by Jess Granger
She looked at him with dawning comprehension. “The Garulen drugs, they caused the violet color in your eyes, didn’t they?”
She should have realized it earlier. It all made sense. His eyes had been showing less and less violet. The drugs were wearing off.
“In essence, yes,” he responded, looking disgusted again.
“What are the symptoms?” she asked. She needed to know how to make him more comfortable until he pulled through this. When she heard him shout from her lookout position outside their shelter, the sound had chilled her.
“Fainting, dizziness, erratic fever.” His voice trailed off. She got the feeling he was holding something back. He scratched Vicca under the chin as the fox filled the empty room with a loud purr.
“What can I do?” She had to help him. She knew what it was like to suffer alone. She couldn’t inflict that on another. Several flickering colors sparkled in the deep blackness of his eyes, including a brief flash of violet. What was he contemplating? His dark gaze slowly wandered down her body, sending a fiery tingle racing down the backs of her legs.
“Talk to me,” he answered as his eyes rested on Vicca. She released the breath she had been holding. She was afraid he would ask for something else, something she couldn’t give him. “Talk to me until this fever goes away,” he added.
She settled in next to him. He leaned against her shoulder. She initially leaned away, then relaxed. If a little human contact comforted him, she could give him that. Azra was light-years away, and physical contact with him no longer gave her the rushing electric sensation. She hung her head. She was only sitting next to him. It meant nothing. A little part of her smiled at the small rebellion. Cyrila would be proud.
“What does Lakal mean?” she asked.
He took a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Lakal was a man, my friend, my keeper. Before the Garulen enslaved him, I had to be blinded and chained all the time. It was that way for years. Once they had Lakal, they used him to control me. After Lakal came, they took the blinders off, and I only had to be chained by one leg. He fed me, cleansed me, cared for my health, those sorts of things.”
“How did they use him to control you? Did they threaten his life to force you to obey?” Cyani knew the power of such a threat.
“His kind have mind abilities.” Soren shifted and looked away from her. Cyani decided not to press him. Psychic abilities weren’t common, but they were well documented in several races. She wondered what the nature of Lakal’s ability was, but Soren didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Mind control was a terrible thing.
“What happened to him?” she asked instead. Her heart felt like it was sinking into a bog. She didn’t need his answer. She knew.
“We tried to escape and they killed him.” His jaw set as he stiffened. “Without Lakal keeping me tame, they couldn’t control me, so they were going to sell me off to some unfortunate Kronalen leech.” He shook his head. “That’s why I’m here on this blighted outpost.”
“When did this happen?”
Soren shrugged one shoulder in a resigned way. “I think it was four days ago, but I lose a lot of time when I’m blinded.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and she meant it. She thought about the men she had lost in battle. The weight of their deaths seemed imprinted on her soul.
“What about you?” Soren asked as he rubbed his arms and shivered. “How did you end up here?”
“It’s part of my training to become one of the Elite.” She wished she had a blanket to give him, but she had nothing but her own body heat. She didn’t think it would be enough.
“What are the Elite?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“They are warriors who rule my planet. We have to spend five years in battle. This was my last mission for the Union Army. I was going home.” She would make it home; she had to believe it. The promise of peace was a thread of a delicate web she couldn’t break.
“So you’ll become a leader of your planet?” He leaned closer to her and stretched out his legs. She knew what he was doing, and she wouldn’t let him get any closer. She was pushing her comfort levels enough.
Cyani let out a derisive snort. “No, I won’t ever have power. I’ll just be a religious figurehead.”
“Why?”
“They don’t trust me.” She smiled to herself, though her bitterness clawed at her.
The Grand Sister had never trusted her, and the others learned quickly that ratting her out anytime she even contemplated breaking a rule earned the Grand Sister’s favor. The Grand Sister intentionally started her out in the bottom ranks of the Union Army. She had to spend five years bathed in blood behind enemy lines instead of clean and righteous in tactics meetings like the rest of the sisterhood.
“Why don’t they trust you?”
Cyani laughed a slow, angry laugh under her breath, and Soren let the question drop.
“Do you enjoy it? The battle?” Soren asked. He looked at her again with a disturbing intensity. “The kill?”
“I am good at it,” she admitted. “That’s all.” She felt strangely empty inside. The bare cracked stone seemed to press in around her. Why was she putting up with this incessant questioning? How many times had she asked herself the exact same things?
“How many have you killed in this war?” he asked.
Cyani looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t know.”
“Outside of it?”
Cyani felt her stomach drop as the blood rushed from her head. Could he read her mind? No, he was just pushing her. She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to wipe her palms. It was happening again. The terrible memory claimed her anytime she let her guard down against it. She could almost feel her hands sinking into the foul mud. It oozed between her fingers as the pain of the high-hawk’s blow lanced through her head.
Then she remembered agony, hard fists and boots pounding her half-starved body. The sunlight burned her eyes, blinded her as they threw her into a pure white cell. She left a dark smear of blood and grime against the wall as her beaten and broken body slid to the cold floor. Her tears fell on her mud-caked hands.
The crowds shouted in the Halls of Honor. “Murderer! Execute her!”
Cyani snapped out of it and sprang to her feet. “Why are you asking me this?” she demanded. “Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m dangerous? That I’m going to hurt you?”
Soren watched her, the way a cat contemplates a cobra.
“You are a predator. I just wanted to know what kind.”
“And what kind am I?” she snapped.
“A wolf,” he answered in his low, calming voice. “You follow your pack. Loyal, noble”—he paused as he looked at her—“beautiful, definitely a wolf.”
Cyani stared down at the floor as she pulled her braid over her shoulder. If she was a wolf, she was at the bottom of her pack. “And you don’t mind being stuck in a cave with a wolf ?” she asked.
“It is better than being stuck in a cave with a wounded old bear,” he answered with a half smile.
Cyani crossed her arms. Tension drained out of her as she felt a comfortable humor return. He reminded her of Tola. Her second-in-command also knew how to defuse a volatile situation. She rubbed her itching hands. “A bear, huh? You aren’t that fat.”
“I’ve been hibernating,” Soren teased as he stroked Vicca’s snowy belly.
Cyani sat again, crossing her legs once more. “You’re familiar with wolves and bears. Is Byra a deciduous planet?”
“We have old forests, cool weather, and lots of rain. It is a very fertile place. Well, except for the people. How do you know what wolves and bears are?” he asked.
“They are common creatures found on several planets, just like humans and platypuses,” she answered with a shrug.
“How is that possible?” A furrow creased his brow.
“The Gatherers spread us around.” She picked up a pebble and flicked it toward the wall.
“Who are the Gatherers?” he asked
, curious. His world didn’t deal much with others, and Lakal didn’t seem interested in contemplating the mysteries of the universe during their enslavement. They were too focused on staying alive and trying to escape.
One thing they did talk about was what they would do if they ever saw their homes again. Lakal never doubted that he would find his way home and drink melon wine by the fires with his people again. Soren hadn’t been so optimistic, but Lakal did his best to keep Soren’s hope alive. It died with his friend.
“Soren, are you listening?” Cyani asked, nudging him with her elbow.
“I’m sorry.” He’d have to let Lakal go. He was gone, and nothing would bring him back. Cyani mattered now. He returned his complete attention to her. “What were you saying?”
“The Gatherers were an ancient alien race, similar to humans. They died out from a genetic disorder long before recorded universal history. According to legend, they gathered species from planets and planted them on new worlds, forcing species to adapt and evolve. The current theory is they were searching for a cure to their disease in the genetic codes of other living things.”
“That’s interesting,” Soren mused. “So you and I?”
“Different breeds of dog,” Cyani answered with a subtle grin.
“What’s a dog?” he asked. The machine in his ear was unable to translate it.
Cyani laughed outright. “A domesticated wolf.”
“Why would someone want to domesticate a wolf?” he teased. His chills abated and he took a deep breath.
Different breeds of dog. Was Cyani compatible with him as a mate? A flicker of hope flared in his heart. He didn’t think it was possible for any species other than his own to balance his blood, but if what she said was true, he had a chance to survive.
But what good would that do? His long imprisonment destroyed any chance he had of a normal healthy life on his own world. If he had stayed on Byra, his lifegarden would have reached its maturity. It would have been able to sustain him and his mate and children for the rest of their lives. Without him, it would be as withered and dead as he felt inside. He had nothing. Even if he made it home alive, he had no future there.
At least he could be buried in the soil of his home. The roots of the crown trees would embrace him as his body nourished them. His spirit in death would help the trees reach new heights, and through their feathery needles, he could feel the gentle rain once more. He would become part of the garden of a young nephew struggling to weave an intricate web of life. His spirit would aid the boy. He would make the pakka vines bloom and the sweet honey melon grow. In that small way he would continue on and bring life to the next generation.
Everything in his life had been wasted. He didn’t want his death to be wasted, too.
The situation left him in a quandary. To die with honor and in peace, he would have to touch her enough to keep himself alive and convince her to help him return home. That only left him one option. He would have to seduce her, and that would be as easy as seducing a prickleback.
He rubbed his eye. It burned with fatigue even though he had just woken up.
“How long was I sleeping?” he asked, trying to turn his thoughts to something other than the perplexing mating habits of pricklebacks. The fever seemed to be breaking. He felt exhausted and drained, like he hadn’t rested at all.
“You were only asleep about two and a half standard hours. I was out watching the Garulen troop movements. I’ll leave Vicca with you in case you wake again.”
“Is there a way to teach the machine my language?” he asked. It was such a simple thing, but he couldn’t stand to hear the language of the Garu any longer.
Cyani sighed, then reached out and took the machine. A shiver raced down his spine as her fingertips skimmed over the shell of his ear.
Heat pooled in his blood, soothing the ever-present ache of his chemical dependency for only a moment.
She removed her own com then placed his in her ear. She gave the com an instruction in her language. After a moment, she pulled it from her ear, and handed it back to him.
He fitted it back onto his ear with a shudder. Most of the time he didn’t think about the com, but no matter how useful the tiny machine was, he hated the feel of it.
“I’ve set the program. When you want to start it, say, ‘Com initiate Garu to Byra learning program.’ When you want it to stop, just say ‘end program.’ All you have to do is repeat the words and sentences it says in Garu in your native language. The computer will do the rest.” She sighed then rubbed her eyes. They looked puffy and red.
“Have you slept?” he asked, reaching out and taking her hand. He would not let her back away from him. As soon as he grasped her, she began to withdraw, but he had caught her in his snare.
“I’m busy, Soren. You’re the one who needs to rest. I’m fine,” she protested, looking down at his hold on her. She could probably break his fingers, but he knew she wouldn’t just yet.
“Have you eaten?” He drew her closer as the tension in her hand hummed like the strings of a guilla.
“We have to conserve our food. We are going to be here for a while.” Her eyes widened with confusion as he pulled her closer. He didn’t have much longer before she figured out what he was up to.
“I won’t let you sacrifice any more of your health or strength.” He closed his eyes for a moment, gathered his will, then opened them again.
Cyani gasped in shock, but her gaze was caught in his. He could see the glow of his eyes reflected in the clear pools of hers. A look of wonder, then panic, flashed across Cyani’s face before her long dark lashes drooped low over her lovely eyes.
“Sleep,” he whispered, as the tension drained out of her body and she collapsed on top of him.
He sighed as he pulled her closer to him. He cradled her head in the crook of his arm and tugged the tie off the end of her braid. He gently loosed the plait until her rich hair spilled like emerald silk over his arm. She would be as spitting mad as a red-ruffed badger when she woke, but he didn’t really care.
“Com, initiate Garu to Byra learning program,” he muttered as he held her close to his side.
He pressed his lips to the top of her head and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. She unconsciously trailed her hand up his chest until it rested near her mouth, and snuggled into him like a sleepy kitten.
Soren looked down and laughed as Vicca rolled on her back, stretched her paws up into the air, and let her little pink tongue loll out of the side of her mouth. He loved the little fox. She had saved him.
Now would her master choose to do the same?
4
CYANI’S BODY SLOWLY PULLED HER TOWARD WAKEFULNESS. DEEP GREEN SURROUNDED her like a warm blanket. She could hear the soft rush of cool water tumbling over stone and rich laughter followed by the squeal of a child at play. She fought the urge to open her eyes.
A musical chanting lilted in the background, followed by a bark, something clicking along stone, and the furious scratching of a fox trying to run on a hard smooth surface.
“Com, end program.” Soren’s distorted voice rumbled in her ear. She cracked open one eye. Her thumb came into focus right in front of her face, resting on a warm expanse of smooth golden skin.
A tingle rushed down her spine as her waking mind put two and two together.
She lifted her head and looked around. Horrified, she stared into Soren’s dark green eyes, his face only inches from hers. Her hand splayed out over his chest, and the pressure of his palm in the small of her back pressed her hips to his thigh.
“Did you sleep well?” he murmured, his dark voice deep and husky.
She smacked him hard on the chest and rolled out of his embrace. Leaping to her feet, she turned and glared at him.
Vicca trotted in front of Cyani, dropped a small stone near Soren’s hand, and barked, the fox’s thick tail swishing back and forth in excitement.
“Vicca, not now!” Cyani scolded. The fox lowered her ears and curled into Soren’s si
de.
“You’re mad at me. Don’t take it out on her. We were playing.” Soren leaned forward and stretched, seeming oblivious to the fact that she was about to release a torrent of curse words in four different languages that would make a Fellilen patrol pilot proud.
“Mad?” Her voice squeaked, but she didn’t care. “I’m furious. How dare you?”
“How dare I what?” he asked, blinking up at her. “How dare I take care of you?”
“Don’t look at me, Soren.” She turned her shoulder to him then focused on the bag on the other side of the room. She crossed the room to it and fumbled with the contents, looking for her sono.
“Cyani?” She halted her search. His voice sounded too close for her comfort. “Tell me honestly you don’t feel better, that you are not thinking clearer, even if you’re angry.”
“I’m thinking clearly all right,” she said, turning on him.
“I’m thinking I’d clearly like to break your nose.” She watched his eyes sparkle vivid green, glowing in the dim light. Bursts of bright lavender danced in their depths. She forced herself to turn away from them, afraid he could use them to hypnotize her again. His eyes had far too much power over her, even when he wasn’t intentionally holding her in a thrall.
With a frustrated jerk, she pulled her hair over her shoulder. The truth was, she did feel like herself again. Her body seemed looser and stronger, her focus complete, and her eyes no longer burned from exhaustion.
“What does green mean anyway?” she asked so she wouldn’t have to admit out loud that he was right.
“What are you talking about?” He stared at her as Vicca circled his legs with the rock in her mouth.
“Your eyes turn yellow when you’re agitated or frightened, black when you’re sad, red when you’re angry. What is green?” She bunched her hair together and tied it in a loose knot.
“My eyes are green?” His voice sounded strange.
