Starwalker (Starborn 1) (Sci-Fi Fantasy Romance) (11 page)

She found herself drawn to the window. The wren was outside, just as he’d said he would be. But he wouldn’t stay. When the temperature became too much for him, he would travel on. Just as he would when his heartsickness ceased. She knew it well.

She had never thought she would find her Heartbeat, never expected or believed it. But somewhere deep inside, she’d hoped that if she did, he would at least desire her… and possibly come to love her. It was her last and final hope of ever leading a life other than this loneliness of a cold castle and cold attendants.

But all that was dashed. Stomped into the ground in a matter of minutes. And standing there alone in her room, she could admit just how bad it hurt.

It wasn’t all his fault though. She wasn’t exactly likable, or even loveable. It was no wonder he’d avoided her for so long. But she was who she was and she couldn’t change it. The thing was, if the roles had been reversed, she wouldn’t have betrayed him. She wouldn’t have.

Angrily, she shoved away from the window and climbed into bed. By morning he would be gone—one way or another.

Chapter Eleven

Breckken paced back and forth inside the gates of Canna’s property. It was frigid. He hoped if he walked faster he could generate some heat, even just a little. Instead, he seemed to grow colder.

He glanced upward once again to her window, but he couldn’t see her. She was probably sleeping peacefully. She’d made it known that she cared not if he perished in the cold. But he’d hoped she’d been lying. The thought that she was asleep without a care while he was out in the dangerous elements made his stomach ache.

He pushed the thought from his mind. It didn’t matter. He just needed to be sure that she was safe. Everything else was unimportant.

But then what if he died? Who would care for her? Who would protect her? Love her?

He kicked the stone wall.

Why would she not give him a chance? He could make her happy. He knew he could.

Hours passed, Breckken’s feet becoming so numb they were painful to move. His hands too. He’d always wondered how it felt to freeze to death. This was it. Like breathing in razors. Like a thousand tiny pinpricks on the surface of his skin. Like his joints needed to be oiled.

He wasn’t ready to die. He’d barely lived. He’d been naïve enough to think he could make it through the night in An`gel. How utterly stupid. He should call for help but he couldn’t be shamed anymore this night.

Yes, he was stubborn. Yes, he still thought he could survive the sub-degree temperatures. He was a Guardsman, damn it. Nova Guardsmen never quit.

So he stood there, waiting out the sun, his entire being slowly becoming numb.

Sometime later, he sensed he wasn’t alone.

“Soldier, come inside and warm up.” It was Rowene.

He was barely able to shake his head. “Canna would not want that.”

There was a long silence and then, “I daresay she would not want you dead either.”

“It seems that’s exactly what she wants.”

“Nevertheless, it is my home too. And I will not watch a guardsmen freeze when warmth is only steps away. Come inside.”

He tried to move his legs and managed to inch closer to the entry. Row helped him the rest of the way. The female was surprisingly strong.

Finally inside the house, the heat of the ket engulfed him. It burned as his skin began to thaw, making him shiver uncontrollably.

“I nearly waited too long,” Rowene muttered. “Avie, please, get some hot tea for our guest.”

The attendant hurried off and returned within moments with a warm mug. She held it to his lips, and he tried to sip the sweet warmth. He ended up causing it to spill onto her hands.

“I’m sorry, maiden. I’m afraid I can’t control the shaking.”

Avie nodded, her eyes friendly. “The cold will do that to a Land Dweller, sir.”

Silence engulfed the room as he drank the tea. Eventually, the shivering subsided and his body temperature returned to normal.

It seemed his guess was right. They were the only three still awake in the castle. His maiden was asleep. Part of him hated that Canna could rest while he suffered. That she felt no concern for his wellbeing. And yet, he was glad she rested, that she wasn’t distressed.

He focused on that part. The part that set his wren instincts at ease.

Avie carried his empty mug away, and Rowene broke the silence.

“Is it true?” Her gaze was shrewd.

“Is what true?”

“That you have avoided her for over a thousand years?”

He tried to take a deep breath but it ended up catching in his throat. Avoided her. Is that how it appeared?

“You make it sound like I willfully stayed away from her.”

Row raised a sharp black eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”

“I… I… didn’t. It wasn’t like I had a choice,” he sputtered.

“Of course you had a choice. We always have a choice.”

He stared at her, jaw clenched against her accusation.

“So why did you then, stay away from her?”

Breckken leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t want Canna’s only family to think ill of him. Rowene might not be blood, but her desire to protect and nurture Canna had always been apparent.

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

She rolled her eyes. “The right thing to do? You thought being apart from your mate was the right thing to do?”

“She was eight lightyears old,” he argued.

“She wasn’t eight lightyears old forever. What about when she’d grown. Why did you not come for her then?”

He stared hard at the maiden. “I was always here. Every day I watched her, waiting for fate to let us meet. Our paths never crossed until yesterday.”

“So that’s your excuse, then? You were waiting on fate?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I was waiting on the Fates, like a good little wren. Rather impatiently, I might add. I knew I’d angered them. Why else would they give me my Heartbeat when I couldn’t have her?”

Row was quiet, contemplating.

“Well, sir, it appears you’ve been screwed by fate. Because now your mate wants nothing to do with you.”

“Yes,” he grumbled. “I see that.”

Rowene smoothed the table covering with her weathered hand. “Are you heartsick?” she asked.

“No. I am not heartsick. Not yet anyway.”

Another long pause.

“Do you think you could love her?”

He looked at her squarely. “I know I can. I already do, with my entire soul. I always will. No matter what comes of us.”

No matter what. No matter if she never loved him back. The thought had his bones aching.

Her gaze bore into him, screaming disbelief.

“You don’t have to believe me for it to be true. I have watched her every day for a thousand years. Watched her grow into a maiden. I know things about her nobody else does. Not even you. And I
love
my maiden.”

Rowene was quiet still.

Just as Breckken was getting up to return to his post outside, she spoke up.

“She’s going to kill me for this.”

He frowned.

Row chuckled wryly. “That wasn’t to be taken literal. Canna could have killed me many times over if she truly wanted to. I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s actually quite fond of me. I simply meant she’s going to be very angry over what I’m about to do.”

***

Davian coughed until his breath wouldn’t come. The air inside the tank was far too warm, too dense. How could any being live in such conditions?

He glared at the one huddled in the corner.

The prisoner spoke a different language, though some of his words were familiar. He was several inches smaller than the shortest wren Davian knew. And he required this awful combination of gasses than no one else required. Oxygen, he’d called it. Strange word for a strange composition. Luckily, it only took a slight change to the makeup of Brilliette’s air to allow him to breath easily again.

Good thing Davian employed intelligent and capable people—in
all
areas of knowledge.

Otherwise this golden little nugget might have perished before he was able to make use of him.

Davian coughed again and sucked in a shallow breath.

“Where are you from?” he barked, for probably the millionth time.

The prisoner said nothing. Just shivered.

If only he employed a translator. Or rather, a translator that could speak this strange language. Except they had no idea what this creature was.

“How did you get here?”

Still no answer. The prisoner glared with steely eyes, fueling Davian’s anger. He knelt to meet the male’s gaze.

“You know what I think? I think you can understand me just fine.” Davian glanced at his main guard. “Take his blood. Drain him until he talks. If he doesn’t talk… kill him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Davian watched the frisson of fear dance in the strangers gaze as his eyes passed over the guard.

“Yes,” Davian said, a cruel smile touching his lips. “It’s talk or die time, and something tells me you…” He stood, towering over the prisoner once more. “You are going to talk.”

There was a thunderous sound, and the door to the holding cell burst open. Davian swung his head around to see a creature he didn’t recognize. He was male, as were the two others with him, but they were not Star Dwellers. They did not belong to Brilliette.

Davian straightened to his full height as his guards came running. Even though the strangers were smaller in stature, they reeked of danger. Lethal. It was their eyes. They seemed to be made of stone, cold and unyielding. Their irises had no color, but they bore down on Davian as if they intended to annihilate him with their gaze alone.

The leader, the one who’d effortlessly kicked open the door, smiled, and the cruelty of it wrapped around Davian’s windpipe, keeping his words from escaping.

“Davian, I presume.” The stranger’s voice was odd, but refined. If he didn’t know any better he’d say he was an Ice Dweller with his pale skin and cool countenance.

Davian set his face in a threatening scowl. “Who are you?”

The stranger smiled wider, and Davian’s gaze zeroed in on two sharp teeth, the likes of which he’d never seen before. They were longer than normal and came to a razor tipped point. Instinctually, he knew they were weapons.

“I am Drak and these are my colleagues, Simon and Kristoff.” He spoke pleasantly, which made him seem even more dangerous. Davian was no fool. If the male had kicked down a stone door, he wasn’t here peaceably.

“What do you want?” Davian growled.

The stranger laughed, and from the corner of his eye, Davian watched his soldiers fidget under the odd, lilting sound.

“You ask rather easy questions, Davian, Leader of the Helix.” His smile faded, and his voice turned hard. “I want my human back.”

“Your what?” Davian had never heard of the term.

“My
human
.” He gestured to the prisoner. “The man you have tied up belongs to me. I want him back.”

Davian glanced at the male he’d been about to torture for information. He seemed strangely relieved to see Drak and his men.

“He’s in my cell. Under my guards,” Davian mused. “It looks like he belongs to me now.”

Drak looked at his two cohorts. “Well… if you won’t return to me what you’ve stolen, I suppose I will have to force you to.”

“Is that right.”

Drak nodded, clucking his tongue. “It isn’t nice to take what’s not yours. But you’ve spent your entire life striving to do just that, haven’t you, Davian?”

Davian glared at the intruder. “You know nothing of me. And just how do you plan to force me to do anything?” He stepped up to Drak, reminding him that he had almost a foot in height on him.

Drak’s face turned cold, the geniality gone with his exhale. His voice chill as the air of their star, he said, “First my colleagues are going to eat your guards. Drink them dry. Then I’ll do the same to you. Except, I’ll leave a little of your lifeblood so that I may turn you into one of us. For your thievery, you shall know the hunger we know. You shall live with it. Perhaps even die with it. And it will be my pleasure to watch.”

The threat chilled Davian to the bone. What Dweller ate from another’s body? No, these males were not of Brilliette. But he couldn’t back down. Couldn’t show fear. He had a Helix to lead. And someday… a mate to redeem.

He hadn’t forgotten her. She was the reason he was so brutal. The reason he fought so hard. He’d grown power hungry, yes. But he had to be. He needed to be good enough for her. This was the only way he knew how.

He looked the stranger up and down, sizing him up. He’d take the bastard down, whatever it took. He never let anything stand in his way.

“What are you?”

The male’s eyes seemed to glow, transforming from stone to fire.

“Daybreaker,” he hissed, and then lunged forward, grabbing Davian by the throat.

The last thing he remembered was Drak’s weapon-like teeth piercing his neck and the soft tug of the creature’s mouth as he sucked his lifeblood from his body.

Chapter Twelve

Cannalise tossed in her frozen bed, her gossamer sheets twisting around her naked body. She was lost in sleep, but it was fitful. Even in rest, she felt as though things were amiss.

The sound of someone clearing their throat somehow broke through the fog of sleep, alerting her that she wasn’t alone in her room.

Her eyes snapped open to find her wren seated in a chair near the bed. His arms were crossed over his chest, his brow curled in a frown. He stared, his eyes never leaving hers.

She should be angry. But she could only assume she hadn’t actually woken. This was a dream. Rowene would never allow a stranger into Canna’s room. Not when she was asleep and undressed and unable to defend herself.

His gaze left hers and traveled down to her bare breasts, pausing there for several breaths before continuing to her waist where the translucent sheet had tangled.