Lera of Lunos

by Alex Lidell

  By the time River finally calls a halt, Shade’s prediction about the effects of Coal’s magic on my body comes true with a vengeance. I grip the saddle to keep from toppling over as Sprite walks, and I don’t fall on my face dismounting only because Shade lifts me off the horse—ensuring that Coal sees him do it. The blond warrior’s jaw tightens, and I can practically see the wall rising higher around him. The useless, punishing thoughts that I can’t make him un-think. Lera is hurt. My fault. My fault. My fault.

  “Stop it.” I shove Shade’s chest. Lose what little balance my wobbling legs were granting me. Fall right in front of Coal’s boots, nearly re-twisting my ankle in the process.

  I catch a flash of alarm in Coal’s eyes, which he shutters just as quickly. He bends to help me up, but Shade blocks him with an arm.

  “Next time I tell you what you may or may not do with my patient, you listen,” Shade says, his quiet murmur as full of command as River’s. He waits a beat, letting the order sink in. “Gather firewood. We’ll need some tonight.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but Coal is gone before I can conjure words. My body surrenders to tremors despite everything I can do to keep them at bay. River wraps a cloak around me, guiding me into a mountain cave that looks like little more than a massive black blob to my mortal eyes. I run my hands along the damp wall, inhaling the scents of earth and moss. By the time Coal returns with wood and makes short work of a fire, I’m tucked securely against the cave wall, keeping my mouth shut as Shade examines my ankle and several of the deeper gashes, taking each aggravated cut as a personal affront.

  “You can’t do anything for her?” River asks Shade, settling with his arm around me.

  “If you mean with magic, nothing that won’t make things worse in the long term.” Shade brushes a lock of hair from my face, his yellow eyes softening. “You can push a body to heal faster like you can nudge a horse into a quicker gallop—only to a point. It’s all right for you to need a bit of rest, cub. No one expects you to pretend the trial never happened, that you aren’t sore. Okay? Can you let us just hold you for a night?”

  “Don’t bother answering,” River says, pulling me closer against his side, his heat and strength cocooning me. “I’m holding you whether you let me or not.”

  I’m still sitting upright when I drift off to sleep.

  I wake to River’s heavy arm around me, thin dawn light pressing against my eyelids, and the smell of blood filling my nose. I’m so used to the coppery scent from my own wounds by now that for a moment I simply snuggle deeper into River’s warm, bare chest, his smooth muscles shifting tighter around me. Then the blood hits me again, stronger.

  Opening my eyes, I stare at a pair of glazed dead ones and scream, my mind still processing the scene. Coal is on his feet immediately, sword drawn, blond hair loose against bunched shoulders. Heart pounding, I sit up to behold the freshly killed rabbit that one of the juvenile bastards decided to drop off inches away from my face. “Shade!”

  “It wasn’t me.” Shade blinks his long lashes at me from his spot by the mouth of the cave. “I’d have brought a pair at least. How poor a hunter do you think I am?”

  Shoving the dead rabbit into the shifter’s chest, I pull on my boots and walk down to a nearby creek, which at least flows with fresh—if freezing—water. Between Tye running off, Shade’s told-you-so healer persona, and Coal pulling back more each hour, my sense of humor is taking a bloody beating. Maybe there’s a plant somewhere that makes wolves itch. Yes, that would have been a better way of going about the morning.

  Savoring that prospect, I scoop water with cupped hands and splash my face quickly. The icy cold grips my lungs at once, and it takes several breaths before I can look at the creek again. In the clear water, my own reflection stares back at me.

  That, and the furry face of a green-eyed tiger.

  12

  Lera

  Breath held, I turn slowly. Very, very slowly.

  Taking a step forward, the tiger drops a dead hare at my feet and proceeds to the water, lowering his head to lap his fill from the creek.

  I swallow. “Tye? Can you understand me?”

  No answer, bar the rhythmic swoosh of his black-tipped tail.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I mutter, retreating one step, then another.

  The tiger’s head lifts and swings toward me, sunlight sculpting the lithe muscles beneath his velvety fur. His green eyes narrow on me, slide for an instant to the hare I left untouched, then return lazily to the water, where he resumes his lapping.

  I don’t see Tye again as I help pack up the campsite and go through a training bout with Coal, who currently seems willing to converse with me only through practice swords—which today strike neither quickly nor hard. By the time we’re in the saddle, Czar seems to have absorbed enough of his rider’s mood to snap his teeth at anyone riding beside him—poor Sprite included. Keeping the mare back, I survey the path for any sign of feline company. There is none.

  Until that evening, that is, when I return to camp from taking care of my needs to find a dead deer atop my saddlebags.

  Bile crawls up my throat at the sight of viscous deer blood soaking through my bags and into the clothes inside. “Oh, stars.” Clamping my hands over my mouth, I try to keep from breathing in the thick, coppery scent. “That is disgusting.”

  Shade heaves the carcass away from my things, bare arms hardly even straining. “That is dinner delivery.”

  Picking up a small stone from the ground, I launch it with all my strength at Shade’s shoulder. The male takes the hit with a grunt and a smirk. “Will you not be skinning it yourself, then?”

  Refusing to dignify the bastard with a response, I pull the blood-soaked clothes from my bags and, not wanting to pollute the small drinking stream, start for the river well downhill from the campsite. With the clear sky, River opted to spend the night in the thick forest instead of the oppressive mountainside caves, which—until just now—was going to mean less trekking up and down the slope.

  “You’ve about an hour of light left,” Shade calls after me. “Be careful.”

  “I did somehow manage to keep track of the sun before meeting you, Shade,” I call over my shoulder to the overprotective male. At least Tye chose the evening time to leave his offering, which means the laundry has a fighting chance of drying overnight. That, or turning into sheets of ice.

  Navigating prickly pine branches and horse-sized boulders, I finally come to the water, which rushes quickly over smooth stones. With the vast horizon on one side and a great snowcapped mountain rising on the other, the beauty of Lunos settles like a shawl over my shoulders. Finding a rock that’s both large enough to spread out my things and far enough into the river that I can reach the swiftly flowing water without actually having to step into it, I dump my laundry beside me. Three shirts and two sets of pants, all soaked through with deer blood and—

  My foot slips on a wet patch of rock and I throw out my arms, barely keeping myself from tumbling into the water—but still landing atop the soiled laundry. “Damn it.” My breath comes in pants as I examine my stinging left forearm, where a long bloody gash runs from wrist to elbow. Adding insult to injury, deer blood now soaks into my breeches. Holding the wound against my mouth, I sit back on my heels and growl at the cold sky.

  An animal growls back.

  “Not now, Tye,” I say without turning around. “You are at least partially responsible for all this, you know.”

  Behind me, the growl comes again, this time with the click, click, click of claws against stone. Then . . . nothing.

  A cold shiver runs along the length of my spine, the rushing of the river suddenly too quiet. “Tye?” Slipping my knife from its sheath on my thigh, I stand and slowly turn around.

  The tiger is there, two paces away.

  “Stars, cat, I thought it was someone else,” I say, letting the familiar green eyes and swishing tail soothe my nerves as I re-sheathe the blade.

  The tiger�
��s nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing on the drops of blood coming from my arm. At the deer blood saturating my scent. The tail stops swishing. His ears perk and still.

  I swallow, a fine tremor of fear rushing through me, my muscles waking with the need to be elsewhere. Now.

  The tiger advances, his great maw of white teeth glistening in the evening light. A large pink tongue jets out to lick a twitching nose. The click of claws on stone reverberates through my body as the predator’s focus zeros in on my blood again. When the tiger lets free a roar, there is a different sound to it. One that I’ve not heard before.

  Marking my escape route, I slide slowly to the side.

  The tiger shifts his weight to block my path, sharp green eyes missing nothing.

  Behind me, the icy, rushing river beats against the rocks. In front of me, there is a wall of claws and teeth and muscle. Fight or freeze? Fight or freeze? My breath halts. Fight or—

  My boot lands on cloth, the wet fabric sliding against slippery stone. I barely register the flash of orange fur in the time it takes me to fall.

  The pain of my hip hitting stone is nothing compared to the agony of the tiger’s jaw clamping around my shoulder, his great teeth pressing deeply into muscle.

  Pain explodes in my shoulder and I bite back a scream. Tye’s tiger might let me live, but it is unlikely he’d extend the same courtesy to my males, should they come. Gathering all my strength, I try to kick the tiger off me instead, my foot hitting solid muscles.

  Unimpressed, the tiger swings around and drags me away, my boots bouncing along the smooth stones. I raise my other arm and cling onto the fur of his neck, trying to take pressure off my shoulder. Between the pain and the tiger’s thick limbs, glimpses of shoreline show us moving away from the river toward the mountain’s darkness. Fire flares in my shoulder with each bump, until, several steps later, my head hits a stone and the world blinks away.

  13

  Lera

  Consciousness washes over me like a dream, my nose filling with the scents of mossy cave, animal fur, and blood. Cracking open my eyes, I see evening light shining beyond the opening, as warm and golden as before. I’ve not been out for long, then. Just enough for Tye’s tiger to have dragged me to . . . wherever this is.

  Pressing my hand to my screaming shoulder, I lift away my tunic collar. I don’t know how, but he seems to have dragged me here without tearing or breaking anything too vital. Dark blue, purple, and red-tinged bruises bloom over my chest and collarbone and disappear around my shoulder.

  Examination over, I slowly look around. The cave is about ten feet deep and tall enough for me to stand upright, if I could get to my feet. A pace away, Tye’s tiger sits on his haunches and watches me.

  “Is this your lair?” I mutter. “More to the point, am I here as your friend or your supper?”

  The tiger opens his maw and roars again, that same wrong sound that I heard before. The one that shakes me to my core, especially now that it echoes from the walls, surrounding me with its force. Violence, yes, that’s there, but mixed with something a great deal more frightening. Desire.

  Not good. The fire in my shoulder banks itself to a nagging voice in the back of my mind while I race through my options. Reaching inside myself, I search for any spark of Tye’s magic. Nothing. Tye’s tiger doesn’t engage magic the way his fae form does, and there’s nothing for my body to mirror off of. Right. Slowly extending my good arm, I grope around for a good-sized stone, wrapping my fingers around the prize.

  “Easy, Tye.” I make my voice low and soothing, as if calming a skittish horse. Bringing my legs under me, I shift my weight onto my knees. “Just walking out now.” When the tiger stays put, I dare to start rising.

  Tye’s tiger roars again, one front paw scratching the ground, a fevered blaze consuming his wide green eyes. My breath halts as the tiger stands, his hackles up, his dangling maleness heavy with readiness.

  Icy terror crackles along my nerves, my heart pumping so hard and fast that my body shakes with each thump. When the tiger takes his first step toward me, I launch my stone at his head and bolt for the exit.

  A wounded yelp squeezes my chest and I can’t help halting. Turning. Feeling acid rise up my throat at the sight of blood soaking Tye’s gorgeous fur, turning the white tufts of his ears pink and red. “Are you all right?”

  The tiger swipes at me, his claws out and sharp.

  Throwing myself out of the way, I pull out my knife, holding it between myself and the predator. My eyes sting, my throat choking on terror. Mistake. It was a mistake beyond reckoning to hesitate. The weapon in my hand trembles but stays.

  Tye’s tiger drops onto his elbows, his tail high in the air. His green eyes flash with need and pleasure. The predator likes the game. He knows exactly how he wants it to end. And with the next heartbeat, he pounces.

  I feel the knife slide into muscle before the tiger’s great force rips it from my hand. I fall flat on my back, the tiger’s wide paws pinning me to the ground, his breath hot on my neck.

  “No!” I scream with all the breath I have left. “No. Tye, stop! STOP.”

  The flash of light is so bright, it hurts my eyes. The weight atop me disappears at once, Tye’s fae form rolling off me, his beautiful face a deadly shade of white. A patch of blood mats the hair just above his pointed ear, a larger patch soaking the breast of his green shirt, where the knife must have struck. Haunted green eyes find mine as he backs away, step by step, until he strikes the cave wall.

  Relief washes over me so hard it leaves me dizzy.

  “Tye,” I gasp, pushing myself to a sitting position. Waiting for him to come to me.

  Tye slides down the stone until his knees hit dirt. Hands curling like claws, he covers his face, letting his shoulder wound drip unhindered. “I’m sorry.” His voice shakes, his fingers clutching his hair. “Stars. Stars. Stars.” The words come under Tye’s breath, each wilder and more desperate than the last. “What have I done? What have I done?”

  “Tye.” I crawl to him, pushing his hands away from his face until I can see his glistening eyes. “The tiger isn’t you. I know that. It isn’t your fault that you can’t control him.”

  Tye snorts bitterly. “But it is, lass.” Pulling free of my hold, he presses so hard against the wall that he looks like he’s trying to escape into the stone. “Do you think you can make it back to the others? You shouldn’t have to be around me.”

  “I’ll make my own decisions.” I sigh, strength seeping from me. I reach for his blood-soaked shirt and then stop. “If I cause you pain, is there a chance your tiger will return and maul me for it?”

  “No.” A whisper. The tears filling Tye’s emerald eyes overflow, sliding silently down strong cheeks. His smattering of freckles, usually hidden, stand out against his pale skin. When I wipe them with the back of my hand, the male flinches away.

  “Don’t do that.” I grip his uninjured shoulder. “Don’t pull away from me. We’ve been through this with Shade’s wolf—”

  “This isn’t like Shade,” Tye says darkly.

  “Explain.” Ripping open his tunic, I examine the stab wound on his upper chest, right at the base of his shoulder. My own shoulder blazes in protest, but the pain feels like more of a general agony than the wrongness of true injury, thank the stars—or the tiger. The large cat meant to capture and mate, not kill.

  “My tiger didn’t try to mate with you. I did.” Tye hisses in pain but holds rock-still. From the dark, slow bleeding, I think the blade missed any major arteries, though the sight of ripped-up flesh is enough to make my stomach churn. When I press a piece of wadded-up shirt against the puncture, the male’s hands tighten against the stone wall. “I wanted you so badly that my needs slipped through the wall between the tiger and me. The animal felt my desire and acted on it to please me, even though I abandoned the beast centuries ago.” Tye swallows, the effort to keep his eyes on me seeming to consume his body. Shame mars his perfect features, making tears burn in my throat. �
��And I had too little control over the beast to stop him.”

  I try to work through Tye’s words but find only confusion. If the male truly wanted to couple with me, he wouldn’t have rejected me time and time again. My jaw tightens. Tye chose a poor time for lies just now. I pull my hands back. “You are the one who’s kept away from me.”

  “You deserve better than me, lass. I’m—” Tye stiffens, going from wounded to predatory in a heartbeat’s time. “Someone is coming.” Gaze focused on the cave entrance, he shoves me behind him.

  “Lera!” Shade’s voice calls a few moments before the shifter himself appears, frowning into the cave. He’s shirtless and gleaming with sweat, steam practically rising off him in the swiftly cooling air. His tan, sculpted chest rises and falls with quick breaths. “Tye? I thought I heard a scream.”

  “Aye, you did.” Tye’s shoulders relax and he steps away, opening the line of sight between Shade and me. “Good thing, too. The lass is hurt.”

  “I can smell that.” Shade’s nostrils flare and I shudder at the thought of everything the male might be scenting. Blood, certainly. Tye’s and mine both. Something more? Shade’s jaw tightens. “How?”

  “Me.” Tye lifts his head, stepping closer to Shade. Baiting him to take a swing. To take me away.

  “Stop it, Tye,” I say.

  The male ignores me. Takes another step closer to the entrance—to Shade’s fists. “I hurt your mate, Shade.”

  My stomach tightens.

  With visible effort, Shade takes a step back, one hand gripping the top of the cave. “You hurt her, you bastard? You fix it.” The strain in the shifter’s face calls to me, but when I start toward him, he shakes his head and pushes himself farther away. “Don’t come any closer just now, cub. Please. I will . . .” The fingers of his free hand form a fist, which he thrusts into his pocket. “I will see you both tomorrow.”