Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars (8 page)

That suited her just fine.

The landscape slid by them, the hope of spring hovering over everything. It was as if the world had just pulled in a deep breath and was holding it in anticipation.

Jackie lasted for all of ten minutes before she couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Do you hurt? Like the others?”

“Hurt?”

“Helen said that holding in all that power hurts you.” That thought had haunted Jackie the most—knowing these men were in pain. Helen had said Jackie could make it stop.

“Helen talks too much.”

She took that as verification of what she’d suspected. Iain was in pain, like the others. She’d only seen a couple
of flashes of it—always after he’d touched her, as if she somehow made it worse. “How do you manage it?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

She turned in her seat and stared at him, hoping her silence would force him to speak. His grip had tightened on the wheel, but other than that, his posture was relaxed. She wished she could do the same, but the tension riding between her shoulder blades never seemed to leave, even when she slept. Not that she did much of that these days. Nightmares of her time in captivity made it hard, and after she woke up a few days ago to one of the Theronai standing over her bed, watching her with desperate hope in his eyes, sleep had not come easily.

Why, of all the dozens of Theronai she’d met, was Iain the only one who looked at her differently? Jackie stared at him, trying to figure him out.

His luceria was paler than the other men’s, so pale it was nearly silver. She couldn’t see enough distinction between the colors to tell if there was any movement in the band, as there was in those of the other men like him.

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to put it on and wield the kind of power her sisters had. Would it hurt? Would it feel good? Would she feel anything at all?

There was only one way to find out, and she wasn’t curious enough to try it.

She stole glances at Iain as he drove, doing her best to hide it. She couldn’t help but stare. He intrigued her with his impassive expression, leaving her to puzzle out what he was thinking.

He had nice features—high cheekbones, a wide jaw and strong chin with a slight cleft. His beard had grown out just a bit, shadowing his jaw. There were a few paler spots where scars dotted his skin, and she wondered if he’d gotten them in the same attack that had scarred his hand, or if there had been others.

Jackie reached out to trace her finger over that scar before she realized what she was doing. She snatched her hand back and shoved it under her thigh to keep it where it belonged. Touching Iain was not an option. It made her feel strange, tingly and warm.

She remembered that warmth from the night he’d rescued her. She’d been so cold for so long. The heat of his skin felt like sunlight spreading through her. Shock and weakness had numbed her, but that heat had penetrated through the haze, giving her something to focus on so she could hold herself together for just a little longer—long enough to see that the children were all brought out safely.

It occurred to her that she didn’t think she’d ever thanked him for that. He’d gone after the kids alone, risking his life to save them. She owed him for that. But was her debt large enough to do what these people wanted and give up her life?

Iain’s seat was pushed all the way back to make room for his body, and despite the cool temperatures outside, his arms were bare beneath his short sleeves. Corded muscles wove their way up over his shoulders, and she could see just a bit of his tree tattoo peeking out from his sleeve and creeping up his neck. What branches she could see were all bare—not a good sign among his kind, according to Helen.

“How much time do you have left?” she asked him, before she thought better of it.

“As much as it takes,” he answered a bit too quickly.

“How many leaves?”

He turned and gave her a steady stare. “If you want to know that, you’ll have to count them.”

The idea of getting his shirt off sent a little trill of something shooting through her. Fear? Excitement? She couldn’t really tell. It had come and gone too fast for her to make any sense out of it.

“I think I’ll pass.”

He grunted. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

The sun burned her eyes, and she’d just now realized how low it had gotten in the sky. She’d been staring at him for way too long. Sunset was only a few minutes away. “We need to find a safe place to stop.”

“I thought you wanted to see Samson.”

“I do, but I don’t want to go there at night. I can’t risk drawing any of the monsters to him.”

Iain accepted that without argument. “There’s a Gerai house not far from here.”

“No. That’s part of your world, not mine. We’ll find a hotel.”

“Suit yourself. But just so we’re clear, we’re sharing a room.”

“I don’t think so. I may have picked you, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“I’m not going to fuck you. I’m not even going to touch you. But if you think that I’m going to leave you unguarded so that you can be taken again, you’re wrong. One room, Jackie. I’m not negotiating with you on this.”

“Two beds,” she demanded.

“If that makes you feel better, but I won’t need one. I won’t be sleeping.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you not to run off. That’s not happening on my watch, even if it means I invest in a nice pair of handcuffs.”

Jackie didn’t doubt for a second that he’d do it. While some of the other men might have hesitated to do anything to upset her, Iain didn’t seem to suffer from that same soft spot. For some reason, that was part of what she liked about him. He wasn’t pretending. This was who he was, and he wasn’t changing himself to try to entice her. As inconvenient as it was that he wasn’t bowing to her every wish, she had to respect that.

They pulled into the first hotel they found, just as the sun was setting. It was a bit dated and run-down, but as long as the beds were clean, she didn’t care.

Jackie grabbed her suitcase from the bed of the truck, and hurried inside, not waiting to see if Iain was keeping up.

She checked in and headed right to their ground-floor room, which wasn’t nearly large enough now that she was standing in it with Iain right behind her. She could feel the heat coming off his body, hear his slow, even breathing.

He dropped a duffel bag on the floor and went directly to the window. He shoved the sheers back and pressed against the glass.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing to make sure it’s airtight. I don’t want the Synestryn to smell you in here.”

“Smell me?” She did not like the sound of that at all.

“It can happen, especially if you bleed. Since I didn’t think you’d want me inquiring about your menstrual cycle, I thought I’d be safe rather than sorry.”

That news left her standing there, going numb from the feet up. “You’re telling me that once a month the monsters can smell me?”

“At least that often. Unless you’d like to actually pick a man whose luceria you
want
to wear. You could use magic to mask your scent, and to protect yourself if one of the demons did find you.”

The way he’d said that made her blink in confusion. “How did you know I didn’t want to wear your luceria?”

“You’re not exactly a master of subterfuge, Jackie. Any more than I’m a fluffy white bunny. You picked me because you knew you wouldn’t like me, so you wouldn’t be tempted to take pity on me and do the one thing you don’t ever want to do: become a part of my world.”

He was a lot more astute than she gave him credit for. “That’s not exactly right.”

Iain went to the door and engaged both locks. Then he opened his bag and began pulling out items. “No?”

“I picked you because you were the only one who knew the score.”

“And what score is that?”

“I’m not like you. I’ll never be like you.”

“Wrong. You don’t want to be like us. You are, but you’re going to fight it, kicking and screaming, every step of the way.”

“You make me sound selfish.”

He shook his dark head. “No, just childish. But you’re young. You have centuries to grow up and do the right thing. I just hope you do so before any more of my brothers die.”

Jackie stood there in shock, reeling from his talk of death, his insult, and the thought of living that long. He’d worded it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that she had to face it.

He grabbed a change of clothes, a toothbrush, and razor. “I’m going to shower while the sky is still light. You should be safe for the few minutes it will take me to clean up. Then I’ll stand by and guard you while you sleep.”

She watched him disappear into the bathroom, her feet rooted to the same spot.

He was right. She was so concerned about what she wanted that she hadn’t really spent any time considering how her decision would affect others, beyond her certainty that she’d let them down. Her pain had blinded her. She was so wrapped up in getting over what she’d endured that she didn’t stop and think about what the men who’d saved her had endured every day. For centuries. Only there was no rescue for them unless she was the one doing the saving.

It wasn’t what she wanted. This world. The demons and magic.

Did that matter? It didn’t seem to matter to Iain. He did what needed to be done and didn’t even bring his wants into the equation.

Could she do that? Could she truly be that selfless?

She’d already given up two years of her life. How
could they ask her to give up the rest of it as well? Especially now that she was starting to realize just how long that was going to be.

Then again, how could they not ask her to do it? She was special, as much as she hated that fact. She was the only woman they’d ever found who could partner with any of the men. She hadn’t asked for this burden, but she’d always been responsible in the past. Could she really turn a blind eye to so much need?

Iain came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, a cloud of soap-scented steam following in his wake. His hair was damp, and the shadow of stubble was gone.

“You haven’t moved,” he stated.

She wasn’t sure how he knew that, but she let the words pass by. They were unimportant to what he’d say in response to her next question.

“All the unbound men need me. All of them want me—with the apparent exception of you. They all think I’m some kind of miracle. How in the world am I supposed to live up to those expectations? And how do I pick who gets to live?” And who had to die.

Iain was going back through his conversations with Jackie, trying to determine how she’d realized he didn’t want a union with her, while he formulated the answer to her question.

Anger at his carelessness gathered in a swirling mass behind his eyes. If anyone found out that he didn’t want her the way he should, it could compromise the Band of the Barren. He couldn’t betray them, even unknowingly. He had to keep up the ruse and figure out exactly where he’d gone wrong so he wouldn’t do it again. And he had to make sure she told no one what she suspected.

He stared at her, calculating his next move. She was more perceptive than he would have guessed, and if he didn’t convince her to drop this line of questioning, he might accidentally reveal something crucial—something
that could get his brothers killed. The real question was, if it came down to a choice between the Band or Jackie, who would he choose to live? She could save only one man, but she could cause the death of many.

Just the thought was enough to make the monster inside of him rear its head and howl in rage. He wouldn’t let her hurt his brothers. He wouldn’t let her curiosity send good men to die at the hands of the Slayers.

“This partnership is a long-term thing,” he told her carefully, keeping his anger in check. “Permanent in most cases. You need to pick a man you can stand to spend eternity with.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to know that? I don’t even know what I want for breakfast tomorrow.”

It didn’t matter what she wanted. It was her duty to save one of them, and he was going to make sure she did it. “You’re an intelligent woman. You’ll figure it out.”

“And if I want you?” she asked, her voice quiet and uncertain.

“Don’t,” he snarled before he could stop himself. His beast pounded at its confines, demanding to be set free. Just for a moment. Just long enough to force her to do the right thing.

She took a step back, fear flickering through her expression.

Iain fought the urge to follow her up and use his bulk to intimidate her, scare her. It didn’t matter how he got her to pick Cain or one of the others, so long as she did. “I’m not the kind of man you want to spend eternity with.”

Her brows lowered over her gray eyes, hiding her fear. “So, you’re just going to let yourself die?” she asked.

“I have no intention of dying anytime soon.”

“Then why aren’t you falling over yourself to convince me to be with you, the way the others have?”

“I’ve made promises.”

“To another woman?”

He’d been thinking about how he couldn’t fail the men who looked to him for survival, but her question gave him the excuse he needed. “Serena,” he said, trying to sound sad. “She died the night of the attack. All I found of her was a pile of severed hair and part of her skirt.” There hadn’t even been any blood, as if she’d simply been picked up and carried away, never to be seen again.

To add veracity to his story, he went to his duffel and pulled out a golden locket. In it was a miniature portrait of Serena and a small braided lock of fiery red hair. He carried it now more out of habit than sentimentality. He hadn’t grieved for her for a long time—one of the few blessings of his soulless state.

Iain handed the locket to Jackie. She opened it and pulled in a shocked breath. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“And you miss her, even after all these years?”

“I loved her.” And now he couldn’t even remember what that had felt like. Sorrow, joy, eagerness…all of those he could remember, but love had been lost to him for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she closed the locket and handed it back to him.