Assassin's Bride

by C. J. Scarlett

  “How do you do it?” I whispered.

  “Silence.” The executioner’s voice boomed throughout the dungeon, echoing against the blank walls.

  How do I do what? I felt his consciousness like a soft caress against my mind as Khofti’s voice sounded within my own head. He was never far away—ever since we had become mates, it was like he was continually near me. Not always able to hear my thoughts, but always near. It was probably the only way that I was currently able to walk to my death.

  How can you still smile, even now?

  I am remembering the time that you agreed to be with me.

  Even though it’s only been a day?

  It’s enough.

  I wished that I could do that—be so satisfied with what little that we had had. I didn’t want to die—I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t lived quite long enough. I had been in a coma for eighty years—then, I had escaped the Ak-hal’s clutches, twice. I had finally found the love of my life—a man who walked toward his death with a smile on his face because of me. Me. I was no one special. I knew this. But because I was special to him—I wanted to live. I wanted to live for that.

  I want it.

  What do you want? I hadn’t realized that I had been projecting that thought at him.

  More time with you. Will you stay with me? Until the end?

  I never left.

  We walked out and into the courtyard. The Ak-hal and their human captives stood out in the cold in their colorful finery. Silks and satins waved in the icy wind like colorful streamers. It was still dark out—the sky was turning gray in the pre-dawn light. I kept my gaze on my feet as I climbed the scaffold. I didn’t want to trip, for that would make me look weak in the cold, bright eyes of the ever-perfect Ak-hal. When I walked across the scaffold, barefoot, I held both of my hands tightly before me. I didn’t want to look as though I were shaking, but all that I wore was the white silk dress, nothing more than a slip with no sleeves. I was so cold that I couldn’t help but shiver.

  The executioner guided us to our places. When I stood in place before the blood-stained block, I looked up, raising my chin confidently and defiantly. I could smell the scent of old blood, and my stomach churned queasily. I gazed upon the faces of the Ak-hal and their captives. The Ak-hal were expressionless. I saw Clara—she was pale, her face drawn. I saw Libba—she was as impassive as the Ak-hal. And I saw Sarita, who looked absolutely triumphant that I was about to get my just desserts. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of falling apart in that moment, although I was pretty close to it. Instead, I stared at her, keeping my limbs locked and my look expressionless. I had developed my poker face so well during my time living with the Ak-hal. I had gotten so used to masking my own horror at their atrocities. This was merely another instance in a long chain of grotesqueries.

  The executioner stood to the side, waiting for the sun to rise. We stood there in the cold of the grey pre-dawn as the drums sounded in time with my heartbeat, counting down the last few seconds that we had to live. Steeling myself, I wondered who they would kill first. They most likely wanted me to suffer the most. I would have to watch Khofti die. My heart ached at the realization. I glanced over at Khofti. He smiled widely, as though he had just won the lottery. His gaze was on the Ak-hal. I frowned as I looked at him questioningly.

  How…?

  Wait. Just wait, little one.

  For what?

  Patience.

  With a heavy sigh, I waited. The drumbeats paused, and the executioner unsheathed his sword with a loud, ringing metallic noise. He began walking toward Khofti. In the courtyard, utter silence reigned. The shift whipped against my body as the wind blew. I was freezing. I’d say to death… but that wasn’t likely to kill me at this point. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the executioner pressed Khofti to his knees. He placed his hand on the back of Khofti’s head, leaning him over on the block. I watched, my heart pounding. Khofti’s golden eyes were on me.

  It’s not over yet, he promised me. Don’t cry yet.

  Through the door, the one to the courtyard that the Ak-hal, in their arrogance, always left open and unwatched, a large bear barreled through, his roar echoing off the courtyard walls. He was followed by several more, a crowd, all bursting through and into the already crowded space. Their roars were deafening. The Ak-hal were taken by surprise, and many bodies went flying through the air, as the strokes of the bears’ claws hit them. They were broken like limp, nerveless ragdolls against the courtyard walls, the castle—I watched, unable to believe what I was seeing. The Ak-hal raced toward the door to the courtyard, trying to get out.

  Let’s go. Khofti stood up, the executioner having run off into the fray with his broadsword. If the Ak-hal get out, they will have the space to shift.

  We should help them.

  I need to get you out of here. You’re the one that they want dead. I was just…

  Collateral?

  If that’s the word for the extra one.

  With that, he shifted, his cuffs popping off his hands as his body shifted into bear form.

  I thought that mithrim couldn’t be broken?

  A lie that the Ak-hal told you. Mithrim cannot hold a Kamani. I climbed awkwardly onto his back, my hands still cuffed, and held on as well as I could by wrapping my fingers into his thick fur. The bears moved to let him through, forcing their way toward the Ak-hal, who were still fighting to get out.

  Khofti made his way through the push, and then we were out, running free through the snow. I breathed a sigh of relief as I leaned into the soft white furry rolls at his neck.

  I never want to go back.

  You never will.

  Where are we going?

  Home.

  His long, lumbering strides carried us away from the castle of the Ak-hal. I watched over my shoulder as it disappeared in the distance, miles of snowy terrain coming between me and the pale demons.

  Epilogue

  I walked briskly out of the Kamani ice caves. I was dressed in warm furs, which I had asked the permission of the small, wolf-like animal for myself. I wore a tawny jumpsuit that I had woven for myself, as well. There was a definite pride that I had found in fashioning things for myself. I carried a basket, filled with the root vegetables that the Kamani ate in large amounts. The bear-shifters ate well, and it never failed to shock me how much they seemed to consume while never running out of things to eat.

  A large crowd of the Kamani congregated out in their courtyard of sorts that day, with a decided party atmosphere. On the market day before their holy day, many were out to barter the necessities, mainly food and spices. I waved to a group of the female Kamani that I had befriended.

  “Are you coming for tea later?” one asked me. I grimaced a bit, considering the bitter, sugarless stuff that the Kamani found delicious to sit and kibbutz over. She pushed her long black hair over her shoulder.

  “Later!” I yelled over the sounds of the crowd and she nodded with a wide grin. “Have you seen Maggie?”

  “That way,” she pointed, her golden eyes glancing toward the stone wall.

  I found Maggie standing out by the wall, looking out over it. I glanced out at the sparkling, snow-covered plains surrounding us, as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking.

  “Do you ever regret leaving Earth?” I asked her, walking up to stand beside her. She looked at me, her face pensive.

  “No,” she replied. “I found my people here. I found love here, and I had an adventure. If I had remained on Earth, I would have been some man’s wife. A man who didn’t love or understand me. The best that I could have hoped for would be mild appreciation and then his early death so that I could live the latter part of my life a widow.” She smirked at me. “You need to tell me more about the Women’s Rights Movement. If I had been lucky, I would have been a very old woman by that time.”

  “Certainly,” I agreed. “But you would have been a part of the Women’s Suffrage Movement.”

 
“Without a doubt. Luckily, I ended up among the Barbearians,” she remarked, using my term for them. “Teaching English in order to rescue some women. Who’d have thought?”

  “I wouldn’t have.”

  She took the basket of vegetables from me. Since it was one of the Kamani holy days, when they honored their gods, the whole of the ice caves were busy. It was more like an anthill than I’d ever seen it. I was still learning their ways and rituals. There was to be a feast that night, accompanied by singing and dancing. This time, the musicians would be visible. I had been to enough Kamani rituals to know this. On this day, toward sunset, the Kamani would gather outside of the ice caves, encircling about within their great wall of rock. They would all sing to their gods in thanks. The Kamani, as a people, lived lives filled with gratitude. It could be seen in even the smallest of their gestures. It was graceful, elegant in a way filled with warmth, something that a creature living on a planet of ice requires in order to properly survive. Without it, one began to grow colder than the ground.

  “After living here, I see that mild appreciation is never enough,” Maggie told me. “Too often, we are forced into settling. We should experience true warmth and affection. Or we wither.”

  “It’s true,” I agreed. “That’s far too common on Earth.”

  “Perhaps I’ll go back one day,” she said lightly. “Become a prophet.”

  “You should. People listen to you,” I replied, nudging her with my elbow.

  “Go find your man,” she said to me, smiling knowingly. I smiled back and, turning, went back inside the ice caves. I walked up the walkway leading to the Kamani living quarters. I paused to avoid running into a pair of Kamani cubs that tumbled accidentally into my path. They were in the middle of a tussle, one of them halfway through a shift, his bear form the color of his humanoid skin. He looked strange, but that didn’t stop him from growling fiercely and rolling over the other cub. They ended up in a furry heap on the hard stone of the walkway.

  As I stepped around the cubs, I saw some of the human women that had been rescued. They were dressed in thick furs, talking with some of the Kamani. They, too, learned the ways of the Barbearians. While we had all been offered a ride back to Earth on the Ak-hal’s yacht-like ships, none had wanted to return, as we had all lived more than half a century past our time. Earth had moved on without us. There was no reason to return—the Ak-hal certainly wouldn’t. We had dismantled their ships upon our decision.

  We knew that the Ak-hal weren’t entirely destroyed. It would certainly take them some time to regroup and rebuild; the Kamani had done extensive damage to their castle in addition to their numbers. The Kamani didn’t kill any of the female captives, as it wasn’t their way to kill innocents. When some of the Ak-hal had escaped, a few of the women had chosen to go with them, Sarita and Libba included. The others had come with us. They adjusted to life as free women well. It was easy to adopt the peaceful ways of the Kamani. The only thing that I missed of civilization were my books. Khofti supplied stories, but not enough for my voracious appetite for them. He tried to keep up.

  I smiled when I saw Clara walking toward me. She paused beside me, squeezing my hand. It was nice to see her dressed in the simple garb of the Kamani. She looked healthier than she ever had with the Ak-hal, and she had taken to leaving her long blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She was dressed warmly in the same type of fur-lined jacket that I wore. Humans were decidedly less resistant to the cold than the Kamani were. They were constantly surprised to find out how often we were cold.

  “How are you?” I asked her.

  “I am well,” she replied, and from the glow of her face, I could tell that what she said was true. “And you?”

  “Very well,” I responded.

  “Have you seen Maggie?”

  “Out on the wall,” I replied. “She’s looking out over the plains. It’s good to see you free, Clara.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. One could still see her scars. They lurked behind her eyes in a way that reminded me of how Khofti had once described Fana—the clouds covering his heart. Those scars would always be there. But with her kindness and warmth, Clara was beloved by the Kamani. She lived with Maggie. They had bonded while working in the kitchens of the Ak-hal and had missed each other’s company bitterly. Now that they were both free, I rarely saw one without the other. They both taught the Ak-hal little things—math and such. The Kamani weren’t yet ready to become civilized, it seemed. I walked on, continuing up the inclined path that led up through the ice caves as Clara went to find Maggie.

  Walking into the quarters that I shared with Khofti, I squinted, letting my eyes adjust. We lived a few tiers down from the top level, which had been utterly destroyed by Moranen. The Kamani had relegated the duty of repairing the Sky Jewel to their Ak-hal prisoners. As kindly as they were, it was likely the harshest punishment they could think of. Placing the shards of stone back in their correct positions before the Kamani shaman could do some hoodoo ritual to repair it, would likely take them several centuries.

  The bed in the middle of the large, stone-carven room was covered in woven blankets. A prone form lay among them, arms stretched out spread eagle. Khofti and I had made the blankets together. That was how the Kamani did things—together. I jumped on top of the bed. Khofti groaned.

  “What are you doing in bed at this hour?” I asked him. “It’s day out.”

  “Resting for the festival,” he replied. “I have been up all day.”

  “Eating,” I accused, poking his flat stomach. “You eat so much.”

  “I am a large bear.”

  “And a tiny Kamani,” I teased.

  “Let’s rest,” he said, stretching out his large form.

  “Not anymore,” I said, wrapping my leg around him so that I sat astride him. I leaned over him. My hair, still a little on the short side, but well on its way to growing out, made a curtain about our faces. I kissed him, and he groaned again. His groans soon vanished, making their way over to pleasure-filled moans as my hand found its way inside his jumpsuit.

  He reached up, helping me off with my layers of clothing. After an awkward shuffling to get them off, he ran his large, flat palms over my skin, raising goosebumps where his hands touched. I moaned deliciously, letting my head roll back. His hands stopped at my hips, grasping them tightly. I looked down at him questioningly as he sat up, flipping me over in one fluid motion. I pushed his jumpsuit all the way off his broad shoulders. He smiled at me, taking me with his next breath.

  I inhaled as he filled me. Placing my hand on his lower back, I rocked my hips upward to meet his as he surged over me. His skin was hot and smooth against mine. Our breathing came out in sync—heavy, full breaths. I felt our connection—it ran deep, connecting our souls. If I closed my eyes, I could see all the constellations that made up my mate. I could see all his grief, as well as the depth of his current joy.

  I could feel the heat building with my orgasm. He moved slowly, his eyes watching as I took my pleasure. He was careful, always cautious. He made sure that I was taken care of. As I cried out, my body rocked by the waves of endorphins crashing through my veins, he surged back and forth. It brought me back to him, my focus centering as my body responded to his. I placed my hands on the small of his back, rocking my hips so that his thrusts were deeper.

  I looked up to the twin wheels of gold staring into mine. I could feel his heartbeat, his strong pulse at each point where his body intersected with my own. I thought about how much my life had changed. I was a different person now—an alien species to the person who had started this journey. It had been terrifying, and nothing had come easy—I had to fight, not just to save myself, but to be with Khofti. If I ever saw an Ak-hal walking free, it would be too soon.

  “Love me?” I asked, reaching up to softly caress his cheek.

  “Forever,” he replied. We remained, wrapped up together in our own world, where we could hear the sounds of the Kamani outside, finishin
g their preparations for the holy day. We could hear the sounds of many voices. We remained in our rooms, through the ceremonies, when we could hear the music outside the ice caves. We could hear the sound and swell of the voices of the Kamani, singing to their gods in thanks for all that they had been gifted. They were the sounds of happiness—distant cries, like the calls of free birds, their cages open. Or even, and perhaps, better yet, cages which had never existed.

  Bonus Series 1

  Ice Planet BarBEARians (Book 2)

  C.J. Scarlett

  Chapter 1

  It was almost impossible to breathe with the amount of people in the room, pressed in from wall to wall. At present, I did my best to ignore it. I was being introduced to Reginald Horne, the son of Lord Archibald Horne, who my mother had told me—repeatedly—was a most worthy marriage match. However, all I could think of, as I stood across from him, was that he was twenty-eight years old and already losing his hair.

  That was perhaps unworthy of me. However, I couldn’t help myself from thinking it. The large, shiny patch atop his head distracted me. It shimmered beneath the gas lamps as he spoke, seemingly made all the more lustrous with his red cheeks from exertion as he danced throughout the night.