BloodLust (Rise of the Iliri Book 1) (5 page)

The eyes of the recruits smothered her when she crossed the ring to ease her tired body against the fence post once more.  The respect felt good but the surprise in their eyes brought a whole new resentment.  Before she could dwell on the faults of her human competition, the Lieutenant addressed them again.

"Now that you've seen my Blades in action, you know what is, and will be, expected of each of you.  Few of you could match them in combat," he said with a nod to Sal and the veteran, "but you will have to be as good as any of them to pass these trials.  If you cannot improve – and quickly – there is no shame in resigning your application.  It will not be looked on poorly if you do and choose to apply again at a later date.  Razor is bunked in cabin ten.  He will arrange transportation for anyone who chooses to rethink his preparedness.

"You have the rest of the night off.  The pub is behind the barns, next to the arena.  We will meet again tomorrow at 1300, this time at the arena.  Enjoy yourselves, and really think about why you are here."   He strode out of the courtyard in the direction of their cabins.

Chapter 5

Sal staggered into her room and began peeling the form-fitting clothes from her body before realizing she wasn't alone.  The smell of a human permeated the air.  With her shirt unbuttoned, she folded her ears against her skull and pulled her arms from the sleeves.  Tossing it to the floor, she turned to her bed, thankful for the standard issue tank all female military personnel were expected to wear.  Zep eyed her intently. 

"Go ahead.  Don't let me stop you," he said.  "I won't complain about seeing a woman out of her clothes."

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, tired and aching to the core of her being.

"I owe you one.  Whether you realized it or not, I made a bet with you that I could throw you off your game, and you won.  I figured I'd pay up and buy you as many drinks as you can throw down at the pub.  Besides, it won't hurt for you and I to be seen together... pleasantly."

"Mhm.  A few drinks.  Seriously, sir?" she asked.  "I'm tired, I'm bumped and bruised, and all I want in this world is to pass these trials.  Unless your drinks can miraculously make these aches leave in time for whatever we'll do tomorrow, then the only thing I'm interested in is a hot bath and a long sleep!"

"Well, I can offer two things to mollify you.  First, all you'll need tomorrow is your brain.  Second..." he trailed off, and she heard him yelling mentally, but couldn't make out the words since it wasn't directed at her.  "I can get someone to help those bruises, too."

The link clicked in her head when Shift joined the conversation,
I can help with that, but Zep, you owe me one. 
The image of a woman's cleavage flashed across her mind and Zep laughed.

You don't like her anyway, man
, Zep shot back. 
So I think you're the one that owes me! 
He dropped the link and looked to her.  "Ok Sal, you grab that bath you want so bad, and I'll make myself presentable enough to be seen with you.  Oh, and wear the red one.  It's in the closet."  He walked confidently out of her room without waiting for a response.

When the door closed, she shook her head and pinned the lock, amused at Zep's arrogance, then stripped out of the last of her clothes.  After scrubbing the worries of the day from her body, she returned to her wardrobe and pulled it open.  A selection of new clothes hung beside her uniforms.  The "red one" Zep referred to was a fitted jacket and corset combo, complete with tails.  Black and red brocade formed the corset; the jacket was made of a brilliant red velvet.  The pants matched the ensemble, a delicate red pattern woven throughout.  The clothes were beautiful and of a quality she'd never worn.

She pulled on the skin-hugging outfit and was lacing the corset when she heard the knock.  Crossing the room in her stockinged feet, Sal unpinned the lock and welcomed Shift in.  He stopped in his tracks, looking her over. 

"I'm glad I didn't miss this.  Wow, Sal.  You look amazing!" His words made her smile.

He walked all the way around her, making appreciative noises before pushing her to a chair.  "Ok, business first.  You're gonna want to be sitting for this."

Kneeling before her, he grabbed her hands and looked deep in her eyes.  Sal felt like a player in a bad proposal until it hit her.  The world jerked sideways and her vision split.  The room doubled: two wardrobes, two walls, and more importantly, two Shifts.  Suddenly, she realized how he earned his name.  It felt like he'd shifted reality.  When he released her hands, she swayed, waiting for the room to settle and her vision to return to normal.  Sal tried to concentrate on her breathing and closed her eyes while the vertigo passed.

"That's the best I can do," he said, "but you're an easy patient.  The bruises should be gone, and no, the aches won't return tomorrow."

"Thank you, Shift," she managed to say.  "I do feel better."  It was true.  The vertigo passed and her aching muscles felt fit and ready to use.  The bruises no longer screamed beneath the corset.  "I guess that's your special trick, huh?"

"Yep.  So you finish getting ready and make Zep look like the big man he thinks he is.  Oh, and use the riding boots, they'll go perfectly, and you'll want to break them in."

How did the Blades have such intimate knowledge of her wardrobe?  They treated her like their latest toy, a doll for them to dress up.

Something like that,
Shift agreed as he closed the door behind him.
  In reality, it's because Razor will requisition a set of armor for you, if you make it far enough.  Risk looked up your stats in your file and we all found a reason you needed something nice.  Oh, and if you don't want us in your head, you're going to have to learn to stop sending.  You always leak your feelings loud and clear.

She sighed but wouldn't let it prevent her from enjoying feeling beautiful for once in her life.  Sal pulled the riding boots on like Shift suggested and sent a thought across the street to Zep.  She took one last look in the mirror.  The brilliant colors made her look washed out, but she had a few cosmetics.  Her white iliran skin was smooth and, after Shift's efforts, blemish free.  Grabbing kohl, she lined her lids, unsure if she approved of how it accented her white eyes and lashes, making them look so stark.  A few swipes of dark mascara helped even out the look.  Just as Zep entered her room, she found a tube of brilliant red lipstick.  Sal stained her lips before turning to acknowledge him.

Dressed in a double breasted and ornately piped jacket that hugged his broad chest, with pants of almost liquid leather, Zep stood one step inside her door, his mouth hanging open.  After a few false attempts, he finally managed, "The red was a good choice."

She'd never been complimented like this before.  The Black Blades treated her like she was beautiful, attractive, and almost human.  No matter how she tried to deny it, she enjoyed it.  She'd always been aware of how her features differed.  Her ears sat on the top of her head and swiveled like a rodent's.  Her nose was convex rather than dished.  Her eyes were too large, her teeth looked more like they belonged in the mouth of a dog than a person, and of course her milk white skin and hair.  About the only thing she had in common with humans was that they both walked on two feet, yet even Zep found her attractive.  They weren't just being polite; she could smell the desire on them.  She liked it, but the feelings confused her.

Zep gallantly offered his arm and she took it with a shy smile.  Together, they made their way to the pub, the music and laughter audible before the building could be seen.  He escorted her to a quiet table at the back, the walls deflecting the sound from the main room enough for a conversation to be held in levels other than screaming.  Leaving her for a moment, Zep wound his way to the bar, returning with two drinks.  He slid one to her and sipped at his own.  Sal openly watched the people roaming about.

Most were obviously soldiers.  A few were civilians, their mannerisms and posture giving it away.  The soldiers moved like warriors, some with the swaying gait from too many hours in the saddle, others with the catlike grace of infantry.  A second story was barely visible from their table.  The decor in bold stripes and bright colors made the rooms look even more spacious. 

Zep leaned over, touching Sal lightly on her wrist, then pointed beside her.  Following his finger she saw the Lieutenant, a drink in hand, laughing with a group of women before pulling himself away and heading up the stairs. 

Even LT takes some time to relax.  You need to learn how to enjoy yourself a bit.

The direct contact made his thoughts clear in her head rather than sounding like he screamed across a vast distance.  She didn't break the touch.  Instead, she sent him a scrap of her past.

She showed her life as an aid in an office, applying time after time for a promotion to the field, always being denied because her kind "would go feral."  Another flash of working out on the pells.  Her off hours were the only time she could train for combat, and cadets amused themselves by throwing trash at her while she practiced.  A scrap of her before the military, as a girl of twelve, knees raw and fingers bleeding from the caustic chemicals she scrubbed with, cleaning ground-in dirt from the expensive engravings on the entryway tiles.

I am enjoying myself, Zep, but I worked too hard to get here to take it for granted.

He patted her hand in understanding.
We've all been there, believe it or not.  LT, too.  But girl, you kicked my ass today.  All that work paid off.  Everything from here on out is going to take your brains, not your training, to get through.  Finish your drink, I'll get another.

She swallowed what was left, clenching her teeth at the warmth when it slid down her throat.  Zep stood, grabbed her wrist once more to judge her mind before smirking and heading to the bar.  He returned quickly, this time empty handed.

"I have a waitress bringing a selection over.  I plan to get you drunk and make you to admit how you managed to get inside my guard."

The waitress arrived with a tray full of shots and left them on the table.  Zep tipped the girl and slid a tiny glass at Sal. 

"Bottoms up," he said, matching action to words.

She tipped the glass to her lips, swallowing and blinking.  Another took its place.  By the third, Sal couldn't deny the effects.  A comfortable warmth embraced her and the smile refused to leave her lips, her edged teeth flashing.  When Zep invited her to dance, she couldn't find a reason not to.  Gyrating to the hypnotic music, she whirled and tipped, not always intentionally.  Eventually, another black-clad man cut in, and Sal recognized Razor through the haze in her head.  They, too, spun and writhed, Sal laughing at the seriousness of his efforts.  At the break in each song, she found Zep's hand, filled with another tiny glass, and his encouragement to swallow the liquid inside.

A whisper of a thought alerted her to a third Blade joining their crowd on the dance floor.  His pleasant scent drifted to her clearly, even in the packed room.  The sharp edge of his mind cut through her haze when his calloused hand gently caressed the back of her neck.  She turned to face him, and found herself standing with Cyno, his thumb resting against the pulse in her throat.

Care ta dance, kitten?
he asked.

She nodded, and he gently took her hand as a slower and more intimate song played.  Cyno's shoulder was even with her eyes, and in her intoxicated state she couldn't see a reason not to rest her head on it.  He smelled like home should, and she inhaled deeply, trying to take it in. 

He slipped one hand around her waist to the small of her back, gently pulling her closer.  Together they wove patterns on the floor, their bodies touching.  His heart beat fast against her body and a strange look crossed his face each time he met her eyes.  He couldn't hold her gaze, though, and kept looking at the ground.  When the music ended he pulled himself away.  Like a perfect gentleman, he offered to escort her from the dance floor, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

My turn,
she heard.  They paused when yet another dance partner stepped from the crowd.  This time it was Risk.

Sal hadn't been formally introduced to the iliri crossbred, but she recognized the similarities he shared with her own features.  With her inhibitions lowered, she sent a thought his way. 
I hear you easily.  I heard a few others easily, but some I have to touch before I can get in their mind.  Why?

Ah, it's the iliri in us,
he replied as he led her back to the dance floor.
The more blood we share with you, the easier we can hear each other.  That's why poor Zep is always screaming in our heads but still so very quiet.

You too?  I thought maybe it was just because I'd been so angry with him, or he was closing me out.

No, no.  Nothing like that.  It's an iliri trick.  We need a catalyst, you see, and for us, that's Arctic. 
While the music played, he guided her with a sinuous grace she hadn't expected, dancing languidly, using his entire body to move with the sounds.

Arctic is the linker, and to share thoughts like this, we need a link,
he explained. 
Without him keeping a "channel" open, we'd be as silent in your head as any human.  Even Zep, who has no iliri blood as far as we can tell, can be heard with Arctic's help, but he has to work harder.

Does Arctic have to concentrate to do it?  I mean...
Words failed her, so she sent a jumble of worry over Arctic meditating in a room so the Black Blades could use his mind for their own entertainment.