Hunted Warrior

by Lindsey Piper

  “I’ll be Dragon-damned.” Mal pinched the back of his neck, struggling with his disbelief. “How did no one find it? It’s right here.”

  She shivered. “What was once will happen again. Sitting here, I can see the past because it’s a prediction of the future.”

  “A cycle?”

  “Our clans have changed dynasties. There are patterns. Revolt. Reform. Corruption. Excess. Overthrow. It happens among the humans, too. Why think our cycles are any different?”

  Mal tugged the rock away from the sliver of gold. Within moments, he’d uncovered the entire shaft, as if it had been waiting for his hands. “Surely … there won’t be a bowstring.”

  Yet he was only muttering to himself. A part of him deeper than logic and older than his years—older, perhaps, than his clan—knew to shut the hell up. Because there most certainly was a bowstring.

  He carefully set the ancient weapon on the ground, as if cautiously releasing a snake. He couldn’t shake the eeriness. “You win,” he said grimly.

  “You think I like it?” She pushed away from the wall and knelt beside him. “Do you?” she whispered fiercely. “I have seen two glimpses of my future. Two. You’d think I could get a better perspective on my own life-yet-lived. Now that I’m here, I need to touch that bow. I must learn what it will tell me. Because, Mal, we’ve made it this far. Step after step. I don’t …”

  She shook her head again.

  Mal caught her face between surprisingly steady hands. This was absurd, but it hit a true, undeniable place in his gut. “You don’t want to see what comes next?”

  “I don’t.” Her vehemence was a surprise, as were the tears in her eyes. Mal caught her as she sagged against his chest and buried her face against his throat. “Stepping stones,” she whispered. “Crests of waves. Think of whatever metaphor you want, but space exists between all of them.” She turned a panicked gaze toward the glittering bow. “Traveling by helicopter. The ferry ride and making love. All of that was the space between finding the arrows and me touching … that.”

  “What will it tell you? The next cresting wave?”

  “Otherwise, you win. I’m a charlatan, or insane, or worth treating with suspicion.”

  “I could think that no matter what you say.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” she said quietly.

  Holding her upper arms, Mal took a deep breath. He could believe her, or he could crawl out and do this another way. He was tempted to turn away from the gift he still couldn’t process. Only, what he’d witnessed so far was becoming impossible to ignore.

  He picked up the golden weapon in all its gleaming perfection and held out his hands.

  *

  Avyi couldn’t do it. She’d seen this moment more and more clearly since they’d arrived in Florence. Every mile, then every seemingly ordinary step forward … she was nearing the last few seconds of innocence before she would know why Cadmin would need this bow.

  Perhaps she would learn even more.

  Perhaps she really was crazy, slowly driven mad after so long in Dr. Aster’s captivity.

  It would be a painful thing to come to that realization in front of Malnefoley. She very much wanted to be right, just so he’d look at her with surprise and admiration, not with so much suspicion.

  His expression was etched with unexpected sympathy. His brows tucked together, laid over by streaks of straight blond hair that gleamed as golden as the bow he held. “Do you see the light above our heads?”

  She matched his frown, then nodded.

  “I spent four years on the top of what the humans describe as Mount Olympus. I stayed there until my gift had manifested. But more than that,” he said, with such gravity that Avyi shivered, “I stayed until I could claim absolute control over every aspect of my powers, from a small glow to illuminate an underground crypt—”

  “To being able to level a legendary rock maze.”

  He smiled softly. “Yes.”

  Again he extended the bow. Avyi raised her hands to take it, but jerked back. “Do you feel it? The humming? The ancient voices? It holds the screams of the dead.”

  “I don’t hear anything, Avyi. I’ve shown you what I can do, in many of its incarnations. Show me what you can do.”

  Hands numb yet burning and bubbling, she closed her fingers around the shaft. A burst of sensation that transcended physical and mental, present and future, exploded through her with the force of a grenade. She could only cry out and clamp her eyes shut in the aftershock.

  Cadmin stood on an arena floor made of crumbled concrete. Struts of pitted steel and decades-old iron strove toward the sky. She was surrounded by makeshift galleries where hundreds of people, both human and Dragon King, shouted and applauded. She held the bow in her left hand. Armor covered her shoulders and extended to form a thick lap skirt that reached her knees.

  The doors opposite her lifted. A helmet obscured her peripheral view, but what approached her was unmistakable. Cage warriors from another cartel appeared, armed with a nighnor and a double-headed Mycenaean ax. Sath and Tigony, then. Their traditional weapons. Cadmin looked down at the bow she held, and reached back to touch the arrows in her quiver.

  The warriors attacked. Dr. Aster smiled from the crowd in freakish delight.

  And above them all … a shadow …

  Avyi gasped and shook. “The Grievance,” Avyi bellowed. “Dragon help us!”

  Blood followed. So much blood. But none was Cadmin’s.

  Names filtered through. Rebels. Avyi knew them. She cried out as they were murdered, one by one.

  “Avyi!”

  As during her dream aboard the ferry, she found herself being shaken, rattled, shouted at. Mal stripped the bow from her bands, but he didn’t fling it. He held a hand tightly over her mouth and cradled her close.

  Believe me now, so that I can believe myself.

  She clutched his forearm as if it were the only piece of flotsam remaining after a shipwreck. “You have a violent soul,” she whispered. “I know. I know that it troubles you. But you’re not like him. You can’t be. I won’t let you be.”

  “Avyi, you’re not making any sense.” His lips met her temple, and he smoothed a shock of hair back from her cheek.

  “Make it make sense.”

  “I like to think I can do anything I want, but I don’t think I can do that.” He kissed her crown. “I would if I could.”

  He turned her in his arms so that she sat across his lap. Had she been sitting on her own, she would’ve clasped her hands around her shins and rested her chin on her knees—the pose of a woman trying to be small. Mal had shown her that in the hostel, how she hid within her own body.

  She released Mal’s forearm and found his middle. He was solid, immovable, breathing as quickly as she. The reassurance of his embrace was unlike any she’d ever known. He rubbed his hands on his trousers, getting rid of the loose gravel, and then petted her tears away.

  “That didn’t work,” he said softly, so softly that she felt the words against her ear rather than heard them. “Let me try again.”

  He kissed one tear. Then another. Another. Until he was kissing her whole face, one sweet brush of heat after another. Avyi shuddered and pushed closer to the warm safety of his body. She kept her gaze riveted to the softenened light above their heads.

  “Close your eyes.” He kissed her mouth, then down her throat.

  “I’ll see it all over again.”

  “It’s part of you now. Waking or sleeping, eyes open or closed. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  She obeyed, closing her eyes—but she’d never obeyed like this. Voluntarily. She wanted to do as he said. She wanted Mal to be the one who directed the next few moments.

  She moaned when Mal cupped her jaw, angling her face up toward his. More kisses followed. He started with each eyelid. These were no hasty jaunts from one place to another. He lingered, so that his breath became part of the caress. With every touch of his lips, s
he let go of a little bit of the tension crushing her chest. That rain of physical tenderness was a benediction. It was her reward for walking through fire. It was her reward for being Avyi.

  The woman he’d named.

  His mouth settled over hers and gave her more. The visions she’d witnessed were so violent, so vicious, that she welcomed Mal’s turn toward more passion. The force of his lips increased when he returned to her mouth. His tongue pressed deeply, meeting hers, sharing his taste and taking hers in return. She hooked her arms around his neck while he crossed his behind her back. Their upper bodies were flush. She relished his warmth and the steady beat of his heart.

  He’s right here with me. Right here.

  He tucked his mouth into the hollow between her neck and shoulder. Lips tightened over that skin. His teeth followed—just a graze. He took the intimate kiss deeper, sucking, moaning against her skin. Avyi gasped, then gasped again when he unclasped her bra. Big, warm palms worshiped her breasts, roamed her back, and grasped her nape for another kiss.

  Electrical currents followed wherever their skin touched, offering an unexpected charge. She trembled. Every stroke of skin on skin could be as dangerous as it was beautiful. How far could they take such passion?

  “You’re glowing,” she whispered. “Malnefoley, look at you. Look at us both. You’re making us glow.”

  He stopped only long enough to swipe a delicate fingertip down her forearm. A cool blue trail of energy followed in the wake of his touch. A look akin to confusion, suffused with awe, made him appear younger but no less daunting. He met her gaze, then cupped her cheeks. That glow swelled around the edges of her sight.

  “Here,” he said harshly. “Now.”

  Avyi pushed into his arms and kissed with all of her hunger for this man, but also as a means of erasing her fear. If she thought too much, she would be petrified by what was to come. Kissing Mal made everything go away—everything but the warm, wet thrill of his mouth on hers.

  They fought for possession of the kiss. Avyi didn’t stand a chance. She realized then how much control he’d permitted her on the ship. Now he took over. His hands were everywhere, just as he forced her hands under the hem of his T-shirt. She needed no encouragement there. He was a feast. A creature made to be adored. Each caress revealed a new delight, from hot skin to the pull and bunch of muscles that rippled down his back, his shoulders, his arms.

  He stripped off the shirt. Avyi was faced with the perfection of his torso in all its golden glory. “Here,” he said, low and harsh. “Kiss me here.”

  With a little tug on her hair, he pulled her closer. She kissed the skin just below his collarbone, before dipping down to relish his exquisite chest and taut abs. He breathed heavily, with a tight, occasional hiss when she found a particularly sensitive spot—or when she simply needed to bite. He was made of muscle and a vengeful will. He could take her teeth digging eagerly into his pecs.

  Mal dragged her face to his and kissed her with equal fervor. He nipped her lower lip, then tugged her earlobe. She winced, then sighed as the sting became the sweetest agony.

  “Turn over. On your knees. Like that, yes.”

  His voice was assured, as were his hands, as he turned Avyi to face away from him. He stroked her ass and thighs—roughly, so that the heat of his hands radiated through the cloth of her pants. Then he centered a rough grip between her legs. She stifled a moan as he massaged.

  This was a test, although he probably didn’t realize it. She had been on her hands and knees before. Now she focused all of her energy on remaining in the present, there, in Mal’s keeping. She wanted to be with him. He would stop whenever she said to. But she didn’t want him to stop, especially when he unfastened her cargos and pushed them down to her knees. She was bared to him.

  The metal rasp of his zipper made her shiver with anticipation. She ached for him. She missed his hands on her body, grounding her. He didn’t stay away long. One palm clasped her hip while the other roamed her skin, as if searching, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. That thought charged her with heightened excitement.

  Sure fingers discovered how wet she was. She let loose a little hiss before biting her lip. Mal was stroking her. He delved inside. He stroked outside. Swirls of pressure around her sensitive apex made her body shake. She pushed back to meet him—back arched, head lifted to the glow above her. Avyi whispered his name just before she felt what she wanted so badly. He positioned the hard, broad head of his cock at her slick opening. Without preamble, he glided deep inside. He shuddered and exhaled roughly. She shook her head when the sensation was nearly unbearable. How was she supposed to endure something so powerful without voice to let the intensity go free?

  She reached back, needing to be part of how he guided their rhythm. It made her feel safer and more liberated to feel Mal’s fierce, straining forearm where he grasped her hip. She dug her nails into his firm flesh as his pelvis met hers with increasing strength and speed. He was so big, inside and out, enveloping her, invading her in the most sensual, intimate way. Every sensation built and built until she gave herself over to the wildness of their desperate coupling.

  Hair damp on her cheeks, she could say nothing. Everything was bottled inside as they stole this moment from the whole of time. Maybe that was for the best. As Mal began to kiss his way up her spine—kisses both spicy and sweet—she knew she would say too much to the most staggering man she had ever known.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Mal tightened his hold around Avyi’s hips. He adored the smooth perfection of her back where her shirt rode up. The pulse of their bodies was a revelation. She met him with equal force until he couldn’t hold back. He steadied her, held her immobile with his arms wrapped around her torso. He arched until her hands came up off the ground. They knelt together when Mal showed her just how much he needed her.

  Stroke after stroke, she took the full brunt of his power. He was aching, throbbing. She was so tight. Avyi was someone to be caressed and protected, not overpowered by the hard proof of his desire, but nothing about her spoke of fear, of the need to be coddled. She threw her head to the side to rest on her shoulder. Mal sucked the skin of her neck. Her pulse was almost heady in its intensity. She gripped his biceps where he clasped her flush against his chest.

  More. So much more …

  She barely made a sound as she came, but her body revealed every sensation. She shook and reached back to claw his nape as her inner muscles clenched around him. He fought the impulse to shout and to let the light above their heads bloom to its full radiance. That need for restraint did nothing to dim the explosive force of his climax. He swallowed a groan. His release was nothing short of madness as she stole every thought but the rightness of surging into her one last time.

  They knelt together, panting. “Dizzy,” she whispered, with a hint of laughter in her voice.

  He hitched his jeans over his ass before rolling to the side, taking Avyi with him. She slumped with her back across his chest, still breathing hard. She found his hands and clasped them around her stomach.

  Mal didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to ask questions about what Avyi had seen or why she’d seen it—or if he believed a Dragon-damned thing about it.

  He was on fire. His body was steamy and fizzing in a way that had nothing to do with his gift. It was Avyi and her intoxicating nature—or, more like, it was their undeniable combustion.

  He eased back from Avyi’s tempting body and she fastened her pants. She shook out her hair, which was wild and damp. He followed suit. She was smiling, her eyes open wide and dazed. Nothing could describe her beauty. All the frescos and priceless works in Florence didn’t compare. Would never compare. She was lace over titanium. She was pale fire with the softest skin and the most passionate nature he’d ever known. Who could ever have guessed?

  Mal couldn’t truly feel what she believed, and he might never be able to trust her, but that moment erased common sense. He petted her bare upper arms. She was
shivering, and so was he. Kneeling before him like the foundling she was, seemingly fragile, she was also heartbreaking and enticingly wild. How was she capable of both, so completely blended into one sensual woman? He needed to be rid of her before his infatuation wrecked all sense of perspective, but he couldn’t take that risk.

  He didn’t want to.

  Destined.

  “Fuck that,” he muttered.

  “What did I say?”

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “Forget it. We should go.”

  Avyi eyed the bow as if it were a scorpion readying its lethal tail. “I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll carry it.” He nodded back up the narrow tunnel where they’d crawled down into the belly of the crypt.

  She let two fingertips hover within inches of the bow’s upper nock, where time had impossibly left a string intact. What was it made of? It appeared no more extraordinary than hemp. But Avyi didn’t touch it. She pulled her hand back and cradled it in the other. “One step closer. The power of the arrows was more diffused. This is becoming more concentrated with every new event. Each new discovery.”

  Unable to help himself, Mal touched his thumb to her chin. A spark flicked between their skin even before they touched. “Each discovery? Or just the ones you believe will take you to Cadmin?”

  She took his hand in hers and watched the pop, pop, pop of energy as each finger aligned. “I don’t know anymore. Is this … Mal, is this normal for you? This light and passion?”

  “No. Not with anyone.” He kissed her forehead, then slung the bow over his shoulder. “Let’s go. I’m tired of feeling like we’ll die buried alive.”

  They climbed out the way they came. Rocks pitted his palms, and the stench of old, decayed things was becoming a mold in his nose. As much as he’d been carried away by their desperate desires, he wanted to start clean with Avyi. He wanted a soft bed and her body in full light, not grasping for her in the belly of the earth.