Defender (Battle Born Book 4)

by Cyndi Friberg

  He crossed the courtyard and stood before Chandar’s door before he realized what he was doing. His hand rose, almost of its own volition, then he lowered it to his side. Instead, he activated thermal imaging within his cybernetic eye. The device was so convincing, most people didn’t realize it was integrated tech. Chandar was in bed, yet her restless movements assured him she wasn’t asleep.

  Sleep was a precious commodity for both of them. He should probably just leave her to it. “Pavilion, announce me.”

  “One moment, Enforcer Lasenger.”

  A short time later, Chandar’s sweet voice replaced the emotionless drone of the computer. “I’m not really dressed. Can it wait until morning?”

  He closed his eyes, fighting back the rush of heat and the unwanted images. “I was just checking in. Are you doing okay?” He forced the words out as his imagination rebelled against his good intentions. He hadn’t wanted to see her naked, had tried to avoid the temptation. But that first night she’d been terrified of being alone. So he turned his back while she showered. The bathroom was small and several of the walls defaulted to a reflective setting. One glance into the mirror on his right and her image had been seared into his mind. Her skin had the most amazing pearlescent gleam, and her long, lean body— He jerked his mind away from those thoughts, those images. She was completely unaware of her sexuality, her appeal as a woman. For all intents and purposes, she was a child again.

  “I’m fine, Raylon. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

  The strangest sensation rolled through his being, part anger, part possessiveness. He couldn’t explain the urgency, but the thought of her not needing him any longer upset him, badly. “That’s good.” His hands folded into fists even though his voice remained calm. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

  “Thank you and sleep well.”

  “You too.” He turned from her doorway with a resolute nod even though his heart was still racing.

  Chandar sat up in bed, sheet clutched in both hands. He knew. She had no idea how he’d realized but it was obvious he knew.

  Hearing her own panicked thoughts, she shook her head and lay back down. Fantasizing about someone wasn’t forbidden. They were both adults. If she chose to have lustful thoughts about an acquaintance, there was no harm done to anyone. And who wouldn’t have lustful thoughts about Raylon? He was strong and brave, fiercely protective, yet kind. His outward appearance might seem stern, his scarred face harsh at times, but she knew the real Raylon.

  She rolled onto her side and tucked one of her hands beneath the pillow. Little by little her old self was starting to find her way through the darkness. She now remembered the majority of her past. There were still missing images and scrambled events. Still, for the most part she remembered. The two years she’d served Akim Farmon, on the other hand, were still missing. Indigo, her therapist/healer/friend referred to those years as Chandar’s “captivity”. But harbingers weren’t prisoners to their masters, they served willingly.

  The conclusion didn’t sit well with Chandar. She might not remember her time aboard the Relentless. Still, all the external indicators pointed toward abuse and degradation. Even if she’d been willing in the beginning—and she wasn’t even sure about that—she’d wanted out badly enough to break her telepathic silence and endanger those she loved as they rushed to her rescue.

  The two-year gap in her memory was a mercy. She understood that. Even so, it made her feel incomplete, broken. Besides, whatever Akim had used to wipe her memory had also interrupted the flow of her magic. She hadn’t been sure there was a direct correlation, but a few minutes after Indigo repaired a tiny section of the damage, Chandar had a prophetic vision.

  So there was no denying that regaining her magic would come with a terrible price. If she wanted unhindered access to her magic, she would have to allow herself to remember exactly what had been done to her. The prospect was daunting and terrifying. Indigo would help Chandar manage the memories, perhaps even find a way to lessen their impact, but still she would have to remember.

  Refusing to dwell on the unpleasantness doubtlessly awaiting her, she allowed Raylon’s image to fill her mind. He wasn’t the tallest or most heavily muscled warrior she’d ever seen, but authority emanated from him, making him seem bigger than his actually stature. His hands could crush with one blow, yet he always touched her with gentleness. Shrewd calculation frequently cooled his gaze, but his eyes warmed whenever he looked at her.

  But he sees you as a child, or worse, some sort of pet to be cared for and protected. Having someone to defend her against the harsher realities of life was wonderful. Still, she wasn’t sure how to make him understand that she wasn’t a child. She wasn’t even a virgin. Despite the seclusion of Harbinger Academy, she’d shared her bed with three different men. A sleepy smile curved her lips. More like two men and a boy.

  Her first lover had been an adventurous sixteen-year-old, determined to experience sex before his master or mistress was chosen for him. She’d been seventeen and equally curious about what transpired between male and female. They’d indulged their curiosity twice and both times had been completely underwhelming. There had been no stunning peak or overwhelming urge to spend their lives together. So she’d focused on her studies for the next two years.

  Late in her nineteenth year she’d met Mimbar. He was a handsome guard five years older than she. He’d flirted outrageously with her, his interest so obvious that he was reprimanded for it on several occasions. Of course, forbidding them to interact only made being together that much more exciting. She’d had her first orgasm with Mimbar, but something had still been missing. They’d been lovers for several months when her mother, the guild’s leader, insisted Mimbar be transferred to another location. Chandar had been infuriated by the interference, yet she wasn’t nearly as heartbroken as she allowed her mother to believe.

  From that moment on Chandar was under continual surveillance. She was taught by tutors, most of whom were ancient and completely loyal to her mother. Chandar was only allowed to interact with trainees who had not yet gone through puberty. The stipulation was humiliating and isolating, but her mother didn’t care. She was determined to “save Chandar from herself”.

  Her third lover had been her final tutor. The events were jumbled and hazy because of their proximity to the memory wipe. She knew he wasn’t Rodyte and her primary motivation for sleeping with him had been to defy her mother. Other than that, the rest was lost in shadow.

  Which brought her back to Raylon. What would it be like to share pleasure with someone so fierce and commanding? Would he overwhelm her with raw intensity, or coax her beyond her hesitation with tender kisses and featherlight touches?

  Both possibilities were impossible. He didn’t see her as a woman. He saw her as a helpless little girl.

  She released the topic with a frustrated sigh and guided her wayward mind onto tamer subjects. Her recuperation was progressing well. Indigo was amazing, skilled and extremely patient. Chandar enjoyed spending time with her even when they weren’t in a session. Indigo seemed happy with her situation. Though she’d grown up on Earth, she was actually a human/Rodyte hybrid. The mating pull had engaged when she met Zilor Nox and now they were in the process of bonding.

  Sleep rolled through Chandar’s mind like fog. Her muscles gradually relaxed and her troubled thoughts slipped into the shadows. She floated, sailing lightly upon currents of energy. Scenes scrolled through her memory, familiar yet distant settings. Harbinger Academy with its transparent domes nestled in a verdant valley, a blood-red sunset reflected on gently rolling waves, then the double concourses stretching toward the main entrance of Lunar Nine. Each image appeared within her mind, lingered for a moment then transitioned to the next. It was like a slideshow, or a—

  Pain stabbed her brain, penetrating deeply from forehead to spine. She cried out, then whipped her head from side to side, but she couldn’t shake off the pain.

  A new image burned i
nto her mind, brighter than the others. No this image wasn’t new. She’d seen it before. The forest scene had called to her, fascinating her from the first moment she’d seen it. She stared into the trees, trying to penetrate the shadows. Something was out there, hiding in the trees. She could sense it, but she couldn’t see it.

  Then the perspective shifted and she became the creature she sensed. The scene was no longer a two-dimensional image, but an environment. She smelled the fresh tang of pine and felt the coolness created by the leafy trees. Her heart pounded and her mouth felt dry, yet she wasn’t sure if fear or excitement caused the reaction. She was certain, however, that the emotions weren’t hers. She had melded with someone else, was experiencing this scene as they were experiencing, or had experienced, it.

  Her host crept forward and Chandar quickly assessed the person she’d become. Small feet and hands, smooth hairless arms, and the undeniable swell of breasts beneath a brown leather jacket. Her host was female. Leaves crunched beneath her boots despite the care with which she placed her feet. She hesitated at the edge of a clearing, debating how best to proceed. Her thoughts were vague impressions in Chandar’s mind. Her emotions registered much more clearly. Across from her sat a modest log cabin, the smoke curling from the chimney the only sign of life.

  Chandar searched her host’s mind, trying to determine who she was and why she was stalking the occupant, or occupants, of this secluded cabin. Before she found the answers, the cabin’s door opened and a yellow dog bounded out into the yard. The dog sniffed the air and then growled, obviously detecting something that didn’t belong.

  The scene blurred, rushing ahead with sudden acceleration. Chandar heard angry voices, but couldn’t make out their words. The perspective shifted again, the angle much different now. She was sitting or crouching near the floor and looking up at the cabin’s two occupants. Had a child witnessed the argument or was she inside the dog? She looked around the cabin, but didn’t see the dog. All of the doors were closed. If the dog had followed its master back into the cabin, there was nowhere else it could have gone. But why had her spirit flowed into a dog? This was extremely strange.

  The man was red with fury as he faced off with the female. The female appeared calm at first glance, but calculation gleamed in her eyes and the tension around her mouth revealed her anxiety.

  Suddenly the man’s eyes flashed and currents of energy swirled around his splayed fingers. The woman turned, lunging for the door, but the man cast an energy cloud on her like a fisherman’s net. Her body was surrounded, ending her attempt at escape.

  Who were these people? She didn’t recognize either of them, so why was she witnessing these events? A harbinger’s visions generally involved people of his or her acquaintance, or events that would eventually affect those he or she knew.

  “Who sent you? Why are you really here?” the man shouted. “Is someone paying you for information about Tandori Tribe?”

  Tandori Tribe? Was this man a Tandori? She looked at him more closely. With long dark hair and bright purple phitons glowing in his dark eyes, he was doubtlessly Rodyte. But she had no way of confirming what his questions implied.

  The female struggled within the energy cloud, slowly flowing with the rotation until she faced the man again. With obvious effort, she forced her arms to move. She reached under her shirt in back and grasped the handle of a weapon.

  Fear and protectiveness surged through Chandar and the dog barked, confirming the identity of her new host. The man glanced at her without turning his head, but the momentary distraction was all the woman needed to get off her shot. Energy pulsed from her pistol, hitting him squarely in the chest. The impact drove him backward. His arms flailed as confusion and anger twisted his features, then he collided with the wall behind him. A sickening crunch sounded as his head followed the inevitable path and forcefully connected with a support peg protruding from one of the cabin’s log walls.

  Sorrow, bitter and overwhelming, inundated Chandar, paralyzing her mind. Who knew an animal was capable of such emotion? The dog went to its master, rubbing against his legs as it whined in helpless grief.

  Danger. Trepidation cut through the sorrow and the dog whipped its head around and glared at the woman. The pulse pistol was now pointed directly at the dog. Baring its teeth as fury swept every other emotion aside, the dog vocalized its rage. Crouching low to draw power into its legs, the dog prepared to attack. But the woman fled, sprinting from the cabin without a backward glance. The door swung shut behind her, locking the dog inside with its dead master.

  Anger subsided as a fresh rush of loss washed over the dog. Again, Chandar was struck by the complex feelings she was sensing from her host. As if to answer her unspoken question, energy pulsed through the dog, vibrating and humming as the creature transformed. The lean body of the dog stretched and expanded. Joints cracked and fur split, allowing skin to manifest instead.

  A shape shifter. No wonder the thoughts and emotions seemed too complex for a dog. The shifter rushed across the cabin and eased her father away from the wall. The realization crept up so suddenly, Chandar almost missed the significance. This man was the shifter’s father. The shifter lowered him to the floor, struggling with his weight. She arranged his arms at his sides and closed his eyes, ignoring the blood pooling around his head.

  Danger! Her instincts engaged again and the shifter knew better than ignoring the warning. With one final mournful look at her father’s body, she ran from the cabin and headed for the trees. No sooner had she reached the relative safety of the forest then a concentrated beam of energy bolted out of the sky and struck the cabin, causing it to explode with earth-shaking impact. The shifter screamed, her outburst equal parts grief and fury.

  The vision released as suddenly as it had engaged, but Chandar didn’t wake. She hung suspended in utter darkness, silent and cold. Why was the trance persisting if the vision was finished? She opened her mind, waiting for more information. All she sensed was endless, empty blackness.

  Don’t panic. You’ll find a way out. Her own voice echoed through her mind, but she couldn’t quite absorb the reassurance. She tried to move, tried to propel herself in any direction. She could still sense her body, but there was nothing to grab, nothing to push off of or grasp. Her pulse raced and she blinked repeatedly, trying to focus through the emptiness.

  Hello? Can anyone hear me?

  A large hand slapped the side of her face and sparks of pain flashed before her eyes. Confusion shocked her in the present and in the past. Why had he hit her? She’d done nothing to him, nothing at all. Before she could compose herself enough to ask, the hand was joined by another and they ripped the front of her garments, exposing her body in one brutal movement.

  “No more clothes for you, bitch,” the man snarled. “If you want to cover yourself, you’ll have to earn the privilege.”

  In the past, Chandar crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at him in devastated horror. Why? The question echoed through her mind even now, but there had never been an answer.

  “This game always starts with you naked and on your knees.”

  That voice. Dread gripped her soul, turning her blood cold and her mouth dry. She knew that voice, was all too familiar with his hateful “games”.

  “I serve your brother, sir.” She was careful to speak respectfully even though Erkott didn’t deserve it. “You have no right to—”

  Another vicious slap silenced her objection. “I have whatever rights Akim gives me, and tonight he said I could play with you.”

  Not this. Not now.

  She fought the images with all her strength, trying to outrun her memory. Akim had been a horrible master, unworthy of any harbinger. But Erkott had been downright evil, unworthy of life.

  Fury burned through her terror, gradually calming her mind. She would not let these men break her, no matter how hard they tried. She knelt before her tormentors, her heart filled with hate, a shard of plastic hidden in her fist. The edges bit into her pa
lm as she waited for Erkott to begin. It had taken weeks to create a point out of a piece of smashed serving tray and even longer to sharpen the edges against the coarse surface of the shower base. The opaque walls of the enclosure were as close to privacy as she could come, so no one questioned why she spent so much time in the utility room.

  “Is she always so timid?” The stranger sounded disappointed.

  Erkott laughed. “She won’t stay timid for long. It would be better for her if she did, but she can’t help herself.”

  “Can I go first?”

  “Why not.” Her head was bowed, but she could picture Erkott’s shrug. “This is my third time.”

  A fresh wave of anger washed over her as they paused for another laugh. They were so casual, so callous, as if this were a victimless crime. Her fingers clenched until the pain in her hand cleared away fury’s red haze. They would punish her for this, but she didn’t care. She had to fight, couldn’t give up, or they would win. And there was no way in creation she would let them win.

  The stranger approached. She kept her head bowed, her face hidden by her unbound hair. She heard the shuffle of loosening clothes and then a hand reached for her hair. Striking fast and hard, she thrust the shard deep into his thigh, missing her target by only a few inches. The stranger screamed and stumbled backward as blood spilled down his leg.

  Erkott grabbed her wrist and twisted. Agony exploded through the vision, burning away the image until nothing existed but pain. Distorted flashes burst within her mind, each scene a heinous reminder of all she’d suffered. She didn’t want to relive this. Enduring it once had been more than enough.