Willing Sacrifice (4 page)

G
race had to work hard to keep from staring at the stranger. He was beautifully built, completely intriguing and equally unsettling.

Brenya was hiding something about this man. Grace was used to the older woman’s cryptic ways, but there was something more to it this time. Something important. Something she felt like she should know.

Not only was this the first man Brenya had ever allowed in their little village—which was enough to make Grace suspicious—but he kept looking at her expectantly, like he thought she’d say something important.

She was only four years old, thanks to years of lost memories. What could she possibly have to say?

“His name is Torr,” said Brenya, speaking for the man who couldn’t.

Grace lifted her gaze to greet him properly and was struck mute by his bright, amber-colored eyes. She’d seen that exact shade somewhere before, but like most of her memories, it slipped away before she could grab hold. But this time a small, fleeting remnant of emotion lingered behind.

His eyes made her sad and joyful all at the same time, and she had no clue why.

She had to clear her throat before she could speak past the rush of emotion. “My name is Grace.”

He nodded once. A muscle along his jaw clenched with frustration.

Instincts made Grace take a long step back, out of striking range. She didn’t know why certain things set her off, making her insides light up with fear, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened. Sometimes she just freaked out for no good reason, and there was no predicting what would cause it. A look someone gave her, a loud noise, a sharp smell—they all had the power to terrify her.

Brenya knew why, but she refused to tell. She said that some things were best left forgotten.

Grace forced herself to move close to Torr again—close enough to feel the heat his body was giving off. Dirt and dried blood marred his skin but did nothing to take away from his animalistic beauty. Like a sleek predator’s body, his was made up of muscular contours meant for speed and power. Every breath lifted his chest, creating the illusion that the tree image on his skin was swaying.

The green leaves were strange, but somehow oddly familiar.

A flicker of an image formed in her mind. A bright golden light shone down on her, shielded by a canopy of green leaves. She could feel cool grass tickling the backs of her bare knees, hot tears sliding over her temples and a deep, throbbing ache pounding in her cheekbone. Sadness and shame filled her soul, along with a burning need for escape—escape that she knew would never come.

Torr’s hot hand settled on her bare arm, making her flinch and step back out of his reach.

“Settle, child,” came Brenya’s calm voice from the corner of the room. “All is well here and now. You are safe.”

His palm was still outstretched. A look of concern drew his dark eyebrows together, but she saw beyond that to the hurt that her insult had caused him. He looked . . . betrayed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to look at him. There was too much shame riding her, reminding her of just how weak she was. “I’m a little jumpy sometimes. Just ignore me.”

But he didn’t ignore her. Instead, he stood up from the bed and took both her hands in his.

His touch was gentle, but there was no mistaking his strength. His fingers surrounded hers, both rough and supple. Restraint vibrated through his touch, and it took everything she had not to jerk away. His thumb glided over the back of her hand, sending a familiar shiver racing along her arm.

Shock made her look up at him. Way up.

A little spurt of dizziness hit her, and even that felt familiar. There was something about this man that unsettled her and left her reeling.

She started to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to tell her wordlessly that he wasn’t ready to let her go.

He cradled her hands against his chest and stared into her eyes. His heart picked up speed, pounding hard and steady against her palms. Vital heat poured into her, forcing her to stifle another shiver. As close as he was, she could smell his skin—a rich mingling of scents she couldn’t name but knew as well as the feel of her own skin.

His scent made a blizzard of feelings erupt in her brain, so thick she couldn’t possibly tell one from another. Pain, sorrow, joy, love, hope—too many emotions for her to do more than groan against the weight of them all.

She swayed on her feet. Torr grabbed her bare shoulders to hold her steady, and the strength of his grip was strangely comforting.

She didn’t like anyone touching her, and yet for some reason this man’s firm grasp didn’t terrify her.

Grace stared up at him, trying to figure out what it was about him that left her so unsettled. She stepped away, rubbing the skin where his fingers had just been. “Do I know you?”

Brenya spoke before he could shake or nod his head. “Torr has never been to Temprocia before.”

She’d saved Grace’s life. She’d nursed her back from the brink of death at great personal cost to herself. Never once had the older woman lied to her. She’d kept plenty of secrets, but had never lied. At least not that Grace knew.

Still, something was going on here—something strange.

“Is that true?” she asked Torr.

He gave Brenya a long, cold stare before finally nodding.

Brenya pushed to her feet, her movements slower than usual. “I must go now. You will be safe with this man. He will not hurt you.”

Grace wasn’t so sure, but she wasn’t about to stop Brenya from getting the rest she needed. Come nightfall, the whole village relied on her to be strong so her magic could keep the Hunters at bay. “I’m fine, Brenya. Go rest. I’ll come check on you when I’m done here.”

As she passed, she spread her fingers at the base of Torr’s thick throat. It looked more like a threat to strangle him than an effort to heal, but Brenya’s ways were often as odd as they were effective.

Her tone was a cold, hard warning. “Injure her in any way—
any
way—and I will end your world. Do you understand completely?”

Torr nodded again, the simple motion somehow laced with cold fury.

“Good. Then speak again, and choose your words carefully, as if each one were a poisoned blade aimed at your heart.”

“I gave you my word,” he said.

Brenya nodded, as if that was all she needed to hear. Then she shuffled out of the hut, her steps slower than they’d been this morning.

“She’s weak,” said Torr, his deep voice an alien sound to Grace.

There were no men here, and she literally could not remember the last time she’d heard a man speak. She knew she had, just as she knew she’d eaten strange foods that she couldn’t name and had seen objects that didn’t exist here in her new life.

“She nearly killed herself bringing me back from the dead,” said Grace. “She’s been weak ever since.”

Torr stilled to the point that she couldn’t even see his chest move with his breath. His voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want to say the words aloud. “You were dead?”

“I must have been. It’s the only thing that explains why so many of my memories are gone.”

“Is that what Brenya said? That she brought you back from the dead?”

“No, she said she
remade
me, but I think that’s just her way of saying the same thing. She talks funny sometimes. Not that it really matters exactly what she did to me. I’m alive, and it nearly killed her getting or keeping me that way. I’ve been here four years and she still suffers from what she did for me.”

“Four years? How is that possible?”

“One day after another. Isn’t that the way it works where you’re from?” she asked, teasing in an effort to lighten his mood.

“Of course. That’s it,” he said, as if figuring out a great mystery. “Time moves slower where I’m from. What seems like months to me is years to you.”

“You’re from Athanasia, too?”

He blinked as if surprised that she knew about the other worlds connected to this place. “No. I’m from Earth.”

“That’s where Tori is from.”

Instant recognition lit his face. “Is Tori okay?”

Grace nodded. “She keeps to herself. Hunts a lot. But she seems healthy, if that’s what you mean.”

“Has she hurt anyone?”

Loyalty forced Grace to evade his question. The people Tori had injured had forgiven her, so it was Grace’s job to do the same. Besides, Tori hadn’t willfully injured anyone in a long time, even though it was obvious from the look in her eyes that she’d wanted to.

“Do you know her?”

“A little. Enough to know she’s dangerous.”

“She’s the best hunter we have—brings in more food than all the other women combined. I’d never want to be the one to make her mad, but she protects us. On the way here, I heard the women talking about how she saved one of our children from the creature you killed.”

“The little blond girl,” he said, as if answering his own question. “Maybe you can take me to see Tori. I’d like to say hello.”

“Maybe. Like I said, she’s out hunting a lot. She may not still be around. How long will you be here?”

“A while, I hope. I’d like to spend time with some people here.” There was an odd quality to his voice, like he was somehow aiming that remark at her.

“Can you open portals like Brenya?”

“No. She was the one who brought me here.”

“Then I guess it’s up to her how long you stay. But if you ever want to go home, I suggest you be nice to her.”

“That was my plan, but for the sake of curiosity, what makes you say that?”

“I don’t remember much about my life before, but I’m certain I’ve never seen anyone who can do the things she does. She knows everything I do, everything I say. I swear, sometimes it feels like she’s inside my head.” Grace sprinkled some powder into a bowl. “Have you ever heard of anything like that before?”

“I know a few people who are connected like that—powerful couples who are united in a way I can only dream about. They’re the lucky ones.”

She waved him back to the bed, urging him to sit. “Then I guess it’s not as strange as I thought. I haven’t exactly been allowed to get out and see much of the world.”

“Grace, are you a prisoner here?”

She poured clean water over the powder and set the bowl of disinfectant next to the bed. “No more than anyone else. We don’t roam far except to collect what we need. It’s too dangerous.”

“Because of creatures like the one I killed?”

“They’re dangerous, yes, but not nearly as scary as the new things that have started lurking around at night.”

“What kind of things?”

She used a cloth to clean blood and dirt from the wound on his head. His skin had already healed shut, leaving behind more mess than damage. She tried not to get distracted by his vivid eyes and the way they never left her, but that was easier said than done.

His whole body was a distraction, from the beautiful curve of muscle and bone to the intriguing images he wore. She’d seen the crescent shape on his arm before on others, but that tree spanning his chest was new and yet somehow familiar. All she wanted to do was stroke her hands over him until the mystery he presented was solved.

The same was true with the iridescent band that hugged his throat. It was supple enough to cling to the contours of thick muscle and tendon, yet it looked delicate, almost feminine. A mass of color swirled lazily along the silvery surface, drawing her stare.

“Grace?” he said, pulling her attention back to his question, “what kind of things do you see at night?”

She blinked a couple of times to refocus her attention. “I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen all of them, just these strange ridges along their backs. One of the Athanasian women from the village to the south was killed a few days ago. Brenya seems to think it was these creatures who killed her.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Brenya says they were sent to find her but couldn’t see her in the daylight.”

Torr shot up from the bed, easing her away from him so he wouldn’t plow into her. “When does the sun go down?”

“Which sun?”

He stared for a second, then nodded, as if making a mental adjustment. “When is it dark?”

“Soon. Why?”

“I need to speak to Brenya.”

Grace stepped around him and placed herself in front of the door. His big body towered over her, but she held her ground. Brenya needed to rest, not answer the questions of a stranger. No matter how much Grace wanted to cower or flee, she wasn’t budging until he understood that. “She’s too tired for visitors, especially ones who look as furious as you do. Besides, I’m not done cleaning your wounds.”

“My wounds aren’t important. Your safety is.”

“Our safety depends on me following orders, and I was told to tend to your wounds. You can’t ask me to defy Brenya, not after what she’s done for me. Please. Sit back down.”

He let out a long breath of frustration but eased back on his heels. He didn’t sit down, but at least she wasn’t going to need to grab him to keep him here. Though she had to admit that putting her hands on him held massive appeal.

“If you won’t let me talk to her, then you tell me,” he said. “How do you defend yourselves?”

“Brenya has put up barriers that keep the creatures out at night. So long as we stay inside the village, we’re safe.”

“The demons can’t get in?”

“Demons? Is that what they are?”

“It’s likely. Can they get in?”

“No.” At least they hadn’t yet. Grace still wondered how long Brenya’s magic would hold if she became any weaker.

“Then how did that woman get killed?”

“She disobeyed orders and went outside the perimeter after dark. Everyone knows that’s against the rules.” Speaking of orders, Grace still had hers. Torr wasn’t going back to the cot on his own, so it was up to her to get him there.

She gathered her nerve and pressed one hand against his abdomen in a silent order for him to back up. Beneath her fingers, his muscles clenched. His amber eyes darkened, and the strangest look covered his face—something between hunger and need, something she’d never seen before. At least not that she could remember.

Torr backed up until his legs hit the cot. With her hands splayed over his broad, smooth shoulders, she pushed down. He gave in and sat, but grabbed her wrists before she could back away.