Light of Kaska

by Michelle O'Leary

  The children clapped and laughed, dancing along the barrier in an exuberant mass. Liss chuckled, sending Stryker a grin over her shoulder from where she leaned against the glass. She did a double take on his face and came to join him.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the underwater scene. “What are they?” he asked to deflect her.

  “Keza didn’t tell you about selkies? That’s weird. It used to be hard to shut her up about them.” She turned to watch while her sister slipped away from her captor and ducked into something that looked like a patchwork flower. The selkie twisted to follow, but she pulled herself out the bottom of the flower and along its sides, keeping the structure between her and her selkie stalker. The kids shouted encouragement for both Keza and the beast.

  “Our history says there used to be a ton of them when we first settled here, but we hunted them for their pelts until we almost wiped them out. They usually stay away from humans, but Keza made friends with them when she was little. This family group has been coming here for over twenty years. The original pair died a while back, but their kids had lots of kids and they teach each other about this place. Oh, the babies are so Goddess-blessed cute! I think that female on the right is going to drop soon, so you might get to see them.”

  Stryker glanced at the animal in question and saw that the creature was thicker through the midsection and moved slower than the others. Their bodies were long and sleek likes an otter’s, with similar heads, though they were almost human-sized and their skin had very fine, short hair ranging from pale gray to almost black. Their tails seemed prehensile like a monkeys and had opposable digits on all four limbs, though their front ones seemed more delicate, like hands. They torpedoed through the water as if shot from a weapon, their bodies moving with such sinuous grace and speed that they seemed almost boneless.

  They were interesting but they couldn’t hold his attention for long. Not with Keza to watch.

  He should be doing what he’d told her he would and walk away. His brain argued that was the most logical course of action—he didn’t belong here in this strange place with these laughing children any more than Keza had belonged in his world. But his guts wouldn’t let him move, twisting with a need that defied explanation. The need was so strong it was an ache, not only in his groin, but in his throat, in his chest, and in an alien place deep inside him.

  Her mate? She hadn’t confirmed her mother’s words and he’d been too angry to ask. Or maybe he’d been too wary of the answer. Just the idea of planting a child inside her sent whorls of hot lust and icy panic through him, giving him a wrenching sense of vertigo. Gingerly, he reached out and braced a hand on the cool stone wall beside him, clinging to the sight of Keza’s swimming form as if she could steady his spinning world.

  “You’re still not used to the idea,” Liss said softly at his side, her eyes much too knowing. “Keza gave us the short version of how you got here. You must be totally sarked about it. But look on the bright side. Keza’s just your first choice, not your only one. You’ll have hundreds of naevas begging for just one night with you.”

  “What’s a naevas?” he asked through numb lips, watching with a sinking sensation like despair when the selkies pulled Keza through the beams of sunlight and out of the grotto.

  The children shrieked with joy—or maybe it was rage, who was he to judge?—and raced by him like a flock of birds, of one mind as they pounded up the stairs.

  Liss caught the trailing toddler, ignoring the little girl’s wail when she swung her to her hip. The young woman smiled at Stryker. “A naeva is a Kaskan woman who is at the peak of her fertility. Naeva means blessed daughter, or sacred charge, touched by the goddess. Are you coming?”

  That trapped sensation gathered around him again, spiking his heart rate. “I’m supposed to screw every ripe wench who pounds on my door?”

  Her smile faded from bright humor to a cynical twist. “You only have to make one baby. You pick who to make it with. After that, you don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to. But y’know, Chase, most guys would kill to be in your place.” She arched her brows and spun toward the stairs on a saucy heel with a toss of her unruly hair. “You should talk to my brother, Rogue. He’d change your outlook in a hurry.”

  Stryker scowled at her slim back, the caged sensation not abating one bit. Then a new thought made him blink and frown, his feet moving after her without any conscious signals from his brain. “You’ve got a brother?”

  “Sure do,” she tossed over her shoulder. “The Marish family has more boys than most of the other major houses put together. We’ve got a rep for good genes, so our boys and our girls are in high demand all over Kaska. And now that Keza’s back from her cycle, they’ll be lining up at her door.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Who’re they?” His tone was sharper than he’d intended, his voice in such a low growl that the little girl stopped blowing bubbles at him and hid her face in Liss’s hair.

  Liss paused in the grotto, turning to face him with a sly smile. “Keza is First Materi, since she’s Mom’s oldest daughter. That means she’s next in line to be head of the Marish House. She finished a successful Guidance, so all she has to do now is prove that she’s goddess-touched—that she can have babies,” she clarified for him with all the patronizing arrogance of a teenager. “After that, Mom can step down anytime she wants and Keza will be the Marish Mater. Guys will be climbing through windows and knocking down walls just to be with her.”

  After that little revelation, Liss gave him a smirk, spun on her golden heel, and sashayed out of sight. Stryker let her go, mainly because he was afraid of what he’d do if he caught up to her. He was pretty sure strangling was against the Kaskan rules. But it wasn’t really Liss he wanted to strangle. He should drag Keza out of the water and—no, putting his hands on her came under the heading of “Really Bad Ideas.” What he should do is head for the nearest exit. What he wanted to do—besides put his hands on Keza in ways that were probably illegal—was beat someone bloody. Preferably one of those guys Liss spoke about. And then lock all the doors, block all the windows, and reinforce the walls.

  With a low, guttural snarl, he stalked toward the stairs leading to the house, running stiff fingers through his hair. What the hell is wrong with me? He took the stairs two at a time, trying to ignore the sensation that he was fleeing in a cowardly fashion. Yeah, he was pissed about what Liss said but for the wrong damned reasons. He should be angry that Keza hadn’t told him how valuable she was to her House and her homeworld. That little gem of information would have come in handy when dealing with Bella and the boys. On the other hand, if anybody else had known about it, that might have marked her as a target. She would have made a pretty hostage with an enticing ransom. Which was probably why she hadn’t told him—she didn’t trust him not to turn on her.

  He grimaced when that thought twisted something inside him and the memory of her bruised wrist made a merciless reappearance. Right. So why are you still here? Asked a cynical voice in the back of his mind.

  Stryker was saved from trying to find an answer by the sight of a large, sandy-haired man lounging at the top of the stairs. Instinct loosened Stryker’s muscles and he squared off against the opposition while shifting away from the open archway to the staircase. The big man seemed the picture of bored relaxation, his body slouched on a bench under a wide window, but Stryker could practically smell the badge on him and the lines of his muscular body spoke of a close acquaintance to many things physical and violent. The man’s eyes had the cool, sharp assessment of a born fighter while he looked Stryker over.

  “Hey,” the man rumbled without twitching a muscle. “You must be Stryker. I’m Harle, Rolanade bet Marish’s mate. How ya doin’?”

  “You my leash?” Stryker asked in return, not bothering to hide his hostility.

  Harle looked him over again, face impassive, before he heaved a sigh and pushed to his feet. He st
ood at least a head taller than Stryker. “Shoulda known a guy like you would see the badge, even if I don’t wear it no more. Yeah, I’m what passes for security around here, but I’m not gonna dog you. Not unless you give me a reason,” he added with a glint of steel in his grey-blue eyes. “Truth is Nade sent me to round you up so she could feed you.” He shrugged his big shoulders with an almost sheepish expression before jerking a thumb behind him at the bench. “And the dragon left you some spares.”

  Stryker flicked a glance around the man to see a pile of clothes resting on the bench. “Dragon?” he asked, studying Harle with keen distrust.

  The big man didn’t seem to take offense. “Myelle flies around here like she’s got wings, she can breathe fire when she’s good and pissed, and don’t ever let her get her claws in you. The Dragon,” Harle finished in a stage whisper, his eyes taking on a humorous twinkle. “But don’t tell Nade I said that. She beats me when I call her mama names.”

  “Beats you,” Stryker said in a flat voice, looking the man up and down once more. “Shit, this I gotta see.”

  Harle’s grin changed his whole face, softening the edges of experience in his features and lighting his eyes. “Well then, throw on your spares and hitch up. Nade’s gonna beat me anyway for taking my sweet time about ropin’ you in.” He stepped out of Stryker’s way and gestured toward the pile of clothes. “May as well come watch the show.”

  Stryker eased past, tuning his wary senses to the man while he inspected the clothes. He was relieved to see them—he wasn’t body conscious, so continuing to wear the thin sleeping pants wasn’t a problem, but he’d have a much easier time escaping and be less conspicuous if he was fully dressed. With shoes on. Without further ado, he stripped and redressed.

  It wasn’t his usual style—the loose cloth of the shirt and pants would be distracting and rip too easily in a fight, the white shirt and buff-colored pants would stand out in the dark, and the soft-soled shoes weren’t durable enough for rough wear—but he’d take what he could get. Maybe he’d find something better later.

  “Lead on,” he said to Harle when he was finished, taking in the man’s bland expression with a flare of wary hostility. He was in new, hazardous territory and having a badge for a guide wasn’t comforting. He felt a lot like a lamb trotting down the chute to disaster.

  Harle kept pace with him while they moved down the corridor, his bland expression flickering as he shot Stryker the occasional veiled glance. Then with a muffled sigh he muttered, “Told Nade not to send me. Told her I’d just get your back up, you being a con and all. But everybody else disappeared when she asked for volunteers so I got stuck with it. Just so you know, as long as you don’t do nuthin’ out of hand we’re square.”

  “Right,” Stryker said in a toneless voice.

  Harle grimaced, running a hand through his sandy hair and spiking it in all directions. It gave him a harried look, but he still moved like a fighter. “I ain’t here to watch-dog you. Myelle didn’t give orders on you, but I got the impression she don’t like you much. I keep the peace here is all.”

  Stryker couldn’t resist. “So if I walk out the front door?”

  Harle gave him a hard stare. “I know what the dragon would say about it, but you got trouble all over you. I’m thinkin’ peace and trouble don’t mix, so if I wake up tomorrow and find you gone I won’t cry about it.”

  That wasn’t the answer Stryker had been expecting. He kept his expression immobile but studied the big man out of the corner of his eye. A sham? From the grim set of the other man’s jaw, it didn’t look like it.

  He was distracted from his thoughts by a tantalizing smell. It teased his senses before wafting away, leaving him to lift his head after it like a starving dog. Harle led him through an archway and into an open courtyard filled with tables and crisscrossed with hanging lanterns and flowering plants. The lanterns weren’t lit—the sun was a disconcerting, fiery ball of light and heat, whitewashing the stone pavers of the courtyard and casting black shadows in the buildings around it.

  Harle didn’t pause, leading Stryker on a winding path through the tables. The scent came to him again, a rich, hot, welcoming smell that made his mouth water and his stomach clench in a gnarled fist of hunger. It grew thicker and more inviting the closer they got to a low building with lots of windows, ledges, and an exaggerated doorway. The sounds coming from within proclaimed this place to be a huge kitchen and the source of that amazing odor.

  “Kessu, tell me it tastes as good as it smells,” Stryker muttered to Harle when they passed over the threshold.

  “Nope,” the big man said with a grin. “Tastes better. Nade’s the best cook this side of the galaxy.”

  Stryker noticed that there was more than one cook in the place, but as soon as he saw the tall, willowy blond, he knew she was the head chef and Harle’s mate. She moved with a quiet command that was downright impressive in the chaotic din of the hot kitchen, her mat mark glimmering on the underside of her forearm in an underline of her authority. When she saw them, her amber eyes lit with delight, a wide, easy smile transforming her features into warm beauty.

  “There you are!” she said, looking from one to the other as she approached. She didn’t sound at all angry or prone to violence.

  Stryker gave Harle a pointed look but the big man ignored him, grinning while he swept his mate into what looked like a bone-crushing hug and a loud kiss.

  She returned it with a laugh then wiggled in his hold. “Behave, Harle. I’ve got work to do. Chase, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said from inside the circle of her mate’s arms as he lowered her back to her feet. “I’m Rolanade bet Marish, Keza’s sister. But I know the look of a starving man when I see one. Can I get you something to eat and drink? You are welcome to sit anywhere you like, but I’d like it better if you sat inside where I could talk with you a little.”

  “I’d kill for some food,” he answered with a wry twitch of his mouth. “But I’m still waiting for the show.”

  “Show?” Rolanade lifted her eyebrows and glanced at Harle.

  “You’re supposed to beat me for being slow about bringin’ him,” Harle supplied, his eyes twinkling down at her.

  “And for calling your mother a dragon.” Stryker threw Harle to the wolves without mercy.

  Nade only rolled her eyes and smiled, a dimple appearing in one cheek. “I might get more worked up over Harle calling my mother names if she didn’t preen every time she overheard them. Sit down, Chase. I’ll be right back.”

  Stryker sat at a tall workbench before he realized that he’d just been given an order—and he’d followed it like a trained soldier. Damn, she was good. Or maybe he was just that hungry. He felt weak in the knees when she brought him a bowl full of pasta. “Brecaria?”

  His knowledge of the dish earned him a brilliant smile, but he only saw it peripherally since he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the spiced noodles, lightly grilled meat, and bright vegetables. He was pretty sure he was drooling.

  “My mother’s recipe, the best on Kaska. Which means it’s the best anywhere,” she said with appropriate smugness, handing him a drink and cutlery. “I thought it was only right to have Keza’s favorite dish for her welcome-home dinner.”

  “Kessu’s ghost,” he mumbled around a mouthful of the most delicious ‘caria he’d ever tasted. He couldn’t look up from the dish to save his life, even when he heard Nade laugh softly and felt her give him a gentle pat on his shoulder. He should have tensed or reacted in some way to her touch, but he was too damned enchanted by the orgasmic flavors on his tongue.

  “I could eat,” Harle said plaintively.

  “You can wait for dinner,” Nade responded without sympathy and moved away.

  Harle gave a morose sigh and sank down on a stool next to Stryker. “She’s heartless,” he said. “You gonna share?”

  Stryker gave him the most hostile look he could muster under the circumstances and hunched over his bowl. “No fuckin’ way. Get your own,” h
e growled.

  Harle tipped back on his stool and laughed, the sound rolling through the kitchen like bright thunder. “All right, maybe I will like you,” the big man chuckled, giving Stryker a not quite painful punch to the shoulder. “Anybody who likes Nade’s ‘caria that much can’t be all bad.”

  Stryker didn’t dignify that with a response since his mouth was too full to answer, but he did give Harle a flinty-eyed stare and edged his bowl further away. This brought on a fresh round of chuckles.

  When Stryker finished his food moments later, Nade appeared as if by magic at his elbow with a second bowl. He made a sound of ecstasy and took the dish reverently from her.

  “Try to slow down and savor it this time, Chase,” she said with a thread of laughter in her tone. “I’ve seen starving wolves eat slower than you.”

  He tried, but not very hard. The second helping disappeared much like the first one, with speed and enthusiasm.

  “Well, hell,” Harle said, watching Stryker scrape the bowl clean. “I was hoping you’d leave me some.”