by Anna Argent
From what he could see, there were two more shapes moving in the distance, but only one of them was big enough to be a Dregorg.
That meant the other had to be its master. A Raide.
Anger grabbed Talan until he began to shake from it. Everyone he’d ever loved had been destroyed by the Raide. They’d taken his parents, his siblings, his friends. The Raide had carved his life, cutting away peace and happiness, hollowing it out so that all that remained was an aching, empty shell.
No amount of blood could fill the void, no matter how many Raide he killed. But that wasn’t going to stop Talan from trying.
He pulled a small vial from his vest and ripped the top off with his teeth. The fluid inside burned as it coated his mouth and throat, but he didn’t care. As the rush of power flowed through him—as the consuming, frenetic energy filled him—nothing else mattered. He didn’t even care if the drug killed him so long as the Raide went down first.
With a bellow on his tongue and an Imonite blade in his hand, Talan charged.
*****
By the time Isa got Warrian and all the supplies into the motel room she’d rented, he was bleeding badly and weaving on his feet.
“We cannot stay here long,” he said. The weakness of his voice was strange. Until now, she hadn’t thought he was capable of anything less than superhuman strength.
“We won’t,” she said.
Her shoulder was under his arm, supporting his weight as she led him to the sink. A bright series of bare lights glared in her eyes over the mirror. She was covered in dust and looking pretty bad, but compared to Warrian, she looked like she was ready for a beauty pageant.
He was pale and sagging against the counter, leaving smears of blood wherever he touched.
“You should have let me take you to a hospital,” she said.
“I don’t know if human anatomy is the same as ours. I dare not risk subjecting myself to their medicine.”
“Yeah, well you’re going to regret that decision when I pull that nail out with no anesthetic.”
“You must use the garala. If you remove the shrapnel, I could bleed to death. There would be no one nearby to see to your safety.”
“Can’t you use it on yourself?”
“No. It doesn’t work that way. It would be like pouring water into a cup with no bottom. You must do it.”
“I don’t know how.”
“There is little to know, but I will guide you.”
She really didn’t want to use his magical trinket, but she also didn’t want to take a needle and thread to his skin, either. And she really didn’t want him to bleed out. However she proceeded, it was going to be unpleasant. Might as well just suck it up and get it done. “Okay. Whatever you need, Warrian. Just don’t you dare die on me, okay?”
She removed his rings one by one, her fingers slipping on his blood. She placed them on her own fingers in the same order, curling them so the too-big rings didn’t fall off. “What if they come off?”
“You will interrupt the flow of power. This is a bad thing.”
“Right. Rings stay on.” And just to be sure, she grabbed some medical tape and adhered the rings to her fingers with a strip across the back of her hands. “Now what?”
“I will bare the wounds. The garala will sense what must be done when your hands come close. You must relax and allow the device to pull energy from you. As the wounds heal, the shrapnel will be forced out.”
No need for pliers. That worked for her. “That’s it? Just relax.”
“It is not as simple as it sounds. Your natural instincts will rise up, protecting you from the energy bleed. Your body will not want to feed the garala what it needs, but you must not resist. It will be…unpleasant.”
She really didn’t understand what he meant, but she guessed she wasn’t going to until she tried. “I’ll figure it out.”
Warrian turned to face the door, and lifted the back of his shirt. Blood had soaked into his jeans, wetting them. More blood seeped from the lower wound, trickling down to widen the stain on the denim.
Isa swallowed hard, trying to right the queasy tilt of her stomach. Blood didn’t normally bother her, but this wasn’t just any blood. This was Warrian’s blood, which he had shed protecting her. If he hadn’t shoved her to the floor, that nail would probably be sticking out of her right now, instead of him. And she wasn’t nearly as tough as he was.
She owed him a lot, including whatever energy the garala needed to work, no matter how unpleasant.
Her hands trembled as she moved them to either side of the wound. As she got near his skin, she felt a tugging sensation deep in her gut, as if someone were pulling a strand of yarn from her core. It was strange, but not painful.
The closer she got, the thicker that strand became. Green sparks sputtered between the rings, jumping toward Warrian’s skin.
“That is the way,” said Warrian, encouraging her.
As the strand pulled from her, a deep, gaping hunger bloomed in her stomach. She needed that strand. It was a vital part of her—the thing that held her very cells together. Sharing it was going to tear her apart.
Isa gritted her teeth and ignored the hunger. He’d said this wouldn’t be easy. All she had to do was keep going and ignore the hunger.
A gossamer filament of green light streaked from her right hand to her left. Then another, and another. Each ring connected to the others until a fine web of pale energy flowed between her hands, caressing Warrian’s skin before sinking into it.
The shard of wood began to move, sliding out of his flesh. He groaned, his powerful body shuddering under the force of her efforts. She didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure she caused him, but she couldn’t worry about that now. All she could focus on was letting the garala take what it demanded in return for healing Warrian.
Her bones began to ache. Her skin tightened as if she’d been sunburned. The hunger in her belly bloomed into full-blown pain, grinding against her spine until she was sure the strain would kill her.
She heard the metallic clink of the nail hitting the tile floor, and only then did she realize that her eyes were closed and tears were streaming down her face.
Her whole body shook with the strain. Her knees began to wobble. She locked them in place, forcing herself to stay on her feet.
The gaping emptiness churning inside of her swelled until she knew she would never be whole again. The garala had stolen something vital from her, and she would live with this bleeding emptiness for the rest of her life. Even the thought of walking around with this kind of hunger was enough to make a little, frightened part of her wail in dismay.
She opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a pitiful, wheezing squeak.
And then, when she was sure this was how she would die—that the garala was going to kill her—the scraping flow of energy stopped and left her with the hollow echo of relief rattling through her.
She sagged to the floor, panting and exhausted, not only from this, but from everything else she’d been through tonight. She’d been attacked, scared to death, tossed around, attacked again and nearly driven mad by both the Raide’s pain and the garala’s hunger. It was too much to ask of one person. She simply couldn’t take any more.
Warrian’s hands cradled her face. She could feel the warm strength of them holding her head upright.
“Open your eyes, Isa. Show me you are unharmed.”
She did as he asked, forcing her heavy lids up. His face loomed before her, pinched with concern, but no longer so frighteningly pale. Sparks flared in his slate blue eyes, going off like fireworks.
“Did it work?” she asked, breathless.
“I am whole. Are you well?”
The emptiness within her was already starting to fade. The hunger that had nothing to do with food eased. She still felt weak and brittle, but even that was dissipating with each beat of her heart. “I think so. I’m starting to feel normal again.”
“You will regain what was lost, but
it will take some time.” His thumb brushed over her cheek, wiping away her tears. Shame filled his eyes and tightened his mouth. “I hurt you. For that I am sorry.”
She shivered as the warmth of his touch sank into her. “You kept me alive by taking that hit. I don’t think I would have survived that much damage.”
He stared into her eyes as if looking for something. His fingers curled slightly against her face, allowing her to feel his work-roughened hands. The delicious caress shook her to her toes. “You are stronger than you think.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I can feel you inside of me,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Warm, soft, shimmering. You make me want… more.”
Isa’s breath caught in her chest. A hot flutter of delight winged through her. Even covered in dust and smudges of blood, his big body called to hers on a level she’d never felt before. Maybe it had something to do with him being from the place where she was born. Maybe they shared some basic connection that she could never have with any of the men she’d met before.
He made her want things, too. And she wasn’t under the influence of some kind of magical healing anymore.
Warrian traced one blunt finger over her cheek, along her jaw and just below her mouth. His stare was fixed on her lips, so obvious in his hunger she felt her face heat.
“I want to taste you again. I can’t stop thinking about how it felt to have you beneath me, your body going soft as my mouth covered yours.”
The picture he painted consumed her thoughts, shoving out all else. There was no slow buildup to the burn of desire that hit her. Instead, it came at her like a flamethrower, heating her insides until she was sure she would combust under his touch. Every cell in her body screamed for more of this man. She ached to strip him bare and rub herself against him, just to see if his body could possibly be as hard and beautiful as the fleeting touches she’d collected whispered it would be.
She remembered how good she’d felt after he’d fixed her shoulder. It was almost like flying, like that floaty state between sleep and wakefulness where anything was possible.
He was there right now, inhibitions down, looking at her like he’d never before laid eyes on a woman.
Isa wanted to know what that kind of intense focus would feel like if she let him have what he so obviously wanted. He’d resisted her kisses before, holding his mouth shut tight against her efforts. If she kissed him now, she was certain he’d give in.
I want to taste you again.
She wanted that too—so much her hands shook as she fought to keep them to herself.
“We shouldn’t,” she said. “You’re not yourself.”
He actually smiled, and even with the dirt coating his face and little smudges of blood, that smile was breathtaking. The fiery sparks in his dark blue eyes seemed to twinkle and dance. “Would you soften beneath me again, Isa? If I were to lay you down now and kiss your mouth, would you accept me?”
She had the feeling he meant accepting more than just his kiss, and even the thought was enough to loosen her muscles in anticipation of what he might do. Hot, liquid desire curled in her belly, stretching out in delicate tendrils that tempted her to give in.
She didn’t really know this man, but her body felt different. Every feminine instinct inside of her rose up in celebration of his nearness, whispering demands that she get even closer. Naked and closer.
It was an animalistic want, so stark and potent she wasn’t sure she could fight it. Her mind warred against giving in, but she was so tired, so overwhelmed by everything that had happened that she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to keep fighting.
Isa cleared her throat, hoping it would ease the tightness there. “You said we can’t stay long. We need to get showered and moving.”
“Shower?”
“You said they can smell us, remember? Seems reasonable that we should try to wash some of that off. And walking around covered in blood would raise too many questions.”
He frowned for a second, like he might come to his senses, but then it was gone, and he was staring at her mouth again. “I would like to shower with you. To see you naked. Wet.”
His voice stroked over her, as strong as any caress, and just as devastating.
“Warrian…” She trailed off, unable to find words through the fog of quivering need wrapping around her.
His fingers went to the top button of her ruined blouse. He stopped, the button halfway through the hole, and looked at her. There was a silent question in his eyes. A dare.
Isa stared at his fingers. They were thick, rough in spots, long. A slight tremor ran through them, but she had no idea if it was from adrenaline, fear or something else—that same something else that was making her whole body shake with need.
She wanted him. Badly. But she had to be the grownup here. He wasn’t thinking clearly. They were being hunted. Staying here longer than absolutely necessary was dangerous.
Isa couldn’t stand the thought of letting anything happen to him, especially not now, when he was inebriated.
She ignored the lust prowling through her and covered his hands with hers. “Come on, tough guy. Into the shower with you.”
He accepted her rejection with a deep sigh of regret.
Isa offered him a hand up. He was heavier than he looked, nearly pulling her to the floor. She staggered under his weight, but managed to get him upright. He swayed to the left, forcing her to hold on tight.
He stripped his bloody shirt off and let it fall. Isa stared at him, completely stunned by his raw, male beauty. Thick pads of muscle covered his frame, wrapping around his limbs in masculine curves. Power emanated from him, so obvious and visible, she wondered why she hadn’t seen it through his clothes. There was an understated kind of elegance about him that pulled her in tight and didn’t let go. He wasn’t flaunting his beauty—it was a part of him as much as his own skin, and something he wore just as easily.
Her mouth went dry as she stared. The urge to lean forward and flatten her hands against him, to feel his living heat and power, was almost more than she could stand.
She should have taken him up on his offer. Never again would she have a man built like him looking at her like she was the last woman on Earth. She’d missed her one and only chance.
But at least they were still alive.
Isa closed her eyes and gave herself a little shake, trying to get her mind back to where it belonged.
His hands fumbled at his belt, and she stopped him before he could strip down naked and make her completely forget just how much danger they were in. “In the bathroom first. Then get undressed.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majyr.”
“Isa, remember?”
“Yes. Isa.” He took a clumsy step onto the cracked tile. His whole body tilted forward, and if she hadn’t been holding his arm, he would have taken a nosedive right into the tub.
She pinned him against the wall so he’d stay put. “Whoa. Okay. Clearly you’re more intoxicated than I thought.”
“The damage was extensive. I would have died without your aid.” He stared down at her with an expression of pure, male hunger. As she watched, a shower of sparks flared in his eyes. “You truly are beautiful.”
The unexpected surprise of his compliment wrapped around her, thrilling her to her toes. “Thank you.”
She licked her lips, feeling a slow burn form in the pit of her stomach. The chill that had gripped her since fleeing the shattered house was driven away by the heat of his stare as it shifted to linger at her mouth again.
“You’re not yourself,” she said, remembering how she’d been all over him after he’d healed her shoulder. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning.”
“The only thing I’ll regret is missing the chance to taste you again.” His finger settled on her mouth, stroking her bottom lip as if it were the most delicate of treasures. “I should have taken what you offered before. I should have stripped you bare and touched every inch of your fle
sh. You would have enjoyed it, Isa. I would have seen to your pleasure with a thorough, relentless attention to detail.”
Isa stifled a groan. She wanted to give in. She wanted to let go and wrap herself in something as potent and distracting as Warrian. His inhibitions were down. He’d give her whatever she asked for. All she had to do was go up on her tiptoes and take what she wanted.
Her whole body trembled with the need to do just that, but he wasn’t himself. And even if she had been willing to use him to make herself feel good, they were still in danger. They had to keep moving.
“None of that,” she said, barely recognizing the strained sound of her own voice. “We’re going to wash and change into the clean clothes I bought, and then we’re going to hit the road, smelling like new people.”
“I would rather have my mouth on you.”
Isa closed her eyes to block out the sight of his lust-tightened features. “Take off your pants and get into the shower.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majyr,” he said as he listed sideways.
She straightened him up and let out a frustrated growl. “Isa, damn it!”
This wasn’t going to work. He was going to end up crumpled in the bottom of the shower, bleeding and unconscious. And there was no way in hell she was strong enough to use the garala again.
She used one hand to pin him against the wall and unbuckled his belt with the other. “Strip,” she ordered.
He skinned out of his jeans and used his feet to pry his shoes off. Isa kept her gaze averted as she helped him step into the shower. She wrapped his fingers around the metal grab bar and barked a harsh, “Stay.”
Her own clothes added to the dirty pile on the bathroom floor. She kept her bra and panties in place, knowing that if she rubbed her naked flesh over his, even accidentally, all of her good intentions would go down the drain, right along with the dirty water.
As she reached for the curtain, she saw smears of blood coating the tape holding the rings of the garala on. It reminded her of the danger they faced and strengthened her resolve.
