The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

The Aranan lowered his forelegs and they came to rest with a meaty thump. He looked delicate, but it was an illusion. The thick, bristling legs held the segmented body off the ground — which put the alien, arachnoid face almost at eye level with her.

  Fern gnashed sharp, bulbous fangs. Emma fought dizziness. I’m going to be sick , she thought.

  Fern spoke in her mind. I’m sorry.

  Oh God! Great, she’d made a faux pas with a giant spider. I forgot you can hear me. And I didn’t realize you can understand me in this form. She covered her face with her hands, willing herself to stay conscious. It wasn’t just shock and terror; exhaustion sucked at her with unnatural force. Was it after-effects from the venom? She shuddered, then felt Bruce bump into her knees. She opened her eyes and dropped a hand to the dog’s head. He growled, tongue flicking out nervously.

  It’s difficult , came Fern’s weird voice in her mind. Hard to think. Like this. Can do it though.

  It was official. This was the weirdest moment of her life. Emma heard movement behind her, somebody coming up to them. Fern’s legs suddenly twitched. He sidled closer to her, raising forelegs protectively, hissing, fluid dripping from his weird fleshy mouth. Emma fought her gag reflex and turned to see what had Fern so riled.

  Aside from the entire royal guard crouched at the ready with weapons naked in their hands, a man she didn’t know — if you could call him a man — stood less than ten feet from her, his hands empty and held out by his sides, meant to be nonthreatening. That was probably the only nonthreatening thing about the way he looked, because he stood at least seven feet tall and was naked from the waist up, revealing a thickset, impossibly sculpted torso. The man looked like he could benchpress a bulldozer, but more, he looked like he’d been carved of darkness and smooth blue marble; every inch of visible skin was colored an unbelievable smoky cobalt, like steel gray silk that rippled with black and blue highlights, and it gleamed in the torchlight thick wet satin. Black hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, wild and tangled, the ends caught up in a small braid like an afterthought; the hair framed a face full of hard lines and feral intensity, with high, wide cheekbones, a strong brow over deepset eyes, a bullish nose that suggested savage arrogance. The set of his jaw was square and stubborn, his chin strong; the whites of his eyes were shocking against his smoky blue skin.

  He was utterly stunning, a demigod, something out of legend.

  Emma had never seen anything like him.

  He was frozen midstep, hands curled into huge fists, but otherwise he looked calm. Hell, he practically radiated confidence, like a hypnotic suggestion. Except for his eyes. They blazed a steady, incredible blue, like liquid electricity, a blue you could swim in like two deep lagoons, and they blazed at Emma as though she was the only person in the world.

  She swallowed. God help her.

  This was Seshua, the jaguar king.

  20

  Emma took a step backward. Seshua’s gaze stayed locked to hers. She caught a glimpse of massive, black arachnid legs hovering in her peripheral vision, and for a second the world swam.

  Seshua echoed her movement with one of his own, taking two steps for her one, and she discovered he was even more glorious in motion.

  Fern hissed behind her. The dog whined, flicked his ears back and forth. Seshua cocked his head as though listening, but his eyes never left hers.

  “Emmalina,” he said, sweeping his arms out in a graceful half bow. “I would have had us meet for the first time in much more pleasurable circumstances than these.” He straightened. Then he glanced around the shadowy chamber in a gesture that looked slow and lazy and casual, but Emma noted his eyes never strayed from her for long. “Not to mention,” he drawled, “that this is not one of the finer quarters my sanctuary has to offer. So dark and unwelcoming. Not fit for such as yourself.” He smiled, more with his eyes than with his wide, sensuous mouth, and it was wicked.

  Emma clenched a fist in Bruce’s pelt. That was the velvet voice that had anchored her when she held Fern’s life in her hands, and it did something to her a voice alone shouldn’t be able to do: it made her want to go to him. Trust him. It carried the strength of his body in its cadence, spoke of power and safety, and something in her responded. With warmth, and longing.

  She fought it down. Looked at him hard. “This is all your fault.”

  Seshua’s smile died. The silence blanketing the chamber thickened. Judging by the looks on the faces of the guards who were ranged behind Seshua, pretty much everyone had stopped breathing.

  “My fault?” The jaguar king’s vivid blue eyes narrowed. He squared his shoulders, and tension became a tangible thing. If Emma reached out, she’d have touched it. Hell, she had to dig her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from doing just that; the urge to step forward and run her hands through the energy coming off him was almost a compulsion. Powerful and disturbing. As though his presence were so huge and magnetic, it sucked her in, tugged at her like gravity.

  And Seshua sensed her reaction.

  He sensed something , because he arched an eyebrow, and when his eyes narrowed further, they glinted like sapphires. “All of this is my fault, is it?” he said, but this time his voice held laughter.

  His voice was sin itself. Aside from sounding warm and drinkable, it made Emma’s cheeks flame with anger and shame. Mocking her. On top of everything, he mocked her.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” she snapped. “I don’t much feel like laughing myself, since my day’s consisted of being kidnapped, and having to fight for my life and the lives of my friends, and then being dressed up like a stupid fucking doll for your benefit and attacked by spiderman over here, but sure, you yuck it up all you want, your royal fucking highness.”

  Bruce responded to the anxiety in her voice, plastering himself harder against her, tail curling around her calf. Satisfaction flared hot and bright behind her breastbone as Seshua’s eyebrows went up so fast they nearly flew off his face.

  Then his mouth curled in a wicked smile. “I believe the term you mean to use is your majesty , for I am king.” His arrogant grin deepened. Unfortunately, it made his eyes look even bluer. Until they narrowed again, and shifted to the giant tarantula poised protectively above Emma.

  Emma realized what she’d said just moments ago at about the same time Fern sent her a dismayed thought that sounded a lot like a groan.

  “But more importantly, yes,” said Seshua, his deep voice thick with warning. “You were attacked, by this foolish Aranan male. This does not please me. Ordinarily the punishment would be death for lesser offenses than he has committed against you. But as for the way you are dressed, I find nothing stupid about it.” His incredible gaze slid to her. His attention never wavered from her face, but she was suddenly reminded of just how much she wasn’t wearing. And the fact that she had an enormous wound at the base of her neck, which had splashed blood down the entire front of her body. Hell, given how many shots she’d pumped into Fern at such close range, she had no idea how much blood was even hers. She glanced down at herself and suddenly everything hurt. Her neck hurt, her head hurt, her body shook with fatigue. Her vision swam, and only sheer force of will kept her upright.

  “Emmalina,” said Seshua, his tone almost comically stern. “You are bleeding afresh. You must come with me.” He started forward, and Fern’s wordless mental shriek cut through Emma’s mind like shattering knives.

  The Aranan reared closer and brought his front four legs down around Emma and the dog like a big, hairy cage.

  Emma didn’t think, she just moved, hitting the ground on her knees with her arms around Bruce. Fern’s coarse hairs were almost ten inches long and the tips of them brushed against her skin, and she could sense more than feel the front of Fern’s arachnoid body against the back of hers. He wasn’t touching her, and he gave off almost no heat, but she knew he was there. Less than an inch away. It drove any awareness of pain from her mind and replaced it with panic.

  “Fern,” she said in warnin
g, voice wavering, her mouth gone dry with irrational fear. Fern! Let me go. You have to let me go.

  He’ll take you away.

  I’ll have to go eventually! Please Fern, it’s too much, you don’t understand, YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO —

  “Emmalina.” Seshua’s brows drew together over the bridge of his strong nose. “Call off your spider.”

  “He’s not mine, and stop saying my name like that!” Emma nearly shrieked, control fraying like a thread. She took deep breaths. It would be okay. Damn it, I can handle this.

  Then Fern’s arms — legs — tightened a fraction around her and she forgot why it shouldn’t terrify her so much, because it just did.

  FERN! She yelled it at his mind, but his thoughts were just an agitated growing buzz. Not thinking. How little of him was there in that giant form, really? Bruce yelped once, thin and high pitched, whites of his mismatched eyes showing.

  “Pequeña .” Seshua’s voice was suddenly a soothing velvet purr again. Emma looked up at him through the cage of Fern’s legs.

  The jaguar king held her frantic gaze with his steady one. “I can feel your panic. It is feeding into him. He is yours now, and you must calm him. I can’t do it for you,” Seshua added, glancing up at the Aranan with a look in his eyes that said he wanted to do more than just calm him. More like throttle him.

  Emma was torn between needing to calm Fern and her own traitorous urge to trust Seshua. Listening to him and doing what he said was too much like giving in… But what else could she do? It annoyed her so much it helped to clear her head.

  She forced herself to square her shoulders and close her eyes, shutting out the knowledge that her body was surrounded by giant tarantula. Just like calming any other animal; the sound of the voice, the silent language of the body. She willed the stiffness from her limbs, ignored the fresh throb of pain from her neck.

  Fern , she sent, mental voice steady. I know this sucks, but he’s right. I’m hurt, and I’m scared. I don’t want to be afraid of you, but I can’t help it. You bit me. You did this to me. I’m working on getting past it, but I’ll go crazy if you don’t let me go.

  Despair and shame smacked into her. I hurt you. You saved my life. I’m less than nothing. The long hairs of Fern’s legs trembled.

  I saved you because I shot you, Fern. I think we’re even on that count. We both hurt each other, but I’m still bleeding . She opened her eyes, looked past the long segmented legs that hung poised in front of her, and took in the sight of Seshua standing there, waiting for her. His face was implacable. He was patient, and Emma got the feeling he’d wait — until it no longer served his best interests. At which point he’d simply resort to force. It was inevitable. Whether she liked it or not, she had business with the jaguar king.

  Even if I wasn’t wounded, I’ve got stuff to settle with this king of yours. The sooner you let me go, the sooner I can get that over with.

  He’s not my king. The Aranan have no king. He was our master, but not our king.

  Was? Emma sent the question with a bad feeling she already knew the reason for the use of the past tense.

  Was , Fern sent firmly. No more . Waves of warmth and excitement came to Emma, and she groaned inwardly.

  We can talk about that later, Fern. Okay? For now, you know you have to let me go. What are you going to do, carry me around for the rest of the night? Me Jane, you Tarzan? Like King Kong?

  I… But…

  She felt him wrapping his dulled spider-mind around it. Recognition flared in him, followed closely by embarrassment. He drew his long forelegs away from her so she was no longer encased in a thick, bristling prison.

  The tension visibly left Seshua’s huge shoulders and he let out a loud breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. He held out his hand to Emma, and the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of his full mouth.

  “Not so fast, whatever your name is,” she said to him, scowling, and stood up.

  He dropped his hand. “My name is Seshua.” His eyes turned a stormy blue to match his skin, and the tension was back in his shoulders. Those full lips thinned; a muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. But Emma didn’t kid herself he was angry. No, if he got angry, there’d be fireworks — she could just tell. Which meant, oddly enough, she was safe for a moment.

  “Seshua, then. I just need a minute.” She let her guard down for a second and let him see just how exhausted she was beneath the anger and the adrenaline. “Please,” she said. It didn’t hurt to use the magic word.

  His face didn’t soften, but he inclined his head and crossed his arms over his chest — as much as he was able, for it was one hell of a chest, not to mention his arms were the width of Emma’s own legs — and planted his weight in his heels. He wasn’t going to give her space, but he was going to give her a minute.

  What does this mind bond thing mean, Fern? Can they still hurt you?

  Yes. But you’ll feel it. You’ll know. Unless… Anxiety crept into his mental voice like a low level electrical current.

  Unless what? Tell me.

  Fern’s mental voice hesitated. You shot me. You didn’t feel it. That’s not supposed to happen, but it did. You are not what I thought you would be . The words were an indictment, but Fern’s tone was merely sad, no reproach coming from him. He blamed himself for things going the way they did.

  I didn’t feel anything when I shot you, Fern. I wasn’t there. I… I was in shock. I couldn’t even feel the pain from where you bit me. But I hurt now. I hurt everywhere.

  I’m sorry.

  No, it doesn’t matter now . Except it did. No time to think about that. We’ll have to figure this whole thing out later, but what matters now is making sure they don’t hurt you. For the sake of us both. Whether she’d be able to feel it if Fern was hurt or not, she had to make the rest of them believe she would. She took a deep breath. This whole bluffing the enemy thing was starting to get on her nerves.

  “Seshua,” she said, and stepped forward, putting herself at the edge of that aura of power and energy he seemed to throw off. Her breath came a little shallower. He gazed down at her, face impassive. And totally breathtaking. She steeled herself.

  “I want your word that Fern will be safe when I leave this room. I’ll know if he’s hurt, so you can’t keep it from me.” Unless lead boxes or titanium steel doors prevented mind to mind communication. In which case, if they had one of those, she was screwed.

  Fern! Is there something they could do to prevent you reaching me? She sent him a mental image of a lead box and instantly regretted it as his mind whirled with confusion in response. Can they stop your mind from reaching mine? she corrected.

  I don’t know.

  Great. Fangface was a huge help. Emma sighed inwardly.

  Seshua cocked his head and considered her for a moment, face unreadable. Then he stepped towards her, ignoring Bruce’s fresh snarls. When he stood less than two feet from her, looming over her, he bent his head and spoke in a low pitch meant only for her ears.

  “Bargaining in such a fashion can be a dangerous thing, pequeña .” He flicked his gaze down the length of her body and met her eyes again. It brought color flaming to her cheeks. She fought the near overpowering urge to cross her arms over her chest.

  “Will you do what I ask, or won’t you?” She said through gritted teeth.

  One corner of Seshua’s mouth quirked up. “What will you do if I don’t?”

  Emma clenched her teeth against a hot flash of temper. “Then I’ll turn my spider loose on you and your guards,” she said, still speaking low, remembering Marco’s reluctance to shoot the shapechanger whose life force was now, supposedly, tied to hers. “I’m not completely stupid,” she said. “I know I’m leaving this room with you. It’s just a matter of how cooperative I am about it.”

  Of course, it was a bluff. Risking the lives of Fern and the guards who were only doing their jobs was unacceptable, especially when she was least likely of them all to be harmed. But she didn’t let the knowle
dge show in her eyes. She had one chance to make an impression, and this was it.

  Not that she thought it was working. Seshua’s smile broadened out into a wicked grin, and his eyes suggested his thoughts were infinitely amusing. His teeth looked very white against the dusky blue of his face. “You are a fine negotiator, Emmalina Chase. Now,” he said, moving closer to her, crowding her with his size and bulk, overwhelming her with the smoky scent of his body heat. “What will you do if I will do as you ask?”

  She blinked, just trying to breathe through the taste of the king’s power on her tongue. “I’ll go with you, and I won’t cause any trouble. Fern will stay calm.” Won’t you? She sent to him anxiously.

  If you ask it , he sent back.

  “No,” said Seshua slowly, his eyes hooded. “I mean, what else will you do. For me. Since we are bargaining,” he added.

  If she had any doubt about what he implied, then the heat in his eyes killed it. Was he serious, or just fucking with her? Either way, she was at the end of her tether. Rage welled up, heating her face.

  She held a hand out, clicked her fingers. “Bruce, sit.” Her voice was calm and stony. The dog slunk from her legs and sat by her side, ears cocked forwards. Good dog , she thought. He rumbled like distant thunder but stayed put.

  Then Emma stepped up to Seshua, so close his body was a wall of heat mere inches away from hers, so close she had to crane her neck to see his face. So close his skin looked translucent indigo, and his hooded eyes were the color of midnight.

  “Don’t play games with me, your royal fucking majesty,” she said, her voice wavering with anger. “I’m not your whore. Either I leave this room with you willingly, or you force me. Those are your options. There is nothing else, Seshua . The prize is, I go quietly, and that’s it. Understood?” She glared up at him, stood in his enormous shadow and hung onto her anger like a drowning woman.

  Seshua’s smile died. He clenched his jaw. His dark eyes narrowed and glinted. He blew out a hot, angry breath through wide nostrils, and it carried the faint scent of copper.