Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars (10 page)

Paul stroked Andra’s back. “We’ll cage her before we let you put her to sleep. We’ve already decided.”

“Then we cage her, because there’s no way we can let her roam free after what she did today.”

“I’ll talk to Joseph,” said Andra. “I’ll see if he’ll let us put bars on her door and windows so she can stay here.”

It wasn’t going to end well. Tynan could already tell that much.

Tori began to writhe on the bed, making pitiful sounds of pain and terror.

Tears spilled down Andra’s face. “Don’t let Nika know how bad she is. It would kill her.”

“The two of them are connected. Nika probably already knows.”

Andra shook her head. “No. Tori still protects her, even though she’s barely human. Nika was the one who was with her in her mind for all of those years of captivity. Tori won’t repay that by making Nika suffer. I don’t want you to, either.”

“I agree. We’ll keep this to ourselves.” Not only was it the right thing to do, but it would garner good faith with
Andra as well as keeping Nika’s mind free of worry. Tynan wanted Nika happy and content so that nothing interfered with her ability to become pregnant.

A few weeks ago, he’d given Nika’s husband a serum he hoped would cure his infertility. With any luck at all, Tynan’s tireless efforts would pay off and Theronai babies would once again be born. It was the only hope his people had for avoiding starvation.

He moved to Tori under the guise of checking her pulse. Andra was protective of her younger sisters, and he didn’t want to do anything to anger her.

Tynan sent his power streaming out through his touch and found the seething, rotting pain of Tori’s nightmares. He couldn’t shield her from them, but he could blunt their edges for a time by taking them into himself. It was difficult to do, and taxing on his already dwindling power, but Tori deserved a bit of rest after what she’d been through.

He gathered up her nightmares, allowing them to flow into himself. The images hit him hard, nauseating him. He refused to look directly at them for fear of driving himself mad. There was too much torment there, too much agony and hopelessness. If he looked at it for too long, it would suck him in and destroy him.

Tynan shoved all of it into a corner of his mind and locked it away. It was still there. He could feel the fetid edges of it trying to creep out, but this wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this. It took all his willpower, but he managed to take control and face Paul and Andra as if nothing had happened. “She’ll sleep peacefully for at least a couple of hours. Don’t wake her.”

Andra nodded, sniffing. “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” said Paul.

He left his wife behind, and as soon as they were out of sight, he stopped Tynan. “Take my blood. I know you need it after what you did for her.”

“I wasn’t able to do anything.”

“Liar.” Paul lifted his wrist. “Go ahead. I owe you.”

Tynan was too weak to resist such an offer. He was ashamed that he wasn’t stronger, but that changed nothing. His actions were the same. In the end, his actions would always be the same.

He’d do whatever it took to survive—to keep his people alive—no matter who had to bleed to make it happen.

Zillah trembled with fury as he stood before his peers. Synestryn lords lined the cave, each seated upon a throne carved from the surrounding stone. Tiny crystals twinkled along the walls of the cavern, and in the center of the space was a large fire, casting flickering shadows over everything.

He’d been summoned. Like a dog. And like a dog, he knew better than to ignore the call. He was powerful, controlling a vast swath of land, but no one was powerful enough to ignore the might of several of the other Synestryn lords combined.

“Why was I interrupted and forced to come here?” he asked.

Raygh—one of the other Synestryn lords present—had apparently been instrumental in the summons, for he was the first to answer. He was tall and skeletal, his bluish skin hanging on his bones, so loose, it looked like it might simply slough off at any moment. His nostrils were flat holes in the center of his face, each one leaking mucus onto his lips. He hunched over like an old human man, but there was nothing frail about him. His slit eyes glowed with power. “We question your ability to protect your holdings. And your loyalty.”

Fury blasted through Zillah, and he gripped the hilt of the stolen sword at his side. “How dare you question me?” he demanded.

“We granted you land and all the humans on it. You were to cultivate them, separate the meat from those
with power, and find breeders. And instead, you allowed the breeders to escape. At least two of them carry our young, and they are now in Sentinel hands. You failed. Even worse, you allowed the Sentinels to learn of our plans too soon. Your failure has ruined what we have spent years creating. Because of that, your lands are revoked. The question we’re here to settle is one of loyalty—whether or not we should spare your life.”

He was too shocked to speak for a long moment. Yes, the Sentinels had invaded his territory and stolen his breeding stock, but that didn’t give the lords gathered here the right to take away what was his. Those lands had been his for years. He’d earned them, working his way up in power until he was strong enough to kill the Synestryn lord who’d held them previously.

“You can’t do that,” growled Zillah.

“The decision is made,” said Raygh. “We will hear your defense if you have one.”

“I don’t have to defend myself to any of you. You are my equals.”

Another Synestryn lord behind him snorted in derision.

Zillah whirled around to face him. His head was too large for his body, fleshy and bulbous, with protruding bug eyes and thick, scaly lips. He looked less human than the others gathered here, covered in fur, with talons instead of fingers. When he spoke, the words were barely understandable. “You are weak. Too human. Food.”

“I’ll show you weak,” promised Zillah as he drew his sword. An instant later, he became immobile, his body frozen.

“That answers the question of loyalty,” said Raygh, spinning Zillah around with a wave of his hand. “You will be put to death for your crimes.”

Fear swelled in Zillah’s mind, leaving room for nothing else. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t defend himself.

“No. I have a better idea,” said a man from the shadows. Zillah thought he recognized the voice, but couldn’t place it exactly. “He may yet be of use if he can learn some humility.”

“What do you suggest, son?” asked Raygh.

“Lock him up. Use him for blood, rather than meat.”

Zillah’s muscles clenched as he tried to fight his way free. He couldn’t allow himself to be treated like a human.

High, strained sounds vibrated from his chest, but his mouth would not move.

“What say you?” Raygh asked the gathering. “Meat or blood.”

“Blood,” said the lord on Raygh’s left.

“Blood,” said the next.

“Blood.”

On it went, around the room, until the last voice echoed out, “Blood,” sealing Zillah’s fate.

I
t had felt so good. So right.

Jackie had been sucked in by whatever magic Iain had. She’d fallen for it. She hadn’t meant to, but when he’d pulled her up against his hard body and wrapped her up in bubbling warmth, she’d been powerless to resist.

In that moment, she’d given in to his need and let it wash over her, giving her purpose. No one was around to see her weakness, and it had been so long since she’d been held like that.

Not that she’d ever been held quite like that.

There was no comparison between Iain’s powerful body and those of the men she’d been with before. They were like scrawny preteens next to a professional athlete. At first it had been a shock, but then her body had a mind of its own and began to relax into his embrace, enjoying it.

The pleasure trickling through her had grown with each passing second, until she was sure that she couldn’t hold any more. He’d made her want things she’d thought she’d never want again. He’d almost made her believe that maybe her life wasn’t beyond repair.

She could picture the two of them, together. Touching. Even kissing.

The thought made her toes curl in her shoes and her fingers dig into his skin. She was driven to try it. Just
once. She needed to feel his lips on hers and see if the crazy desire was real or imagined.

She’d lifted her head in search of his mouth. That’s when she’d seen his face.

She’d thought he was different, but that had been a lie. That look of hope she’d seen in all the men was there, on Iain’s face, mocking her.

She’d panicked and pushed hard enough to break his grip, but it had been a mistake. She’d hurt him.

Iain fell to the ground, gurgling and shaking, like he was having some kind of seizure. And then he went still.

Jackie panicked. She didn’t know what to do or how to help. All she knew was that she was afraid to touch him again, even to see if he was breathing. Her touch had done this. She didn’t know how, but it had.

Hating what she knew she had to do, she rushed to her purse, fumbled for her phone, and called Helen. In a voice that sounded panicked even to her own ears, she told her sister what had happened.

“It’s okay,” said Helen, her tone steady. “You can fix it. Just put your hand on his skin.”

“No. That’s what made this happen.”

“No, it didn’t. That only happens if you pull away suddenly. He’s strong. He’ll be fine. Just do what I say. Trust me. I’ve been right where you are.”

Jackie held her breath and took Iain’s hand in hers. His thick fingers were limp in her grasp. “It’s not working,” she told Helen.

“Give it a minute.”

Maybe she wasn’t touching him enough. She set the phone down, scooted close, kneeling over him, and then put her other hand on his face. His skin was smooth from his recent shave. He was warm, and now that she was closer, she could see his pulse, strong and steady, in his neck.

Iain’s eyes opened. His fingers twined through hers and he covered the hand on his face with his, holding it in place.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

His powerful chest heaved with each rapid breath. Sweat dotted his forehead. His dark gaze slid over her face, then to where their hands joined, their fingers threaded together.

He was so warm, sinking into her skin and spreading out to drive away even the memory of a chill. His silence stretched on, making her wonder if he’d heard and understood her question.

What if he was still in too much pain?

“Iain? Are you okay?”

He hadn’t moved, and she didn’t dare try to get away again for fear of what it might do to him a second time.

Her hands broke out in a nervous sweat, and her gaze moved down to the broad plane of his chest. She couldn’t look him in the eye right now. She was too far out of her element, too off-balance. If she got another glimpse of the hope she’d seen shining in him, she knew she’d freak out.

He sat up, bringing his head close to hers. Their mouths were only inches apart, making hers water. She hadn’t even thought about kissing a man for years, and yet she was doing so now. In fact, she could think of little else but how his lips would feel against hers, how he’d taste. His fingers slid across the back of her hand. Spirals of heat wove their way into her skin and up her arm, expanding inside her chest until they reached every part of her. A shiver shook her spine.

Dark, compelling need gathered low in her belly, conjuring images of things she knew she shouldn’t want. Her skin heated, and the vibrations coming from his hands seemed to engulf her entire body. All she had to do was let go, and she knew that he’d take care of her. Give her the kind of pleasure she’d been denied for far too long.

Having a lover was normal. She could let herself do that. Here. Now.

His gaze moved to her mouth, and he swallowed. A dark look of need filled his eyes. “I want you,” he said, as if it surprised him.

A thrill of victory shot along her spine. Yes. That was what she wanted. She knew she shouldn’t want it, but logic was not getting a vote. Not this time.

“Jackie?” came Helen’s voice from what seemed like a long way away.

Suddenly, Jackie became acutely aware of the cell phone lying only a foot away from them.

She tugged on her hand so she could deal with the phone, but Iain didn’t let go.

She raised her voice and spoke so Helen could hear. “Iain’s fine now, Helen. Thanks for your help.”

“Okay. Bye,” she heard Helen say, a bit too cheerfully. Then the phone’s screen displayed the length of the terminated call.

Iain captured her hand from his face and leaned forward, burying his nose against her neck. He nudged the high collar of her shirt, trying to move it out of his way.

Panic gripped her before she could catch herself. He wasn’t a demon. He didn’t want her blood. Still, she didn’t want him to see the scars there—the rough patches of skin left behind from the constant feedings she’d endured. They were ugly reminders of her captivity. Even she could barely stand to look at them.

She managed to pull one hand free and hold her collar in place. “Don’t.” Her voice was cold, final.

He stopped, lifting his head. His black eyes studied her face. A slight frown creased his brow. She couldn’t tell if he was upset, confused, or both. And then all emotions vanished from his face as if they’d never been there. It was as if he’d flipped a switch and simply turned them off. “I need to take you back to Dabyr.”

“No.”

“This isn’t right. If I stay with you, I’m going to forget that.”

“What if I don’t care?”

“You will. When it’s over. You’d care. I can’t do anything to knowingly hurt you. I have to retain my honor.”

His honor? That’s what this was about? “Sleeping with me isn’t honorable?”

He looked at her mouth again and she saw dark need flicker in his eyes. “Not if I know it’s not what you really want.”

The heat inside of her began to dissipate, allowing her to think clearly. He was right. They couldn’t do this. As much as she’d enjoy a few fleeting moments of pleasure, she had to live with herself once this was over. This was her chance to make a break from these people, not tie herself to one of them. “You should leave me. I’ll be fine on my own.”