Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Warrior
Holly S. Roberts
Warrior
Holly S. Roberts
Copyright © Holly S. Roberts 2019
Edited by Michelle Kowalski
Cover by Fantasia Frog Designs
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be multiplied, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by whatever means. Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the writer. This eBook is licensed for your use only.
This is a work of fiction. ALL characters are derived from the author’s imagination.
No person, brand, or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.
Dedication
To Dinah (pronounced dee-nah)
Thank you for sharing a small part of Marinah’s life with me. This is a book of HEART and I’m honored to bring Marinah’s legacy to the pages of Shadow and Warrior.
Chapter One
Marinah
PAIN SLIDES BENEATH my skin, muscles tear, bones break. I writhe in madness fighting against the straps holding me down. Rage floods my veins, a killing rage that needs… needs…. The red haze pushes away all other colors, clarifying the distinct lines of each object around me, bringing them into focus like never before. I lift my head, turning the six-inch snout that’s now part of me left and then right as I sniff the air and read the scent of everything and everyone in the room.
“Take my hand, Marinah. Concentrate on my voice.”
His words are too loud and I bring my hands up to my ears and then shy away from the claws that almost take off my face. My body is no longer my own and something foreign has invaded, taking me along for a ride of terror.
The words float into my clouded brain again, “You’re okay. Breathe.”
I try to push his voice away, but I know that voice and I clasp onto it, holding it in a small part of my brain, the part that wants reason to return.
“Concentrate, Marinah.”
“Mir…no.” It sounds nasally, almost like something a sick computer would generate. My voice, but not my voice.
I feel a prick in my arm and then time slows, the red recedes, and the human part of my brain takes over. I blink a few times and King comes into focus. “Don’t leave me,” I beg. The words sounded pathetic, just like me.
King’s cool hand slides over the hot skin of my jaw, my cheek, my brow. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re doing great.” He uses a wet towel to wipe down my upper chest and arms.
Memories flash through my brain. King’s been doing this for days—holding my hand, talking me through the changes in my body, wiping away the sweat, and helping me keep my sanity.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I manage a smile or at least something close to it. “You’rrrre a liar. I’m wwwimp.”
King’s soft laugh sounds good on my delicate ears. He continues wiping me down, running the cloth over the short, bristly hair that now covers my skin. I lose track of time while trying to relax and control the rage.
“Here, love, eat this,” King whispers, tipping my head back and placing something beneath my nose. It’s meat…steak…raw. I open my jaws and snap at the food. Must eat. His hand jerks away and I lean forward determined to tear it from him. “None of that,” he says sharply, too loud for my ears. I’m angry and fury swells, blocking out everything but my need for blood. A hand pushes on my shoulder. “Control yourself, concentrate on my voice. You need to eat slowly and my fingers are not on the menu.”
The straps holding me are too tight. Must break. Must kill. Must eat.
No, I shout at the interloper in my head. Do what he says.
The food moves closer and I work at opening my jaws. When the first bite hits my tongue, it’s hard not to growl and ravage. No.
“Slow. There’s more,” King coaxes gently.
I push my jaws together and tangy blood fills my mouth, rolling through my taste buds and filling a craving that won’t go away. I swallow and open again. More blood. More meat. More. More. More.
“Lower the dose,” King says.
“You know that’s dangerous.”
I finally recognize the second voice. Axel. Doctor.
“Do as I say, she won’t miss the funeral.”
Funeral. Boot. Che.
“King, it’s too dangerous. She needs time to adjust and it will be months, not days.”
Axel could win this argument with King, but I need to be at that funeral. I push against the monster inside me and the pain starts again.
“It’s too soon to shift, Marinah. Fight it,” Axel says.
“No!” I bellow as the agony slides along my nerves sizzling everything in their path—regenerating, changing me from monster to human. No, not monster. Warrior. I can do it. I twist against the restraints trying to draw my legs up but it’s impossible.
“She’s shifting, tighten the straps.”
As my body mass shrinks, the straps tighten to my new size thanks to Axel and King. I breathe. I cuss inside my head. I win.
“That’s my girl. Rest,” King whispers.
Air fills and empties from my lungs as I concentrate on breathing normally. “I’m going to the funeral,” I grind out when I can speak.
“She’s as stubborn as you are,” Axel chides. “You could change at any moment, Marinah. It’s dangerous for you to be around others and it’s dangerous for them. If you try to hold back the change, the pain will be unbearable.”
“I’m going. You took the pain and so did the others. I can too,” I say and close my eyes allowing sleep to wash over me.
***
“Use my shoulder,” King coaxes as I lift one shaky leg and slide it into the pants he’s holding up. Such a simple task shouldn’t be this hard. My brain is being commanded by two entities and neither wants someone helping us put on pants.
King has seen every inch of me these past two days, so I had to get over my embarrassment of being naked in front of him quickly. There were more important things to worry about than modesty. After sliding my right leg into the pants, I move on to the left. Lift foot, move to pant opening, lower foot. It should be easy. I’m sweating and trying to decide why I thought I could make it to Boot’s funeral. Concentrate, I tell myself.
King insists on zipping the pants even when I bat his hands away. The familiar red haze fills my brain, swelling to the point of exploding, and the pain seizes me.
“You must fight it,” King urges through the fog of chemicals invading my body.
He removes his hands and waits for me to gain control. I need fingers to accomplish this task, so I focus on fingers not claws. It takes a few minutes
for the human me to take the lead again and zip myself the rest of the way and find the hole on the other side of the seam and slip the button into it. I glance up at King with incredible pride in this simple accomplishment. He smiles and nods, totally understanding how good it feels.
One way or another I’m attending the funeral, and according to Axel, I’m not to be stressed in any way. King is to keep a shot of their wonderful knockout drug on hand while we’re there. Thinking of Boot’s passing upsets me and the sadness of his death has triggered the change more than any other thought. It may be a bad idea for me to attend, but I need to. Boot deserves my presence. He sacrificed everything for his son and that deserves my respect. Not to mention, Boot was my friend.
King holds up a black T-shirt and I nod. We don’t bother with a bra. If I do happen to shift at the funeral, it will be in the way.
“You with me?” King asks.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I say honestly, sitting down on the bed and leaning my head forward into King’s stomach. His hand goes into my hair and he gently runs his fingers through the tangles. I couldn’t have made it this far without him. He’s barely left my side in two days. When he needs to shower or take care of Shadow Warrior things, I become agitated and shift. And then Axel provides another shot, and I pass out quickly. Not a good cycle and I shouldn’t be this needy. It doesn’t matter that they both tell me it’s normal, I’m no longer the person I was. I’m stronger physically and also mentally. My internal warrior has zapped fear out of me.
“You can,” King says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I’ll brush your hair and it will help.” His quiet words relieve me and I’m able to lift my head and give him a tentative smile. He looks away as not to upset my beast. The lack of eye contact is another downside of my new days as a Shadow Warrior.
King lifts the brush and I allow a long sigh to escape my lips. He’s been brushing my hair when things get rough and at times it’s the only thing that calms me. I should feel bad that I’ve put him through this. There’s a sense of nagging in my brain that wants to blame him for what I’m going through. It’s completely ridiculous. The sad truth is my beast doesn’t care. She’s angry at the world right now and so full of rage it worries me that I won’t be able to control her. King says this is also normal, though I have my doubts. He and Axel assure me it will get better and I’ll be able to control shifting and everything else that goes along with the new life I have.
King lifts the brush and I turn on the bed to allow him to sit beside me and pull the stiff bristles through my hair. I close my eyes and continue with my breathing exercises. “How do you know I can do this?” I finally ask.
He tips my head back and glances into my eyes. His are honest and reassuring. “You carried Che for miles after being bitten by a hellhound. I doubt there is anything you can’t do.”
He and Axel think what I did was amazing. I remember little of it. The only thought I know was in my head was that I had to save Che. I don’t know where my small burst of bravery came from, and I’m so relieved it came when it did.
I couldn’t leave Che, and what those monsters were doing to Boot…
“Breathe, Marinah.” King talks me through the sudden rush of Kedorine 5, or K-5 as King calls it, that tries to shove itself into my veins. K-5 is the miracle that brings on the shift for Shadow Warriors and it’s packed with other powerful hormones too. You can’t catch it, it’s not a disease, it’s something you’re born with, and I’m the lucky woman to be the first female Warrior in hundreds of years. “Inhale, exhale. Don’t allow your beast to win. You say when she’s in charge, not her.”
Sweat breaks out across my freshly washed skin. The red haze slowly recedes and I’m able to tug Beast back where she belongs. “I’ve got it,” I practically wheeze through clenched teeth as the room returns to focus and my breathing slows.
It takes most Shadow Warriors a year or longer to control their beasts enough to be around humans. Humans will be present tonight and I need to remember how easy they are to break. As of today, I have little control over my clawed hands and I’m lucky I haven’t taken out my own eye. My teeth in and out of Warrior form are another matter. I want to rip and chew apart everything that irritates me. It’s like my jaws have a will of their own.
“Talk to me. How’re you doing?”
I glance up and King is monitoring all the nuances of my expression. “I’m ready for shoes,” I say so he’ll stop worrying.
He rests the brush on the bed and grabs my shoes, holding them up for me. “Did someone do this for you when you were young and changed for the first time?” I ask as I stare at the shoes and try to remember the steps needed to get them on my feet.
Claws.
That small whisper isn’t as terrifying as it was on day one and it’s now more startling than anything. I ignore her while King takes a knee and helps me slip on the first shoe.
When that’s accomplished, he rocks back on his heels and grabs the other shoe. “Yes,” he answers. “My father did all this for me. My mom was gone by the time I hit puberty, so Dad was all I had.”
“Gone?” I ask. When King talks, it gives me something else to focus on, making it easier to control the strange thing inside me.
“She left us. My dad was never honest with her about who and what he was.” King finishes tying the laces and then stands while lifting his hand out to me. “I didn’t appreciate my father much back then.”
I’m stunned at the first part of his explanation and confused at the second. “Your mom never knew what he was?” I ask while standing with his assistance.
“She discovered it by accident and things didn’t go well afterward.”
“But this was before humans knew about you. He let her leave even knowing how dangerous that could be?” King’s given me small bits of Shadow Warrior history, more than any human likely knows.
But there’s the caveat. I am not human.
I receive a slightly twisted smile from King. “He wouldn’t kill her if that’s what you mean. It goes against who we are. He also knew she loved me and would never endanger my life.”
Wow, it’s tragic and my heart swells with emotion, causing the K-5 to attack again. This time I’m ready and slam back at it, forcing it to my will. “Did you see her after that?” King gives me a small knowing smile at my ability to push her back.
“I saw her once or twice. Those were difficult years. I fought my dad at every turn and made his life miserable.”
That’s so unlike the King I know. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Angry at the world.” His eyes go dark and the blue turns black. “I wanted to be a normal kid, not a monster. It was my uncle who set me on the right path. You may have heard of Greystone.”
“Greystone was your uncle?” It makes perfect sense now. The Federation wondered where King came from and how he took over so fast after Greystone died.
“Yes, Greystone was my uncle.” I can hear the sadness in his tone.
“My father respected him greatly,” I say, remembering the few times my father spoke of him.
“Greystone respected him too. They were friends, and my uncle mourned your father’s death.”
Greystone died six months after my dad. He wasn’t killed by hellhounds. “Humans killed him,” I offer sadly. It was a big deal and I remember soldiers celebrating. They thought with Greystone dead, the Shadow Warriors would go to their knees. What they didn’t expect was King. Within days, King took over and his savageness convinced the Federation to change its course. A month later, the peace treaty was signed.
“The Federation betrayed my uncle and then they killed him.” Anger sparks in King’s voice. Anger that causes a twitch in my beast. No! She will not win. I pull her back again and do a happy dance inside.
Cupping King’s jaws, I go to my tiptoes and kiss his lips gently. “I’m so sorry for what they did to your uncle.”
Our eyes meet briefly and I see so much in his gaze. “You’re not one of them, M
arinah, you’re one of us.”
I haven’t fully accepted what I’ve become. There are so many emotions—confusion, inner conflict on whether this is good or bad, and amazement. It’s like I’m living in a dream turned nightmare and if I could only wake up, the world would return to normal. And that’s a joke. What’s normal in a new world where humans are hunted by monsters?
These thoughts always bring me back to my father. King says my mom is a descendant of one of the female warriors who landed here when they first arrived. My father had to have known what she was. My own history cements it. They became vegetarians after my birth. I remember the beginning of puberty and my mom telling me I needed to control all irrational behavior. When other young girls got the sex talk, I received the control talk. Looking back, I don’t think I was all that angry. Not the way my hormones are now where it only takes a stray thought for me to go into fury mode.
“Do your people know what I am?” This worry is ridiculous. I just feel awkward and don’t exactly know where I fit in.
Taking my hand, King leads me out of the infirmary for the first time since I shifted. “My personal guard knows. They are all part of my council and will only say anything under my direction. The others only know you were injured and have been recuperating.”
“What about Che and his mother?”
“Same. They’re human. We’ll have a council session tomorrow and decide how to proceed.” We turn down another hallway and approach a door that I haven’t noticed before and he leads me through. Three Shadow Warriors stand together a few feet away and come to attention when they see King.
He gently pulls me so I’m standing in front of him and places his hands on my shoulders protectively. “Marinah,” he says in the soft, low voice he’s been using around me. “May I introduce you to my personal guard.” The men keep their eyes averted. I know them from the first trip in the car and I’ve seen them around this past month. Minus Boot. Pain slides through me and I pull my beast back in. “This is Nokita,” King begins. A younger Shadow Warrior, maybe an inch shorter than King though he has the same signature eyes and wearing cargo pants and leather straps, steps forward and nods with his eyes down. The entire eye thing has taken on an entirely new meaning with the grumbling that goes on inside me when eye contact happens. “Labyrinth,” King continues. Another Warrior steps forward. He’s huge, bigger than King with a slight grin that softens his carved-from-stone features. He’s also wearing his Shadow Warrior gear. “Beck,” King says last. This one I know. He’s grumpy and not friendly in the least. His eyes meet mine briefly and I have no idea what his expression means. He’s dressed like King in jeans and an orange T-shirt of all things.
Warrior Page 1
