by Laney Kaye
“How do Smithton and Hartlin fit in? The other two prongs?”
“Hartlin is focused—I mean, was focused—on producing the military force to support Tennant’s takeover. But he had his own agenda, too. Although he reported his basic experiments and results to the Regime, he deliberately left out key data, so he’d be invaluable. Only he’d be able to engineer the army they desired.”
“Mutants created from shifter DNA, harvested from either us cats, or Khal and Lyrie’s baby.” At least Hartlin’s death meant the plan Janie had uncovered had died with him, then.
Aren’s head whipped toward me. “They’re expecting? I thought it was just Janie and Leo.”
“Wait, they’ve both got cubs in the den?” She could’ve knocked me from Herc’s back with a dria feather. Hells, Leo would be tickled. That dude was made to have a pride.
“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t want Leo to come with us. He needs to stay back with Janie.”
I blew out a long breath. “Doesn’t really work that way when you hook up with a merc, babe.” This hellishly uncomfortable ride was worth the saddle sores simply to hear Aren talk, but for some reason, I didn’t want her to dwell on the risks of being bonded to a fighter. Not that it was ever going to be an issue. “What’s your father’s involvement, then? Beyond being a shit-kicking lackey for the Regime?” I probably should be nicer about my pseudo father-in-law, but we all bore wounds courtesy of him—Aren’s apparently deeper than any.
A dimple appeared and disappeared in her cheek, and I guessed she bit at the inside. “He’s the one you truly need to be wary of. He’s playing everyone. I know—” She broke off and her throat worked, as though it was hard to find the words. “He warned Queen Lyra that she’d be asked to marry Torsos. He counseled her against accepting, told her she had every right to refuse and that agreeing to it would destabilize her people. Then, when she took his advice and rejected Torsos, Smithton ordered her executed. I assume his intention was to limit Tennant’s ability to seize complete control through Torsos without the population revolting against them. By eliminating Torsos’s usefulness, he put Tennant in a position of requiring assistance to overthrow the government and rout a rebelling population.”
Her mouth tightened, a crease of sorrow or anger appearing in the corner. “He also stole the experiment intel from Hartlin.”
“So that plan didn’t die with Hartlin? The key research still exists?”
“I believe so. I don’t know exactly how it factors in, but it has something to do with the Dragarians. Or, more specifically, with the pluvar dragaris. Tennant told me that Smithton claimed he can replicate Hartlin’s secret research, but that his project will reap superior results.”
So it wasn’t only the Felidaekin that Smithton double crossed. “Hang on, why would Tennant tell you all this?”
A flush mounted Aren’s pale cheeks. “When Smithton sent me to entertain Tennant, the General was eager to make sure I appreciated that no one is smart enough to fool him, that he’s only playing along until the moment is right. And he wanted to impress me with the fact that he’ll one day rule Glia from behind the throne, no matter what it takes.”
“Entertain?” I growled. My hands fisted.
She lifted one shoulder, her sigh weary. “Smithton believes Tennant will succeed in his grab for control, and he’s keen to secure friends in high places. I was to be the payment. He thought it important that Tennant should be…eager…for our union, so I was sent to his rooms.”
“And…?” I snarled, the blood thundering in my head. I didn’t want to hear more, yet I needed to know.
“And you know that I’m a virgin, Jag,” she said simply. “Smithton was adamant that I coerce and tease Tennant, but nothing more.” A shudder rippled through her. “At first, Tennant didn’t understand the rules. But once Smithton made it clear that I was a commodity to be traded, Tennant realized he wouldn’t possess me until the ring was on my finger.” Her mouth twisted in disgust. “As though that would persuade me. I’ll kill him before I let that filthy bastard touch me again.”
“Oh, you won’t fucking have to,” I swore as I moved Tennant up to prime position on my hit list. The knowledge that he’d touched Aren was like a beetric kick to my guts, and I swallowed the acid taste of jealousy. “Tennant’s as good as dead.”
Aren’s elongated eyes met mine. “I meant Smithton.”
Suspicion stirred uneasily within me. “Aren, we’re going into the compound to get the com, right?”
She nodded. “Of course. We need to summon more Aaidarian fighters to help the Resistance. Otherwise Tennant wins.”
“And so does Smithton.” Why the hells was she leaving him out of the equation? My shoulders stiffened, my grip tightening on her waist. “Don’t play me for a fool, Aren. We’re going in to get the tech and that’s it, right?”
She faced forward again, refusing to answer.
“Because if you want your father dead, you only have to say so. Taking care of him to take care of you is my job now, you understand?” This bond might be partial, and it might be temporary—no, it was definitely temporary—but I’d protect the woman I cared about. Aren would always have my guns, claws and fangs. If I had to die to save her, I’d do so willingly. Would have done so before we’d bonded.
And, yeah, bond or no bond, I was man enough to acknowledge that she also had a piece of my heart.
Her forehead furrowed, and her hand caressed the hilt of her glowing blue blade. “Don’t worry. I understand completely what I must do.”
The rigidity in both her posture and tone didn’t reassure me in the least. What she’d said to me a couple of days earlier came back: she needed to release Tracin’s spirit. Why the hells hadn’t I asked exactly what that meant? “Aren, what is it that you’re not telling me?”
Chapter Eight
Aren
“We’re going to infiltrate the Regime compound, steal a communicator, and…get out, fast. Because the Resistance needs the device desperately. Our only immediate concern is keeping Smithton from figuring out what we’re doing and killing us. Nothing else.”
Jag’s arms grew snugger around my waist, as if he could suck the truth from me through my skin. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“I’m not.” My spine tight, I shifted forward, trying to put distance between us. Impossible, because we still rode Herc, and there was limited space for riders on a great cat’s back.
I refused to tell Jag what I planned.
“I need to know,” he said softly against my hair. “Tell me.”
Could he sense through our partial Felidaekin bond that I wasn’t being honest? Our Dragarian connection was only one step away from pretend, so he wouldn’t feel my deceit through the blades. Assuming something like that was even possible. I’d only shared a partial bond with Tracin, which meant I never knew how close we could’ve been, had we fully bonded.
Jag did not have a full Dragarian bond with me. He couldn’t know what I was thinking.
But a shiver ripped through me, because maybe I just thought we had a pretend Dragarian bond, like the one I’d formed with Tracin.
Jag and I had quickened the blades with sexual contact. Tracin and I had not.
“No,” I whispered.
“What?”
I gritted my teeth. “Nothing.” I never should’ve asked him to kiss me, back at the Resistance stronghold. What in all hells was I thinking?
Our bonds would end once I’d taken care of Smithton. I needed to trust in that fact.
But if Jag thought he was going to stop me from fulfilling my own personal mission, he’d soon learn I controlled my actions, my future. Not him.
Though I’d dedicated two years to saving people, not causing them harm, Smithton was a human being, even if he did have less morals than a seraroach. Insects that would just as soon rape their young as eat them.
But Smithton must die to pay for all he’d done, and I was the only one who could get close enough to do it.
/>
With his death, I could pay Tracin back for saving me. And Tracin’s blade demanded vengeance. I felt its call.
“Just know I’m here for you. Anytime,” Jag said.
The words found their way into my heart, striking truer than a blade.
If only I didn’t have to carry my burden alone.
Gods willing, I’d shed it soon, once we reached the Regime compound, located the communicator, and I’d seen Jag to safety.
What would it feel like to be free from the blood-blade thirsting? I shrugged off the notion. Freedom was for others, never me. My body—my life—had always had one purpose or another, never truly being mine to control. But things were different since I’d seized the reins from my father and driven myself down a different path.
A path Jag could never follow.
“Do you guys understand when someone talks to you while you’re in cat form?” I asked, not because I didn’t know the answer. I’d already seen Herc respond to Jag when he’d paused to let us dismount. But I needed to take my brain in another direction.
“Sure do.” Jag chuckled.
I was glad his mood had lightened. A snarky, cocky Jag I could handle. A caring one would shred me to pieces.
“We’re still ourselves inside,” he said. “Despite our exterior appearance. Kind of like me at the moment. I’ve got Tracin’s anemic, elfish exterior—except for a few vital details I can still claim as my own, thank the gods. Inside, however, I’m all Jag.”
Vital details? My mind immediately went to the rod Jag had been sporting for the past few clicks. It pressed against my spine. I should feel disgust, but instead, like last night, I melted. Earlier, when he touched me for the third time, I’d stepped back to preserve my sense of self. He overwhelmed me sometimes.
It was bad that I wanted this man.
If only I was able to dismiss Jag’s obvious interest in me. Put it—and him—aside. Because he interfered with my goal. Actually, a Felidaekin bond would interfere with my goal.
Terra assured me that, other than his spine, the only changes she’d made to Jag’s body could be seen while he was fully clothed. I hadn’t asked; she’d volunteered this information, as if she thought I needed to know she hadn’t also worked beneath the covers.
She’d always been perceptive, almost prophetic. She must’ve somehow seen that Jag and I would start the Felidaekin bonding process and assumed I’d be unwilling to fulfill the third and final phase of the bond with a man who was not completely himself.
But my heart see what my eyes didn’t. Underneath the appearance of Tracin, he was still Jag.
I sighed, wishing I could stop thinking about body, pressed close to mine. It should be the last thing on my mind. No doubt, it was no different than every other manly bit out there.
Despite my virginal status, I’d seen my share of them. The Dragarians flipped their fingers at modesty. It wasn’t unusual for everyone to strip when we reached an oasis and dive into the water together, stark naked.
Tracin had not been built the way Jag was. Jag was…larger.
What would it feel like to have that part of him moving inside me? I’d never ached for something like this, until I met him.
But enough. Time to focus on the present and let the future settle the way I’d always intended.
With the sun rising, we needed to seek shelter. Not just from viper attacks, but from the Regime army and their murderous drones.
“Herc,” I called out, and he grunted and slowed. “Veer to the right, at about one-o-clock. After half a click, I’ll lead us to a place where we can sleep safely.”
While we might be tempted to run straight through, we’d wear Herc out doing it. He needed rest if he was going to get back in time to help with the battle.
And the vipers hunted during daylight hours.
Even distracted by Jag, I’d been watching for markers in the shape of the hills, in clusters of rocks. They were everywhere, if you were trained to look for them.
“I noticed the Refugees don’t carry tents,” Jag said. “So, I assume you’ll find us shade? I’ve got my pack. Won’t be the first time I’ve made my bed in the sand. Our bed, that is.”
My skin tingled at the thought of lying close to him again, of letting him touch me. Shaking my head, I tried to drive away the image, but it lingered like the caress of his hand on my thigh.
When he sharply inhaled, I squirmed, wondering if my lust hung in the air like I’d coated myself with merspice. These cat shifters were too aware, their senses too heightened.
“Yes, the Refugees travel light,” I said, hating the wetness collecting between my legs. It gave me away.
“Isn’t easy to survive with so little.” His fingertips teased up my side, slipped underneath my cloak, and sought my breast, which he cupped.
When he rolled the nipple, I couldn’t hold in my gasp. Leaning forward, I shifted away from him and pulled his hand out from underneath my clothing, shooting it backward, where it belonged.
“They use ingenuity,” I said sharply, trying desperately to focus on the conversation. This man was dangerous. He kept tugging away at my ability to hold him at arm’s length. “I learned a lot about survival from the Dragarians, then added to that knowledge during my time with the Refugees.”
“Dragarians? What you learned from Tracin, you mean,” he said bitterly.
“From him, I suppose, yes. Terra more than anyone else. Dragarian women play a vital role in the community. The men are the warriors, while the women are the Keepers.”
“Keepers of what?”
Of secrets, in my case. But Terra had never revealed all the Keepers’ duties.
“Here.” I pointed to a cluster of boulders. The rising sun pierced the horizon, outlining the morning clouds with gold. Night mist that had drifted around us while we traveled dissipated, as if it feared the heat of the day. “Stop here, Herc.”
“Keepers of what, Aren?”
“The past, the blades, and to some extent, the future.”
“Impossible,” Jag said shortly, as Herc came to a full stop. “No one knows the future.”
I huffed. “You don’t know Terra very well, then, do you?”
Reaching up, he traced his finger along his ear. “Better than I’d like to actually.”
While Herc stood with his head hanging, sides puffing, Jag and I slid onto the sand.
“This will be a good place to rest, Herc,” I said.
Jag snorted and stared around. “Here?”
I shot him a scowl. To them, this location must look like every other desolate spot in the desert, but I saw more.
Ahead, three smaller rocks had been stacked on top of each other, centered on one of a series of large boulders.
One stone placed in this manner meant water and perhaps food was near. Two indicated a spot to replenish weapons. Three meant shelter.
Refugee shelter. Something even the Resistance hadn’t discovered. My people would’ve shared, if the Resistance had been interested, but the Resistance liked their cave system, which was far superior in many ways to the temporary refuge I’d offer Herc and Jag. But my people had preferred to live simply.
At least I could get us out of the sun and keep us safe from predators. We could sleep the day away and then move on again at dusk. We’d need another full day of rest at a different location, plus another night of travel, before we’d reach the Regime. Even Herc’s rapid pace could not cross the distance faster than that. He was eager to get back to help fight the Regime, but he’d only be able to do that if he remained healthy. Sleep, food, water, and rest would be vital.
“This way,” I said once Herc had shifted and dressed in clothing from the pack Jag had worn slung over one shoulder, since his new, ridged spine made wearing it in the more traditional fashion impossible. I led them around the cluster of rocks.
“Not much shade here.” Jag put his hands on his hips and scanned the area. “Maybe we should travel a bit more until we find someplace cooler? Assuming
a cooler location exists.”
Herc just studied my face, as if he saw more. The leader of the mercenary band, he took longer to form an opinion. I’d caught him watching me on many occasions. Studying me. As if he couldn’t quite figure me out.
It kept me on guard, because I didn’t want anyone understanding me or my motives.
I moved around the boulders that seemed to be randomly placed on the desert floor, arriving at the one on the far right. Short, straggly tufts of desert grass grew in the shade. The boulder not only served as a marker, it protected this location from the desert winds.
“Help me out, guys?”
“What do you need?” Jag asked softly, coming up behind me.
Placing my palms on the boulder, I added my full weight, but the rock barely shifted. “I have to roll this one forward.”
“Like this?” He settled his hands on either side of mine, adding his strength. I couldn’t even pretend to ignore my body’s response to his chest pressing against my back.
At least Herc was able to rest and let us handle this. One cat shifter had the strength of at least three men.
The loyalty, too.
Something I needed to forget, because it was vital I keep thinking of Jag as a drifter, a man who flitted from one woman to another, without ever setting down roots. One who wouldn’t have a problem moving on without me.
We rolled the boulder a short distance, revealing the hidden entrance.
“Viper nest,” Herc said, staring down at the hole.
“Was a viper nest,” I said, pivoting and stepping onto the ladder we’d made and dropped inside over a year ago. The wood creaked, protesting my weight. I looked up at the guys, who showed varying degrees of bewilderment on their faces. “It’s safe.” A hint of my humor slipped through in my half-smile. “No worries. I killed the viper that used to live here myself.”
