The Scythian Trials

by Elizabeth Isaacs

  Penn stepped close, wiping the blood from his mouth and nose. His breath warming her chin. “You may hate me now. But once you see the future I have planned, my sweet fianceé, you’ll thank me.” He brushed the hair from her face. “Now, try and get some rest. You won’t be able to break these chains. I’ve made sure of it.”

  He tried to kiss her lips, but she jerked away.

  Penn growled and turned to his men. “No one touches her but me.”

  The freight box jolted, bringing her back to the present. Something creaked overhead, and the entire car listed as it was hoisted in the air. Nya scrambled back, tucking her body into a corner, knees to chest, her feet pushing against the glass floor so she wouldn’t tumble as it shifted and swayed.

  The box eased down, jarring her as it landed on solid ground. Men shouted from one side and then the other.

  Estonian. Dmitri Sarkov’s native language.

  Metal groaned as the back latch opened. Light flooded in, and Nya squinted, holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the harsh glare.

  “Ana Sarkov. It’s good to see you again.” A stocky Allos came forward, his greasy black hair slicked back from his face. “The trip seems to be taking a toll, but I have no doubt you will recover once you are in Penn’s arms again.”

  She grimaced as memories flooded her consciousness. This sonofabitch was Penn’s right-hand man. “Fuck you, Stephan.”

  He stepped closer until he was a few feet from the glass. His muddy brown eyes glittered as he smiled. “Now, that’s no way to speak to an old friend. I see the music wasn’t as soothing as I had hoped.”

  Nya glared, refusing to look away. A Drahzdan soldier scaled the metal rungs running alongside her clear prison. He hopped on the roof, his worn soles squeaking on the glass as he made his way to the latch. Metal tumblers clicked until they fell into place, the top hatch opened, and a boxed lunch dropped next to her.

  The hatch locked into place before the soldier walked back to the rungs and slid down the rails.

  “I seem to remember you like turkey on rye, am I right?” Stephan smiled.

  Nya shoved the container with her foot and kept her eyes on him.

  “Do you need to use the facilities?”

  She said nothing.

  Stephan moved forward and knelt down beside her, the thick, transparent barrier the only thing between them. “I strongly suggest you try.” His voice softened as if he cared one way or the other. “If you don’t, you’ll have to hold it until we reach Moscow. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to come check on you. We’ll be switching from rail to road. Too risky. But don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything.” He stood and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “Now, do you need the bucket or not?”

  Hatred glittered in her eyes as she kept silent.

  “Have it your way.” He started toward the light, his voice bouncing off the harsh, metal walls. “Eat, or the music comes back on.”

  The door closed, and she hung her head as darkness smothered her once more.

  Alexandra sat in the now empty briefing room. It had been a hellish morning. How she managed to keep Nya’s abduction from the media was nothing short of miraculous. The compound security tapes had been erased before Victor and Jax left the grounds, but she’d spent the rest of the night personally splicing in old footage to fill the time stamp should someone notice. The Drahzdan cell that was found and accused of attacking the compound had been executed at sunrise while the Scythian world watched, a slew of reporters recording the whole affair. Of course, a press conference followed where Alexandra fabricated an elaborate plot involving explosives in the arena during the final round. This, naturally, segued into the sad update that Anya Thalestris was back under doctor’s supervision. Her heartfelt wishes for the Thalestris family went off like a charm, and the news that Anya’s Chosen had decided to stay by her side was met with quiet admiration. Toxaris was the only champion who attended the media circus. Afterward, the young warrior happily spoke to reporters, spouting off memories of her and Nya’s time in the academy. Her support and convictions were impressive.

  Either the chit believed the story, or she was a hell of a liar. Alexandra couldn’t figure out which.

  The other Amazonian warriors took the news of Nya’s hospitalization with a collective shrug. They kept their focus on finding their mate, and, thanks to Toxaris, Alexandra encouraged the press to interview the other champions. After all, equality must prevail.

  Her phone buzzed. Ike’s name flashed across the screen. She reached for her tumbler and threw it back, letting the whiskey calm her. How had it gotten so bad that she’d started drinking before noon?

  “Ike.”

  “I’ve spoken with Jax. If Pumpkin isn’t back on Scythian soil by tomorrow, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “The Tovaris are going dark, so I’m sure everything will be resolved soon.” Alexandra circled her finger around the rim of her glass.

  The line grew quiet. “You remember the night before our final round?”

  Alexandra’s glass froze midair as a lump formed in her throat.

  “I think about it sometimes,” Ike said. “Us sneaking off into the woods. I would have taken you right then if you would’ve let me. Planted my seed and forced my claim, the consequence be damned.”

  Pain etched across her face, and she finished her drink.

  “You stopped me, though. Still didn’t keep me from taking all I could, did it?”

  “Ike—”

  “And just before dawn, as I held you in my arms, you whispered that you loved me. You vowed I was the only male for you—that you’d never be able to create an intima bond with anyone else. Do you remember?”

  “We swore we’d never speak of it,” Alexandra whispered.

  “But we should have. I should have apologized and tried to explain. Alex, I never meant to hurt you. That night was more about me trying to prove we could work. I was young and stupid and confused. I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t go into the third round intending to lose. It wasn’t until we were on the field I realized sexual chemistry wasn’t enough.”

  She slumped in her chair. “Why are you bringing this up? It happened years ago.”

  “Because all this time I’ve felt so damn guilty.” Ike’s voice became gruff. “Guilty that I had encouraged your feelings, even though I knew deep down I didn’t feel the same. Guilty that because of me, you never fully bonded with your mate. Guilty the footage of our final round still circulates years after our Trials. And because of that guilt, you’ve been invited to events meant only for family and close friends. Even Nya’s rite of passage made international news because you were the first to strike ink on my nata—not her mother, which was her right, but you.”

  Wearily Alexandra set her tumbler down. “What’s your point, Ike?”

  “I thought including you in my life would atone for the way I treated you. But I now understand just how wrong I’ve been. Promoting me, elevating Gia to your council, keeping Nya in the forefront of the Society, all of it has been a ploy, hasn’t it? We’re nothing but pawns in a game where you decide who wins and who dies.”

  She reached for the whiskey and filled her tumbler again. “That’s not true. You know I love Anya as if she were my own.”

  “I used to believe that, but not anymore. Now I think you’re using Pumpkin to exact your revenge.”

  The color drained from her face. “Ike, no. I lo—”

  “Which is why I’m officially giving notice.” Ike’s voice became aggressive. “After this mission, I’m stepping down as Commander of Fourth Gen. Gia’s already alerted your executive assistant she’s resigning as well.”

  Stunned, Alexandra’s stomach turned as she struggled to find the right words to say.

  “Oh, and Chancellor?” His voice turned deadly. “I’d make sure Nya makes it out of this alive because if she dies, the line of Ares and Otrera ends with her.”

  The phone went dead, and Alexandra threw her tum
bler across the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Bile rose in Nya’s throat as she tore off a small bite of sandwich and shoved it in her mouth. The rye bread felt like sawdust, but no bathroom meant no liquids. Something whirred in the quiet, and she glanced at the camera in the far corner.

  Fucking Stephan. Bet he loved watching her squirm.

  She leaned back and rested her head on the glass wall. Using meditative techniques Jax had taught her, she allowed her mind to wander back to Carpathia. God, she hoped Xari was still alive. And what about Jax, Killian, and the rest? Did they know she’d been taken, or had Alexandra told everyone she’d finally cracked and bolted for the hills?

  Wouldn’t put it past the bitch.

  Nya had more questions than answers, but at least she understood why Penn did what he did.

  “My mother almost ruined her marriage the day she took me and ran away. I cannot allow that to happen to us, and so I’ve made it impossible for you to do the same. The Phoenix lives within you, and if you betray me, you will burn. Do you understand, my sweet?”

  She now knew she’d been injected with the same serum as the Drahzdan soldiers, put through the same hell, but it didn’t seem to affect her as it did them. Her mind had protected her, for one thing. When Zander took her from the ship, the Phoenix raged through her. Every pulse had sent fresh fire through her veins, and at that moment she’d prayed her heart would stop beating. The night Zander freed her from the boat she must have gone beyond her natural threshold of pain, and her brain shut down.

  But her mental capabilities were superior to the Allos, and even now, with the Phoenix taking flight, excruciating as it was, she still had control of her thoughts, her actions. But Penn once mentioned there were nine levels of conditioning. He laughed, saying Dmitri had fashioned them after Dante’s Inferno and his nine circles of hell. She had no idea what level the Russian music triggered, but every hour she survived it gave her hope because the serum’s effect seemed to be lessening.

  She leaned forward, tucking her knees to her chest. Her mind slipped into the place between awake and slumber, and she created a mental timeline of the shit she’d been through.

  Penn kidnapping her ... Dmitri Sarkov and that damn serum ... And ... oh, God ...

  The plastic lined room.

  She forced herself to remain still. Visions of being tied down, fighting while doctors sedated her. Penn touching her, promising a bright future. And then the pain as they’d taken her eggs from her.

  Panic choked her, and she fought the urge to attack her cage in a desperate attempt to flee.

  A new breed of human. A hybrid race. That’s what he wanted. The best of both to rule them all.

  What if he’d already done it? What if he greeted her at the castle’s door with a babe in his arms, one that had his nose, but her eyes ... her Scythian heritage?

  She couldn’t live with that, but would she be able to murder innocent young simply because their father had forced them into being born?

  Shivering, she ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm them from the seeping cold. Her fingers grazed the triple spire dragon still wrapped around her arm. Tears blurred her vision as she thought of the empty place it guarded.

  Even if she made it through this, she’d never shoulder anyone’s mark. The small ember of hope for a normal life, one where she could give the dragon to her little warrior as a gift for making it to the Trials, had turned to ash. But she’d keep this cuff on her arm until she breathed her last as a tribute to Jax—the one who’d kept her sane the past four years.

  Sudden longing to see him, to have his arms around her one last time, surged from within. Her blood blazed through her veins as her heart thumped painfully in her chest. Nya whimpered and curled into a ball, her hands gripping her head as she pressed her temples with her palms. Her mind raced, and she tried to breathe through it while searching for the cause and effect of the Phoenix.

  “Ana? Are you well?” Stephan’s concerned voice blared from the speaker.

  She ignored him while her mind latched onto an image of a lone field next to a stream. For years she questioned why this meadow, the one with her and Penn’s secret fort, would be in her nightmares. But now she knew.

  This was the only place she had willingly let Penn touch her, kiss her. He must have used the memory as a way to pull her back from the Phoenix fires when he set her triggers.

  Something hissed overhead, and a bitter scent misted down, but she barely noticed as her mind latched onto another memory.

  “No one is allowed to touch you, my sweet Ana. The blood fires will come if they do. Your pleasure is mine and mine alone. Do you understand? You belong to me now.”

  Her eyes grew heavy, and she slumped to the side.

  That’s why she reacted so violently when a male touched her. Her subconscious knew the pain she would endure if she became sexually aroused. Aren’s passion had sparked in her that sense of panic, and yet, Jax’s touch gave her pleasure and made her feel alive. Why?

  Her arms felt like lead as she struggled to pull the blanket over her.

  Her eyes drifted closed, and she groaned. It was because when Penn set her triggers, he couldn’t use what she had never experienced—that’s why Jax was different. What she felt for him went far beyond passion, deeper than lust.

  Somewhere along the line, she’d fallen in love with him.

  Sunlight filtered through worn curtains as Victor and Nya’s Chosen quietly sat around the old farm table. After a long flight, they’d driven through the night and then spent the majority of the day trudging through heavily wooded terrain. Killian’s contacts confirmed the CIA had secured a cabin and a few hundred acres after Sarkov industries had bought the castle on the next parcel over.

  Jax had to give it to Killian’s unit. They’d been instrumental in assuring the surrounding acreage stayed protected under an international initiative to save Russia’s dangerous wildlands. Of course, none of it meant shit if his Vtachi didn’t make it out of this alive. She’d been gone for over twenty hours. If they didn’t hear something soon, he’d go crazy. He rolled his head, trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders.

  The movement caught Victor’s attention, and he glanced up from his tablet. His astute eyes took in Jax’s harried appearance. He stood and made his way into the kitchen where he gathered a stack of plastic cups and a bottle of vodka. Setting down the cups, he poured each warrior a drink.

  “Thanks,” Killian muttered.

  “Tova, loyalnost, sila.” Victor raised his glass in a traditional toast.

  Jax tipped his cup toward his friend, repeating the Tovaris credo of Brothers, Loyalty, and Strength. It was the center of who they were, the very meaning of the symbol branded on both of the male’s chests.

  The others held their glasses in tribute, though none were stupid enough to utter the doctrine.

  “I thought you were the only Tova psychologist working for the Society.” Aren tossed back his drink.

  “I work with them—big distinction. And Victor’s Tovaris roots aren’t widely known. It tends to intimidate his patients.”

  “You know what bothers me most?” Luka said, changing the subject. “Why now? The Drahzda must know how reckless it is to take Nya during the Trials. Why not snatch her when she was at the academy?”

  “They tried.” Killian’s statement plunged the room into icy silence.

  “Come again?” Jax leaned forward, his voice dangerously soft.

  “Four years ago, I was the lead tracker in an op that involved capturing a Drahzdan team outside Bitterroot Montana.”

  Jax scowled. “Why the hell wasn’t I informed?”

  “Because the U.S. had given control of the mission to the Society, and the Chancellor ordered it stay classified. We found them ten miles from the Academy before taking them out.”

  Jax tapped the table. Victor poured him another drink. “The Tovaris should have been notified.”

  Killian shrugged
. “I suggested the same, but the CIA Scythian commander informed me the mission never happened. I let it go.”

  A soft knock on the door had everyone on their feet and reaching for a weapon. Jax crept across the room, staying away from the light. He peeked out the window and groaned.

  “Who is it?” Killian took his Glock from its holster.

  Jax straightened up and opened the door. “Chosen, meet your potential in-laws.”

  Nya’s body ached, her tongue felt two feet thick, and why in the hell was that music still playing in the background? She gritted her teeth and tried to accept the blaze roaring through her veins. The sensation was painful as hell, but at least she’d stopped seizing.

  Confusion whirled as she stretched, sinking into something soft and warm and ... not moving.

  Wait. Where was she?

  Her heart plummeted as she opened her eyes. A familiar coffered ceiling stretched overhead.

  She was back in that godforsaken castle.

  Her fingertips brushed against her silk dress, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least no one had stripped her of her clothes this time.

  God, she hated this place.

  Her head rolled to the side as she squinted, trying to focus.

  Muted lamplight glared across another glass wall, which cut the room in half. The bed and bathroom were on her side, but a sitting area, complete with floor to ceiling windows and antique furniture were on the other. The music stopped, and her blood mercifully cooled.

  Jax’s deep, gentle voice caressed her mind. You and me, Vtachi ... we got this.