Taken by Storm

by Anna Argent

  It was all too much. And yet there was no one else who would stand here and fight.

  So that’s what Warrian would do. He’d fight to save Radek. He’d fight to save Talan. He’d fight to keep Isa alive long enough to see her back to Loriah. Because it was the right thing to do.

  The only thing to do. He didn’t even care if his success here was the key to restoring his family’s honor. If he failed, too many people would die. That was all he could let matter.

  Warrian swallowed his emotion until it was a knotted little pile in his gut. Then he did as the Dregorg said, finding the line leading to a flammable liquid charge the Raide liked to use, and cut the line with Radek’s knife.

  “It’s done,” he said.

  “Anything else I should worry about on the way out?” Radek asked the Dregorg.

  “I know none.”

  “Okay then. Good luck to you.” He stepped off the mat and held his breath.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Isa had done this healing thing before. She could do it again.

  She swallowed hard as she stared down at Talan’s mangled body. He was still breathing, but that wasn’t saying much. Each breath was shallow and labored, leaving him whimpering in pain as his skin moved. He was covered in so much blood she could barely recognize him. At least he was unconscious. No man should have to suffer through this kind of torture.

  The damage she’d healed with Warrian had been a hangnail by comparison to what had been done to Talan.

  Shoving away all doubt, she put the rings of the garala on her fingers, taping them on as she had before. A quick glance at Warrian and Radek showed them still by the house, trying to get out of there alive.

  She didn’t know what she’d do if all these men died. She had no idea how to find another window or someone she could trust. She didn’t know where to hide, or if doing so would mean that thousands more people died at the hands of the Raide.

  Looking down at Talan’s damaged body, she knew she wouldn’t let those fuckers get away with what they’d done. She was going to fight them. She was going to kill them if she got the chance. Any being who did this to another was a waste of oxygen.

  With the need for vengeance quaking through her, she pulled in a deep breath and pressed her hands together.

  “I’m going to try to help you Talan. I’m really sorry if it hurts,” she whispered.

  He gave no sign that he’d heard her, but the garala lit with pale green fire, as if it had. Streaks of light leapt from her hands, arching into Talan’s body. She wasn’t sure where she could touch him without causing more pain, so she just moved her hands closer, until they were hovering over his skin so close she could feel his body heat.

  That strand began unraveling from her core, only this time it was far thicker and rougher than it had been before. Sharp, intense hunger hit her, streaking through her gut and up her spine. She knew it wasn’t real—she wasn’t starving to death—but that didn’t change how desperate she became. If she stopped, the hunger would go away. The strand would snap back inside her, where it belonged, but then Talan would die.

  Isa pushed forward, gritting her teeth as the sparking green lightning fell from her hands into his skin. She thought she saw one of his wounds close, but there was too much blood to be sure.

  She moved up to his head where the worst damage had been done. His scalp was flayed open, his skin hanging in odd folds. She didn’t know if she needed to touch him—to put the pieces close together so they could heal. But as she was debating what to do, she saw one section of inked skin shift on its own, moving as it was knitted back in place.

  She watched in awe, marveling at the magic that fueled this device, trying to grasp onto any distraction that would keep her from thinking about the gnawing, growing hunger filling her up.

  As a second wound began to close, her body started shaking with fatigue. There were dozens of wounds on his body. Maybe hundreds. There was no way she could heal them all and still survive.

  In that moment, she realized that she had no idea how to make the garala stop.

  Panic shot through her so hard her limbs tingled with it. She pulled her hands away, just to see if distance would help, but instead, it made the strand yanking from her grow thicker, as if fighting her.

  Instincts forced her hands closer again, easing the rough pain a little. She still felt like she was dying—like her guts were being ripped out through her navel—but at least she was dying at a slower rate when her hands were near him.

  Her body slumped forward until she was leaning against the truck door. She had no strength to hold herself up. Even her eyes were too heavy to stay open.

  A moan of suffering echoed inside of the truck. The sound had come from her, and it was a sad, pitiful thing, but she couldn’t make it stop. There wasn’t enough of herself left to care how she sounded.

  Blobs of color exploded in her sight. She wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer. She feared what might happen if her hands slipped away, so she tucked them under Talan’s heavy shoulder to pin them in place.

  His breathing was steadier now. She could tell because her own was far more shallow and erratic. All the heat had fled her skin, and only her fingers were warm where they met his skin.

  The hunger expanded into a living, ravenous beast that lashed around inside of her. Her body became light as everything within her was devoured. There was no more left for her to give. Talan had taken it all and was still demanding more.

  Somewhere in the distance, she heard an explosion. It rocked the truck. She couldn’t figure out what had happened, but there was no energy left in her for curiosity or fear. She was scraped hollow—a crumbling shell too brittle to touch. And then even the shell was gone, leaving nothing.

  Chapter Twenty

  Warrian tumbled over the ground, absorbing the force of the blast. He and Radek had been a few feet away when the explosion hit, but still close enough that the power of it had sent them sailing. He’d grabbed Radek as he’d launched himself away from the danger, but they’d become separated in midair.

  His ears rang. Smoke choked his lungs. Heat blasted across his side as the flames ate away one half of the house.

  Across the gleaming grass, he saw Radek’s body shift. He pushed to his feet, wobbling for a moment before he steadied himself. Warrian hurried to his side, scanning for signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”

  “A little singed. A little banged around. But I’ll live. You?”

  “I am well. We must go now.”

  Radek stared at the house, eyes narrow. Through the now-shattered picture window, Warrian could see a Dregorg, his orange eyes lit by flame.

  “I’m not letting him burn alive,” said Radek. “I’m going back in.”

  “To save the Dregorg?” asked Warrian.

  “He saved Talan’s life by telling me about the trap under him. I won’t stand here and let an ally—even a temporary one—die when I can stop it.”

  Warrian knew that look on Radek’s face. There would be no reasoning with him. He would do as he said, with or without Warrian’s approval. “I will help.”

  “No. There may be more traps.”

  “You need help.”

  “No. I’m strong enough on this world to do it alone. Go protect the empress. Get her out of here before those other Dregorgs arrive.”

  Warrian wanted to argue, but more enemies were on the way. His first priority had to be Isa.

  He clapped a hand on Radek’s bare shoulder. “Be safe. We will go to the nearest campsite to tend Talan’s wounds. Meet us there.”

  Radek nodded and shed the vest he wore—the one that belonged to Talan. Hundreds of Imonite trinkets and vials glittered in the firelight. “Give this back to him. He’s going to want it.”

  Warrian took the vest covered in Builder devices and turned back to the truck. Behind him, he heard the high-pitched spark of Radek’s maulst powering up. The sound was followed immediately by the crash of wood and glass as he began sl
amming his way through the wall of the house to make a doorway that wasn’t on fire.

  By the time Warrian had neared the truck, he knew something was wrong. Talan sat in the back seat, his big body rocking back and forth as if in despair.

  Warrian flung the door open and saw that Talan cradled Isa in his arms. Tears wet his face, leaving clean lines in the dried blood. Anguish shaped his features, speaking loudly of grief and hopelessness.

  Warrian went still as shock washed over him. Talan was not the kind of man who shed tears. The man barely even flinched when injured in combat. He was as tough as any Loriahan warrior Warrian had ever known.

  Talan did not cry. And yet tears flowed freely over his bloody cheeks without him showing even the slightest sign that he was embarrassed by the weak show of emotion.

  Warrian’s focus shifted to Isa. She didn’t move. Her chest was still. She was deathly pale, without even a fluttering eyelash to give him hope. Smears of blood covered her hands and face. Wherever Talan’s body touched hers, more rusty smudges were left behind. Even though Warrian knew the blood was not hers, there was still something terribly wrong. She was so still.

  He couldn’t speak. He wanted to ask what had happened, but his throat was too tight to allow room for even a faint word to pass.

  He reached for her neck to feel for the beat of her heart. There was nothing. Not even a weak throb of life.

  “She’s dead,” moaned Talan, pulling her tighter against his chest. “She killed herself healing me.”

  “No.” The word passed Warrian’s lips, only to be sucked away by the cold wind. His mind spun in a useless circle of denial, gathering speed, but still making no sense of what he saw.

  She couldn’t be dead. It simply wasn’t possible. She was his people’s greatest hope. Their best chance for survival and freedom. For years they had all fought to drive the Raide away, and every effort—every life lost—had been futile. They had nowhere else to turn for help. No more sparks of hope left. Only Isa.

  And Warrian had killed her. He’d asked her to help Talan. He’d given her the garala to ensure her aid.

  “No,” Warrian said again, this time with more force. She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t allow it. She would live, even if he had to give his own life to ensure that it was so.

  He shoved Talan’s hands away and lifted her out of the truck. As he laid her on the ground, her head lolled around, limp and lifeless.

  Denial died a swift death, and on its heels came rage. “How long?” he barked at Talan. “How long has she been like this?”

  Talan swayed, drunk on the energy that Isa had given him to save his life. “I don’t know. I woke up and found her already gone.”

  She couldn’t have been lifeless for more than a few seconds. He’d only been away from here for mere moments.

  Warrian pulled the tape from her bloody fingers and hastily fixed the garala in place on his own hands. He shoved his rage into the rings, forcing them to spark to life. Then he pressed his hands on either side of her heart, and sent a searing shock through his fingers into her chest.

  Her body lurched as her muscles constricted, but she once again went still.

  He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, breathing into her lungs. Beneath his hands, the garala sent out another thick jolt of power. She jerked again, but there was still no life flowing through her.

  As her body went still again, Warrian felt a huge, gaping hole open inside his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was fear, grief or something the garala stole from him to do its work. But whatever it was, he felt ripped in two, torn apart so wide he knew he’d never again feel whole.

  Talan grabbed up his vest, from where it had fallen from Warrian’s shock-numbed fingers. He flipped it open and retrieved a small metal cylinder. He gripped it in his fist, revealing a short, sharp needle protruding from the end.

  “What is that?” demanded Warrian, grabbing Talan’s wrist.

  “Stimulant. To help restart her heart.”

  Warrian released him.

  Talan pressed the cylinder against her neck and twisted the end.

  The drug hissed into her veins, but nothing happened. Not even a flutter of her eyelashes.

  Warrian breathed for her again. The garala crackled between his fingers, demanding more from him.

  He pressed his hands over her heart. Another huge chunk of Warrian was consumed as the garala sent another searing jolt into her chest. He let the rings take what they wanted, willingly accepting any price they demanded in exchange for her life.

  Her body arched once more. As her chest fell, she let out a shocked, choking gasp. Her hands flailed as if trying to fight off an enemy, but then fell to her sides. A weak flutter trembled through her eyelids, but they never fully opened.

  She pulled in a breath on her own, and her pulse pounded in the hollow of her throat.

  Isa was alive.

  Victorious relief flooded through Warrian. He sat, stunned, simply watching the fragile beat of her pulse beneath her skin.

  She was alive. Barely. Incredibly. It seemed too good to be real, and yet he could not imagine any other outcome. His entire existence had compressed down to the small space where only this one single woman mattered.

  With great care, he gathered her to his chest. She felt so delicate in his arms, and yet so precious he could hardly believe she was real.

  Talan slumped back on his heels, heedless of the frozen mud all around them. Blood coated his skin and jeans. His whole body trembled visibly, right in time with Warrian’s own shaking.

  They’d come so close to losing her—so close to losing everything.

  “We need to get her out of here,” said Talan, his words slurring with a mixture of relief and fear. “Somewhere safe. Warm.”

  Warrian still wasn’t convinced she was whole and safe. Releasing her now was too much to ask of himself. “Can you drive?”

  Talan shook his head. “I’m sorry. The effects of the healing are too strong. My head is spinning so hard, I know I’d crash. You drive. I’ll hold her. Make sure she’s okay.”

  Everything in Warrian rose up, screaming in defiance. He didn’t want Talan to touch her, and yet there was no other choice. They had to flee. More Dregorgs were coming. Getting Isa to safety was more important than Warrian’s ridiculous jealousy.

  He stood, cradling Isa as he tucked her into the truck. Talan’s blood was everywhere, but there was nothing he could do about that now. As much as he hated seeing any man’s blood touch her, he would ignore his baser urges for now. Later he would bathe her. When she was safe.

  Talan climbed in beside her, moving carefully, as though he feared toppling over onto her. His movements were clumsy, but he finally settled in place, with Isa’s head in his lap. He wrapped his bloody fingers around her wrist. Warrian knew it was only to keep track of her pulse, but he hated every second of the other man’s touch.

  Before he did something reckless and unjustified, he positioned himself behind the wheel and drove away.

  In the rearview mirror, he saw the little house collapse as flames consumed it. Radek’s bike was still parked where it had been before. The other warrior was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Isa woke to a warm caress over the back of her hand. After so much pain, the simple comfort of a damp cloth grazing her skin was heavenly, dragging a ragged sigh from her lips.

  Her throat was rough, as if she’d been screaming. A small part of her was surprised she wasn’t still screaming. Even the memory of that gnawing, painful hunger was enough to make her shake.

  “Take a drink,” said Warrian. His low, gentle voice settled over her like a heavy blanket, giving her a sense of peaceful comfort. His presence drove away some of the residual panic lurking in the back of her mind.

  A thick arm lifted her up. The cold rim of a glass touched her dry lips. She swallowed the cool water, letting it ease her throat and fill some of the aching void in her gut.

  When she could d
rink no more, she pushed the glass away and opened her eyes. Warrian sat beside her on a bed in a room she didn’t recognize. It was dark except for a single sputtering candle on the table next to the bed.

  Shadows draped over his face, showing weary lines etched around his eyes and mouth—lines that had not been there before.

  Isa reached up and cupped his jaw. His eyes shut, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His arm tightened around her body, dragging her to him in a gentle hug.

  Smudges of soot marked his neck and dirtied his clothing. She could smell smoke on his shirt.

  “Was there a fire?” she asked.

  “You need not concern yourself. All is well.”

  “What happened?” she asked. “You act like someone died.”

  And then she remembered Talan’s injuries, his broken body. “Talan,” she breathed, pushing back so she could see Warrian’s face.

  “He is well. Sleeping.”

  “Radek?” she asked.

  “He is also well. He patrols the grounds around the house to ensure our safety.”

  Isa let out a long, relieved breath. “Thank God. For a second there, I thought someone had died.”

  His jaw tightened, and dark, dangerous pain lit his eyes. “Someone did,” he said. “You.”

  Shock plowed into her, rattling her down to her bones. “What?”

  His gaze scoured her face, as if trying to memorize every line. “You died healing Talan. We managed to bring you back, but it was a close thing, Isa. You’ve been asleep almost an entire day.”

  “No wonder I feel like hell. Apparently, dying sucks.”

  His jaw bunched as if he were angry, but when he spoke, there was nothing but gentleness in his tone. “You should eat and rest. It will ease you.”

  She pushed herself up to a sitting position, with plenty of help from Warrian’s strong grip. He adjusted the pillows behind her, and then took her hand in his.