clean up. We’ll be outside waiting for you.”

Zan showers quickly, in water as hot as he can stand it. He scrubs the grime and smell off his skin, but it’s inside, where he can’t reach, that feels the dirtiest. He dries off with a towel and wraps it around his waist as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes are red. His beard shaggy and unkempt. His face gaunt. How many days had he been drinking?

He does his best to repair his appearance. He doesn’t want to disgust her when she sees him. He dresses in jeans and the pink shirt, the one she had made for him. When he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t see the old Zan at all. He wonders if she will.

He leaves his bedroom and makes his way through the living quarters. He can feel her now, growing stronger as he gets closer to where she is. He stands by the doorway that leads into her garden, hesitant to join her. What can he say to her that could counteract what she’s seen?

He watches her from the safety of the shadows. She’s as beautiful as ever, standing by an aliria bush smelling one of the white buds, but he senses a fundamental change in her. A new awareness that the world isn’t always pretty. She’s lost the innocence of youth.

She lifts her head and looks in his direction; the connection between them isn’t just one sided. He steps out of the shadows.

The first thing she does is look downwards, as if seeing him is difficult for her. His step falters. Does she hate him so much she can’t stand to look at him? He forces himself to keep moving.

He comes to a stop a few feet from her. He aches to hold her, to touch her, but he keeps his distance. He won’t force himself on her. He swallows hard before he speaks.

“How are you?” It’s not the question he really wants to ask, but it feels safer than all the other ones floating in his mind.

“I’m not sure,” she answers. It’s the way she is, honest and direct. She won’t pretend everything is fine.

“Lisa,” he starts, unsure of what to say next.

“I understand, about Kel,” she lifts her head and finally looks at him. “Ava does, too. You had no other choice.”

It’s Zan’s turn to look down. Kel’s death is still an open wound. Her absolution doesn’t lessen his guilt. She touches his arm and slides her hand down to meet his. The contact is a jolt to his system, a part of him is heartened by the intimacy of her actions, while the rest of him fears what’s to come.

“You sacrificed one for the protection of the planet. You did the right thing. I’m sorry if my reaction made it harder for you.”

Her forgiveness is a balm, but it doesn’t change the reason why she’s here. Her hand tightens around his for a moment, and then falls away. Worry churns inside him.

“Ava told you,” her voice trails off as if she, too, is struggling for the right words to say. He wants to make this easier for her.

“About going to Earth? Yes.”

She looks up at him hopefully. “You understand?”

He wants to cry out ‘NO!’ He wants to beg and plead with her to stay. But he doesn’t do any of those things. What he wants isn’t as important as what she needs.

“You should go,” he tells her. “To Earth. You should see it with your own eyes. It’s a part of what you are. I wasn’t going to keep it from you. I just,” he pauses, struggling with what to say.

“You’re not good with words,” she finishes for him.

“Right,” a ghost of a smile lifts the corners of his lips. She knows him so well.

“I never questioned how I was born,” Lisa says, turning back toward the aliria bush. Her fingers touch the white flowers. “Ava said you were both born from pods, like me. I just assumed everyone was. I had no knowledge of anything else.”

Zan quietly listens. There’s nothing he can say.

“I didn’t know I was human.”

“Part human,” Zan interrupts. “You’re only part human.”

Lisa lifts her chin. “Do you know who my Antarian donor was?”

Zan shakes his head. “I never asked.”

“But we do know who my human donor is. The person I look like. Sound like. Maybe even think like. I want to meet her.”

“You should,” Zan says, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “She’s a good person.”

With her eyes averted, Lisa asks, “Are you still in love with her?”

“No,” Zan tells her truthfully. “I never was.”

She looks up sharply. He can’t tell if she believes him.

“What I felt for her weren’t my feelings,” Zan confesses a long known truth. “My connection was to Max. What he felt, I felt, but in me it was like an obsession. For a long time I thought that was love, until I learned what real love is.”

Above them the clear sky darkens. Clouds form, with electricity growing thick in the air. The wind picks up; a storm coming.

One look at the sky and Zan knows his hour is almost up. He’s desperate not to let her go, but in his heart he knows it’s wrong to ask her to stay. Liz once told him he’d find what he needed on Antar. For a while he thought that was Lisa, but now he thinks it was more than that. He’s learned how to be a leader here, and what it feels like to love, and now it’s time for him to learn how to let go. What Lisa needs right now is on Earth. He won’t try to stop her.

Ava steps into the garden. A portal has formed in the air behind her, a one way ticket across the stars. It’s a journey they all know he can’t take with them. Earth isn’t his home, and never will be.

“It’s time,” Ava says.

His chest suddenly feels tight, like he can’t breathe, or swallow, or speak. Lisa’s head lowers, he sees her chin tremble, and then she’s in his arms. He holds her tight for a moment, with his hand threading into her hair. His eyes slide shut as he closes out the rest of the world. He wants to remember this, what it feels like to hold her, to breathe her scent. It’s all he’ll have of her after she’s gone.

The wind picks up, whipping around them in a vortex created by the portal. Lisa steps back, head lowered, wiping a hand across her eye. Ava steps forward and takes Zan’s hand. Her smile looks forced, her blue eyes blink to hold back tears.

“I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will,” Zan embraces her, brushing his lips across her forehead. He has no doubt Ava will protect Lisa with her life. Ava hugs him tightly for a moment, then steps back to wait by the portal.

Zan uses all of his willpower to control his rampant emotions. He hides them behind a false smile, but then Lisa does the one thing he has no defense against. Standing in front of him, she reaches up and kisses his lips.

He’s flooded with a series of heartbreaking images. Their first touch, when her hand pushed through the membrane of the pod. Their first kiss, here in the garden with the scent of alirias all around them. Their first night together, waking to find her snuggled in his bed. They rend through him like a knife slicing through his heart, bittersweet memories of their brief time together.

They part slowly, as if each is trying to hold on to those moments, and then she lowers her head and says the most hated word he’s ever heard.

“Goodbye.”

As Lisa turns and walks away, Zan reaches out and grabs onto the aliria bush. It’s the only thing that keeps him standing. As Lisa joins Ava at the portal, he maintains a false façade for as long as he can as the wind picks up and buffets the air, pelting him with aliria petals. His hair whips in front of his face, his clothes ripple, a part of him dies inside as he watches the air change around them, obscuring their forms, like rain drenching a windshield. In a flash of light the portal closes and streaks into the sky.

As the wind dies down, Zan drops to his knees, clutching a white aliria bloom in his hand. He holds it so tightly his fingernails dig into his skin but he doesn’t notice. The pain he feels inside runs so deep there’s no more room for anything else.

A hand touches his back, the long fingers familiar and soothing. Her comforting presence kneels down beside him. His façade cracks and crumbles as he lifts his head and looks into her black eyes, giving way to the intense emotions he can’t hold back any longer. The floodgates open.

“She’s not coming back,” Zan cries, burying his face in Mira’s chest. “She’s never coming back.”

Mira holds Zan like a mother holding her child, rocking him back and forth as his heart bleeds. She doesn’t offer false words of hope or encouragement; there’s nothing she can say to ease his pain. She stays with him in the garden, stroking his trembling shoulders until he quiets and his tears stop soaking into her tunic.

As exhaustion claims him, his hand opens and releases the crushed aliria bloom.

It falls to the ground, the white petals stained red with his blood.

Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Zan



Afterburn
Part 19


First light paints the horizon in varying shades of red; pink at the crest of the Solidin Mountains where the red dwarf rises, crimson fading into black where the night fights to retain possession of the sky. Zan wakes to a quiet house. There’s no one here but him.

He rises from bed and wanders aimlessly through the empty rooms. There’s no smell of toast and honey in the air to start his morning. No rattling of dishes, or splashing of running water, or laughter. No sound of soft humming to soothe his savage beast.

He leaves the house and steps out into Lisa’s garden. She’s been gone for weeks now, but he knows he’ll always think of it as hers. It’s where they shared their first kiss, and their last. He keeps it for her, tending the soil and caring for the plants, even though he knows she’ll never see it again. He walks among the white flowers, tinted pink by the rising sun.

Hours later, when the new sun makes its daily appearance and brightens the sky, Zan wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and sits back on his heels, surveying his handiwork. He’s turned the soil, cut away the dead wood, plucked away the dying flowers. The white aliria bush stands strong and healthy, a testament to the time and attention he gives it. A living legacy of his love.

Zan rises to his feet and brushes the dirt from his hands and knees. Turning his back on the garden, he heads into the house to get his things for the short walk across town. Behind him, the air is still and quiet. Waiting.

He slips on his leather vest and grabs a book on his way out, studying the pages as he strolls along the sun splashed streets. He’s discovered he has a mind for structural engineering, which has come in handy as the planet rebuilds.

A hovercraft whizzes by, buffeting Zan and filling the air with swirling clouds of dust. He lifts his hand and holds it out, freezing the craft in mid air without ever breaking a stride. The bubble shield opens and a gaggle of young boys spill out, shouting out in silent complaint.

‘Hey!’

‘What’d you do that for?!’

‘Why’d you – ZAN!’

Zan lifts his head from his book. “Didn’t I tell you boys not to joyride through the streets?”

One of the boys lowers his head. A second kicks a rock with his foot. A third pushes a fourth to the front to do all the talking.

“We weren’t joyriding,” the boy voices, but his aura turns orange, giving him away.

“You weren’t, huh?” Zan challenges, satisfied when the auras of all the boys turn a matching shade. “Synta, what’s your mother going to say when I –”

“Please don’t tell her!” Synta steps forward, the appointed leader of their little group.

Zan studies him, seeing the beginnings of a man peeking out from the visage of a child. He sees the resemblance to his father Sul, a man who fought by Zan’s side for many years, a brave soldier who lost his life in the caverns of the Morrow Hills.

Zan holds out his hand. Synta reluctantly places the crystal that powers the hovercraft onto his palm.

“Go on home, boys,” Zan orders, trying not to smile as they start scurrying in opposite directions. “And stay out of trouble!”

Only Synta stays behind, blinking his large black eyes before lowering his head in shame. “Sorry.”

When the boy turns to leave, Zan calls out his name softly. “Syn.”

Syn freezes for a moment, then slowly turns back to Zan. His aura flickers brightly. No one’s ever referred to him by his adult name before. It’s a momentous moment in a child’s life, especially when the one saying it is a living legend, the savior of your people, and Prime Regent of your planet.

Zan rests his left hand on the boy’s shoulder, holding out the crystal in his right. Syn’s hand shakes as he takes it back.

“You remind me of your father,” Zan steers the boy back toward the hovercraft. “He was a good man. Brave and strong. I was proud to know him.”

Syn nods his head. Zan feels the turbulent emotions in the boy; sorrow for a father lost, pride at the man that he was, hope that what he someday becomes will be an honor to his memory.

“The other boys look up to you,” Zan comes to a stop by the hovercraft. “They follow your example. Do you know what kind of responsibility that is?”

“I think so,” Syn looks at Zan with his fathomless black eyes. An image flashes in Zan’s head, of a young Antarian male, strong and true, a leader in his own right. A promise of what Synta will someday grow to be.

“Good,” Zan smiles and squeezes Syn’s shoulder. “Now go on, get out of here.” As Syn scrambles into the cockpit of the hovercraft, Zan shouts out, “And next time, take it out of the city! You can’t hurt anybody out there!”

Zan shakes his head and lets out a chuckle as Syn’s craft bolts down the street and nearly crashes into the side of a building. He resumes his trek toward the DOSA building muttering “Kids” under his breath.

* * * * *

“I’m thinking if we divert the flow of the Delvin River at junction S19, we could improve irrigation along sections 20 through 29, and maybe as far south as 32. That should enhance crop production, especially in the Southern Quadrant, where the population is rebounding so quickly.”

Zan turns a page in his book, refers to a sheaf of printouts, then bends over a sheet of paper and scribbles out a calculation. He taps his pencil against the results.

“By the end of the year we could see –” he continues, then lifts his head and stutters to a sudden stop. “What? What are you laughing at?”

“Laughing?” Mira tries unsuccessfully to bite back a chuckle. “I’m not laughing.”

“Yes you are,” Zan puts his pencil down on the table and folds his arms over his chest. He leans back in the chair with his leather clad legs spread wide and a boot covered foot tapping on the floor. “What’s so funny?”

“You are,” she sets the lid of a specimen jar down on the counter. She comes over to the table, removing a pair of sterile gloves. “You know,” she lifts the cover of his book, “this is all in the archives –”

“No,” Zan cuts her off, lowering his arms as his whole body seems to sag. “No machines. I don’t want to be programmed.”

“It won’t be like that,” she sits beside him, resting her hand lightly on his knee. “It’s just a teaching device, simple and quick.”

“I want to learn it on my own,” he tells her, covering her hand with his. He doesn’t tell her the rest, that the hours he spends pouring through books fills his time, occupies his mind, so he doesn’t dwell on what he’s missing.

“Okay,” she squeezes his knee and pulls her hand back. “I understand. I won’t bother you about it anymore.” She starts to push up from the table, but Zan stops her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she settles back down.

Zan picks up the pencil and taps it against the paper, nervous energy rolling around inside him. He sits straighter in the chair and tugs on his vest, avoiding eye contact with Mira. When he finally speaks, his words come out soft and low.

“Can you tell me who her donor was?”

Mira is quiet for a moment, obviously surprised by his question. He hasn’t talked about Lisa in weeks. Not since she found him in his garden, a heartbroken man in the aftermath of Lisa’s departure.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she asks.

“No,” Zan flashes a nervous smile; he’s not sure about anything at the moment. His emotions, once so deeply buried even he questioned whether he had any, now boil at the surface, betraying everything he feels. He can’t hide anything from her.

She covers his hand with hers. “We can try again. We have everything we need; the equipment, the technology, her cells –”

“No,” Zan’s voice wavers, fighting against the constriction in his throat. “She’s not something you can re-create in a lab. She might look the same, and sound the same, but it wouldn’t be Lisa. She taught me that.”

Mira falls silent. He knows she just wants to help him, to ease the pain and loneliness that he lives with, but this is something he has to face alone. To pick up the pieces and learn to keep living. It might not be the life he hoped for, but it’s enough to keep him going.

“I miss her,” he continues, letting out a stuttered sigh. “And I thought,” he pauses to compose himself, “if I knew who her donor was, then I’d know that a part of her was still here, you know? And that would be enough.”

“Are you sure?” Mira asks again. She doesn’t want to make this worse for him.

He thinks about it hard before he nods his head. It’s not obsession that drives his motives, he won’t stalk her, or try to make her his. It’s the final question he needs the answer to before he can lay it all to rest.

Mira leans close, resting her forehead against his for a moment before moving her mouth close to his ear. Her hand grips his tightly, offering whatever comfort and support she can. He’s utterly still as she whispers, “It was me.”

For a moment the world stops. Her words bounce through his brain, at first he doesn’t believe it, but then it sinks in and makes perfect sense. Of all the DNA on Antar, he’s glad it came from her.

Mira leans back. “You’re not going to try to kiss me now, are you?”

“I might,” Zan smiles, the first genuine smile he’s had in weeks.

“Because your parts don’t fit my parts, you know that, right?” she beams, pleased to see him taking it so well.

“I might kiss you anyway,” he laughs, and does just that, kissing her on the forehead before pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I’m glad it was you,” he tells her when he finally lets her go. He’s felt close to Mira since the first time they met, and this will only make them closer. They’ll never be lovers, but her friendship is a gift he’ll always treasure.

“Hello?”

“What?” Zan stares at Mira.

“I didn’t say anything,” Mira frowns at him.

“Zan? Is that you?”

Zan peers over Mira’s head, scanning around the room. It’s empty, just the two of them, so where the hell is that voice coming from?

Zan rises to his feet, nudging Mira behind him, his battle instincts taking over. “Who’s here?” he asks the empty walls.

“Me,” the voice croaks, then clears and tries again. “Over here.”

Zan feels a chill go down his spine. Why does that voice sound so familiar? He tightens his protective hold on Mira, but he sees nothing threatening in the room. Where is it coming from?

“Look!” Mira points across the room. “Is that what I think it is?”

At first Zan sees nothing but laboratory equipment and Petri dishes and specimen jars. And then the voice comes again, saying his name. His eyes grow wide when he sees where it’s coming from, a specimen jar filled with a greenish liquid substance, and a human looking mouth right in the center. Zan almost falls over backwards when the mouth speaks to him again.

“Zan! It’s me!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Zan takes a tentative step forward, until movement to the left of the jar makes him stop short. A human looking eye is sitting on the lip of a Petri dish. Just an eye. One single, solitary, disembodied eye.

The blue eye stares right back at him.

“Jesus!” Zan staggers backwards, bumping into Mira. She lets out a very un-Antarian-like squeal.

“What the fuck?” Zan looks between the eye in the Petri dish and the mouth in the jar. He shudders when the mouth begins to smile.

“Don’t you recognize me?”

Zan swallows back the bile that’s threatening to erupt from his throat. The timbre of the voice is sinking in, the smirking smile is oddly familiar, a second blue eye forms near the mouth which now has a full set of pearly white teeth.

Zan steps forward, almost afraid to acknowledge what he thinks he’s seeing. Could it be? Is it possible?

“Kel?”

“Hey, can you get my other eye? It’s hard to see this way.”

“Can I –” Zan stutters, looking from the jar to the Petri dish. The two eyes move independently. Zan gingerly picks up the dish, trying carefully not to spill the eye out onto the countertop or the floor. Mira looks around him, staring at the fluid inside the jar.

“Kel? Is that you?”

“Mira!” the mouth joyously announces. “How are you?!”

“I’m … fine,” she manages to say. “How are you?”

“I’m pulling myself together.”

Zan tilts the Petri dish and watches as the eye plops into the liquid and disappears inside the jar. A moment later it reappears to the right of the mouth. As a nose takes shape, Zan finds himself staring at Kel’s smiling face, floating inside the jar.

“That’s better. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Zan says inanely.

“How long have I been juice?”

“Juice?” Zan echoes. He still can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Mira tugs on Zan’s vest. “I think he means toast.”

“We thought you died,” Zan says.

“I’m not easy to kill,” Kel flashes a brilliant smile, then his face melts back into the fluid. It flows up the side of the jar and over the rim, sliding down onto the table and off the side, dripping onto the floor. In less than a minute, the puddle begins to pulse and change color, then solidifies into a familiar shape. Zan steps back, watching Kel reconstitute in front of his eyes.

“You cooked me good,” Kel shakes his arms and his legs. “It took a while to regenerate the parts that were destroyed when you blasted me in the chest. Can I just say, ‘Owww’?”

“Kel!” Zan enthusiastically grabs his friend and crushes him in a welcoming bear hug. A moment later he spins him around and slams Kel face down into the countertop, twisting his arm behind his back. He leans close and hisses into Kel’s ear, “How do I know it’s really you, and not one of them?”

Kel reverts to a liquid form, pooling on the floor at Zan’s feet. His face re-forms in the middle. “See? No parasite.”

Zan looks closely, searching for any sign of the familiar insect-like shape that possessed so many innocent bodies. Relief floods through him when he sees nothing, but how can he be sure?

“Go ahead,” Kel tells him. “I won’t bite.”

Zan kneels on the floor by the liquid mass. He flexes his fingers, then hesitantly reaches out to touch Kel’s face. The moment they come into contact Zan’s mind floods with strange sensation, images from a world he’s never seen, raw in its beauty, with mist rising above pools of liquid sentient beings. Thoughts and emotions fill him too; different than anything he’s ever experienced before, but familiar at the same time.

Zan pulls his hand away and sits back on his heels.

“Is he clean?” Mira asks.

Zan smiles as he stands, holding out his hand to his friend. “Clean as a whistle.”

“Whistle?” Mira questions.

“Never mind,” Zan laughs, pulling a reconstituted Kel up from the floor and into his arms. He squeezes him tightly, brother to brother, a joyous reunion with a dearly loved friend.

“Don’t kill me again,” Kel jokes as he tries to breathe.

Zan holds him out at arms length. “God, it’s good to see you!”

“And you my friend,” Kel grips Zan’s arms. “But enough with your ugly mug. Where’s Ava? And Lisa?”

Zan’s smile slowly fades. His hands drop to his sides.

Kel looks from Zan, to Mira who lowers her gaze, then back to Zan again. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Zan lifts his eyes to meet his friend’s worried look.

“We need to talk.”






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Sig banner by BelevnDreamsToo

I got so excited about that screen name, I forgot to post the next part!


Afterburn
Part 20


Kel and Zan walk through the streets of the Capital City in comfortable silence, each man deep in his own thoughts, though highly aware of the other beside him. Kel stoops to pick up a rock, hurling it down the empty street as far as the eye can see.

“Try to beat that,” Kel challenges.

Zan scours the ground for the perfect rock. When he finds it he picks it up, testing the weight of it in his hand.

“She didn’t leave because of you,” Zan throws the rock with all his might. It sails well beyond Kel’s, though he doesn’t gloat about it. His mind is elsewhere. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I wasn’t reason enough for her to stay.”

“Are we talking about Ava, or Lisa?” Kel asks.

Zan darts a look at his friend, then shrugs, admitting things that are hard to say. “Both, I guess.”

“I think you sell yourself short.”

Zan looks at him sideways. “What do you mean?”

“Zan, you’re the smartest man I know. So how come sometimes you’re so dumb?”

“Excuse me?” Zan half snorts, not sure if Kel is kidding.

“Well look at you,” Kel waves a hand toward Zan’s leather clad body. “You’re not half bad looking.”

“Well, thanks. I think.”

“What I’m trying to say is Lisa didn’t leave you. It sounds like she left to find herself. Those are two very different things.”

“And Ava?” Zan asks.

“Oh, Ava left because she couldn’t stand the thought of a life without me,” Kel brags.

“So it’s all about you?” Zan laughs.

“Oh yeah,” Kel mocks, sounding completely serious. “When she finds out I’m back she’ll come running.”

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“Oh god no,” Kel laughs. “She’d kick my ass just for saying it.”

“That she would,” Zan laughs with him.

“So seriously,” Kel sobers. “How do I reach her?”

Zan’s pace slows, coming to a stop by the gates of the Regence. “You can’t,” he tells his friend. “She took the orb with her when she left. We have no way of contacting Earth.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Kel asks, clearly surprised.

“It was what she wanted,” Zan says, looking off into the distance. “At the time it seemed right – for her. What I wanted wasn’t important.” When his eyes re-focus on Kel, a hint of humor sparkles in his eyes. “At the time I didn’t know your ugly ass was coming back.”

“Thanks for the love,” Kel teases.

“Anytime, pal,” Zan clamps an arm around Kel’s shoulders. “Anytime.”

* * * * *

“Is that right?” Kel leans over the kitchen table, pointing at an equation on a sheet of paper in front of Zan.

“I’m not sure,” Zan chews on the end of his pencil. “I’m not very good at quantum physics yet.”

Kel stands up straight and folds his arms over his chest. “Then what the hell good are ya?”

“Well, put that way,” Zan tosses the pencil down, “I guess I’m not good for shit!”

“So let’s call Mira. She knows everything.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Zan huffs.

“Anytime,” Kel zings it home.

“You know,” Zan levels an exasperated look at his friend. “Things were a hell of a lot quieter around here when I thought you were dead.”

“But you missed me like mad, didn’t ya?” Kel goads.

“I don’t remember you being this – this,” Zan struggles for the right word.

“Hyper?”

“Vocal!” Zan shoots back.

“Ah, it’s good to be alive,” Kel chuckles as he clears away the breakfast plates. “You should try spending weeks in a jar sometime. Then you’ll know what I mean.”

“No thank you,” Zan gives in to a smile as he gathers his things together and rises to his feet. “I’m gonna go shower, then I’ll be ready to leave. I think we should go through the archives down in the lower level of the DOSA building. The scientists kept records of everything, but much of it was lost or displaced during the war. It’s taken time to sort through all the files we’ve uncovered and load them onto the mainframes. If we can find the ones pertaining to Earth’s coordinates, then we can program another orb, using the same quantum frequencies. Without that, I hate to think how long it might take to stumble onto the right set of coordinates to reach Earth, again.”

“I don’t understand why you never made a backup of the orb,” Kel says on the way to the sink. “Come to think of it,” he turns to face Zan again, “it was always Ava, wasn’t it? She kept the orb. I never saw you use it.”

“I never wanted to,” Zan says darkly. Those first few times after arrival, when it was necessary to contact Earth, seeing Liz and Max together was like pouring salt on an open wound. In an act of self-preservation, he’d turned the orb over to Ava and never used it again.

“And now?” Kel asks.

“I’d give anything to have a backup. So let’s go find those damn coordinates.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kel lowers the dishes into the sink. “God knows, I don’t want to wait years to see Ava again.”

“Yeah,” Zan mumbles under his breath as he leaves the kitchen. He wants to do this, for Kel, and for Ava, but he’s apprehensive as well. He doesn’t want Lisa to think he’s trying to force himself back into her life. Re-establishing contact with Earth isn’t about him, but he’d be lying if he said the thought of seeing Lisa again didn’t excite him. And scare him, too. After all, she left him for good reasons.

At first, a small part of him had held out hope that she’d come back to him, that her feelings for him would outweigh the circumstances of her birth and his sordid past, but that hope died out weeks ago. As much as he wants to see her again, he doesn’t want to intrude on her life if she doesn’t want him there.

He walks by the patio doors that lead out to Lisa’s garden and makes a quick decision to check on the progress of a new hybrid he recently planted, a cross between an aliria and an orleto, with hardy white petals radiating out from a pale pink center. He’s named it Lisa’s Blush, a legacy to remember her by.

When he steps outside he sees petals and leaves littered all over the ground. “What the hell?”

Zan moves into the garden, looking left and right, placing his hands on his hips as he surveys the damage. It’s First season, what on Earth they call Spring, and wind storms are a rare occurrence. Most of their bad weather comes later in the year. Besides, he would have noticed a storm of this magnitude.

He cups a bent branch on his prize aliria bush, sending a burst of healing power into the twisted limb. He’s relieved to see Lisa’s Blush is still thriving, evidently protected from the storm by the size of the shrubs surrounding it. He’s just about to bend down for a closer inspection, when a sound behind him makes him freeze.

“Hello Zan.”

For a moment he can’t breathe. The storm is inside him now, buffeting his internal organs. His heart is racing, and his stomach is churning, and his lungs can’t seem to fill with air. He turns around slowly, afraid his mind might be playing tricks on him, and scared of what to do if it isn’t.

Is it possible? Is she really here?

As he turns fully, her image comes into view. She hasn’t changed at all in the weeks she’s been gone; her hair is still long and dark, her skin is still like alabaster, her eyes are still the deepest shade of brown he’s ever seen. As she stands before him, he’s aware of the sharp contrasts between them.

Her white dress, his black leather.

Her innocent soul, his lurid past.

Her pristine beauty, his ugly beast.

Is it any wonder there’s a gulf the size of the Percurnius Rift between them?

“Hi,” Zan finally manages to say. All other words elude him.

“Hi,” Lisa whispers back.

“The Granilith?” he asks. His hands are frozen at his sides. His feet are rooted into the ground. He doesn’t think he could move if his life depended on it.

“Yes,” she nods.

A part of him wants to ask her why she came back, and if she plans on staying, but the other part of him is afraid to hear what she might say. If he doesn’t ask, then he can convince himself that she’s here to stay, and he’ll never have to hear the word ‘Goodbye’ again.

But his life isn’t a fairy tale, and he fears he’ll never have a happy ending.

“How’s Earth?” he asks, at a loss for something else to say. He can’t tell her what he really feels.

“Different,” she answers.

The air stills around her, not a breeze, or a sound, waiting for her to continue. She turns slightly, as if the cavati and the rumberries hold more interest for her than he does. Or maybe that’s just his insecurities surfacing.

“Earth is beautiful, but,” she fingers a blossom on the rumberry bush. “The air is too warm there. And the sky is too blue.” When she pauses he thinks that’s all she’s going to say, until she speaks again, even softer than before. “And the nights were so cold.”

For a moment Zan feels a surge of something akin to hope, but he clamps it down. He’s not sure of what she’s saying, and he won’t violate her by pushing his way inside her mind.

“I spent a few weeks in Roswell,” she continues. “I got to know Liz, and Max.” She turns to look at Zan, with her head tilted ever so slightly to the right. “He’s so different from you.”

“Is he?” Zan swallows hard. Does she think Max is better than him? Someone she can look up to, and respect, and love? God knows, Max Evans would never murder one of her best friends right in front of her eyes.

“He’s not as strong as you are.”

Zan’s not sure how to take that comment. Does she like the fact that Max is non-violent? He doesn’t hold his counterpart’s benevolent nature against him, but unlike Max, he wasn’t born to sit back and passively watch the world go by, though he can understand why she might find that attractive. Max was never ruled by aggression, or forced to make the kind of life and death choices that he’s had to make.

“Liz and I talked a lot,” Lisa continues. If she’s aware of what her presence here is doing to him she hides it well.

“When you left, I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back,” Zan admits. “And then you were gone for so long, and I was afraid – I thought …”

“I know,” she looks at him. “At the time I couldn’t give you any reassurances. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “It was something you needed to do.”

“I’m glad I went,” she faces Zan straight on. “It gave me a better understanding of you.”

“Of me?” Zan arches an eyebrow in surprise.

“After Roswell, Liz took me to New York.”

“New York?” Why would Liz take her there? And how could being there affect Lisa’s perception of him?

“She showed me where you were born. And how you grew up. I know I saw all those things inside you when we were connected, but experiencing it myself, the sights, the sounds, the smells, it gave me a different perspective.”

“What kind of perspective?”

“That day here at the Regence, after Kel died and you opened a connection between us, everything I saw and absorbed was filtered through you. I felt everything you felt. It was horrible –”

Zan hangs his head. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“No, you’re not listening,” she moves closer to him, only an arms length away now. “Don’t you see? You’re your own worst critic. What I saw was horrible, because that’s the way you view yourself. Inside you feel like you’re some kind of hideous monster, and that was translated to me. I believed it because you believe it. But that’s not you at all.”

Zan’s voice comes out as shaky as he feels. “It’s not?”

“You’re ruthless –”

His head sags again as he hears her damning pronouncement, until the rest of what she says sinks in.

“–but only when you have to be.”

His head lifts just as she takes a step closer.

“You’re fiercely protective, but only because you care so much.”

She lifts her hand to touch his chest, a gesture he’d grow so familiar with in the short time they had together, and missed so much after she was gone. He wants to believe her, but he can’t shake off all the haunting memories of his past.

“When I was in New York, I could feel you everywhere,” she continues. “I know the exact spot where you fell from your pod when you were born. Your shoulder hurt for days afterwards. I know where you waited in the dark for the others to join you, and after, how you protected Ava from Rath. He called her defective, and wanted to kill her right from the start, but you wouldn’t let him. I felt what you felt when the bloodlust would rise and you’d feel compelled to carry out the Skins’ programming, and how after it sickened you, but you could never let anyone see that. With Rath and Lonnie there, you had to become ruthless in order to survive. And I know the exact moment when your programming took hold, and the man you should have been slipped away.”

“You saw that?” he stares at her.

Lisa slips her hand around his. “Your presence lingers there. In the walls. In the air. I felt you all around me. I don’t hold you to blame for what happened there.”

“But I’ve killed a lot of people, Lisa. A lot. I can’t take that back. It’ll always be there.”

“And how many have you healed?” she asks. “How many have you saved?”

“A few,” he admits, holding onto her hand tightly.

“A few?” she quirks an eyebrow. “How about an entire planet?”

Zan drops her hand and turns away from her. “You don’t understand. That can’t make up for what I was.”

“That’s something you have to learn to live with,” she says, standing close behind him. “You’ve paid your penance, Zan. Only you can forgive yourself.”

He wants to let the past go, but he doesn’t know if he can. Too much blood on his hands. Too many dead faces haunting his memories. He feels her right behind him, like an anchor in a sea of storms.

“The concept of right and wrong was stripped from you without your consent,” she continues softly. “You tried to fight it off in the beginning, but the Skins’ programming was organic, triggered by chemical reactions you had no control over. Until your connection to Max opened. And when that happened, the real you came out again.”

She touches his arm, turning him around to face her.

“You think of yourself as a monster, Zan, but you’re not. You – the real you – have the kind of strength most men will never know, and the kind of compassion that makes that strength noble and good. It’s what makes you such a good leader. You’ll never be a dictator, or a tyrant, or a Skin. Your heart’s too big for that.”

He looks at her, feeling a weight as heavy as the world lift from his shoulders, but he thinks she’s giving him too much credit. If his heart’s as big as she thinks it is, it’s only because of her.

She shakes her head as if she’s reading his thoughts and disagrees. She’s looking at him with something special in her eyes, a light that only shines when she’s around him.

“Zan, you’re a smart man, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of your eyes. You think I taught you how to love, when all the time, it was the other way around.”

Zan stares at her, wanting to believe her but not sure that he can, until she does the one thing that has the power to break through all of his defenses. His world goes into slow motion as she leans closer and her lips touch his, and her emotions bleed into him, a connection she’s initiating, opening a pathway straight to her heart. It fills him with so much love it nearly sends him into orbit.

He feels her hand slide into his hair, the other circle around his shoulders, her lips as soft as aliria petals pressing against his. His reaction is tentative at first, as if sudden movement might wake him from this dream, but as the reality of it sinks in his arms surround her and he crushes her to his chest so hard there’s no room left for either of them to breathe. The heartbreak of the weeks they spent apart melts into nothing but a memory under the heat of their re-igniting love.

“I’m back to stay, Zan,” Lisa tells him when they finally come up for air. “I don’t ever want to be without you again.”

“Welcome home,” he says against her lips, then nearly smothers her with another kiss. The joy she brings him is absolute and unbounded, as infinite as the stars.

When he lets her breathe again, she rests her forehead against his. “It’s nice to be home.”

Zan kisses her again, because she tastes so sweet, and he just can’t get enough of her, until a sudden thought pops into his mind. He breaks the kiss and grabs her upper arms.

“You don’t know about Kel!” he cries out in excitement. “Come on!” He grabs her hand and pulls her toward the house.

“What about Kel?” Lisa stumbles trying to keep up with Zan’s rapid pace.

“He’s alive! I didn’t kill him!” Zan blurts out. “We’ll have to tell Ava –”

Lisa runs into Zan’s back when he comes to a sudden stop in front of her. He stands as still as a statue, but when she looks around him the reason why is easy to see. Kel and Ava, standing together in the shade of a Jessip tree, wrapped in each others arms and kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

Zan looks down at Lisa. “She came back with you?” The joy on his face gives way to a flicker of confusion. “I thought she didn’t want to be here. Not without Kel. How did she know?”

“She didn’t,” Lisa watches the amorous couple across the lawn. “I had to convince her to come.”

“Why? If you thought Kel was dead? What kind of life would that have been for her here without him?”

Lisa shrugs. “Just a feeling I couldn’t let go of. I saw a picture in my mind of her here, and happy, and I knew I couldn’t let her stay behind.” She smiles up at Zan, adding, “I guess I was right.”

“I guess,” he smiles, circling his arms around her. “Do you get these feelings often?”

“Not often,” she leans her weight into his chest.

“Are they ever about me?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” she smiles, plucking at the collar of his leather vest.

“Like when?” he prods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I never know,” she looks up into his face. “It just happens. I told Liz about it. She wasn’t surprised. She said it’s my gift.”

“Your gift,” Zan takes that in. He’s never thought of their powers that way before, as a gift to be used for something good. He shouldn’t find it surprising that her powers would manifest this way; after all, she and Liz share the same DNA.

“I like that,” he tells her. “Is your gift telling you anything right now?”

She nods, smiling that special smile of hers. “It’s telling me you’re about to kiss me again.”

“That doesn’t take any special power,” Zan grins as he fulfills her prophecy. His lips eagerly cover hers again.

When she comes up for air, Lisa adds, “And I have this feeling that you’re going to be the best man at Ava and Kel’s wedding very, very soon.”

“You’re probably right,” Zan concurs, holding her snugly in his arms. “What else?”

“Sometimes the flashes I get – the images – they’re too disjointed to make any sense, but there’s one thing I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. No matter what life throws at us, we can face anything, as long as we’re together.”

“Words to live by.”

The smile on his face is slowly replaced by a solemn expression, one borne of necessity. There’s something he has to ask her, something that he has to be sure of. “Is this really what you want, Lisa? Here? On Antar? With me? No doubts?”

“None,” she tells him. “Do you want to know why?”

Zan nods.

“When I first got to Earth I was very confused. I didn’t know who I was, or who you were. I missed you so much, but I just wasn’t sure of anything. And then I got to know Liz, and she gave me some very good advice.”

“What advice?” Zan asks.

“She told me when life gets complicated, and it’s hard to know the right choices to make, there’s only one thing you can do.”

“And what’s that?” Zan asks, feeling her hand pressing against his chest.

“She told me I should follow my heart. So that’s what I did, and it led me right back to you.”

“It did?” a slow smile chases away the last of his lingering doubts.

“It did,” she beams, rising to her toes.

They kiss again, with the intensity of two lovers reunited. When it ends, Zan scoops her off her feet and twirls her around in a circle, her gossamer dress draped over his arm, her head thrown back and laughing. His own laughter joins hers, a sound that once was so alien to him he had no name for it, but now he does.

Her laughter is the sound of dreams coming true. And second chances being granted. It’s the sound that makes him feel alive instead of just existing.

“Let me down!” Lisa grips his leather vest and holds on tight. “Let me down!”

“Never!” Zan laughs. He kisses her until they’re both dizzy, then turns and heads for the house on long, determined strides.

“Where are you taking me?” Lisa’s eyes shine with the full knowledge of his purposeful destination.

Zan glances across the garden toward Ava and Kel, still locked in a passionate kiss of their own. “Someplace more private,” Zan tells Lisa, exuding enough sexual fire to heat the air around them. “So I can welcome you home properly.”

As they disappear into the house, the echo of Lisa’s laughter fills the garden, a joyful noise that brings beauty to the world. It’s like a living thing, thriving with her energy, permeating everything around her.

Rumberries blossom.

Cavati turns ripe on the vine.

The sweet scent of alirias fills the morning air.

And Lisa’s Blush grows tall and strong, reaching for the sun.





Author note:
I’ll be back next week with the epilogue. Which really isn’t an epilogue. Well it is, but, come back next week and you’ll understand what I mean.



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