by Jess Granger
“Cyn.”
She reached out and took the necklace. The beads felt secure and heavy in her hands as she pressed them to her chest. She felt the stinging behind her eyes as she clung to it.
“Stay here with me, Cyani,” Soren whispered, nuzzling close to her ear. “We were free on Makko. We can be free here, too. Azra will never find you.”
Before she could draw in a breath, his mouth met hers in a tender kiss.
It had been only hours since he had last kissed her, and yet her body screamed for him. She felt as if she had been lost in the desert, and he had just offered her the coolest water.
He broke the kiss but lingered only a breath away from her lips.
She surged forward and wrapped him in her arms. She couldn’t press herself close enough to him as she scorched him with her kiss. She wanted this. Shakt, she wanted him. The grotto swirled in a magical display as the light bugs danced through the rainbow of colors painting their small haven.
“I can’t do this,” she gasped against his neck. The spicy scent of him nearly drove her crazy as she tasted his warm skin. She couldn’t help herself.
“I know,” he whispered, as his hot hands undid the magnetic clasps of her ceremonial robes. The cool air kissed her bare neck and chest as a mist began to fall.
His hair brushed over her face as he pulled her clothes from her and eased her back onto the bed of flowers. His hot mouth kissed a trail of exquisite torture from her neck to her navel.
She sat up as he pulled her robes out from under her hips and slipped off her shoes.
He lifted one of her feet and kissed the center of the arch. A shot of pleasure careened up her spine as she fisted her hands in the soft foliage beneath her.
With agonizing deliberation, he nibbled up her calf, to the inside of her knee, and to tease the exposed flesh of her inner thigh.
She felt so naked, so exposed to him. The universe closed in until nothing existed but the small grotto by the creek. Even the flowers crowded in the edges of her vision, as if sheltering her from all the ugliness of her world. She wanted to stay here forever, bare, natural, wild, free.
She shouldn’t be doing this.
The damp mist cooled her heated skin as her fingers wound into the long silky strands of Soren’s hair. His mouth edged lower, ever closer.
Great Mercy of the Matriarchs.
“Soren,” she gasped.
His hot mouth closed on her flesh, and the sensation of his intimate kiss ricocheted through her nerves. She had never felt anything like it as his soft tongue teased her. She felt helpless and cherished, as if this was their altar, and the fires of Makko surrounded them once more.
His hands smoothed up her bare thighs. The rush of pleasure was so intense, so drugging, she closed her eyes and clung to his hair. She tried to escape the waves of color washing through the grotto, but they had invaded her mind until she could see nothing but scalding violet and the soothing love of pure clear blue.
She couldn’t think.
“Soren, please.” She pulled at him, desperate for a reprieve from the addictive torture he was putting her through. He slid up her side with a seductive grin on his face.
“Will you stay, Cyani?” he asked.
She fought hard for her thoughts, for control, but they had slipped through her hands long ago. She was falling now, and nothing could stop it.
“I can’t,” she confessed.
He closed his eyes for a lingering second then opened them again.
Cyani’s heart thrummed in her chest faster than the wings of a hoverbird.
He leaned forward and kissed her. Hard and tender at the same time, the kiss flooded her with sad longing and sweet possession.
She gently pushed him back.
With soft nibbling bites to her lips, he let her pull away.
“The Grand Sister named me as heir. I will rule Azra,” she whispered. She said the words, but they didn’t feel right; they only felt bitter.
“What?” He stiffened, his hands clenching her robes beneath her, as his eyes searched hers with heartbreaking disbelief.
“I will be the Grand Sister,” she said. She felt like she had her hand on the hilt of a knife, driving it deeper.
He let out a slow breath he had been holding as his eyes faded to black. She couldn’t bear the sight of it, so she pushed away from him and gathered her knees to her bare chest.
He covered her shoulders with her training robes. Their slight weight oppressed her as she slid her arms into the garment and began fastening the clasps.
“I’m sorry, Soren,” she said. “I have to go back.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The heavy clouds that had lingered on the horizon at dusk marched toward them. Soren blinked up as he tried to fight back the angry surge of emotion rushing through him. It was all for nothing.
“Soren?”
He stood. He couldn’t speak. He paced to the far end of the grotto and stalked back and forth near an overhanging bank.
“Soren, say something,” she begged.
What could he say? If you leave, it’ll kill me before daybreak? How could he shackle her with that guilt when he knew what she could do for her people?
Essa, Calya, and little Sene needed her. All the other children that had grown in the darkness needed her. She could save them.
“Blight, pestilence, and rot!” he shouted as he threw his fist into the muddy bank.
“Soren, please.”
“You need to go,” he said. His was one life. Theirs were many. She had to go.
A heavy crash of thunder rumbled through the grotto. The light bugs took shelter under the ferns.
She took a step toward him and held out the necklace. He reached for the necklace, and placed it back around her neck where it belonged. “Keep it.”
She looked up at him with tears shining in her eyes.
“Protect it,” he murmured through his tightening throat. “Don’t ever let anyone take it from you again.”
“I won’t,” she promised as she stepped into the circle of his arms. “If I had a choice—”
“Don’t.” He smoothed his hands over her hair. The mist had dampened it and the dark locks clung to the sides of her face. He pressed his lips to her forehead.
“I want you to keep Vicca,” Cyani mumbled as she kept her eyes down. “The Grand Sister wants to sell her off as a transport ratter. I know she’ll be happier here.”
Soren nodded.
At least he wouldn’t be alone in the end. He felt crushed. A feverish chill bloomed across his skin. He was too bonded to her. He wouldn’t survive the night. He prayed it would be swift. He didn’t want to live a night without her. He was afraid his heart would stop beating that second, the ripping pain was so fierce.
“I hope your mate is happy here. It’s beautiful, Soren,” Cyani mentioned as she pulled out of his arms.
“Go,” he ordered, before he changed his mind and locked her in his garden forever. “Your people need you.”
She jogged across the grotto. At the edge she turned back to him. She couldn’t hide the love in her eyes.
Then she was gone.
21
CYANI’S FEET POUNDED THE HARD DIRT ROAD AS SHE RAN. THE TWISTED brambles of dense thickets rose on either side of the road. On occasion she’d pass an archway and catch a glimpse of flowers beyond, but the road stretched on before her like the entrance to an enormous labyrinth.
She stopped running and stood in the middle of the road. The storms closed in. Their booming voices rumbled as they rolled forward. The sky darkened above her, blocking out the view of the stars.
Cyani crouched, resting her forehead on her arms as her terrible pain overwhelmed her.
What have I done?
Loneliness gripped her, and her tears splashed against her arms. She made no attempt to stop them.
She cried until her lungs burned, her eyes swelled, and her skin felt raw. The soft tapping rain fell into her hair, prodding her to stand,
to pull herself together.
She tried to remember the Codes of Honor that she had studied for nearly half her life.
“Emotion leads to . . .” she choked out. “Shakt!”
She couldn’t remember a damn thing. It all sounded like empty words. Thrusting her palms on her knees she propelled herself up and forward. She jogged on, letting the rhythmic motion push everything else from her mind.
She kicked a rock. It skittered across the road. She remembered waking up next to Soren as his eyes shone green for the first time. He was throwing a rock for Vicca as she scurried around in their small shelter.
She tried to take a deep breath, but ended up gulping a hasty mouthful of air. The rain fell on her shoulders, dripping through her loose hair the way it had that stormy night on Makko. She felt her heart stutter in her chest as her body remembered what it felt like to reach out, throw her traditions and shame into the mud and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe.
She slowed to a stop.
The cold rain fell, turning the once clear path to sludge. She turned and stared back up the road.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She reached for her collarbone, and the soothing feel of her necklace gave her the strength to move forward.
She had to do the right thing.
Why does it feel so wrong?
Pushing herself at an agonizing pace, she wound through the maze of lifegardens until the road curved and opened into the empty market square.
A couple of old men drew down a heavy tarp over the front of one of the small buildings at the periphery of the market.
They looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. She turned away from them and darted up the stairs and through the shield to the Yeshulen ship. She needed to find Nu and convince her to launch the ship. The quicker she left, the less time she’d have to feel the ripping pain coursing through her.
Unless I feel it the rest of my life.
Two guards gave her a double take.
“What are you doing?” The Yeshu immediately widened their stances. Cyani braced herself for attack. Why did the Yeshu all have to be so defensive?
“Where’s Nu?” she asked. The chill of the ship seeped into her wet clothing. Suddenly the icy air seemed to stab deep into her bones.
A group of crew members came running.
“Azralen, what are you doing here?” the leader asked. He hastily grabbed one of the silver overcoats and offered it to her.
It warmed her skin, but did little to ease the sickening chill in her heart.
“I must return with Smith to his ship. Where is he?” she demanded.
An orange glowing A.I. disc let out an encouraging pip and a whirr, then flew off through one of the corridors. Cyani followed it, leaving the protesting crew members at the mouth of the ship. If the little thing was anything like Bug, it would lead her to Nu just to stir things up.
After winding through a maze of halls with simple silver doors, they came to a large door at the end of a corridor. Cyani looked closer in amazement as orbs of light drifted slowly within the metal of the door. The A.I. darted around the door, touching the drifting lights in a specific order. The door dissolved before Cyani’s eyes to reveal the commander’s personal quarters. Ice sculptures of giant fanged cats stood to either side of the doorway, guarding the entrance to a room with plush furs and colorful woven tapestries filled with flower and vine motifs that had to have come from Byra.
Cyani stepped into the room, turning a corner. She stopped in her tracks.
Cyn had Nu backed up against a wall, her hands pinned behind her back as he kissed her. She flowed into his body as she hungrily kissed him back.
Cyani shook off her shock. So much for wanting to kill him. She didn’t have time for this.
“What are you doing?” Cyani thrust her hands on her hips.
Cyn managed an awkward jump back that looked like he had been jabbed in the ass with a Romlen ox prod. Nu flushed as she shoved him to the side.
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” he countered as his expression shifted from shock to anger. “Where’s Soren?”
“He’s home,” she answered. In his beautiful garden full of warmth and life. She had to stop thinking like this. She steeled herself. “I did what I had to do. I got him here. We need to leave for Azra.” And the sooner they left the better. She had to purge herself of all this emotion. Taking the mantle would be a trickier and deadlier task than crossing a pit of cobras. She needed her strength and her wits.
“Cyani, you don’t belong on Azra,” Cyn stated.
Nu took a step to the door. “I have work to do,” she mumbled. She shoved the small troop of Yeshulen guards back out the door just as they skidded to a stop in her room. The doors reappeared behind Nu, leaving Cyani to face her twin alone.
“You don’t understand.” She crossed her arms, but it didn’t help warm her.
“You love him.”
No. Cyani stumbled backward. Slowly she sank onto a red woven cushion on the floor next to an ice fountain. Warm water cut through the channels of ice, melting the hard crystals into tiny flowing rivers while vapor danced in seductive curls toward the ceiling.
Great merciful Creator.
How could she deny it? She did love him.
“Damn it, Cyani. Stop being such a stubborn ass. This is where you belong.” Cyn knelt in front of her and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t do this,” she murmured as she watched the water flow. Before her eyes a cold shard of ice slowly melted. “I can’t let myself love him.”
“But you do,” Cyn prodded. “Why are you wearing this?” He flicked his finger under the center bead of the necklace.
“Cyn, there are things going on that you don’t know about,” she protested.
“What, that the Grand Sister made you her heir? Oh, I know. That manipulative old bitch is playing you. Again. And you’re walking right into her claws without a fight.” He shoved her shoulder in disgust.
“Were you spying on me?”
Cyn snorted. “I deal in information, remember? Bug caught an earful during that conversation. Luckily it wasn’t the only thing he caught.”
Cyani placed her hand over her necklace.
“So you know I have to go back. I’m the only one who can change things on Azra.” She felt like she was in a fog. Her misting breath curled around her face as her frozen tears stung her cheeks.
“There’s the arrogance of a true Elite. And here I thought they hadn’t brainwashed you,” Cyn grumbled.
Cyani’s anger flared. “If I don’t go back and take the mantle, what then? Who will fight for the children of the ground cities?”
“It’s not your fight, Cyani.”
“Whose is it, yours?” she shouted at him.
His eyes hardened. Slowly a smile crept over his face, but his eyes remained as dark and hard as the shadows they grew up in.
“Damn you, Cyn.” It was her turn to pound him with her fists. He caught them and held them. “What are you involved in now?”
“I live my life my way. It’s time for you to let me live my life and learn to live your own. I’m a man, Cyani. No matter what the Elite told you, I’m not helpless. I’m certainly not stupid. My worth and my strength as a man have nothing to do with you. And I don’t need your protection.” He brought her fists together and pressed them to the center of his chest. The irritation and bitterness in his voice was tempered by the understanding in his eyes. They were so much alike. Why didn’t she see it before? She would have never allowed him to sacrifice his happiness for her.
“Listen to me,” he continued in a softer tone. “A revolution is brewing, and I don’t want you caught up in it. You can’t lead the Elite against the attack, Cyani. They’ll turn on you in the midst of battle and they will kill you. To them you are no different than the mudbirds rising against them.”
“I can fight them,” she protested.
“You can’t fight them and all
of Azra! To the Elite, you are the enemy. Don’t feed me any bullshit about how they’ll learn to respect you. You know it’s not true. Forget about mercy from the ground-dwellers. If you become Grand Sister, you will be their enemy, too. Whose side does that leave you on?” His jaw set as his brow furrowed, but there was no mistaking the subtle desperation in his eyes. “You can’t win.” He was trying to protect her.
“Shit,” he continued. “For once in your life, will you listen to me?” He stood and stalked over to the other side of the room. He lifted a vessel made of ice and downed the liquid inside.
She wanted to. Great Matriarchs, she wanted to. Perhaps he was right, but that still didn’t solve the problem of Yara. She didn’t know what Cyn was capable of, but she knew what Yara was capable of. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if the two ever met. “The Grand Sister will send a bloodhunter after you.” Cyani reminded him as she rose to her feet as well.
“Let her come.” Cyn placed the vessel back on a shelf, confirming her suspicions. Cyn wanted the fight. “Even if you go back to the high cities, I’m not coming with you. You think I’m going to stand by and be our dear aunt’s breeding stud? I don’t think so. She’s not getting her legacy from me. She doesn’t control me, and she never will.”
“I just want you to be safe,” Cyani argued.
He hung his head. “I thought you were dead. They say a twin is supposed to know if the other dies. I felt it, Cyani. We were born together . . .” He paused and looked away, as if he couldn’t finish that thought, but Cyani knew what he was trying to say. He didn’t want to live if she was gone.
“I found out you were alive,” he looked back up at her. “For five years I’ve been fighting to find you. I couldn’t handle the thought of losing you before I found you again.”
He uncorked a flask and poured another drink. “If you want to be noble and selfless, stop trying to protect me and give me the only thing I’ve ever prayed for.”
Cyani stared at him. “You pray? To whom?”
“To anyone who’ll listen.” He glared at her. “Be safe, free. God, Cyani, be happy.” His expression turned wistful as his foxlike smile slid back across his face. “And if you can work it in, I wouldn’t mind being an uncle.”
