by Laney Kaye
“I go with,” Quelir said in a tone that did not invite discussion.
“We’re returning to the Resistance,” I said softly enough Smithton shouldn’t hear. “It’s not safe there for you.” Unless we could make the communicator work and the Aaidarians somehow came through for us, we’d all be dead within days. I hated to think we’d take Quelir down with us. It was vital I keep him safe.
“I go,” he repeated. He lifted a bag he must’ve packed earlier and dropped near the elevator, and settled it on his back. Placing his fist against his chest, he pressed hard and closed his eyes, whispering something in Dragarian too quiet for me to understand. When his eyelids lifted, he reached out and touched his thumb against my forehead. “I protect my Ari.”
Hugging him, I rested my cheek on his chest. His heartbeat was strong. Faithful. Tears sprang up in my eyes—I couldn’t stop them. I’d missed this man as much as my mother. “And I plan to protect you, Quelir.”
“Gotta go, folks,” Jag said from beside the elevator. The soft light in his eyes told me he understood my bond with Quelir, that he would welcome this man into our lives. He held onto Smithton’s arm, not as if he expected the other man to bolt, but more as if he worried Smithton would collapse into a drooling heap on the floor.
Smithton just stared at us blankly.
“Ari.” Quelir waved for me to go ahead of him when the elevator doors opened.
Downstairs, we hurried across the lobby, dragging Smithton between us. He kept bursting into song, and, like this, I almost found him palatable.
Outside the building, we eased away from the darkness and into the white beams cast by the halolights mounted on poles near this building and around the perimeter of the compound.
“Come along, my man,” Jag said cheerfully, as if we were a group of friends out for a bit of fun. “We’ll hit the sleaze-easy next.”
“More drink?” Smithton asked loudly.
Jag tightened his grip on my father’s arm. “Where we’re going, the drinks are not only free, they’re endless. And you’re gonna be thirsty.”
Could we actually escape out into the desert?
Our shoes crunched as we strode down the main path. Ahead, the large wall glistened in the halolight glare. The wall encircled the compound and kept anyone sane outside—and those who didn’t know any better locked inside.
A low pulse throbbed through the air, created by the activate laserblade fence. They’d added it after I escaped the compound two years ago. It gave off a sickening, white-noise vibration that could not be denied.
From what I’d heard, if you got too close, the fence would slice you in two in seconds.
We needed the guards to deactivate it.
“Hey, my man,” Jag hollered as we approached the main gate. “Want to shut down the fence?”
“Commander Smithton,” the guard called out in a bewildered tone. “It’s the middle of the night. You sure you want to leave the compound right now?”
My heart rate slowed a notch as worry took hold. How would we convince them to let us through the fence?
But we were making progress. At least they hadn’t shot us on sight.
“Interesting crew you got there,” the guard said. “But I do recognize your daughter and her husband, from when they came in earlier. Not sure who the other guy is, though.”
Was suspicion leaking into his voice? My pulse leapt, and I wondered if we’d have to make a run for it, dragging Smithton along as a hostage, instead of a somewhat willing participant.
Before Jag could say a word, Smithton stiffened. “Did this man”—he hiccupped and slapped Jag’s back hard enough Jag emitted a grunt—“Did he not just tell you to open the gate?”
“Sure did, Sir.” Thankfully, only contriteness came through in the guard’s tone. Perhaps the best way to handle this was by avoiding explanations.
“Then be…about it,” Smithton shouted. “Fast.”
The laserblade fence whined as it powered down.
“All clear,” the guard called out. “Will you…” He coughed. “Will you be returning soon? Should I keep the fence down or power it back up right away?”
Jag looked at me, and we shrugged.
“Of course, you should plower it back up,” Smithton said with a huff. He actually giggled. “Plower. Mean power.”
“As you wish, Sir.”
We passed through the small door the guard opened, our footsteps soft on the sandy ground. As we moved forward, Quelir and Jag held Smithton upright. Good thing, because my father staggered.
Invisible to the naked eye, only the narrow trench dug around the compound’s perimeter indicated where the laserblade fence usually operated ahead of us.
Even though I knew it was inactive, my flesh still quivered as I stepped across the trench.
We reached the other side, and Jag waved to the guards to indicate we were clear.
“Let’s beat it,” he said softly to me. “My skin’s been on fire too long.” Wiggling his shoulders, he seemed to shed a heavy weight from his spine. “I’ll feel better after we put distance between us and this damn place.”
“Me, too.”
While it took time for the generators to build up enough power to fully charge the fence, I still stepped backward, away from the trench, wishing I could race into the desert and keep running until I’d put multiple clicks between me and the compound.
If I was lucky, I’d never see this place again.
We rounded a dune and headed out into the desert, our feet bogging down in the sand already. Pushing hard, we headed north, dragging Smithton along with us. We said nothing, but Smithton kept humming, acting stupid, showing the results of the alcohol.
An hour later, we reached the location where Herc and Leo had said they’d be waiting.
Jag released a low growl, and, like ghostly shadows, two men lifted up from the sand, appearing in front of us.
I gasped.
“You made it, I see,” Herc said softly, clasping Jag’s forearms. “Good job. We’ll send the message and join the battle.” He squinted at Smithton, and his lips twisted. “Picked up some garbage along the way?”
“Retinal scan needed for the device.”
“But we’ve got the com,” I said with unmistakable glee in my voice. I couldn’t believe we’d found the communicator and escaped the compound so easily.
“Leo, man, you okay?” Jag nodded to his friend.
“Take more than a drone to knock me down.” Leo’s soft chuckle rang out in the night. “Scared Janie half to death, though. Had to make it up to her before I could head out on your tails.” His golden hair swept forward, across his shoulders as he nodded to me. “Aren.”
“Glad you’re okay,” I said. Turning, I waved to Quelir. “This is a friend, Quelir. He’s known me since before I was born. He and my mother—”
“Dragarian?” Herc said. “Thought most of them had died out.”
“Many live…elsewhere.” Quelir bowed and tapped his forehead with two fingers in deference. “I not slow you down.”
“Don’t expect you will.”
“Must protect Ari.”
Herc rubbed his chin. “We can always use another fighter, if you’re with us.”
Quelir’s soft gaze fell on me, and warmth seeped through me like he delivered a big hug. I was glad I didn’t have to leave him behind this time. “With Ari, wherever Ari go.”
“The communicator?” Leo said, holding out his hand. “The quicker I can work on it, the quicker I can send the message. With luck, it’ll reach Aaidar quickly.”
“Message,” Smithton blurted out. He staggered sideways, and only Quelir and me grabbing his arms kept him from falling to his knees. “Message, eh?” His low laugh sent ripples of unease up my spine.
Faster than I could blink, he snatched my Dragarian blade from its sheath. Whirling, he buried the blade in Quelir’s chest. With a sickening plop, he yanked it out and pivoted, racing for the far-distant Regime compound.
&nb
sp; Leo took off after him.
I latched onto Quelir, struggling to hold him upright, my heart pounding an unsteady rhythm.
So much blood. Horror arced through my skin like live electric wires.
Quelir slumped in my arms, and I eased him onto the ground.
“Anyone got an aid kit?” I blubbered out. Tears streamed down my face, and my breath came so tight, my head spun.
“Sorry,” Herc said, standing over us. His gaze swept across Quelir’s chest, taking in the pulsations of the blood, and he grimaced. “Fuck. This damn planet takes too much from us too often.”
“No,” I wailed, burying my face in Quelir’s neck.
“Be…okay, my Ari,” Quelir said, his words eking out with his wind. He tapped my cheek, as if he needed to see my face, so I lifted it.
Gods, how could this be happening? “Please, Quelir.” But I knew it was already too late. I’d come too late.
No, I’d killed my friend when I asked for his help, like I’d killed the Dragarians by leading them to the compound when they’d come to Glia for help.
Somehow, Quelir found the strength to lift his hand and tug up his tunic. A Dragarian pair-blade had been strapped to his side, hidden underneath the fabric.
It gleamed pale blue in the moonlight.
“Finally,” Quelir said. His body hitched, while his finger stuttered along the lorgar bone hilt. “My blade soon be quenched.”
Quenched by a blood-blade thirsting? Who had he bonded with?
“Don’t talk, Quelir,” I said. “We’re going to get help. Hold on.” Please, hold on for me. “Don’t die.” My voice cracked, because, from the blood gushing from his chest, I already knew there was nothing I could do for my friend. I hated to admit it to myself.
This dear man. I couldn’t bear to lose him. Not just because of his connection to my mother, but because I loved him.
Quelir tugged at the lorgar hilt, but it was clear he didn’t possess the strength to pull the blade. “Help.”
I slid his knife from the sheath, and when I held it up, he wrapped his fingers around mine.
“She waits,” he said, the deep, glacial blue fading from his eyes already. “I miss my Sarla.”
“My mother?” Wait. What was he—
Quelir stroked my face. Then, guiding my hand, he pushed the Dragarian pair-blade toward his chest. It sunk deep, filling the hole my own blade had made under Smithton’s power.
Sobbing, I tried to pull it back out, but it felt as though it caught on his ribs.
Or it resisted, all on its own. Because it knew.
Why had I helped him? I should’ve refused, told him I’d have no part of this ancient custom.
But, inside, everything was clear. There could be no avoiding a blood-blade thirsting.
As a breath slid from his chest, Quelir’s gaze drifted toward the sky. “I come, Sarla.”
“Don’t go,” I said. “Please.” I should’ve returned earlier, or found a way to send someone for him. Then I could’ve made sure he was safe. Instead, I’d tried to rescue too many others when I should’ve been focused on ensuring this man, who’d been the father of my heart, was secure before all others.
“This be right, Ari.” Quelir’s pale blue gaze met mine. He squeezed my hand that still held tight to his blade. His final breath came out with three simple words that changed my world. “Love you, my daughter.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jag
I shuddered, forcing the familiar ripple of the shifting to course through my body.
Except, it was different, this time. My fangs and claws didn’t fail me, my bones and muscles rearranging and tearing to extend the hard, white spears from my fingertips and jaw, but the pain as I shifted ripped a roar of agony from deep within my throat.
It was like no roar a jaguar had ever made.
But maybe dragons bellowed like that. Because, even as I shifted into cat form, and my Dragarian blade plunged into the sand, I was aware of the massive ridge of my spine, razor sharp and harder than sirdar, protruding through my pelt.
A dragon spine.
I shook my head and bounded after Smithton, though his ridiculous, drunken, stumbling run had taken him only a short distance in the seconds it’d taken me to shift into…whatever I’d become. Leo had already raced after him and, even in human form, he’d easily outpace the commander.
But I wanted Smithton.
Although I’d shifted instantly, I’d still had a chance to see the horror in Aren’s expression. More pain caused by her father.
I was done letting the bastard get away with it.
Sand sprayed Smithton as I bounded beyond him. I turned, planting my paws deep in the red earth and squared my shoulders. My fur shuddered as I opened my jaws and roared full in his face.
Spittle flecked his chin, his eyes too wide with terror to even blink. Aren’s knife fell from his nerveless fingers, and the loose skin on his cheeks rippled as though he faced the deadly force of the wind whipping across the frozen Aaidarian tundra.
I’d rip his damn head off.
But not just yet. Because I wanted this centrian-vomit to know exactly what I thought of him.
To speak, I’d have to shift back to human form, though.
Not that a lack of claws would prevent me from decapitating him.
But first, I planned to make him suffer. Though Leo stood off to one side, I knew he wouldn’t stop me. Like all of us, he has a score to settle with Smithton.
Smithton’s eyes darted from side-to-side, like he couldn’t take all of me in at a glance. Odd, as he’d seen all of us cats shift on multiple occasions. Hells, the bastard had ordered us to do it, so he could assess our shifter abilities.
I twisted my head, noting the unfamiliar feel, the tension running from my ears, along each side of my jaw, and down the column of my neck.
Great.
Seemed the spine wasn’t the only Dragarian feature the witch’s magic had left me with. Concentrating hard, triumph surged through me as the wide, spiked gills flared from my neck, and Smithton’s pupils shrank to tiny pinpoints of fear.
“Wh-what the fuck are you?” He whimpered.
A few feet from us, Leo’s grin almost hid his surprise. “Looks like it’s your worst fucking nightmare, Smithton,” he gloated. “You wanted to genetically engineer modified shifters? Welcome to your future.”
The deep bass reverberated through my spine as I roared again, the primeval urge to draw blood evident in the saliva dripping from my fangs as I ended with a snarl, forcing my face into Smithton’s.
He whimpered, trying to back away, but was brought up short by the solid bulk of Leo’s chest, as my fellow merc moved behind him.
I rubbed my cheek against Smithton’s. No gentle caress, but a hard thrust of my jaw against his trembling, putrid flesh, the tips of my fangs deliberately grazing his skin, the dart-tipped gills of my new form raking through his flesh.
Gods, I couldn’t believe how the urge to attack and maim, punish this piece of offal, surged through me. My shoulders quivered and I curved my claws into the red dirt, trying to restrain the impulse.
This man, this piece of dung, had repeatedly hurt the woman I loved. My mate. I wanted to punish the bastard. No, I needed to punish him.
We’d find a way to activate the com unit without a damn retinal scan. In fact, we’d still have a scan; I’d gouge Smithton’s eyes out and toss them to Leo to use.
The growl that rolled through me ached in a tight band across my chest, the effort to harness the self-control I needed to stop myself from killing Smithton outright bringing a sweat to my coat.
The dragon spines on my back prickled and stung, as though they grew and hardened, demanding blood. A sacrifice.
In my mind, I instantly knew their purpose, the picture as clear as a memory; like a dracemar’s spiked tail, they’d rip and shred. I’d slice Smithton up with my fangs, claws, and new spines, then leave him lying in the dirt like a flayed, minced armatote, fodder f
or the vipers.
And still it wouldn’t be enough to repay the pain he’d caused Aren.
But first, he needed to know why I’d do this to him.
I flicked my eyes shut for a moment, willing the change by imagining how I’d look once shifted. Hard as fuck, when I no longer knew what I was.
All I had left, all I knew for sure, was that I was Aren’s.
As I shifted back, I left my claws extended, one hand instantly wrapping around Smithton’s scrawny neck.
Leo turned away, his silence implying his agreement with my actions.
The reek of alcohol gusted from Smithton’s slack mouth as he gasped and gurgled, his feet dangling inches from the sand as I lifted him by the throat. He might be sobering up, but I’d get him there a damn sight faster.
“You hurt my woman,” I ground out, still struggling for control. “You hurt and failed her so many times, in so many ways, you fucking bastard.”
“You—” he choked out.
“Yeah. Me.” I snorted with sudden ironic laughter. The bastard’s dying view would be of a man who embodied all that he hated; Felidaekin, shifters, Dragarians. And, most importantly, a man his daughter willingly offered herself to.
I had so much to say to him, yet I couldn’t formulate the words. Anger blinded me and stole my ability to think rationally.
But I knew it was time for Smithton to die.
My grip tightened, blood oozing down my fingers as my claws punctured the commander’s neck.
“Stand down!”
The words barely made it to my brain.
“Jag, stand down.”
Herc’s voice. An order.
But the wrong order. Smithton needed to be dealt with.
His blood ran down my wrist.
For the first time, I’d disobey the captain. And to hells with the consequences.
“Jag. Please. No.” Aren’s voice was barely a whisper across the red-tinged fury in my brain.
I shook my head, as though I could dispel the entreaty. I knew what I needed to do.
A small hand closed on my tanned forearm, and electricity jolted through me. My claws retracted instantly, and Smithton crumpled to the ground. But I wasn’t watching him. Instead, I swung to face Aren. “The bond. It must have ended.” I’d stopped counting the hours, knowing that, although our time was almost up, everyone’s time would be up if we didn’t succeed in retrieving the com unit.
