Vanquished (22 page)

He’d delay his
conclusion until the RNA results were in, Vayne decided, despite the fact he’d
already made the leap with certainty in his gut. The imposter had been Baraith.
But if the Juxtant Monarch had been on the Home World all this time,
surrounding himself with allies, calling in his favors…the treaty
be
damned. Heads would roll. His brain ticked over and
wondered how the other hunters had been persuaded to accept him as one of their
own, because Baraith was on that vessel that brought Rush to the
Tomodr
. Rush. The ambassador was
responsible for more than he thought. It was highly unfortunate the man was
dead. He considered how things had likely unfolded.

Hunters were
solitary and though communicated regularly, they came together as necessary, so
Baraith could have dispatched one and assumed his identity.
Hence
the bandages for the trip to the
Tomodr
.
The monarch would have been privy to all of Vayne’s dispatches. That Annis had
met his premature fate at Baraith’s machinations if not his own hand was a
foregone conclusion. The councilman couldn’t spill secrets from a dead mouth.
Then the Juxtant Monarch had come here. Was he the one who’d fired on the
Outriders?
To precipitate another incident?
As Vayne
worked it through, the machines monitoring his recovery beeped an alarm and
Stenlor hustled over.

“Sovereign, you
need to calm yourself. Your system is adapting but stress will impede the
process.”

“Do you have the
results yet?” Vayne drew in deep breaths, ignoring the tiny tearing sensations
in his chest. He didn’t need results, but the others would. He’d reached his
own conclusions and didn’t expect any surprises.

“No.
But soon.”
Stenlor would know what he was asking. He’d have
had more time to put the pieces together. Because
he
hadn’t been out of commission, bleeding out on the deck of the
landing bay, stabbed in the back—

“Who stabbed me?”
His voice was powerful again and brooked no subterfuge.

Stenlor didn’t
flinch. “I had time only to do a cursory assessment based on rudimentary
forensics. I’ve been…busy.”

Vayne closed his
eyes, waiting.

“I believe it was
the Juxtant. He was the last to fade.”

“I put him on the
deck with a blow to the head while I attended Leric.” The least he could do
after distracting his exec in the struggle, and he was elated Baraith was dead
at last—even if he’d have preferred to have dealt the final blow. “He must have
revived enough to take advantage of my back to him.” The Juxtant always were
cowardly fighters and Baraith was no exception.

“That would explain
it, sir.” Eltrast had fine beads of sweat on his upper lip and still couldn’t
meet Vayne’s stare.

“Roll me over.”

Stenlor grimaced
but stood, and between him and Eltrast got Vayne turned over onto his back. A
number of pillows helped him sit and once he powered past the ache just above
his sternum, he could breathe again. He pinned the medic with a look that
usually had grown males bowing and scraping. “Who do I have to thank for
killing him, then?” he rasped.

The way Stenlor’s
face paled actually sent a frisson of dread up Vayne’s spine. The other male’s
eyes slammed shut,
then
opened. “
Your
chosen.”

So
one heart
wasn’t
up to the task of
supporting his body, just as he had thought earlier, after bonding with Neira.
He clung to
consciousness with a tenacity that surprised even him, resisting the swirling
dark that threatened to swallow up his struggling brain. His little warrior had
faced Baraith, alone. There were other scenarios available to him as his memory
returned—the bodies strewn about as he lay incapacitated, unable to defend her.
The com smashed and no hope of rescue as she threw down with a male double her
body weight and with a reach that—

“Sovereign. Calm
yourself and heal.” The alarms cut through his stupor and he blinked at
Stenlor.

“Where is she?” The
question forced itself past his throat, slicing like razor blades with a
garnish of terror.

Stenlor moved
sideways and gestured. Vayne followed the motion and his eyes took in the sight
of his little warrior, lying still and silent, just beyond his reach. All that
was visible was her pale face and ebony hair, both blending in and a stark
contrast to the white of the pillow. The medic and Eltrast foiled his attempt
to leap from the cot and go to her, and Vayne thought of public whippings and
beheadings before turning to Stenlor.

Anticipating his
questions, the other male said, “Your chosen has sustained multiple injuries.
Broken bones, specifically her right ulna and a cracked shoulder blade—a
fracture of the orbital floor and a stab wound to the side of her abdomen. The
blade struck her ribs and deflected, missing any major organs, but she lost a
great deal of blood. She was also choked and two vertebrae in her neck showed
twisting fractures.”

“Prognosis?”
There was no
inflection in his tone, matching Stenlor’s matter-of-fact report. Because if
Vayne allowed his emotions to color his voice the chances were he’d be in
lockdown to protect the crew. The need to reincarnate Baraith and tear him
apart and into tiny, unrecognizable pieces made him tremble, and the ache in
his chest expanded to dizzying proportions.

“I repaired the
fractures and I detected no brain damage from the blow to the face. But the
blood loss…” Stenlor straightened and squared his shoulders. “I gave her a
blood substitute, sparingly. Shadalla and humans are compatible but there are
some differences in platelets. I was worried about her throwing a clot.
However, there have been no adverse effects.”

When the male
hesitated, Vayne narrowed his eyes and waited, certain the worst was yet to
come.

“She will not wake
up!
And is fading.
I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand
it. At first I thought it was because of your injury. For all intents and
purposes it should have been fatal and was incapacitating in that moment. But
she clearly fought the Juxtant to the death, and I can’t believe she would have
had the strength if her life was tied to yours. And you didn’t fade!”

Looking longingly
over at Neira, who breathed so shallowly the sheet covering her barely moved,
Vayne had a thought. “Is she…with child? Did the fight…”

“No. Not pregnant.
That was something I checked immediately before I healed her.” Stenlor
laughed,
a sound empty of mirth. “I healed her but she won’t
wake up. Sovereign, we treated her first, before even you—our ruler.
Committed treason.”

“Because you knew
of my wishes had I been able to command.” Truly, Vayne had surrounded himself
with remarkable males on this voyage.

“She is your
future, sir.”

Ignoring how that
fact hurt him worse that his adapting heart, and cursing his weakness, Vayne
used his right to command. “Move her closer.
Beside me.”

Her cot tucked
beside his, he scrutinized her features. “She is a true warrior.”

Stenlor snorted.
“Indeed. That Juxtant was severely injured. I’ll catalogue his injuries for
you.”

Vayne didn’t care
and blocked out the chatter as he noted the bruising on his little warrior’s
beautiful face. It was the only thing visible to denote such terrible trauma,
and even that was fading as a result of his medic’s technological skill. Neira
was cold to the touch and he carefully tested his strength, sitting up and
reaching to tug at her.

“Allow me, sir.”
The medic didn’t question his sovereign’s intent but intuited it and eased
Neira’s slender form over until she fit up against Vayne. So still and cold,
yet she molded against him as though it had always been her rightful place.
Eltrast muttered about returning to duty and hurried away, his face strained
and anxious. Vayne hoped he would deviate and check in on his own chosen. One
never knew when fate would intervene.

As his strength
returned and his body stabilized, Vayne worked the sheets free and held his
chosen closer. Skin to skin, he held her and stroked her pale face, pressing
his lips against hers. The faint huff of her breath gave him hope and he clung
to it, grimly. He spoke her name over and over, using his body heat in an
attempt to warm her, and prayed. Stenlor went away to finish his work after a
baffled look at Neira, and she and Vayne huddled together in a mockery of the
intimacy they had so recently established.

Chapter
Eleven

“Neira.
Neira! Little
warrior.” Vayne’s urgent voice echoed above her but she was down so deep, so
far, that she couldn’t respond. Did the Shadalla believe in the afterlife? Did
lifemates fade and find the other later? So many things she didn’t know and
hadn’t had the time to ask. They’d had so little time, thanks to her stupid
issues. She wanted to believe she could talk with him, even here, but there was
no comfort when one lost the love of their life, and it didn’t seem possible
she would be so blessed.

So
cold.
She was back to feeling chilled again, frozen to the marrow. If
she didn’t think about Vayne dying at her feet while she was powerless to aid
him, perhaps this abyss would swallow her and afford her the kindness of
oblivion. But perhaps her penance was to remain here, cold for eternity.

Drifting, she
ignored the increasing desperation in that voice.
His voice.

One would think
one’s life might flash before one but not here, so she sought it out. She
summoned up memories of her childhood, the sweet, smiling faces of her sisters,
Anika and Izabella, making her own lips twitch and curve. A single tear formed
as she mourned them, separated so many years ago. Her parents—hard working,
tough Russian stock, also gone, missing in the war. The military had served as
Neira’s home and became her family. Again, all gone, lost. Perhaps if it hadn’t
been for the reawakening of her heart and healing of her soul by the alien male
who’d kidnapped her, yet made her his own without the advantages he’d
originally touted, she might rest easy in this state of limbo. But clearly,
she’d suffer for eternity, so she might as well get on with it. She wouldn’t
dwell on the last moments of Vayne’s life, not the way she’d watched his big,
strong body fade. Instead, she would keep the memory of his beloved face right
in the forefront of her mind, open and vulnerable as he allowed her into his
very being.

Whispers of
sensation chased themselves across her cheeks and gentle touches pressed
against her closed lids. More sweet pressure and warmth on her mouth as her
body warmed and melted against something heated. It was the worst form of
torture as once again his voice spoke her name and the sound eddied around her.
Not limbo, then, but hell. Tantalized and tormented. She whimpered and heard
the noise echo like a small animal, trapped and afraid. Her pathetic struggles
were subdued and denied—then soothed. Neira begged…
please
…
noooo
… He was gone
and how was she to exist like this?

“Neira.
Enough.
Your sovereign must insist. I command you to come back to me.”

Again, she
struggled, one arm flailing while her feet shuffled as if swaddled in sand.
Please.

“I have you, little
warrior. I have you. You’re safe and in my arms. Let me hold you, keep you
warm.”

Bands of steel
imprisoned her yet kept her in place against the directionless drifting, and
the warmth was truly delicious. She dared relax infinitesimally and was
rewarded with a pleased murmur that ruffled the hair at her temple. A deep
breath to ease her angst filled her nostrils with Vayne’s distinct, earthy
scent. Startled, she blinked her eyes open.

Worried turquoise
pools fringed with dark lashes stared down at her, drawing her heart and soul
from the abyss, and his name flooded up her throat.
“Vayne?”

“I’m here. Here
with you, my chosen.” His voice was hoarse with bubbling emotion.

“Are we dead?” The
space was bright and filled with sounds she knew well. Hospital sounds. She
couldn’t tear her gaze from his to orient herself.

A pained chuckle
escaped him, and her breasts were compressed as his chest swelled. So close—and
skin to skin. “We aren’t dead, Neira. Although we should be, considering what
has transpired.”

“We’re in sick
bay,” she guessed.

“We are. I despaired
of you ever waking.”

That was
intriguing. She hadn’t thought she was merely asleep. “We’re naked.
In sick bay.
And you were dead. I saw you die.”
Baraith!
Panic welled and only with a
huge effort did she keep from flailing about in terror. She couldn’t hurt
Vayne.

“Shh,
Neira.
Breathe. You’re safe.”

“But he stabbed
you—”

“And he is dead. I
have survived, as have you.” The relief was indescribable to know Baraith was
dead.

She hung on every
word as Vayne explained his survival, intensely grateful for the difference in
Shadalla physiology. Cautiously, she gained a few inches in distance, pressing
backward, and studied his chest.

“The injury in my
back has healed, or nearly so,” he offered, “and this time with no scarring,
thanks to having the technology available.”

“Are you…” She
didn’t know how to ask if he was going to be the same or struggle in later
life. Heart transplants on the Home World were common if one had the money, and
the success rate was very high, but… Not that it mattered. She’d take care of
him, see that he took care.

“I’m fine. Without
pain at all now and Stenlor assures me I won’t know the difference once I
conclude my recovery period.
Unlike my crew member, the loyal
hunters, and very nearly Leric.
You know the ambassador was also killed.
And you evidently saved my life from a traitor who was a Juxtant in disguise.”

Neira was vastly
relieved to hear that Leric would survive, and she spared a thought and a
prayer for the dead, aside from Rush and Baraith. She pretended not to hear
that her sovereign believed she’d saved him. It was simply too much to handle
at the moment. She knew she’d have a private discussion with the medic
regardless of Vayne’s reassurances about his health and ruefully conceded she
was going to become one of those women, the ones who worried and fussed over
their—husbands. Her breathing increased exponentially as she thought the word
and Vayne touched a finger to the pulse near her throat, his expression
anxious.

“What is it? Are
you dismayed because of that Juxtant?”

How could she say
it? What words should she use? She’d informed Baraith that Vayne was her
lifemate, she his chosen, and it had felt totally right in that moment. They
were bonded and losing him had nearly killed her. Could she go through that
again? Could she not?

“Neira.
Turn to me.
Please.”

She snuggled into
him and tucked her head beneath his chin. He stroked her back and she felt his
cock harden and fill against her belly.

“Ignore that,” he
muttered. “You have only to touch me and I’m hard.”

When she spoke, her
words were muffled, but he’d said the Shadalla had excellent hearing, and she
couldn’t look at him yet. “I can’t imagine life without you. I told…the
Juxtant…you were my husband. It was Baraith, Vayne.”

A finger slipped
beneath her chin and he tilted her head back, moving so he could lock gazes. He
didn’t look surprised and his words underscored it. He was so intelligent, her
husband, and had clearly been thinking things through while she was drifting in
limbo. “You knew it was him. I can only imagine
your…
yet
you prevailed. And you nearly faded when you thought I was lost to you, and you
would still claim me as yours? Take that risk again?”

Forcing a tremulous
smile, she nodded. “There’s a price to pay for what you have given me and what
you promise, and I’ll pay it.”

“Is there nothing
that can defeat you, little warrior? Not the war, not the loss of family, not
that time with the Juxtant and then how your own people treated you? Kidnapped
and forced to fight for your life against the very Juxtant who was at the
center of it all?” Vayne stared deep into her eyes. “I stand in awe of you, my
chosen.”

“I nearly didn’t
come back to you,” she said quietly. “And if you hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t
have.”

“Then my prayers
weren’t in vain. And rest assured I’ll keep that promise, little warrior. I owe
you my life.”

“And I owe you my
soul.”

****

As Neira dropped
her head back onto his chest, Vayne’s entire being exploded with joy. Like a
beautifully forged blade, his chosen’s bond with him had remained strong and
true, regardless of the fact she was human and he was Shadalla. She cared for
him so much that she preferred death if she lost him, however, and that would
never do. He would give her much to live for, and once blessed with children
things would work out differently should he have the misfortune to fade before
her. It could indeed be misfortune, for, as sovereign, there were risks and
rewards. High profile figures tended to draw attention both positive and
negative, but he’d long accepted that fact and guarded against it.

His joy fizzled at
the thought of losing her first, as would most likely happen because of their
bodies’ predetermined longevity, and his brain scrambled to compile all the
reasons why that might not have to be so. Technology had a way of outstripping
mortality. And he couldn’t allow himself to think that way. Neira had withstood
so many losses and deserved that he be equally resilient. One must live in the
moment and experience everything. The silk of Neira’s body against his own coarser
skin reminded him of that point.

“Sovereign.”
Stenlor
approached,
a scanning device in his hand and
information written across his features. At Vayne’s nod he ran the small
instrument over Neira and made satisfied sounds. “All vital signs are normal.
Slightly elevated body temperature but I expect that’s from—in any event she is
fine.
As healthy as yourself.”

Ignoring the flush
on the medic’s face, Vayne asked, “And the RNA results?”

“Sir.
I ran them three
times against our data base. The Juxtant on our ship was Monarch Baraith.”

His arms
automatically tightened around Neira as the foul name fell from Stenlor’s mouth
in an unnecessary yet necessary confirmation. Did she remember that fight to
the death or was she lacking in details as he had been when he came back to the
land of the living? Vayne wanted to ask her what happened, debrief her, but
hesitated when she disregarded the contention she had saved his life. How much
could one woman handle?

Neira wiggled free
of his protective grasp, holding the sheet against her breasts as she surveyed
Stenlor. “But he’s really dead, right?”

“Most assuredly, My
Lady Sovereign. As you humans say, as a doornail.” The male looked bemused and
glanced at Vayne.

“I just wasn’t sure
he would die because I blacked out when he—” She bit off her next words and
looked away from him.

“Stenlor told me
what he did to you. And what you did to him.” Grim satisfaction colored his
tone as he voiced the latter.

“As
long as he’s gone.
He seemed…immortal. I didn’t want him to somehow gain control
of the
Tomodr
. And he had to pay for
what he did to you.”

Vayne waved Stenlor
away and lowered his voice for her ears alone. “I do owe you my life, little
warrior. Again, I stand in awe. And you faced your worst nightmare.”

“And won,” she said
grimly, again clearly disregarding how indebted he was to her, but he’d ensure
she never regretted it.

“I understand
he…that is to say, Baraith had been altered to resemble me.”

“Don’t you say
that.
Don’t you ever say that,” she said, so fiercely the strong
resemblance to a
leicat
was highly
pronounced. “He is nothing like you.
Nothing.”

He soothed her,
stroking over her back and arms until she settled. “We have come full circle,
Neira. I have my beloved chosen, and other Shadalla males can follow my lead,
now that we understand the opportunities.”

“And
no more stealing women.”
There was total inflexibility in that statement.

“No more stealing
women,” he agreed. “Although I’d do it again if it meant finding you.”

Neira said nothing.
Last word.
Vayne smiled to himself.