Forever One

by L. F. Hampton

  Arrowin waited, her soft gaze growing puzzled. “You do want me to help you, don’t you?”

  What choice did she have? She didn’t want to hurt the brown or get her in trouble with her master. “Of course, I do. Thank you.” They packed, but she fumed in tune with the storm’s passing. Unusual emotions roiled. How dare he presume that she would jump to his every command?

  VADYN FELT THE quick bite of Cayla’s anger but kept her emotional outbursts at a distance. He had needled her just enough to show her his power, their connection, but there was too much business to be done for anything further. He had yet to find out about the Xeetag involvement in his friends’ deaths. Those cold reptiles had never fooled him into believing that they really wanted to be part of the Alliance. But, surely the trio had acted under someone’s leadership. He had never known them to operate on their own. A collective intelligence governed all their actions. The Alliance would get to the bottom of their treachery or heads would roll. He growled and paced back and forth in his quarters. Cayla should be here soon. Perhaps his throbbing headache would ease then. He gazed at the furnishings cluttered about him. Would they please her, or would she feel the need to change them to suit her? He hoped not, for he hated change. Besides, these things reminded him of Quanta and Sabre, of the many times they had argued political policies. A keen, aching loss filled his chest. He wondered if it would ever get better. They had been such a part of his life, his rule. Through his friends’ shrewd bargaining, Kasara had established some of the best trading policies with the Alliance that Kasara had ever experienced. He stopped his restless prowling long enough to caress a finger down a winged, rainbow-shot crystal figurine, given to him in tribute from the Valtarie. Those vampiric members of the Alliance had been helpful allies more than once in the past. Vivid pictures of their exported veined glass filled the sun-drenched corners of his room. Similarly, heavy, colorful woven tapestries from Calaxia decorated the floor, helping to subdue the ice-cold stone on winter nights. Gossamer Rigelian silk floated in the soft hues of drapes and satin pillows. The opulent luxury was meant to bring a feeling of relaxation, but he no longer felt at peace in this suffocating place filled with too many memories. His hand rose to the wall, and he fingered a sharp blade displayed there.

  The sharpness of the intricate deadly weapons from Lupidoria suited his mood better than the gentle music and artwork from the Weistra and the Ontoo. Those varied and rare things vied for space among his weapons just as they filled the air and decorated the walls of the many rooms of the keep. And all the artistic beauty was due to Elizabeth’s influence.

  Through the last twenty-five years, the Alliance members traded technology as well as goods with Kasara. His world flourished, due in large part to his human advisors. He felt himself a weak leader without them. A wry smile tugged his mouth, and he wondered thinly at the thought of the continued success of his rule. Was he to lose everything? Even he began to have doubts that Cayla was ever coming to grips with their bonding. He shook his head. No. There was no escape from that. They had gone too fast into the complete ritual, the binding of their souls, but this tie couldn’t be broken. She’d have to accept it. He had given her time—they’d been back for several turns. For days, he had refused to push their physical relationship further, but it wasn’t because he feared rejection. She tried to deny it, but he felt the blast of her heated desire on more than one occasion. And just a whiff of her arousal had him stiff as a board. She must be ready by now. When they’d first returned, he had tried several times to approach her, sex starved as he was, only to be rejected. Bah! Enough of this whining! Other, more important matters awaited his attention. He stopped his agitated pacing before the shuttered window and leaned his sweaty brow against the rough, gritty stone. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand confinement any longer, and he released the closure. The shutters flew back with a bang.

  The restless desert wind blew fitful sand through the open casement. The storm’s intensity had died, but a restless breeze blew against his cheek. Gritty. But he wanted to feel the bite of the sand that scoured the tough surface of the stone walls. He wanted the abrasion against his skin; he needed to feel alive. His relationship with Cayla only frustrated him. But he knew that somehow they would survive. He would make it so. Only one thing kept him distracted—the need to find out why his friends had died.

  Too many questions remained unanswered. Why was the Xeetag trio helping the Slytreen outlaws? Two reptilian bodies had been found among the carnage of the battle when Xeetag always traveled in packs of three. The other must have escaped with the troop carrier. And how had they managed to slip through Kasara’s protective shields? His low growl rose into a roar.

  The doors to his quarters slammed open, rebounded off the stone walls.

  “You won’t believe what your asinine Elders have decreed!” Cayla’s nostrils flared. Her chest heaved up and down, pushing her delicate nipples against her gown’s thin silk. He hardened immediately, but knew in his logical brain that she was angry, not aroused. And, he didn’t need the mind-link to know that. She opened and closed her fists as if she wore battle talons. Her mussed red hair flamed about her flushed face. Although his groin throbbed, he decided that perhaps mild prudence was the best course to follow. He held up one finger, stopping her in mid-tirade while he ignored her silenced glare. Arrowin came in behind Cayla and directed the two male browns to stack Cayla’s boxed belongings there, there, and there in the room. The trio left without a word. Finally he spoke to Cayla who was nearly sputtering at the delay.

  “What have you heard?” he asked mildly. That she knew keep gossip before he did, didn’t surprise him. He had shut himself up in this room for too long. Cayla watched him with a narrowed gaze. His human-looking but warrior-acting mate cocked her head and snarled a very Kasar-like expression at him, her patience clearly at an end.

  “Perhaps you had better go and find out for yourself, el’kota.” With that she stalked back out, slamming the door behind her. Hinges rattled, and dust fell from the ceiling. Her strength was growing. He smiled in thin amusement. She might not want their connection, but she was being changed by it. Every hour of every day, she became more like a warrior while he remained the same as he had been with his twenty-five-year human connection. Whatever was bothering her, he could have gleaned the information he desired from her roiling thoughts. But he had reached the conclusion early on that his intrusion would not be welcomed. Wondering what he was going to hear, he strode quickly toward the Elders’ Council room. Wisely, his golden lieutenants who shadowed his steps kept their opinions to themselves.

  VADYN STARED AT Quillian, the white Elder, in disbelief while he bit back useless anger. For once, Cayla’s mind-link advised prudent caution, but she, too, although not present, simmered with his shared rage.

  “Oh, do not carry on so,” Quillian advised, his dark eyes soft with understanding. “We sympathize with your grief and the reasons why this joining happened. We are just questioning the approval of a human—such a young, untried one—as the official ly’teal of Kasara. It was different with Quanta only joined to you as a mind-linked advisor. As ly’teal, Cayla will be expected to take care of Kasara in your absence, to effectively order troops and make monumental decisions concerning our world and our peoples’ welfare.” He shook his white head doubtfully. “Perhaps, it would have been more advisable for you to have joined with another warrior.” Vadyn ignored Cayla’s snide Ha! He thought of how his warriors had been conveniently unavailable when he had gone through the mind separation at Elizabeth’s death. And he knew in his heart that no one but Cayla could have convinced him to stay and link. Just as now, only her strong tie kept his rioting temper in check, but just barely. Presently, warmth flooded his mind-link—she was faintly amused at his predicament. He gazed steadily at Quillian, but under his bland expression, he seethed. He felt his fists opening and closing around extended claws just as Cayla’s had done over her short nail
s when she had confronted him. His vision narrowed, and the Elder took the faint expression seriously, backed up a pace, and hurried on.

  “Know this, el’kota. It is the official vote of this Council to offer this decision to you for your consideration.” His voice was mild, placating as a parent to a child, but his expression was stern. “If your mate produces an offspring within the first year of your joining, as a sign that you are fully connected and compatible, you may continue to rule. But”—the aged speaker raised a hand, silencing Vadyn in open mouth—“if your joining proves to be sterile, you must abdicate. The only way the clans will continue to accept you as el’kota and her as ly’teal is if they see the fruitful results of your union. You might say that you are fully-joined, but, without that fertile proof, no one will truly accept her as your rightful mate.

  “At this moment, all see her only as the young offspring of the Sabre and your Quanta. While your human friends’ advice was wise and strong, Cayla is an untried child.” Vadyn winced under her disdainful mind yowl to his senses. Quillian remained unaware of his warlord’s discomfort and continued his soothing speech. “She must be fully accepted as your mate with all your shared knowledge. Only time and an offspring will assure the masses of that.” The old Councilor then warned caution. “Consider our decision well, warlord. Remember how you ignored our wishes against linking with the healer Mirrah?”

  “I’ve heard enough!” Vadyn roared, jumping to his feet. His chair crashed behind him. How dare Quillian bring up Mirrah! Too many years had passed to remind him of his failed joining with the little red healer. He still felt the guilt and pain of loss—and now Cayla did too. Stars, he would have spared her that! True, he hadn’t fully loved Mirrah and hadn’t fully joined, but it was his fault the red healer had died in the crash on Earth all those years past. And he knew it well enough. He had taken Mirrah with him to Earth over the Elders’ advice. Only mind-linked as warrior and healer, again over the Elders’ objections, they had hoped to become fully joined physically when next Mirrah came in season. That didn’t happen before the crash. And Mirrah had died from her injuries. He didn’t need the Elders to remind him of yet another failing. Cayla’s doubts and recriminations about joining with him were eating at his stability with enough strength. And he was tired of walking around sexually frustrated.

  Unconsciously, one side of his mouth lifted, and he uttered a low growl. It rumbled for a long time. Most of the assembled Elders drew further back. But he snarled at them anyway. “I would think it more prudent of you to question why there were Xeetag bodies among the Slytreen outlaws than to worry about my sexual activities.” Shocked indrawn breaths hissed at his discourtesy. The Elders were famous for their wise morality. How he pitied them their once a season matings when their females were in heat.

  “There is no need for vulgarity, Warlord Vadyn.” Quillian sniffed and lifted his regal white head. His manner still suggested that he was offering a parent’s patience with an unruly and ill-mannered offspring. This Council of Elders needed a reminder of just who he was! But before he could utter a word, the old warrior tried diversion to diffuse the tense situation. “Will you soon petition the Alliance for a meeting in regards to the Xeetag presence?”

  “Already done,” he grumbled, his anger deflected into more pressing matters. “The meeting is scheduled on Dara V in four turns.” He chose to go along with the Council only because the delay wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps the time would seal the breach with Cayla. Quillian still pressed him for an answer.

  “Do you accept our decision regarding your joining with your human mate?” The Elder didn’t miss the flash of blue in Vadyn’s golden gaze that gave proof of Cayla’s mind connection, and he nodded to Vadyn that he had seen. She maintained contact long after he would have broken free just to show the Elders that she was indeed linked with him and that the Elders’ aspersions against her character angered her. She told him in no uncertain terms her feelings—she was vehemently opposed to having a child so soon. Why, she was barely more than a child herself! He pursed his lips in an effort to hide his contradictory smile at that thought. He could attest to her sexual maturity. Heat from her seared him, and he hardened in response to her anger, despite the Elders’ neutral stares. They had no idea of her passionate sexuality. And her strong mental curses would have surely raised the eyebrows of a few and singed the hairs on some of the more staid Elders. He finally answered them.

  “Yes, we accept your terms.” And damn you all to the nearest hells! He echoed Cayla’s last curse silently. She was certainly no brainless child and hated being assumed as such. He laughed silently at her contradictory thoughts. But only time—and an offspring—would gain her an acceptance as Kasara’s ruling queen with the Elders. Her mental scream to the contrary momentarily left his mind deaf and dumb.

  “I CERTAINLY DO NOT want a child, any child. Not right now. The idiots.” Cayla paced the corners of the room back and forth in front of Vadyn, muttering under her breath. She had been at this for a long time, much to his delight. He silently regarded her from under half-closed eyelids. Just watching her move, her stride jiggling her breasts, made him hungry for her. His groin was hard as a rock. Good thing he sat at his paper strewn desk while she continued to pace his war room like an angry cat. Under his silent regard, she rounded on him. “Did you hear what I said, warlord? I. Do. Not. Want. A. Child. Now or maybe ever, especially not just because your damned Elders decreed it.” Even her voice had taken on a warrior’s growled edge. He decided anger was a good strong emotion, one close enough to sex. It was an effort to keep his own growl neutral when all he wanted to do was pounce on her and drive himself between her legs.

  “I hear you, Cayla. If you don’t lower your voice, the whole keep will hear you.” He was pleased to see her jerk and look around as if the walls had ears. He knew the servants and his military were busy elsewhere, but he didn’t tell her.

  For days since the meeting with the Elders, both of them had padded around each other and stayed politely shielded behind their minds’ cold walls. Cayla had learned quickly how to draw the protection around her. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he could still read her expressive face as clearly as any blank mind-wall. But he had given her enough time to collect her thoughts and to come to terms with their union. She was his. He watched her, now more determined than ever to win her over. After all, she had freely given herself into his keeping. Given? No, she had demanded that he join with her there in the bloody sands. She might deny it, but she had wanted their union as much as he had. And, by the gods, he was keeping her! His vision narrowed, and his cock grew harder still. He replayed their first joining over and over in his mind while her agitated pacing continued to make her breasts dance behind the front of her gown, her hips swaying back and forth with her angry strides. She suddenly turned and caught him staring. Red heat flooded her cheeks. Anger or desire? He rose from behind his desk, very slowly, deliberately letting his gaze drop. Her nipples puckered through the thin silk as if he’d stroked them as he wanted to. By the time his slowly rising gaze rested on her eyes, her face was flaming. Her voice shook roughly.

  “If you’re thinking what I think you are, and I know you are, forget it, el’kota.” Her chin jutted. Her eyes glittered with warning. He couldn’t pass up the baiting she threw at him, but he kept his growl down to a rumbling purr.

  “We are mind-connected, Cayla. More than that, we are life-mates. You can know what my thoughts are without wondering.” He hesitated before he finished with, “As I do yours.” He moved closer and leaned over her shoulder when she turned her back. He breathed on her neck. “Are you afraid?” He watched a shiver rustle her hair. The fiery strands trembled. He curved closer and purred in her ear.

  “Stop that!” She jerked away but didn’t face him. From his height, he could still see how her lovely breasts now rose and fell with her rapid breaths. Freckles, a legacy from her mother, dusted the delicate sph
eres like a sprinkling of sugared spice on a dessert. His mouth watered, but she poised as if to run. He had to stop her.

  “I asked if you are afraid, Cayla.” He didn’t let his hurt show and just dipped his head closer. “Are you really afraid of me? Or are you afraid of yourself?” Before she could answer, he, frustrated and hard beyond belief, strode to the door of their chambers, jerked it open then slammed it closed behind him. Just for a moment there, before the door closed, he saw the stunned look on her face. Were those tears in her glittering eyes? Had he hurt her feelings? He couldn’t tell what she was thinking; she was getting stronger at blocking. Bah!

  Once again, she paced back and forth in confusion. Her heart pounded, and her jagged breathing came from tightened lungs. Her body had responded to him; she was warm and wet. Just who did he think he was? All that stalking and pouncing after her like he was some great cat on the prowl. He obviously thought to intimidate her with his superior strength. Well, she’d show him a thing or two. Only with great effort did she manage to ignore the wet ache between her legs. She was just as strong as he was. If she wanted to mate, she would—and not until then. She stopped so suddenly she almost tripped. Why did the thought of such a mating make her eyes water? Her breasts puckered as if longing for his mouth. Damn it! She hugged her arms about her and shook back her hair. For a moment, she recalled how he had looked that first time when he leaned over her, rising up above her with all his golden hair loose, cocooning them together. His eyes had glowed so softly at her, a golden promise of his desire. A sob caught in her throat. She had wanted him for so long, but with reality came the knowledge that she didn’t know the savage warlord at all. By the gods, she couldn’t be yearning to be that way with him again. Could she?