Rise of the Shadow Warriors (10 page)

He’d yet to see her use the weapons she carried with such ease and a distant part of his mind longed for the opportunity to see the fluid shifts and turns of her lithe figure with a deadly blade in each hand. He had a feeling she would be beyond beautiful and the thought caused his toqa to stir and throb.

“Yes.” Shaina smiled. “Would you like to see?”

Without waiting, she set her cup down and retrieved both swords before resuming her stance on the mat. Her weapons were different from the heavier sword he carried. The blades thin and razor sharp from what he could tell as she took a few practice swipes in the air. Each guard curved outward and her palms grasped the smooth grips of silver.

“May I?” Argan found himself asking as he stepped forward and reached for one.

Shaina arched a brow but reversed her hold and hefted one toward him.

He studied the slight curve to the blade and the fine groove running along the edge. A sheen of black colored the steel as he tilted it beneath the light of the glow stone. Argan handed it back. “A master crafted weapon indeed.”

Her smile sent a wave of pleasure through his chest and Argan stepped back unwilling to question the feeling. “Thank you. I’ll tell Hamon, our weapons master, you complimented his work. He’ll be pleased.”

She resumed her stance and began. Argan tracked each slice and thrust, his gaze searching out weak points in her style. Shaina fought with precision and a ferocity he could appreciate.

Dropping his gaze to her lush breasts, his toqa stretched and thickened. She was dressed similar to the last times they’d met. Except today’s leather vest with its lacings down the front pushed her breasts into prominence. A small wedge of flesh separated the minuscule top from the leather pants. Smooth skin and a toned belly twitched beneath his stare and Argan admitted he wanted this woman he’d claimed as his bride.

“Shaina, I thought I’d find you training.” A tall, blond warrior dressed similar to Shaina walked in and spoke directly to her. He stiffened when he noticed Argan a second later. “Why’s he here?”

Argan tensed but Shaina smiled reassuringly her hand going to the man’s shoulder. It annoyed him to see her so free with touching him. The warrior reached for one of the swords on his hip. Argan went for the hilt of his own.

“No, Justan. Argan came to check on me.”

Argan didn’t like the deep frown aimed his way but the man released his hold on his weapon. Argan followed suit and eased his hand down.

“How did he get here?” Suspicion and something more colored the words.

“The shadows brought him.” She placed emphasis on the wording and Justan jerked. Shaina nodded in Argan’s direction. “You’ve not been formally introduced. Warlord Argan this is my best friend and guard, Justan L’Tai. Justan, this is my husband, Argan Kril.”

Argan tipped his head to the side and observed how close the two of them stood. His gut twitched. There was familiarity between them. To his irritation, Shaina’s hand still rested on the shoulder that now leaned against her. The twitch in his gut wasn’t from her. Which left the man. There was more in his gaze than simple friendship. This Justan looked at Shaina with eyes that were greedy.

“Your husband? He agreed, I’m to assume.”

The young man made no effort to hide his anger, blue eyes glowing with fire.

“My bride does not speak for me. We have joined together as was her desire.”

Her friend’s lips tightened and his glare spoke volumes.

Argan relaxed his stance and smirked. This one wanted Shaina but she’d chosen Argan instead. Pride puffed his chest.

Shaina slanted him a chiding glance which he ignored. She did not understand the way of men but her friend received Argan’s message clearly. Whatever Justan hoped for between them was no more. Argan had no intentions of stepping aside.

Shaina released Justan’s shoulder much to Argan’s relief and asked, “What brings you looking for me?”

Her friend reluctantly turned from Argan. “The
misado
is here as you requested.”

Shaina stiffened in a way that was harder for Argan to ignore. “Who is the
misado
?”

She smiled at him but not in the manner in which he’d become accustomed. This smile held secrets. “No need to worry, Argan. This is a simple matter that I need to address. I’ll send you back to Raasa. Later we’ll figure out why the shadows brought you.”

At least part of what she spoke was not truth and
Argan had no intention of leaving until he found out what. “No. I will stay a moment to assure myself of your safety.”

Justan’s lip curled. “What do you imply, Kabanian? My Queen is safe among her people. It’s outsiders that we only need concern ourselves with.”

“If she were safe she would not have sought a bond with me,” Argan said with savage pleasure.

Chapter 15

Shaina led the way through the cavern tunnels, conscious of Argan’s stare burning a hole through the back of her leather vest. They entered a well lit room where the ritual would take place and had taken place for many years for others who’d finalized their mate bond. Candles burned on every available space, their scent of vanilla
caran
reminding her of the importance of this undertaking.

Six Olak’din stood around the room. Two guarding the entrance, two near Argan then Justan and Gerel, the
misado
, waiting. Enough witnesses for what was about to occur.

Justan leaned over to whisper in her ear, the words a bare rasp. “Despite my doubt about your plan, I’m sure you know this will not go well, my Queen. He’ll not stand for the ceremony.”

Shaina chanced a look up and met the burning fire in Argan’s gaze. He had remained silent on the walk as he tried to absorb their surroundings. No, her husband would not willingly stand by during what needed to be done.

“Hold him,” she ordered.

Argan stiffened and turned a sharp glare on the two warriors who approached him. He didn’t reach for the large sword at his back or the dagger at his hip. He didn’t have to. With his intense scowl both of her men hesitated.

The
misado
, who prepared to perform the
oct’an,
frowned. Beside him a steaming black grate and several prongs were spread out on a red cloth covered table.

 “What is happening, Shaina?”

There was an air of menace in Argan’s voice that left her shivering.

“Nothing for you to worry over.”

Here was a true warrior. One who was not intimidated by her position or power. Justan was right, Argan would never stand idle if he thought she would come to harm. Not because he cared about her. They didn’t know each other well enough yet but because it spoke of the warrior in him. His sense of honor wouldn’t allow the woman he chose as his bride to be hurt if he could stop it.

Argan’s glance swept around them. “If I am not to worry, you will then explain.”

“It is
oct’an
, to secure our bond. You must not interfere with the ceremony,” she answered.

The thick muscles she’d admired earlier bulged as he folded his arms over his delicious rock hard chest. A tingle of awareness rippled down her spine. No time for that.

Argan cocked his head to the side as he growled, “What will he do?”

The tone threatened. Not just the
misado
but everyone in the room.

Shaina shivered but remained firm in her stance. “Nothing I don’t want.” This needed to be done and Argan had to allow it. It put her one step closer to preventing Ivak from stealing her heritage.

Shaina cupped her palm below her mouth and called forth the shadows. She blew lightly onto her hand.

Argan’s arms dropped to his sides. “What are you doing?”

Shaina murmured the ancient words and held his stare. She had one brief moment to regret her actions but forced the emotions away. She gave him credit. He only took one half-step back before stiffening.

 Wisps of black smoke left her mouth in curling trails and headed directly for him. Still he held his position, gaining not just her admiration but that of all the warriors in the room. Many outsiders would have feared the misting shadows.

“Do not,” he grated, but it was too late.

The black smoke circled each wrist in a slow twining arc then yanked Argan’s arms forcibly behind his back. She flinched, imagining the pain the pressure must have caused but he didn’t cry out.

“Shaaaaina.”

Argan’s snarl dragged the sound of her name out. Concern and anger. Its husky cadence tugged at her senses. Shaina’s heart thudded in her chest at what she had to do.

Muscles twisted and flexed as Argan struggled against the unbreakable bonds. More ropes of black wrapped around his legs, curling up the leather pants as they made their way up his waist, torso and chest until the Kabanian was covered in chains made of shadows.

“Shaina, don’t!”

Swallowing thickly, Shaina forced herself to turn away from him to face Gerel. “Do it,” she grit out, ignoring the growling protests Argan made behind her.

The
misado
reached into the steaming black pot on the table and pulled out the long prong. The gleaming tip of the metal glowed red hot from the fiery heat. Shaina fisted her hands at her side and lifted her head toward the ceiling of the cavern, giving him clear access to the unmarred skin along the column of her throat. The hand Gerel lifted remained steady, having done this hundreds of times before for other couples.

“Nooo!” Argan’s enraged roar filled the space.

Everything in her wanted to face him, soothe the fear he must feel watching all of this yet unable to do anything to prevent it.

“If you harm her, old one, I will take my blade to you.”

The threat was serious and from the corner of her eye, the
misado
paused.

“You
will
obey me, Gerel.” She kept her gaze on him and finally he moved forward.

The pain of the first touch caused her to hiss out loud. She bit her tongue to hold back the cries, knowing it would only set Argan off more.

The sounds of him fighting without success became a distant thought. Her neck burned. Burned as if a hundred insects stung her at once. As the prong pressed into her flesh, Shaina endured. Endured because she had no choice.

And because there was joy.

Joy in a sign that would show everyone that she belonged to Argan.

She was Argan’s and he was hers.

When the
misado
finally finished, her breath came in short pants. Shaina flexed her stiff fingers and slowly lifted her head. She smiled. Already the pain eased. The burn faded. Such was the way of the healing oils placed in the ink.

 “Release me.”

Her smile faltered. Shaina faced Argan and gasped. Never before had she witnessed such red hot fury. Brows lowered, neck straining and with lips pinched tight, Argan was a sight to behold. She murmured the ancient words and the shadows around him dispersed.

Two angry strides brought him close. His chest bumped into hers as he grasped her upper arms.

Dark eyes glowed and snapped with restrained fire. “Never. Never will you use your shadows to hold me again.” He shook her once. Twice. “Never will you force me to stand and watch another man harm that which is mine.”

Her heart sped up. Traitorous nipples hardened as his chest pressed the two of them firmly together. Weapons drawn, her warriors surrounded them. Shaina didn’t worry. None of the Olak’din would attack the Shadow Queen’s husband. More so now that she wore the
oct’an
.

Argan’s hold gentled. He released one of her arms to raise a hand toward the markings on the side of her neck. “What is it?” he whispered, his touch feather light. “What importance does it bear that you would hold me against my will to see it done?”

Shaina licked her lips, body swaying in his arms. Desire mixed with his anger. He wanted her. As much as she wanted him.

“Tell me,” he demanded, lowering his head until their foreheads touched.

 Her hands came up to brace on his chest. “Argan.”

“I am here.”

Shaina cleared her throat and tried again. “Argan.” When he continued to look puzzled, she added, “The markings are your name.”

He stiffened and started to pull away but she clenched her nails into his tender flesh.

“My name?” His thumb brushed over the black lettering permanently inked into the side of her neck.

“It is the way of the Olak’din. When a woman commits to one warrior, she proudly wears his mark so all will know she belongs to him and he to her.” None could tear the bond apart. And for Shaina it also stated that she’d named her successor should she die without an heir. Ivak would not rule in her stead.

Argan of Kaban was officially the Shadow King.

***

Argan considered slaughtering all of the warriors in the room as well as the
misado
who wielded the branding iron.

Especially
him.

Releasing Shaina, Argan stepped back despite her protest. His legs braced wide while his gaze sought each of Shaina’s warriors, promising retribution. If he had his way, blood would spill and he’d bathe in the fountains of red.

No one would be allowed to hurt his bride.

Shaina.

He studied the odd, black markings running up the side of her neck. The skin pink around the edges of the flowing script. He battled mixed emotions. Pride knowing his name was there for all to see. And anger.

Anger that she’d been hurt in the process.

But there was desire too. Desire to lay her beneath him and claim what was rightfully his. Reassure himself that she was safe.

In his arms.

Nothing else would ease the thunderous roar pouring through his body. Waves of arousal clawed at his chest and his toqa thickened to the point of pain. He needed her. Now.

As if reading his mind, Shaina waved her hands at those around them. “It is done. Argan and I will return to my rooms. We’ll be back in time for the celebration tonight.”

None questioned. They all bowed, paying Argan a higher level of respect as they took their leave.

“Come.” Shaina grabbed Argan’s hand, entwining their fingers. Surprised at the warm touch, he allowed her to lead him from the cavern.

***

In silence, they travelled through the twists and turns of the tunnels toward her rooms. Guards straightened as they passed, gazes dropping to the markings on her neck. Shaina smirked. Let them report back to Ivak what she’d done. She’d like to see him try and fight tradition.

Bonds.

For that was what she’d forged with Argan. Bonds to establish their relationship and this evening she’d seal the commitment between them with passion.

The entrance to her chamber was blocked. The guard straightened to his full height.

Shaina stopped and quirked a brow. “Really?”

Alin flushed. “My queen, Ivak wished to speak with you when you returned.”

Argan’s hand landed roughly on her shoulder as he eased to her side.

At least he hadn’t shoved her behind him. Perhaps, he was learning
that his bride was a warrior as well.

“Tell Ivak I will see him at the celebration.”

Alin’s head bobbled on his thin neck. So young yet Shaina believed he’d make a fine warrior one day. If Ivak quit this futile tug of war trying to pit her warriors against one another.

“Queen Shaina, he insisted.”

Insisted?
“And if I refused, what were Ivak’s instructions?”

Alin darted a look at the silent man by her side. Smart. Alin was no fool to challenge a Kabanian Warlord he had no hope of defeating.

Alin backed down and bowed his head toward her. “I will tell him you will see him tonight, my lady.”

Shaina stepped back, letting the youth past. When he was half way down the hall she called out to him. “Alin?

He turned and faced her, eyes leery. “Yes, my Queen.”

“Never challenge me and refuse me entrance anywhere in these caverns. I
am
the Shadow Queen and will remain so despite whatever lies Ivak chooses to spread.”

He swallowed and nodded again before half running the rest of the way.

Shaina moved away from Argan and shoved aside the heavy curtain blocking the doorway to her rooms.

Argan followed behind. Sensors triggered the glow stones, taking the room from dim to bright in seconds. Blinking furiously, Shaina gave herself time to adjust then faced Argan. Only he wasn’t the least interested in the rooms.

He crossed to her and gripped her waist, pulling her up. The small difference in their height left Shaina standing on her toes.