DarykHunter (26 page)

Ketera.

* * * * *

Ketera awakened to a new day peeking under the tent flap, surprised she’d been able to sleep at all after she’d been tossed into Drakus’ tent. Battered and exhausted, she’d fallen onto the lone pallet, a bed bigger than any she’d seen before. While she hadn’t planned to close her eyes, exhaustion had pulled her down until she couldn’t resist.

Now, when her eyes opened, she couldn’t believe the light that trickled under the tent flap. How could she have slept so well knowing the danger lurking nearby? Drakus could have come into the room and…

What? She shook her head and sat up. She glanced around the tent and took in what she’d missed in the semi-gloom last evening.

The tent possessed far more luxuries than she expected. Not only was the bed wide and long, with six fluffy pillows that didn’t fit the image of a dastardly and cruel man, the linens on the bed were exotic. Gold threads wove through a purple base, and red stripes gave the cover on the bed an expensive appearance. All around her the evidence showed that Drakus had wealth. Though he traveled light, what he did possess was precious materials and metals she knew only Magonia offered.

Perhaps every rumor about Drakus was true. The man plundered Magonian ships, stole their woman and planned to breed with them all. Her presence here offered him one thing. Either he wanted revenge on his half brother, or he wanted to breed with her and produce an heir. Extreme dread burned a hollow in her stomach.

Before she could take in any additional surroundings, the flap rose and a man walked inside. He was tall, well over six feet. No one had introduced him, yet she couldn’t mistake the swagger and the arrogance that demanded full cooperation.

Drakus Fina.

Like all the Daryk Ones she’d seen, he wore a sleeveless tunic with a breastplate. Although his breastplate featured a large green dragon on the front, white teeth bared in a roar, there was a regal aspect to his bearing and stride that spoke of a highborn man. This surprised her—she’d expected a roughness and crudeness. No, this man had more than brute force at his disposal. He owned power and persuasion. His muscled arms were lined with sinew and power. Black leather breeches curved over narrow hips and long legs. She shouldn’t have been surprised that a man many considered evil was also so handsome. Long, blond hair with red streaks in it flowed in thick locks over his shoulders and reached to mid chest. Despite his beautiful hair, his face had a craggy handsomeness that kept him from being too perfect. His eyes were blue, and within them raged a passion she didn’t expect. Nothing about him appeared as she thought it should. This man was Dane’s half brother? She looked closer and realized the curve of his mouth and nose somewhat resembled Dane. Though he was at least ten years older than Dane, Drakus still presented a sensual magnetism that surprised her. Perhaps many women had succumbed to his primal bearing.

Perhaps she’d be the first one who wouldn’t.

She’d met more murderers, thieves and no-account scum in a short amount of time on Dragonia than she would in a lifetime on her own continent. She wasn’t used to consorting willingly or unwillingly with men of few morals.

“It seems I’ve made you speechless.” His voice was deep and mellow. “I am Drakus Fina.”

“I know who you are.”

His eyebrows went up. “How is it that you know?

“Who else would walk into this tent as if they owned it?” She swept the room with one hand. “No one else in this camp could possibly have such luxury.”

A smile lifted his lips that shocked her with its warmth and sincerity. Though his eyes held defiance, cockiness and self-assurance, she reacted down to her toes to his charisma. She hated that because she knew it was all surface. Under his veneer of sophisticated charm lay a brutal killer who drove his mother to suicide.

“You are right. And you are Ketera Aldrancos.”

Surprised, she shifted off the bed and stood. He towered over her, his size as intimidating as Dane’s had been. “How do you know my name?”

“We have a person inside the castle who feeds us all the information we need. She helps us in every way she can.”

“Why would she do such a thing and betray her people?”

He sniffed, the sound one of contempt. “You’re assuming she is from Grimnald Castle.”

“Who is she?”

“Never you mind. She is of no importance. She told me that Dane Charger planned an escape for you. I knew that if you were taken, Dane would have to come for you. The man normally couldn’t be stopped if he wants something bad enough.”

“You don’t know him. Not really.”

He chuckled, and the genuine amusement in the sound sickened her. She wanted to throw something at him. “He is a great fighter. But not the fighter I am.”

The contempt in his voice made her stomach flip-flop. Brother or not, this man held no love for Dane, no sense of family honor.

“Of course, there’s the problem of the castle being destroyed. I’m afraid it was necessary in order to bring about the needed results,” he said.

“Results? To destroy people’s lives? To murder people?”

He shook his head. “Battle is not murder, my dear. I think you’re listening to your Magonian sensibilities. We aren’t the same as you. We require life on the edge of a monumental abyss in order to feel alive. Magonians are staid, prudent, too innocent.”

“That is not true of all of us.”

He clapped his hands together and startled her. “Forgive me. It isn’t true of you. But you are a rare Magonian. Most of you I could care less if I knew.”

“Yet you want to breed with us.”

He smiled. “We need you for the propagation of our people. That is all.” The big man crossed his arms. “And I’m afraid I have even more bad news for you. Our dragon destroyed the donjon with Armen and your lover along with it.”

Her breath caught in disbelief. A chill froze her to the spot. “No.”

He nodded. “Well, I am not one hundred percent certain about Dane, but the chance of him being alive is very slim.” His eyes traced her with disconcerting interest, as if he might enjoy the spoils of war. “Pity. I planned for the dragon to kill Armen, but not Charger. Charger is far too worthy an opponent to be killed in such a manner.”

Anger crawled up her spine and fear sucked the energy from her. She remained standing but just barely. “Then why did you attack Dane?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t control where Charger went. He ran into the donjon on his own. Probably to save the illustrious leader of Grimnald Castle.”

Cold filled her veins, her heart thumping painfully as grief strangled her. While the thought of her father rotting in a Magonia jail filled her with sadness, nothing compared to what she felt now.

For the first time in Ketera’s life, she thought she understood hatred. Throat clogging with tears, she couldn’t form her next sentence. “You…you…”

“Did my men treat you with respect when they brought you here? I know they had to get a bit rough. We found the dead poachers. Did you help kill them? Perhaps you’re more vicious than you realize.”

She blinked, taken aback, throat still aching with the horrible knowledge of Charger’s demise. “What do you care? You kill people. You set a dragon on innocents. You killed Dane Charger.”

“I took you to provoke Charger, but now you have a new purpose. One I think will serve me very well.”

Ketera saw the tent flap behind him rustle the slightest bit, and it caught her attention for a moment. She returned her gaze to the man in front of her.

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “What are you planning?”

“I’m planning to make you my concubine.” He came closer, and she flinched inside.

“Never.” She said between gritted teeth. “You will never touch me.”

He stopped walking toward her, but his smile filled with easy self-assurance. “You say that now, but eventually you’ll become a willing lover who will bear me the children needed to replenish Dragonia.”

Her mouth dried up, her heart quickened, her body clenched. “No. I won’t.”

He shook his head and started for the tent exit. “You don’t understand now, but someday you will.” He gestured once more, a smile flickering over his lips. “I will send Samhala in with food. Eat and enjoy our wine. It comes, after all, from the finest Magonian ships.”

“You plundered the ship I was on. The
Hydrasoseles
.”

He stopped, looked at her intently. “What was left of it after the wave destroyed it, yes. The treasures that floated ashore were many indeed. Unfortunate you weren’t there when we came by. I could have taken you with me then.”

She shivered.

He left the room quickly, and Ketera sank to the bed. Her body trembled from head to toe as sadness gripped her along with an overwhelming desire to break free. Shaking with a desire for revenge, she rose to her feet again and stalked toward the tent flap. She stopped at the entrance, picked up a candlestick and exploded through the flap door at full speed. She dashed past the startled guards in time to see Drakus walking ahead at a leisurely pace. Utter rage exploded inside her, obliterating every other desire within her. She cared about nothing but wreaking havoc on Drakus Fina.

In her heart, she screamed for her love.

Dane!

With all the pent-up anger, sorrow and screaming revenge in her heart, she threw the candlestick at his head.

Chapter Seventeen

Filled with murky hues and distorted sound, Dane’s vision refused to clear. He tried to push away the fuzzy glaze over his eyes but couldn’t.

A few moments later it dissipated and he saw the strange camp laid out over the jungle floor. Most tents were dark save the largest one near one side of the camp. Dane walked toward it without fear, even though two rogue Daryk Ones guarded the entrance. They didn’t appear to see him. He continued onward and walked right between the men into the tent.

Ketera!

She lay on the bed, her body relaxed and prone, her eyes open. She looked sad. Fearful. He tried to speak but nothing would leave his mouth. He reached to touch her and his hand went straight through her arm. As fear bombarded him, he strangled on the possibility that he was a shade. Was he dead?

“Ketera! Ketera can you hear me?”

She sat up as if she might have heard something, but then sat there with a pensive, defiant look he’d seen on her face more times than he could count.

She wasn’t in Magonia, he knew that. She was still here in the Tarrian jungle. Anger destroyed his fear as he searched in his mind for an answer. Was this Drakus Fina’s camp? If so, he must save her. He must do something.

Dane broke from the dream with a gasp, heart hammering in his chest. He lay stunned by what he’d seen, uncertain if it was a nightmare or premonition.

“Bloody hell.” At least he wasn’t dead.

Morning sun spilled into Minilos’ quarters. He threw off the cover and shifted upright in bed then remembered where he was and what else had happened. His head still throbbed, but his body had knitted back together. For the first time in his life, he loved being a Daryk One with restorative powers. He’d awakened with no more bones broken, his vision clear. Yet his anger stayed on full rampage. Several hours of drinking some Draconus-awful concoctions Minilos poured down his throat had repaired Dane. While his body would have mended eventually, potions presented by one of Minilos’ lady friends had spurred his return to health.

He closed his eyes a moment and tried to visualize Ketera happily greeting her father. Then he shook his head.

The dream.

He couldn’t ignore it. He knew what he had to do. Even if Finius had taken her straight to Magonia, something felt wrong. Off. Dane chafed with the feeling and couldn’t tolerate it any longer. He groaned as he stood. He went to the bathing room and washed off the battle. He’d probably ache the rest of the day. After significant injury, a Daryk One could repair quickly, but a lingering soreness could go on for days in the bones and muscles. He hated that, but the alternative was far worse. He could still be lying in Minilos’ bed, broken and half conscious. Within a few days he’d almost forget being crushed under the rubble of the donjon.

Armen. Dane groaned again and dried off. Hatred for Drakus, for the half brother he’d never truly known as a brother, rushed through him. He shoved aside the potent emotion long enough to allow another emotion inside. His fierce need and concern for Ketera. That slightly strange feeling made its way through Dane again. He walked naked back into the room and waited for the sensation to leave. He’d felt it several times over the last few hours, an aching awareness of how much he missed his mate. She needed him. He knew it with everything in his body. Despite his call to duty, to run the castle as its leader, he couldn’t ignore the bizarre feeling. After dressing in fresh clothing and donning his breastplate, he left the room. Minilos was nowhere to be found, but Dane did find tavern workers cleaning up damage. Though the tavern hadn’t been ransacked by the enemy, it looked as if the place otherwise needed some help.

“Where is Minilos?” Dane asked one young woman.

She dropped into a curtsey, her young face filled with deference and fear. “Sir, I didn’t see you there.” She kept her eyes cast downward. “What must I do, my lord?”

My lord?

Dane remembered this was the title given Armen as leader of this castle, but it sounded odd to Dane’s ears. He would have to get used to it.

“Rise.” He gestured. “What is your name?”

“Denatra.”

“Denatra, where is Minilos?”

“Carrying out your duties as you requested, my lord.”

The girl was frail, her skin so delicate-looking it wouldn’t take much to mar it. And it hadn’t. A bruise marked her chin. Her ragged clothing and the haunted look in her blue eyes told him a lot. Her hair, piled on her head in a messy bun, was a dirty shade of blonde and brown. He hadn’t seen her around the tavern before, but then he hadn’t spent that much time there in recent weeks.

“Samhala? Where is she?” he asked.

“I’m her replacement.” She shook her head. “She disappeared around the time of the attack, my lord. Perhaps she was captured?”