Allegiance Sworn (9 page)

Rassan caught his arm just before he reached up to knock on the closed door. “Don’t give Yur your back.”

“Why? Will he attack me?”

“His hatred for humans mirrors yours for the
Na’Reish
. Don’t give him the chance.” Violet eyes met his. “
Lady
guide and protect you both.”

Arek gave a nod and knocked.

“Come in!” Imhara’s voice called from within.

Taking a deep breath, Arek planted his palm on the wood and pushed, aware of the irony of the situation he now found himself in. His grandfather would keel over in a fit to see him cooperating with a
Na’Reish
demon. Those he’d trained with in the Light Blade compound would have trouble believing it, too.

He pushed the thoughts aside. If he was going to pull off this farce, then he needed to take on the challenge of being Imhara’s slave.
Merciful Mother
,
a
Na’Reish
slave. His gut churned.

Arek tightened his grip on the tray. He’d never backed down from a challenge and he wasn’t about to start now.

Gaze fixed on the pot of
k’sa
, he stepped into the library.

Chapter 12

W
HEN
the door to the library opened, Imhara ignored whoever entered, preferring to keep her gaze on Urkan Yur as he made himself at home on the lounge. Reclined in a relaxed pose, he seemed far too comfortable for her liking.

From the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, she’d fought to keep her features in a suitably neutral expression. Just the way he gazed around the room, taking in the shelves, the wall hangings, the furniture, his expression assessing, too interested, made her pulse pound.

Yur wore his hair out, although two braids tied back kept the black strands from his face. The style accentuated his angular features, and with a faint smile curving his black lips, he portrayed a geniality she knew deceived many. Few looked past the broad forehead, high cheekbones, and square jaw, his dark skin markings and unscarred face.

It amazed Imhara that others could admire his handsomeness and overlook that it covered a soul so cunning and evil. Just the sight of him, dressed in his customary hard leather armor and warrior garb black as the heart that beat within his chest, aroused the familiar burn of rage and grief.

The
Na’Reishi
warrior had murdered her parents and siblings. She might not have seen him wield the curved blade sheathed at his side, but the dark, musky odor surrounding him was the same one she’d scented on the bodies of her kin that fateful night five years ago.

Seated behind her desk, she used the barrier to help control her seething anger. While an attack might satisfy her need for blood vengeance, Yur’s death would accomplish nothing. Yet.

“The purpose for my visit is explained in the
Na’Rei’s
missive.”

His tone gravel-deep, Yur’s drawled statement rasped across Imhara’s nerves yet also reminded her of the folded parchment clutched in her hand. The one he’d handed over during their oh-so- polite opening greetings.

The Gannec Clan symbol was intact on the seal. She broke the wax with a flick of her thumbnail and scanned the brief message.

“The Enclave has been moved forward two weeks?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. “Why?”

“The
Na’Rei
wishes to finalize arrangements for your mating ceremony before the Enclave.”

She glanced up sharply. “My what?”

Was Savyr’s intention to mate her common knowledge?

“Your mating ceremony.” The gleam in Yur’s purple gaze brightened. “Petitions have been submitted.”

A shiver prickled the skin across her back. Her worst nightmare would be made real if she were mated to a male who cared for little other than the title of Clan
Na
and the power of leadership. Her parents had shared a rare partnership. One she dreamed of finding for herself—someday—but not if she was forced to accept a mate of Savyr’s choosing.

Fear spurted through her veins before she could stop the sensation. She clamped down on it before her scent betrayed her. Yur would hone in on it like a
Vorc
scenting blood and relish in the knowledge of having unsettled her.

“Without consulting me?” She only just managed to keep panic from her voice.

Who had approached Savyr? They had to have his approval, a loyal lap-
Vorc
, or the
Na’Rei
would never have accepted any petition.

“It’s been five years,
Na
Kaal. More than enough time to find a worthy male.” She ground her teeth together at the unsubtle reminder. “You’re a desirable female with strong bloodlines, so it’s not a lack of interest from suitors. Yet you’ve rejected every
Na’Reishi
lord who’s approached you.” His gaze glittered, and locked with hers. “Patience has worn thin.”

His hardening tone and direct statement confirmed that the process was a mere formality. Savyr had already proven the lengths he’d go to possess Kaal territory. Ordering her compliance shouldn’t come as a surprise. So what if the Enclave would serve to announce and validate her mated status? The decision didn’t change her original plans.

“The earlier date also allows him to host a Clan Challenge to celebrate your upcoming mating ceremony.” Yur’s mouth curved upward. “He invites you to officiate the formal events with him.”

A frisson of unease scraped along her spine. She hadn’t anticipated something like this. Something so
public
.

Presiding over the contests with Savyr would give others the impression she welcomed the mating. Yet to refuse would draw the
Na’Rei’s
wrath down upon her sooner.

“There will also be an after-games banquet, the
Na’Rei’s
gift to you and your future mate.” Yur waited, watching her from beneath his hooded gaze.

The image of a ground-scurrier trapped by the glinting gaze of a scale-winder flitted through her mind. Even though she knew the day would come, her skin still chilled and goose bumped. Instead of heeding the instinct to flee, just as the small animal would, it was time to stare the predator down.

Gently, Imhara placed the missive on her desk. She drew in a slow, even breath to ease the heat of temper in her veins and to calm the fingers of fear squeezing her heart. Yur’s scent reeked with woodsy anticipation, and the way he propped his arm along the back of the lounge, his long fingers stroking the nap of the fabric, only reinforced that impression.

“The
Na’Rei
honors my House.” The words tasted like funeral ash in her mouth.

“Indeed.” The smug smile widened until she could see the tips of his pointed teeth. “Will Rassan be accompanying you to this Enclave?”

“Of course.”

She almost missed the stirring deep within his gaze. The skin on the nape of her neck prickled.

“Then I look forward to seeing your Second defend his title at the games.”

Was he disappointed Rassan was attending or did he want him there? And if so, why? She made a note to warn her friend of Yur’s interest. Nothing good would come of it, whatever the reason.

Movement near the door and a throat being cleared interrupted them. Imhara looked over, surprised she’d forgotten about the third presence in the room. Shock washed through her at the sight of Arek standing there holding a tray, but more pertinently, his state of undress and bowed head.

“What are you doing here?” Her question came out sharper than planned.

She sensed Rassan’s hand in this. What had possessed him to ignore her order, especially when Arek had proven he wasn’t ready to take on the role of her slave? Yet there the Light Blade stood, gaze lowered, stance submissive.

Clean and clothed, he caught her eye. Now she couldn’t look away, not even to gauge Yur’s reaction to his presence. The morning sunlight angling in from the windows caught the dips and hollows of his body, outlining every smooth line and the heavy curve of muscle along his bare shoulders and chest. Her gaze followed the fine dusting of blond hair as it arrowed down his ridged abdomen then disappeared beneath the waistband of his breeches.

Merciful Mother
 . . . the hours . . . no, years of training that had to have gone into developing that physique . . . Imhara leaned back in her chair, resisting the urge to rise and run her hands over him, to test the strength contained in his arms, the width of his chest, the lean flex of his waist. Instead she clasped her hands in her lap, more than a little astonished at the strength of her reaction to him.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen plenty of naked male flesh—human,
Na’Chi
, or
Na’Reish
—in her role as
Na
Kaal and on the practice field, but her observations had been more aloof than covetous. The former reaction proved impossible to claim now, especially given the intensity of the heat warming her from the inside out.

Despite her surprise she recognized the feeling prickling beneath her skin. Sexual attraction. Lust. Desire. A combination of all three. Again she had to restrain herself from smiling. Pity neither warrior in the room would appreciate her . . . interest.

“You sent for refreshments,
Na
Kaal.” Arek’s tone was quiet, respectful. He neither looked up nor ventured farther into the room, waiting for her permission to approach.

Calm. Composed. Compliant.

“So I did.” Imhara blinked with the reminder. She hoped Arek knew what he was doing, for he’d committed them both to their roles now. “Approach and serve us.”

She caught the slight tightening of his jaw as he made his way over to her desk. Ahh, not so controlled after all. She swallowed another smile. Instead she tested his scent as he drew closer. Heat, warm spice, a trace of trepidation, but he controlled his darker emotions. He placed the tray on the desk, then hesitated, his scent deepening to an acrid mixture of tension and uncertainty.

“Pour the
k’sa
.” Imhara glanced to Yur. “A cup, Second?” The warrior nodded. “Take one to him.”

Gold flashed on Arek’s arm as he complied with her order. The sight of the armband wrapped around his bicep sent a surge of satisfaction through her. Though she knew he’d donned it to play his part, it looked good on him, but the desire to see him wear it voluntarily and truly belong to the House of Kaal was strong enough to leave an ache in her chest, one she couldn’t suppress, and one she dared not examine too closely.

Arek passed in front of her desk, tray in hand, to offer the cups to Savyr’s Second. Straightening in his seat, Yur’s gaze raked over the Light Blade then narrowed, his lip curling. His hand dropped to his belt, forearm brushing the hilt of his weapon.

The posture and bitter scent flooding the air brought Imhara out of her chair, her own hand straying to the dagger at the side of her belt. Reassured by the cool touch of it, she came around the end of her desk, drawing Yur’s attention away from Arek. His curled lip morphed into a malevolent smile, as if he’d guessed her concern for Arek’s safety. He helped himself to the
k’sa
, then dismissed the human with a grunt.

Imhara placed a hand in the middle of Arek’s back, stalling his retreat. He stiffened at her touch but didn’t pull away.

Reaching around to take the remaining cup from the tray, she raised her cup. “To fine weather for the Clan Challenge.”

Yur lifted his in agreement. “May the strength of our champions endure the length of the games.”

The warrior tilted his head back to drain the cup and seal the toast. Imhara swallowed the contents of her cup, then retreated to the table, placing the cup on the edge of it.

“So, Second, will the
Na’Reishi
lords who petitioned the
Na’Rei
be presented to me, or am I to remain ignorant of their identities until the decision is made?” she asked, relieved to hear her voice remained steady, and squared her shoulders to face Yur again.

He made her wait for his answer as Arek refilled his cup. “You’ll have the chance to meet them prior to the Enclave.”

“No names until then?” At Yur’s shake of the head, she feigned disappointment. “How many petitioned the
Na’Rei
?”

“Three. All
Na’Reishi
of standing and rank. Warriors in their prime.” Again his tone indicated he took pleasure in imparting that piece of information.

Two could play at that.

“I’d expect nothing less,” she retorted, and waved Arek back to her side, gesturing to her cup. Silently he filled it again. She shot him a sideways glance as the nutty odor of
k’sa
wafted through the air. “While impressive, a male’s standing and rank holds little attraction if he can’t fulfill his obligations as my mate.”

Mother of Light
, she hoped Arek was ready to play his role. She moved closer to him.

“I prefer a male with stamina and virility.” She trailed her fingertips across Arek’s broad shoulders. There was little give in the flesh beneath them. A pale scar stretched from his right shoulder to the middle of his back amidst fresh lash marks. A blade had created the raised ridge. During training or while on patrol? “I’ve grown accustomed to a certain standard. I’m afraid an older warrior might have trouble meeting my expectations.”

It was gratifying to see Yur’s posture stiffen. Had he forgotten she was nothing like the other
Na’Reishi
women? How typical of him to think she’d quietly accept a mating ceremony. One that would never eventuate.

“My forwardness upsets you”—she shrugged, a half-assed apology considering she had trouble containing a smile—“but my potential mate needs to know that I’m a woman of particular tastes.”

She wrapped her fingers around Arek’s arm, just beneath the armband, the sleek warmth of his skin as pleasing as the fine dusting of hair covering it. Brushing her cheek against his bicep, she inhaled deeply, drawing his clean, earthy scent in to her lungs. A welcome respite from Yur’s heavy musk.

“Tastes I enjoy indulging in. Frequently.” Imhara slid her fingers over the wide curve of Arek’s chest, enjoying the latent strength contained in his hard flesh, then traced the hollow dip of his collarbone. “As this human would know. Isn’t that right, slave?”

Beneath the tanned column of Arek’s throat, the rhythm of his pulse was fast. Pressing her hand flat to his chest, she could feel the heavy pounding of his heart.