Firestorm (15 page)

***

He watched her as she worked on her mate—if the man lying unconscious beside the fire truly was her mate. Despite her words to the contrary, Bahir wasn't so sure the mirah was claimed by the man she nursed so solicitously. There was something about her manner, not to mention the look in her eyes whenever she'd spoken to him. It was not the look of a woman who had sworn to be the dutiful, subservient spouse.

She vaguely reminded him, in her demeanor, at least, of his first mate, Cyra. He wondered what tribe this woman claimed, to be so bold, so forthright in her dealings with men. Perhaps she wasn't even of the desert, though she dressed that way.

Suspicion plucked at him. Bahir continued to study her as his men prepared their evening meal, struggling with the tattered remnants of old, time-faded memories. Had he seen her somewhere before? If so, where? Was she, along with her "mate," a spy, sent by Malam Vorax or one of the desert tribes still loyal to him?

The mirah definitely bore close watching. There might well be more to her and her comrade's presence here than he had first imagined. If there was, Bahir meant to gain the upper hand as swiftly as possible. He hadn't kept his people alive for the past four cycles by waiting for opportunity to fall into his lap.

He'd no intention of changing his tactics now ... no intention of ever allowing himself to be betrayed again.

***

Teague remained unconscious for another hour, long enough for Raina to complete the care and bandaging of his wounds, repack the med supplies in the kit, then furtively study the actions of the Tuarets and their leader. The men seemed as all others, eager to cleanse the grime from their bodies in the pool, then settle down for a tasty meal. Afterward, they sat or lounged about the fire, telling tales, laughing, joking, and covertly watching her.

Their covetous, hungry glances she could handle in the way she'd always done before—by ignoring them. But the vigilant gaze of their leader was much more difficult to discount. Though there was a certain amount of open admiration in his inspection, it was the deeper, almost predatory scrutiny that worried Raina. He didn't trust her. That meant he most likely doubted her claim to a life mating, as well. Exactly what else he suspected, she didn't know, but if it endangered their mission ...

When she'd heard his name, her first reaction, after surprise, had been a wild surge of hope that she could use him to protect and escort them to the firestorm caves in the Barakah Mountains. He was Cyra, the Bellatorian geophysicist's husband, after all, and was said to roam that area of the Ar Rimal. If he and his men were perhaps headed back in that direction . . .

But if he had other plans for them, or decided to stand in their way, well, they still had the blasters and stunners. So far, neither Bahir nor his men had chosen to ask about or examine the weapons. She doubted they were totally ignorant of the blasters' true function, though. Until Incendra's electromagnetic field had intensified just four cycles ago, the planet had permitted limited contact with the rest of the Imperium. Bahir had met Cyra when she was on a scientific expedition, after all.

But thankfully, desert courtesy precluded taking such liberties as touching what wasn't theirs. The owner was expected to be the first to offer. And Raina didn't have any intention of offering her weapons to them.

In the meantime, though, it was best to pretend to a friendly camaraderie and hope, if the nomads truly were heading in the direction of the Barakah Mountains, that they'd offer to take them along. If Teague survived his injuries.

Fleetingly, Raina wondered what the Tuaret leader would do if the monk died. She brushed that unsettling consideration aside almost as swiftly as it had entered her mind. Just as swiftly as she'd brushed aside the notion of giving Bahir Cyra's message.

It could serve as a potential advantage over him in the future. No, until she knew more of this man and his possible plans for them, she'd not share his wife's communication. One problem at a time and—

Teague stirred, moaned softly. His eyes opened. Raina's heart gave a great, joyous leap. She leaned close, her breath so close to his they met and melded.

"We've guests, Tremayne," she whispered. "Have a care what you say."

"Wh-what?" With a painful effort, he turned toward the fire. His glance locked with that of the Tuaret leader, staring straight at them through the flames. "Wh-who is he?"

Raina shot the man a furtive glance. "His name is Bahir. He's the leader of an outlaw Tuaret tribe." On impulse, she kissed Teague on the cheek.

He gave a small start and looked at her in astonishment. "What was that for?"

"Bahir doesn't believe we are life mates. I but wished to demonstrate my undying affection for you."

Teague's mouth quirked wearily. "I'd wager he's not the only one who doesn't believe it, but my thanks for sharing that with me. You had a reason for this sudden life mating, I assume?"

"Of course. I'm not in the habit of taking monks for husbands. Bahir wanted to give me to one of his men."

"Then I'm especially honored to be of service to you." Teague tried to lever to one elbow and failed. He gasped, then grimaced in pain and fell back.

"Oh, the narcotic!" Raina exclaimed. "I'd forgotten. Would you like an injection? I could give you one for pain, as well as the torpine."

He considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "I'll take the narcotic, but not the torpine. With these nomads here, I don't think it'd be wise to leave you, if only in a healing sleep, for twenty-four hours."

"They seem trustworthy enough," she said digging in the med kit for the injectors. She palmed the two in her hand so no one could see them. Little purpose was served drawing undue attention to the fact that they possessed unusual and potentially off-planet technology.

"Trustworthy enough as far as respecting the laws of the desert, at any rate," Raina finally continued. "I think I'll be safe enough for the time being, and the torpine should have quite a favorable effect on external wounds like yours."

"No doubt. Give them both to me, then. The sooner I'm healed the sooner we'll be free of these men." Teague smiled wanly. "Rand. How does he fare?"

"So far, they haven't discovered his presence. I hope to keep it that way as long as possible." Raina paused expectantly. "Ready for the injections?"

"Yes. More than ready."

Still covering the devices, she lowered first one, then the other small disposable air-jet injector to his neck, pushed the activating mechanism, and delivered the medications directly through his skin into the jugular vein. Several seconds passed then Teague's pain-tautened expression began to ease. A minute later, and he had drifted off to sleep.

Raina threw the injectors back into the med kit. Then, in as casual a manner as she could she lifted her gaze to scan the men gathered about the fire. Some had already begun to doze where they lay. Others talked while brewing a small, long-handled pot of water to make mentha tea. But the rebel leader remained where he sat, neither dozing nor talking, his piercing gaze fixed on her.

She wondered how much he'd seen, how much he suspected. Did he guess they were in fact not from Farsala, but from Incendra itself? She didn't like the man, Raina decided with firm conviction. He was too arrogant, too domineering, and too clever for comfort. He'd not be easily fooled or manipulated.

Well, formidable adversary that he might be, Raina reassured herself, she'd faced men such as him before and triumphed. She'd do so again; she had to. Teague and Rand depended on her. So did the mission. And she wouldn't fail.

Raina leaned down toward the unconscious Teague, pausing just millimeters from his mouth. She glanced over at Bahir and smiled. At her unspoken challenge, anger flared in the Tuaret's eyes. Triumph swelled in Raina's breast.

It was nothing, however, to the sudden, soaring pleasure and fierce sense of tenderness that swamped her when her lips touched Teague's. Her heart jolted. Her mouth went dry. In spite of herself, Raina jerked back as if burnt.

Bahir smiled triumph gleaming in his eyes.

Ten

Teague slept through the rest of the night. Only the guard Bahir had set to the first watch remained vigilant, but still it wasn't fear that one of the men would catch her unawares in an attack that kept Raina awake. It was all the thoughts and realizations that continued to bombard her.

The attack of the sand cat, the first frantic efforts to save Teague from bleeding to death, then the arrival of the Tuarets and their unsettling, suspicious leader had been turmoil enough. But when all that was compounded by her burgeoning emotions for the monk, Raina found that her usually unshakable composure teetered on the edge of shattering.

That loss of composure was disconcerting enough. But the hunger, the sheer magnitude of her reaction, when she'd kissed Teague that second time . . . well, it terrified her.

She wanted him, his heart as well as his body, and she didn't know what to do about it. It was foolish, crazy, and surely fated to thrust her life into total chaos and her pride into a shambles. And that was if she were lucky and the monk spurned her. If he didn't . . .

Raina shivered in dread. If he didn't, if they mated . . .

Ah, gods, she thought in an agony of confusion. How could she possibly even consider lying with a man, after the humiliation and pain of the last time? She must be mad. She was mad to lie here, thinking of such a thing, wanting it.

Her need for Teague was also a total waste of time, a distraction from what truly mattered—the successful completion of the mission. Only then could she be free to pursue her own objectives, finally to avenge herself. There was no time for the accommodation of some frivolous urgings of the flesh. There never had been before and there certainly wasn't now.

There was no getting past it. Shed just have to maintain a rigid self-discipline until the mission was over. She'd done it before; she could well do it again. What other choice did she really have?

Despite Raina's renewed determination, the night passed fitfully. Dawn found her unrested and on edge. It didn't help when Bahir lost no time confronting her.

"Your mate," he said, squatting before her as Raina sat and shoved the tousled remnants of her braid back in place. "Will he recover or not?"

Her head snapped up. "How am I to know that? He was injured only last night. Besides, what is it to you?"

Bahir's jaw went taut, his eyes hard and flat. "You are singularly impertinent for a woman. I must have a talk with your mate—if he recovers."

"And if he doesn't, you or one of your men will see to my chastisement yourselves," she taunted realizing even as she did that it was unwise, but wanting to know what he had in store for her. Quite frequently, men admitted more in anger than when calm. "Is that it?"

"Something like that," the Tuaret muttered. "That isn't why I asked you about your mate, though. We'd like to journey on soon, but I won't leave you two here alone. There are more Katebs roaming about. You and your mate didn't kill all of them, you can be sure. After a raid they tend to move in small groups." He smiled grimly. "They think it makes it harder for their pursuers to catch them. They're wrong, however."

"I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"Most certainly." Once again, Bahir eyed her admiringly. "You don't strike me as the helpless type. A mirah in desperate need of taming, to be sure, but never helpless. The Katebs, however, have no honor. And you are only one person."

"So, what are you offering?" Anticipation fluttered in Raina's breast. "I won't leave Teague."

"And I wouldn't ask you to." He leaned back on his haunches, his gaze careful, considering. "Where were you headed before the sand cat attacked?"

She hesitated but a moment, then seized the opportunity presented her. "To the Barakah Mountains. I have family there." It wasn't really a lie, Raina thought. Her father most likely still lived in the royal city of Ksathra, still the endlessly ingratiating, obedient minion of Malam Vorax. And Ksathra was in the Barakah Mountains. "We've been gone many cycles,"—also not a lie—"and I've a wish to visit my father before he dies."

"We travel in that direction, too, once we've caught and punished the rest of the thieving Katebs. I would offer you the safety of our escort when that task is completed. In the meantime, this oasis is as good a headquarters for our forays to punish the rest of the Katebs." He arched a dark brow. "If, of course, you've no objection to our presence for a few more days?"

Raina gave a wry laugh. "I'd be a fool to object. You offer us both protection while Teague regains his strength and safe escort where we intended to travel anyway. In the name of my mate," she added quickly, thinking it politic to make more effort at appeasing his overbearingly masculine need for feminine subservience, "I accept your offer."

"Good." The Tuaret leader stood. "I'm pleased you've the sense to see the wisdom of my plan. You are headstrong and proud, but not an unintelligent woman."

"Careful, Bahir," Raina gritted, struggling with yet another surge of exasperation at his patronizing manner. "Your extravagant praise will turn my head."

"It was most certainly not meant to," he said, frowning. "Such intimacies are your mate's, and only his. It would be unseemly and dishonorable to trifle with another man's possession." With that, Bahir turned and walked away.

She shot a furious look at his retreating back. I'm no man s possession, she silently replied, you arrogant son of a desert viper. Nor will I ever be.

Yet wasn't that exactly what her overwrought emotions for Teague were leading her to? a tiny voice asked. Wasn't that what desire, what love, did to a woman's heart and mind?

Taken aback, Raina stopped short. True, she'd seen that happen with most women, especially those on Incendra. Especially those mated to men of the desert tribes.

But then there were Marissa and Brace. Brace had never dominated his mate, never tried to, so far as Raina could tell. Her friend wouldn't have put up with it if he had.

Yet he seemed quite content with her, as she was with him. For all purposes, they appeared to have a relationship of equals. The way it should be between a man and a woman.

Her glance lowered to where Teague lay, still held peacefully in the throes of the torpine. What kind of mate would he have been, if things had been different? If he hadn't been a monk, if she hadn't grown into the kind of woman fate had forced her to become? Could they have had a chance at a life and love like Marissa and Brace's?

The equs snorted. One stomped a great cloven hoof. Men's voices, rising in anticipation as they prepared a quick breakfast before setting out on the day's search for Katebs, intruded on her poignant musings.

With a start, Raina recalled herself to the present. Curse it all. Once more she'd allowed herself to slip back into that sweet, lovesick dreaming. Curse Teague for being so brave, so self-sacrificing, so solicitous of her! And, she added, as her gaze swept from his beautiful, strong-featured face down the long, powerful length of his body, so superbly, magnificently made. If only he'd been mean, as so many men were, or at least ugly . . .

But he wasn't, and therein lay the problem. With a deep sigh, Raina took up the water bag and rose. Nothing would be served by mooning after a man she couldn't have and if she'd a shred of sense, shouldn't want. Better to fill the time with action. Better to do anything but passively sit here and yearn and lust and dream.