The Tigrens' Glory (11 page)

She lit the last candle, then went to the center of the room and lowered herself gracefully onto the cushion she’d placed there beside the mosaic Hope Bearen had given her.  She ran her fingers over the cool surface as she considered what she was about to do.

When she’d begun training to be a warrior at the age of nine, the first thing her instructor and newly appointed guardian, Pusan-Lo, had taught her was a method of relaxation and meditation called the
Garra-Atea. 
The Flame and the Door.  Glory knew, in an abstract, almost clinical way, that her early childhood had been filled with horrors of some sort.  Thanks to the door she’d constructed in her own mind, she had no memory of those horrors, which had, of course, been the purpose of the
Garra-Atea
.  She’d hidden bad memories behind the door, and burned overwhelming emotions in the Flame.

The last time she’d summoned the
Garra-Atea
, the last time she’d meditated in any form, had been her seventeenth birthday, eight years earlier.  Though she didn’t remember
why
she’d used the
Garra-Atea
to hide a memory behind the door in her mind, she did remember how difficult it had been to close the door again afterward.  It had been a desperate struggle that she’d nearly lost.  The thought of what those hidden memories might do to her sanity if they broke free terrified her so much that she hadn’t dared to meditate again in all the years since for fear she’d somehow cause the Door to open again without meaning to, and be unable to close it again.

For Pusan-Lo’s sake, she’d pretended to continue using the
Garra-Atea
, forcing herself to hide all emotion rather than risk using the Flame, acting as though she no longer remembered things that had happened since her seventeenth birthday.  Things that she only wished she could forget.  She rarely smiled and never laughed, nor did she cry.  She was dubbed the Ice Princess because, even in the heat of battle, she almost never showed emotion of any kind.  Until she’d come to Jasan.  In the past day and a half she’d smiled more than she had in the past decade.

She’d had no intention of ever meditating again until Dr. Honey said it would allow her to speak with the Tigren.  She was afraid of the door, and what was behind it, but her growing sense of urgency and fear for the Tigren were greater.  Besides, she told herself, all she had to do was leave the door alone, and she’d be fine.  The danger was in opening it, and she’d never risk that.

Glory set the mosaic on the floor in front of her, closed her eyes, placed her hands palms up on her knees, her back straight, head high, relaxing every muscle.  She breathed slowly and deeply, drawing the herbal aroma of the candles into her lungs, letting it soothe her.  She reached the familiar dark space in her mind far more quickly and with less effort than she’d expected. 

In front of her and to her left, floating in the black emptiness, she saw a thick white candle, the wick burning with a steady blue flame.  To her right was a heavy wooden door, bound with thick iron straps.  She did not look directly at the door, but its presence caused a cold ball of fear to form in the pit of her stomach.  She focused on the flame, feeding her fear, worry, and tension into it.  Only when she was completely calm again did she move to the next step. 

After a few moments’ thought, she began building a small valley in the dark space around her.  She made the valley narrow with a clear stream running along one side, then surrounded it with hills dotted with wildflowers  The grass was blue, and the skies were lavender with puffy clouds that drifted in a gentle breeze.  When it was complete, she nearly smiled at her creation.  Tilting her face toward the sky and closing her eyes to help her focus, she called to the Tigren.

“
Kyerion.  Kirkeon.  Cadeon.”

“Glory?”
Kyerion replied, his voice faint, but clear.

“Yes,”
she replied, excited at how easy it had been to reach him. 
“Can you follow my voice?”

She actually felt Kyerion as he searched for the thread of her voice in his mind.  She sent more of her self along it, strengthening the thread, working on instinct without trying to analyze what she was doing or how she was doing it. 

“There you are,”
he said softly, finding her thread.  She felt him moving toward her.

“
Kyerion?”
Kirk called. 
“Who is that?”

“Glory,”
Kyerion replied
. “She has come to us.”

“Glory is here?”
Kirk said doubtfully
.  “How?  Is this a trick?”
  Kyerion hesitated and Glory’s heart skipped a beat.  Without their cooperation, she’d never be able to find them.

“This is no trick,”
Glory said. 
“I’ve just learned how to speak with you while I’m awake.  Please, come to me so we can talk.  It’s very important.”

“I’m going,”
Kyerion said resolutely. 
“If you wish to join me, Kirk, bring Cade with you.”

“I’ll try,”
Kirk said.

Kyerion moved more quickly as Glory continued to feed energy along the thread until she felt his presence with her in the valley.  She opened her eyes and looked toward the far side of the valley, then swallowed a gasp at her first sight of Kyerion in human form. 

He was, quite simply, stunning.  Seven feet tall at least, maybe more, and broad shouldered, with skin the color of burnished mahogany.  He had straight, waist length black hair with thin, randomly spaced stripes of gold that glittered in the bright light of her imaginary sun.  His nose was broad and rather flat, his mouth wide and thin lipped, his cheekbones high beneath metallic gold eyes that tilted up at the corners much like her own, giving him a cat-like appearance.  A spiral design consisting of three sets of three curved arms joined at the center graced his left cheek, reminding her of Lariah’s
lau-lotu
.  He wore low slung black leather pants that laced up the front, black, calf high boots, and an open black leather vest that revealed a chest and abdomen that rippled with muscle.  A wide band of hammered gold wrapped around each enormous bicep, and a heavy gold torc circled his neck, each end bearing a snarling tigrenca head.  

Glory took in every detail as he walked toward her, each movement of his powerful body smooth and graceful, his gaze intent as he studied her in return.  Before she’d drunk her fill of the sight of Kyerion, two more men shimmered into being just behind him.  They were exact copies of Kyerion down to their clothing, except that Cade had copper eyes, copper streaks in his hair, and a copper spiral pattern on his cheek, and Kirk’s eyes, streaks, and spiral marking were all silver.  She barely wondered how she knew which was which because, for the first time in her life, Glory was overwhelmed with a rush of unfamiliar physical sensations that she could not identify.

Her mouth went dry, her nipples hardened to points, and heat pooled low in her belly as little shivers of excitement raced up and down her spine.  She felt confused, off balance, and entirely unable to control her physical responses, which was both foreign, and disturbing.  She was glad when Kyerion stopped and turned to face his brothers because it gave her a few moments to regain some semblance of composure. 

The men stood in a small circle and spoke quietly to each other, nowhere near loud enough for her to hear them.  It occurred to her that the valley was her creation, and that there should be a way for her to listen to them, but before she could figure out how, they all turned to stare at her.  She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her feelings from showing as they began stalking toward her, all three sets of metallic eyes fixed unwaveringly on her.  Her heart began thumping so hard she could actually hear it banging away in her chest. 

They stopped a few feet in front of where she sat, making her feel small and vulnerable for the first time since her childhood.  She leapt to her feet, one hand automatically going to the hilt of her sword without thought, even as she reminded herself that here, in this place created by her mind, she could not truly be harmed.  She forced herself to meet Kyerion’s gaze straight on, surprised at how far up she had to look to do it. 

Just short of six feet herself, she was considered abnormally tall for a woman of Ramouri.  Few men were as tall as she was, and even fewer were taller.  Her height, like her metallic eyes and a few other not so obvious traits, was just another mark of how different she was from her own people.  For the first time in many years, she felt almost small.  The top of her head didn’t quite reach their shoulders.  They were even taller than the Dracons, the tallest men she’d ever seen in her life until now.

All of this went through her mind in the instant before her eyes met Kyerion’s.  Then, everything stopped.  Her breath caught in her throat, her heart forgot to beat in her chest, and her mind stuttered to a halt as she lost herself in their golden depths.

“You are even more beautiful than in our dreams,” he said, his voice a deep, rumbling bass that sent liquid heat racing through her veins.  Another surprise.  She’d heard his voice in her mind many times, and had never had a physical reaction to it before now.  But then, it had never sounded so
real
before.  Or maybe it was because this was the first time she’d been face to face with him in his human form, even within dreams. 

Kyerion reached out, his movements slow and careful as he stroked the curve of her cheek with one fingertip, leaving a trail of flames in its wake.  She gasped, which was a good thing since she’d forgotten to breathe and needed the oxygen. 

Distracted by the need to gulp air into her lungs, she didn’t notice when Kyerion moved closer to her.  Before she knew it, he bent his head and leaned in, his lips brushing hers, the tip of his tongue gliding over her upper lip slowly, as though memorizing the shape and feel of her mouth.  His tongue felt slightly rough, very warm, and so intimate that she was shocked to her toes.  She’d never imagined such sensations existed, and didn’t understand how or why her lips were suddenly capable of generating them.  She stood absolutely still as his tongue moved to her bottom lip and traced it just as slowly, as though he had all the time in the world to simply
taste
her.  When he was finished with her bottom lip he pulled back, his eyes molten.

“So sweet,” he growled softly. 

For one moment Glory was disappointed that he hadn’t tried to deepen the kiss, then her senses returned to her in a rush.  What was she doing?  Worse, what was
he
doing?  They had an Arima for star’s sake!  In spite of her warrior training, she took a step back, her face flushing with embarrassment at her retreat.

His slow smile caused her fingers to tighten on the hilt of her sword as she struggled to control what she’d finally realized was a blatantly sexual response.  The swelling of her breasts.  The tightening of her nipples.  The sudden wetness between her thighs. 

She scowled.  No man should look that good with just a smile.  It wasn’t right.  Just like kissing her when he...they...already had a woman wasn’t right.  Her eyes narrowed.

Kyerion’s brows drew together in confusion.  “Glory?”

She wiped the scowl from her face, reaching for her familiar stoic neutrality.  Only when she was sure her mask was firmly in place did she speak.  “You have an Arima.”

“Yes, we do,” Kyerion replied, his smile returning, “and you’re a stunning sight to behold.”

Her eyes widened in shock.  They thought
she
was their Arima?  An image of herself surrounded by the three of them, their hands on her body, flashed through her mind.  She was shocked when the thought of never belonging to them brought feelings of regret instead of embarrassment. 

And where in the nine hells did that come from?
she wondered.  She shook her head.  She needed to end this misunderstanding.  Now.

“I’m not your Arima,” she said, her voice sounding nothing at all like she meant it to.  She intended to sound cool and firm.  Instead she sounded shaky and disappointed.  Even more startling than her lack of self-control, was the reaction of the Tigren.  They were staring at her in shock, confusion, and...was that hurt?  Surely not.

“Why do you deny us?” Kirk demanded.  Her eyes flew to his.  Was he angry?  She scowled again.  It was hardly her fault that they already had a woman.  She shifted her gaze to Cade, the pain in his eyes squeezing her heart.

“I’m not trying to be mean or hurtful,” she said.  “It’s clear that we’re all a little...confused.  Can we please sit and talk?”

“Of course,” Kyerion said.  They lowered themselves to the grass where they stood, Kyerion in the middle and slightly in front of his brothers, Cade on his left, and Kirk on his right.  She knelt in front of them and sat back on her heels, one hand resting comfortably on the hilt of her sword. 

“Why do you say that you’re not our Arima?” Kyerion asked.

“Because I’m not,” she replied.  “We’ve never even met outside of dreams.  This is the first time I’ve ever seen you as men.  Until now I’ve only seen you in your tigrenca alter-forms.”

“Yes, we know this,” Kyerion said.

“You do?” she asked in surprise.

“The moment we entered this place created by you and filled with your energy, we began to remember a few things,” he said.  “There is much still hidden from us, but we remember you.  The fact that we’ve only met in dreams doesn’t mean that you aren’t our Arima.”  The amused indulgence in their eyes was annoying, but it was better than the hurt of a few moments before.  As much as she suddenly wanted to leave the matter be, she knew she couldn’t.  She had to be honest with them.

“Your Arima has blue eyes,” she said, striving for gentleness.  She’d never actually tried to sound gentle before, and from the frowns on their faces, she hadn’t done a very good job of it.

Kyerion turned to look at Kirk, then turned the other way to look at Cade.  They both shook their heads.  “We remember no such female,” Kyerion said.  “Why do you believe this?”