AHealingCaress (6 page)

Polai was on his feet the moment that they passed him. He knew his role in the upcoming events and he was willing to play it to the hilt.

A dignitary was waiting for them and greeted them with a smile. “Her Imperial Highness is waiting for you in the grand tent. Guest quarters are being prepared for you, Healer. It is an honour to meet one of your kind.”

She inclined her head and smiled politely. “Please, we are eager to speak with Her Imperial Highness.”

“Oh, of course.” The court noble immediately smiled and bustled off, gesturing for them to follow him.

Bren threw her shoulders back and took Tracker’s arm as they walked across the tarmac. Polai walked quietly behind them, but Bren could feel his strength returning. Whatever he was going to have to do here to win the hand of the princess, he was in the best shape Bren could provide him with.

It was a five-minute walk to the brightly coloured tents and the milling men. No females were in evidence, which made Bren a little bit nervous.

When they entered the tent, a pathway opened for them, leading directly to their target. The thrones were set at the far end of the room, but the imperial princess and her father were circulating with their guests.

The imperial princess was chatting with some other nobles, only a few of who were Warshos. Her face split in a welcoming smile as she saw their trio and she came forward greeting Bren gladly.

Whispering, Bren filled the woman in, “Healer Brenawyn of the Trinial and Tracker, with our champion, Polai Markos.”

“Call me, Miri, please.” Her own whisper was just as quiet as Bren’s own.

The princess leaned back and smiled, “Welcome, Brenawyn. I was hoping that you would make it before the competitions began. How have you been?”

“Oh, I have been keeping well. Getting plenty of rest and seeing the stars. How do we enter our champion into your games?”

Miriil looked over Bren’s shoulder and she smiled shyly. “You simply tell me. I will add him to the roster right now.”

Miriil took Bren by her arm and tugged her away from Tracker and Polai. Curious nobles approached them, but it seemed no one recognized the man that Miriil’s father had ejected from the planet.

Bren smiled as they added Polai to the roster. “So, Miri, how close were we?”

Bren noted that the princess was writing
Champion of Healer Brenawyn of the Trinial.
“I see. Going to keep his name a surprise?”

Miri blushed. “I don’t want anyone to stop him before he starts. I am my father’s last daughter.”

“So he is rather protective?”

“Extremely. Polai and I were in the early stages of courtship and then one day, he was gone. It was years before I learned about the true nature of his sudden departure. All I could do was try and find him after the fact.”

“Well, you did very well. When does the competition start?”

“This afternoon. Is Polai well?” Miri’s voice was quiet.

“He is. He has done very well for himself. He is a botanist on Raxos and is a respected member of the community.”

“Is he…does he want to return there?” Miri’s fingers were knotted in the top layer of her multi-layered gown.

Bren put her hand on the princess’s arm. “I think you should discuss it before this goes any further.”

Miri opened her mouth to reply, but a wave of drumbeats rolled across those assembled.

Miri’s father stood in front of his throne and beckoned to his daughter. She squeezed Bren’s hand before she walked over to stand on the low dais with her father.

“Gentlemen, and lady, thank you for coming out today for the bridal combat rites to decide which amongst you will win the hand of my daughter. The combatants have been offered and the book is now closed.”

Brenawyn moved close to Tracker and nodded slightly. They were all set for whatever came next.

“Gentlemen, the competition now begins.”

Miriil and her father walked with a slow and stately pace out of the main tent and into the bright light of the Warshos afternoon.

The noble who had brought them in came over to them. “Healer, Guardsman, you are to sit with Her Highness in the private box. Your champion should go with the others. The combat is about to begin.”

Bren walked arm in arm with Tracker to take their seat in the imperial box. Polai went with the hopefuls and was addressed only as Champion. His future was in his hands now and all they could do was watch.

Chapter Ten

Bren flinched as she watched the games being enacted. The initial melee took out all but two of the alien suitors. The Warshos grew as they became enraged and it was both impressive and terrifying.

Polai was now taller, broader and the clothing that he had worn was tattered at the edges. His fangs had appeared at the first attack and they were rather incongruous with the image in Bren’s mind of the first time she met him.

Tracker kept her hand in his while they sat in the imperial box. They had an excellent view of the fighters and Bren almost wished they didn’t. When blood sprayed and Polai broke another fighter’s arm in the third round Tracker had to hold her back physically.

It went against the minimal healer training she had received to watch injuries and not to act on them. She buried her face in Tracker’s shoulder and closed her eyes when the violence increased and lives were lost.

There was a reason that Warshos was not in the Alliance and this sort of behaviour was the perfect example of why. Too much violence casually accepted in their society made the Warshos unstable and unable to adapt to most colony situations.

Polai was an exception to the rage and instability, but even he had lived a life with little to no interaction with the other races on Raxos. He had sedated himself and kept to the jungles just in case.

Seeing the violence in him as he ripped through those who would stand between him and the woman he loved, Bren had to admit that sedation was probably for the best.

When a hand pressed her shoulder, she was surprised to see the curious gaze of his Imperial Majesty looking down at her.

“My daughter says that you and she are friends and yet, I have no record of any correspondence with anyone matching your description.”

Brenawyn inclined her head, trying to ignore the jutting fangs aimed in her direction. “We have been speaking on coded lines. I have access to relay-protected information terminals and it was thought best to use those so that we would not draw attention. Miri is a lovely woman and it wouldn’t do for anyone to accuse her of impropriety.”

He blinked and nodded, pulling his teeth in. “I see. I have to admit that I have never met a Trinial before. I have heard of your people, of course, but you are so rare as to be almost mythological.”

She smiled and inclined her head. “Well, the healer at the Guard Base Teklan can confirm that none of the equipment can work on me, so there may be something to the myth hypothesis. I haven’t met another of my own kind either and am rather eager to one day try to make the pilgrimage to Trin.”

He nodded. “A worthy goal. How did you say you met my daughter?”

“I was doing research for healer training. She provided me with cursory details on the males of Warshos and we began a correspondence from there. A friendship followed. It is so rare to meet a woman as exotic in her way as I am in mine.”

Miri’s father puffed his chest and sat back. “My Miri is a lovely woman and one of these males will be lucky to win her.”

“If I may ask, we never did get around to discussing why she could not choose her own mate.”

He quirked a brow. “Because this is how it has always been done in the imperial family and how it will continue to be done in the future.”

Blinking at the absolute certainty in his tone, Bren smiled and turned back to watch the fighters.

Three were left, Polai and two others who were both weaving on their feet. Polai’s shifted form reached out and slammed the two heads of his competitors together before turning and bowing to the imperial box.

He shuffled forward until he cleared the groaning bodies on the battlefield and then strode calmly to stand before them, his arms relaxed and at his sides.

The announcer came over and bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty, may I present the winner of the bridal combat, Champion of Healer Brenawyn of the Trinial and Guardsman Tracker.”

It was an unwieldy moniker but Polai bowed. Now was not the time for full disclosure.

His Imperial Majesty stood and smiled. “Excellent. I am proud that my daughter will go to a male so eager and willing to fight for her. Miriil, come and greet your husband.”

Miriil was shaking, but she stood, curtseyed to her father and walked out of the box, down to the combat area. She stood in front of Polai and took his battered and bloody hands in her own. “I greet you, husband, and place myself in your care.”

Polai leaned down and kissed his bride, careful to not allow his teeth to mark her tender lips.

Watching, Bren wiped away a tear. “That is so romantic.”

Tracker looked at her and laughed. He shook his head and gave her a quick kiss. “You are a romantic. Good to know.”

His Imperial Majesty was watching them closely. “Are you not yet a mated pair?”

Brenawyn froze. “Why do you ask, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“I have a son a decade older than you who might make you a good husband.”

“Healer Brenawyn is mine, Your Imperial Majesty. Do not doubt it.” Tracker was calm but absolute.

“Good, good then. I have arranged guest quarters for you this evening. It is too late to be on your way today.” He smiled and it was not a pleasant smile. “You will have dinner with me and we can discuss your most fascinating species before you retire.”

Brenawyn nodded and she clung to Tracker’s arm. “We would be honoured.”

He smiled again, showing his fangs. Bren knew that this was going to be the hardest acting that she had ever engaged in.

The bridal dinner was a raucous affair. Bren was introduced to Margor, the heir to the Yeven clan. He leered down at her, his pointed teeth shifting restlessly and she couldn’t help but imagine that he was thinking of tasting her.

Miriil and Polai had their place at the head table, but as soon as the meal was over and the dancing had begun, Polai lifted his bride in his arms and they were off for their wedding night.

Bren sighed in relief when the couple left. She danced a few turns with Margor and then went gratefully into Tracker’s arms.

“Well, they are together.”

He ran his hand down her spine and pressed her in close. “Yes, they are. He mentioned that they would like a ride back to Raxos in the morning. Life away from home is holding a certain appeal for her.”

Bren sighed in relief as she looked around for anyone listening. “I am glad. This doesn’t seem like an environment in which a young woman could flourish.”

“That it is not. I was wondering if you were interested in retiring for the evening?”

She smiled up at him, trying to put seduction into her gaze. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

He laughed and lifted her in his arms, imitating the earlier actions of the new couple. A few folk cheered for them, but Margor scowled as they passed him.

In their room, the huge bed beckoned. Tracker carefully put her on her feet before reaching out to open her suit. It slipped free of her skin with only a light tugging and soon, she was standing before him, her skin glowing in the moonlight.

Tracker removed his own uniform, kicking free of his boots and exposing all of his silvery skin to her eager gaze.

His muscles were unusual from the majority of species she had healed, but he was a lovely specimen and compatible where it counted. It would be a snug fit, but she really wanted to try him on for size.

He pressed a kiss on her lips before trailing heat down her neck and over her breasts. She shivered as he worked lower. The moment when he tipped her to her back, she cried out, but quickly muffled herself with her hand as his investigation between her thighs took on an urgency that was contagious.

She writhed, twisted and locked her hands in his hair, wanting more but unsure of how to ask for it. He didn’t need to be asked, he slid up her body just before she discovered the end to the tension that she had been gripped with.

As he joined their bodies, she bit her lip. When he leaned down to kiss her, she bit his. He chuckled and growled, rocking into her while her hands stroked his back with a rhythm that poured power into him that spilled back into her.

The cycle continued over and over until she cried out and dug her nails into his back. Her healing power burned through her hands and into him, bringing his cry to the surface a moment after hers.

As her body relaxed, she stroked his skin, healing the tiny wounds she had wrought. “I am sorry for hurting you.”

He laughed. “And I am sorry for the same, but never apologize for getting carried away by passion. I enjoyed every moment of your caress and I do mean
every
moment.”

She smiled shyly and kissed his cheek, then this throat. “How soon can we try it again?”

Patrig stroked her hair back off her forehead. “Aren’t you sore?”

She blushed. “There was more than enough healing energy running between us. I took what I needed and gave you the rest.”

He shifted his weight and started to move again. “Then I had best not waste your efforts.”

She smiled and ran her hands over his irresistible silvery skin. “No, you had not. I am holding you to a high standard, don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, my lady. Anything you say, my lady.” He rolled with her and let her take the lead before shifting again so he was behind her.

Each move gave her a new sensation and took and gave her control in turn. When she was exhausted and he had a lazy, masculine grin that showed no signs of fading, they slept.

They had to make their escape in the morning and Bren was sure that the Yeven clan leader had designs on her as a vehicle to greater status for his son. She had no intention of leaving Tracker’s side, but with a race like the Warshos, it might not be a choice.

Chapter Eleven

Tracker woke her in the light of predawn. He caressed her nose and stroked her eyebrows to get her alert.