She explained how, with Orpheus’s help, she had broken into the Rider’s tent and found Nereus’s body. She described her examination and how she had taken blood from the corpse...and how, given the state of that blood, she’d been able to determine the cause of his illness and death.
“Starvation?” Timon repeated, stunned. “Are you sure?”
“The signs were all there.”
“Do you know what you risked?” he asked, grabbing her arms. “How could you be so foolish?”
She held very still, her muscles unyielding. He dropped his hands and began again. “What is your theory?”
Gesturing for him to follow, Jamie led him behind a screen of bushes close to the water and sat down on the bank. “This is explosive information,” she said. “No one else can know about it, Timon. No one.”
“Why is it explosive? Is whatever killed him contagious?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I need to find out.”
Timon closed his eyes, trying not to listen to the rush of blood through the veins of her neck. “No one will hear anything from me,” he said.
“I believe you.” She shifted her weight. “There are very few illnesses among Opiri. What happened to Nereus makes no sense to me. There’s only one mundane way I know of that he could actually starve to death...if he couldn’t get enough blood from the donor stations. And the only way that could happen is if he refused to go or was turned away by the donors.”
“If he was as brutal with them as he was with you...”
“It had to start somewhere. If donors refused to serve him, there would have to be a very good reason, or there’d be chaos at the Conclave.”
“He would have told someone,” Timon said.
“Yes. And his fellow Tenebrians made no such accusations when we spoke to them. They wanted to hide him away.”
“We don’t know what they thought was wrong with him,” Timon said.
“When we first met the Tenebrians before we reached the Conclave, he appeared much as you do now.”
Timon gave her a blank look. “What are you talking about?”
“Your eyes. Your skin.” She reached out, her fingers barely brushing his cheek. “My God, Timon. Are you ill?”
“Of course not.” Her touch almost made him tremble, but he hardened his resolve. “What could be wrong with me?”
“The same thing that attacked Nereus.”
“Then you are suggesting a disease of some kind.”
“All I can tell you is that his blood values were way out of normal range. His ability to digest blood must have been severely compromised. Something caused that to happen. I need to know if it’s happening to you, too.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“I’m serious, Timon.” She laid both her hands on his arms. “You can always talk to me. I’ll always be your friend.”
Friend. No matter what came between them, she was prepared to accept whatever he could give.
If he told her the truth, she would be the one doing the giving. But her entire body sang to him, dancing to the rhythm of her heartbeat, bathed in her lush female scent.
“Tell me,” she urged him, leaning close.
It was too much, after so long away from her. He gripped her wrists and pinned them against the tree trunk above her head, breathing in the warm fragrance of her neck.
“I’ll let you walk away now,” he said, “if you don’t ask any more questions. If you stay away from me.”
“It’s you who’ve stayed away,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “You need something, Timon. What is it?”
He released her and stepped back. “Go,” he said.
“Answer me,” she said. “What’s wrong with you?”
Turning away, he kicked a stone into the river. “I’m addicted to your blood.”
He could feel her stare burning into his back. “Addicted?” she asked. “Like a drug?”
“Not nearly so tidy,” Timon said.
Jamie put it together quickly. “You developed this simply by drinking my blood? How often does it happen? Nereus took my blood, too. Could he have had this problem, as well?
“It isn’t that usual, or every Opir would eventually become addicted.”
“Then what happened to Nereus can’t be the same thing.” She brooded silently. “How long since you’ve fed?” She grabbed his arm and pulled him around. “You haven’t taken any blood since we last...since you—”
“No,” he growled, trying to frighten her, to make her leave before he gave in.
“I see what you’re doing,” she said, undeceived. “It won’t work.”
“You’ve seen the worst side of Opir instincts...”
“Are you saying you are becoming like Nereus?”
“It’s my fault. I should be able to force myself—”
“What’s wrong with other blood? Timon, what happens?”
“My body rejects it.” He looked toward the encampment, gathering his composure before he spoke again.
“I didn’t want it this way,” he said. “I don’t want you involved.”
“How can I not be involved if it’s my blood you need?”
Timon shook her off. “Do you know what it’s called, Jamie? A blood-bond. It usually happens between full-blooded Opiri and humans from whom they feed frequently. But now it’s happened with me. I have no control over it, and neither do you.”
“A purely physical bond,” she said. “Not psychological?”
“Even the wisest Opiri don’t know.”
“Then you’re starving because of me?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Are you so horrified of the idea of being tied to me in any way?” She inhaled sharply. “You’re afraid to owe me anything, aren’t you? You can’t bear the thought of ever being dependent on me.”
“Do you want to be responsible for my life for the rest of yours?”
“Will you die if you don’t take my blood? Will you go mad, too? Become like an animal, and expect me to stand by and watch it happen?”
“If I give in,” he said, “if you were to let me feed now, there might be no going back.”
“But you’ve just said the bond has already been made,” she said. “You know it’s no horror to me, Timon. We can manage this in any way we have to. But don’t fight it.”
Chapter 24
With a harsh groan, Timon folded Jamie in his arms. He took just enough time to numb her skin before he bit, and felt Jamie tremble and sigh as he fed. The experience was intensely sensual...not only for him, after weeks of hunger, but he knew it would be for her, as well. The blood-bond went both ways.
Almost before he finished, she was beginning to remove her clothing. He didn’t try to stop her. She shed her shirt and pulled down her pants, kicking them off impatiently. She removed her undergarments and stood before him, a wood nymph with moon-gilded skin and hungry eyes.
The sensible part of Timon went silent, driven away by the bond. He dropped his pants just enough, pinned Jamie against the tree and thrust inside her, pulling her legs up around his hips. She bit her lip on a moan of pleasure and excitement, driving Timon to a possessive frenzy. He thrust again and bent to suckle her breasts, the nipples peaking under his tongue, while she made little whimpering sounds in her throat.
He settled into a steady, hard rhythm, supporting Jamie with his hips and one arm while his other hand searched between them and found her swollen clitoris. He stroked it in time to his thrusts, and she turned her head from side to side, her mouth half-open, panting raggedly.
He continued to kiss and lick her nipples, taking them whole into his mouth, tracing her areoles with the tip of his tongue. Her thighs tightened around his waist, allowing him to move still deeper, up to the hilt.
When she ca
me, it was explosive, sending shocks throughout her body that Timon felt in his own. She arched her back and cried out softly, a little fist deep inside her clenching and unclenching around him.
He finished a moment later with several urgent thrusts, and dropped his face into the curve of her neck. He withdrew and eased her down gently, letting her find her feet, running his hands over her hips and legs as he kissed her mouth.
It was over. And it had just begun.
* * *
“The captain of the Riders has asked to see you,” Amos said.
Jamie looked up from her plate, half-dazed, and slowly pieced together what Amos had said. “The captain?” she asked.
“Maybe it’s about giving testimony regarding the incident with the mad Opir,” Greg said, swallowing a mouthful of soup. “They let Timon out too soon.”
Jamie felt a chill from the base of her spine to the top of her neck. Surely they couldn’t have new doubts about him, after he’d already been cleared?
“Is something wrong?” Greg asked in a solicitous voice.
He didn’t know, Jamie thought. He had no idea of what she and Timon had done last night, or how everything had changed.
Yet. But it would come out into the open eventually; she was certain. Timon needed her blood. And he wanted her as much as he needed her.
“Is there some other reason the captain would want to talk to you?” Amos asked, pushing his bowl away.
Rising, Jamie automatically collected the dishes and stacked them in the basket that would be carried to the communal sinks. “I have no idea,” she said, though her heart banged out a warning.
“Well, you’d better get it over with,” Amos said, getting up from the small table. “I’ll need you later this afternoon.” He eyed Jamie thoughtfully. “I wonder if you can find out what did kill this Nereus? I’ve heard a few rumors that he died of some kind of disease rather than violence. That seems pretty farfetched for an Opir.”
“It does,” Jamie murmured. “But I’m sure Captain Cassius won’t share that information with me.”
“They’d prefer to keep it a secret,” Greg said, joining them. “What does that say about how much they can be trusted?”
“At least they didn’t accuse our Jamie,” Amos said.
Greg laughed. “As if she could hurt an Opir.”
“I’ll go,” Jamie said, concealing her trepidation. She left the tent and retreated to her own, where she changed into more formal clothing.
Amos had spoken of rumors of disease. Her own theory, but no longer a secret. Did the Riders and Tenebrians know what had killed Nereus and were hiding the truth? Maybe she could find out.
She was just about to leave the Enclave camp when Amos intercepted her. “Jamie,” he said, “forget what I said about trying to learn what killed Nereus. It’s none of our concern, and the Riders have dealt with the situation.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “In fact, I advise that you put it from your mind. It’s strictly an Opir matter now.”
He let her go with a smile, but Jamie was left wondering why he’d so quickly changed his mind.
The Rider headquarters was as busy as it had been before. Jamie was ushered right past the reception desks and into the back, where she’d so recently been sneaking about to examine Nereus’s body.
This time, she found herself in a canvas-walled office just big enough for a simple table to serve as a desk—currently piled high with papers—and three camp chairs, along with a map of the tent city hung on the side of the tent. She sat down opposite the desk to wait, and Cassius arrived a few moments later. His face was all sharp angles, his bearing rigid with military precision.
“Ms. McCullough,” he said, sitting behind the desk. “Thank you for coming.”
So it would be this way, Jamie thought. He hadn’t bothered to offer his hand, and his disapproval was evident. Whatever he wanted to discuss with her, it would be less than pleasant.
“Why did you want to speak to me, Captain?” she asked, following his lead.
His hard gaze met hers. “You have been seeing my band leader, Timon.”
The way he said the words left Jamie in no doubt as to his meaning. There was no point in trying to deny it now. “Timon guided me across two thousand miles of wilderness, Captain,” she said. “It’s only natural that we continued our acquaintance afterward.”
“Your ‘acquaintance,’” Cassius said with a curl of his lip. “Do you think I’m unaware of what goes on with my people? Especially when one of the best of them flouts the rules and oaths of our Brotherhood?”
She rose. “Captain, I know that Riders don’t ordinarily make friends outside of—”
“Friends,” Cassius said with the same contempt. “No, Riders do not make ‘friends’ outside of the Brotherhood. We maintain our efficacy and our honor through self-sufficiency and unquestionable neutrality. Or hadn’t Timon made that clear to you?”
“I know how your Riders are supposed to behave,” she said, holding his gaze. “But they aren’t machines.”
“Nor are they human,” Cassius said.
“Half-human,” Jamie said. “And Timon—”
“Sit down,” Cassius commanded.
“Timon is excellent at what he does. You called him one of the best. If he manages to function so well and still maintain connections to the outside world, he must be doing something right.”
“Sit down, Ms. McCullough.”
Unwilling to engage in childish games, she sat. “Let me get this straight, Captain. You’re afraid that Timon’s friendship with me will interfere with his work.”
“His work, and the reputation of all the Riders,” Cassius said heavily.
“You think everyone in the Conclave will stop trusting you to do your job because of one Rider?”
“We are the Brotherhood,” Cassius said. “The reputation of one is the reputation of all.”
“Is that all there is to it,” she said, “or is there more personal reason?” She tilted her head. “Timon is more than just a subordinate to you, isn’t he?”
“I see I am not making myself clear, Ms. McCullough,” Cassius said. “I am speaking of Timon’s welfare. His life. You may care nothing for our rules and oaths, but perhaps Timon’s personal fate is of more interest to you.”
Jamie sat forward, her fingers curling into fists. “Are you threatening Timon because of me?” she demanded. “Are you suggesting that—”
“I suggest nothing,” Cassius said. “I merely tell you that the situation cannot continue. Our laws are very specific. Once one of our Brotherhood proves that he cannot maintain neutrality and becomes tethered to something or someone outside us, he is no longer fit for the Riders.”
Chapter 25
Cassius’s words hung in the room long after he had spoken them, but Jamie wasn’t shocked. Timon had already told her much the same thing. Cassius wasn’t literally threatening Timon’s life, but he was telling Jamie that Timon would lose his livelihood, the world to which he had devoted so many years, the Brothers who had become his family. Being a Rider was his life, and Cassius was willing, and able, to take that from him.
“You can prevent the inevitable, Ms. McCullough,” Cassius said. “Timon has been temporarily blinded to the gravity of his transgression. But you can make him see. You can reject him so that no doubt remains, and he returns to us.”
He doesn’t know about the blood-bond, Jamie realized once Cassius’s demands sunk in. If he did, he would know it wouldn’t simply be a matter of rejection. The bond would still be there, and Timon would still suffer from it.
Numb down to her bones, Jamie tried to find an answer. Maybe the Opir had a cure for the blood-bond, and they could give it to Timon. She was certain that Cassius would do everything within his power to help Timon break free of it.
&
nbsp; But Timon had to know exactly what would happen if the blood-bond were discovered. It wasn’t her business to tell his captain; he would have to inform Cassius, if that was his choice. And so far, he obviously hadn’t done it.
“Have you spoken to Timon about this?” she asked. “Did you warn him to stay away from me?”
“Until recently, I thought he would escape from this madness.”
“You don’t want to force him to make the decision, do you?”
Cassius curled his fingers around a piece of paper on his desk and crumpled it into a ball. “You think he would choose you. But he would come to regret it. You would become a burden to him, a memory hung around his neck to torment him for the rest of your mortal life.”
For the rest of your mortal life. Cassius was speaking of the future. A future in which Timon and Jamie were together, in a way she’d hardly dared to consider.
Did Cassius believe that Timon was in love with her?
“I would never steal his life from him,” she said, standing up again. “It has nothing to do with your threats, Captain. I want what’s best for Timon.”
“Then you will do as I ask.”
“I’ll consider what you’ve told me,” she said. She started for the doorway. “I wonder what he would say if he knew we’d had this conversation.”
Cassius stood. “Are you threatening me?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t deliberately plant any barriers between you and Timon. But I will do as I think best, Captain. Goodbye.”
“Wait.” He followed her and stopped just inside the doorway. “Consider this, Ms. McCullough.” His expression softened, startling Jamie with the change. “Timon has been like a son to me. I brought him into the Riders when he was only seventeen, a skilled traveler and fighter, but completely at the mercy of the bands of human and Opir savages in the wilds. I taught him how to turn his natural skills into work for the greater good—the work of allowing communication between far-flung Opir and human cities and settlements. Without that communication, this Conclave could never have taken place. Without the Riders, there would be no hope of peace.”
Twilight Crossing Page 16
