by Tessa Dawn
Alas, true maturity only came with age, with living, and none of the unsuspecting females he and Nathaniel had toyed with had truly been harmed in any way by their silly teenage pranks. So, why then did he suddenly feel so morose? Why had all this reflection, this innocent recollection of the past, left him feeling oddly disconnected, if not a bit restless and discontent?
He came across a hollowed-out log in the water, draped in moss and covered with bugs, and he slowly moved it aside, cringing at the sight of the strange, ugly creatures. He needed to redirect his thoughts, to focus on a memory that made him feel settled and confident, something that reminded him that all was truly well.
It wasn’t like his childhood had been anything other than pleasant.
And nurturing.
In fact, it was only later in life that true tragedy had visited the Silivasi household, that Kagen had lost Serena, his mother, then Keitaro, his father, and at last, Shelby, his beloved younger brother, each cherished family member in turn.
It wasn’t until later in life that he had begun to recognize the true dual nature of his being, the fact that the gentle, consummate healer concealed a wild, dangerous beast within. The fact that Kagen had somehow become a loner—and perhaps even a bit of a haunted predator—in his own confusing way. It wasn’t that he had a desire to hurt the innocent—never, absolutely not—it was just that he had an insatiable desire to see blood, a yearning to cause destruction on an epic scale, something that went beyond the normal vampiric instincts.
And gods be compassionate, none of it was intentional.
Kagen Silivasi was a caring male, a loving soul by nature, but he had survived the unthinkable, time and time again, by retreating into that solitary place inside of his soul that no one else could touch; hell, that he himself could no longer even define. And he had built a life, a way of being, inside a cocoon, a safe, hemmed-in shell that kept the shadows at bay, the demons barred at the gate, and any true potential for intimacy rendered impossible.
Perhaps Kagen was simply being honest with himself for the first time in decades.
Because if the truth were ever to be spoken aloud, Kagen would have to admit that his internal demons, those enigmatic ghosts of the past, still haunted him today. They lived in the shadows of his soul. While his life was one of meaning and purpose, it had also become a monotonous exercise of duty and service as well, lacking whatever intrinsic curiosity and joy had once driven him to get up each night as a child. To be sure, he believed in the mastery of healing with all his heart, in the sacred oath he had sworn to the house of Jadon, but he had walked this path in such utter solitude for so long that perhaps he no longer recognized the ache for what it was: loneliness.
All Kagen knew was that the seasons blended into years; the years blended into decades; and the decades had become an endless repetition of monotony at best.
Was this really a life at all, when the ghosts of the past were like unrelenting hounds from hell, always stalking their prey, forever nipping at his heels? When his beast was too ethereal to destroy, too corporeal to banish, and too ever-constant to outrun?
Kagen dismissed his thoughts as he picked up his pace, falling into closer step behind Nathaniel. Perhaps this journey would put an end to the ghosts, once and for all.
As if sensing his unease, perhaps even detecting his inner conflict, Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder and met the healer’s gaze. Brother? he asked, telepathically. There was no need for further words.
All is well, Kagen assured him. I’m fine, Nathaniel.
Nathaniel stared at him for a few seconds too long and then spoke on a private bandwidth: If it helps at all, know that I am here. You are never alone.
Kagen stopped in his tracks, shook off the vulnerable moment, and moved on.
nine
Just before nightfall
Arielle grew instantly alert as she listened to the approaching sound of water sloshing in the swamp and then heavy, prodding footsteps steadily coming her way.
Dearest ancestors!
She immediately snatched her belongings, scrambled from the edge of the bank to a nearby grove of trees, and took cover behind a thick cluster of bushes. She drew an arrow from her quiver, notched her bow, and held her breath...waiting.
She hadn’t been wrong!
There were several large, intimidating males coming her way.
And unlike the typical gold-and-russet-haired lycans, all but one of these males had dark black locks. In fact, one of them had hair so black it shimmered with a kaleidoscope of bottomless, reflective blue. An uneasy knot twisted in her gut, and her palms grew sweaty as she studied them more closely. Their gait was smooth and predatory, like that of wild cats, and the seamless way they moved as one, each disarming male functioning as a separate limb on a singular body, stole her very breath. They were magnificent as soldiers, vulturine as a species, terrifying as men.
And somehow she just knew that death followed in their wake.
Clutching her bow more tightly, she trembled in her boots, wishing for all intents and purposes that she could just blend into the landscape and disappear.
These males were dangerous in a way that not even Thane’s generals could match. They didn’t appear to be Lycanthrope, and they definitely were not human. By all the ancestors, what were they?
Who were they?
And why were they here, within five hundred yards of the Rebel Camp?
She pressed her belly lower into the dirt and shimmied further back beneath the prickly bush, hoping to remain undetected as their approach grew nearer. She glanced anxiously to the left and then the right, eyeing the inconspicuous trail that led to the Rebel Camp and the large mossy trees that dotted the northern banks of the Skeleton Swamps, and then it just occurred to her: Great ancestors, these men had traveled from the south, through the Skeleton Swamps, and they had all lived to tell about it!
They had survived the ferocious beasts.
But how?
Of all the days to venture out alone to the edge of the forbidden swamp, to collect plants for her healing tonics and poultices, why had she chosen today?
Arielle felt like she was going to be sick.
Of all the ways she had imagined her death, this wasn’t it. She absently wondered what Walker would think when she didn’t return. What everyone in the camp would do—would they ever find her body?
Just then, the lightest-haired male turned his head in her direction and lightly scented the air, his exquisite, chiseled features tightening with recognition. His intense brown eyes reflected silvery light from the centers, even as they narrowed in focus, homing in on the bush where she crouched.
She felt like a sitting duck.
One of those idiotic rabbits that tried to freeze in place right out in the middle of a field, even though it was clear to everyone except the rabbit that the gig was up, as if the predator could no longer see its prey if it stopped moving or avoided eye contact. And like a cornered rabbit, she wanted to scamper away, run like the wind from the alarming male who was staring right at her—or was he?—but the lot of them were too close now. She would never get away. She couldn’t hope to outrun them.
Arielle bit her bottom lip and steeled her resolve. Unlike a rabbit, she wasn’t stupid or defenseless. Slowly removing two more silver-tipped arrows from her quiver, she prepared to do the only thing she knew how: to fight to the death if necessary.
And, hopefully, to die with her honor and her virtue still intact.
The Silivasi brothers emerged from the Skeleton Swamps like crusaders emerging from months of battle. They shook off the foul, prehistoric experience even as they shook out the musty water from their clothes and their hair, immediately utilizing their vampiric powers to dry their packs and reset their body temperatures.
Kagen shuddered as he fell back into place to the left of Nathaniel, and to the right of Nachari, essentially bringing up the rear—and just what had that last creature been anyway? The one with the giant, ten-foot wing
span and two globular heads protruding out of its neck like some kind of carnival freak? He glanced appreciatively at Nachari and smiled. The wizard had been true to his word: He had brandished his beloved sword, as well as his curved sickle, with expert ease and precision, taking on one monstrous predator after another without flinching. He had even used his magic on several precarious occasions, an impressive display of mysticism to say the least, and it wasn’t until they had run into the fifty-foot-long snake that he had become squeamish.
Kagen chuckled inwardly.
This was a strange land indeed.
As beautiful on the outside as it was ugly and distorted on the inside, just like the lycans that inhabited the realm.
Now, moving forward at a brisk place, his eyes and ears alert for the impending presence of another enemy—beast, human, or werewolf—he thought he detected the outline of a person about one hundred yards ahead, a shadow ducking beneath a large, thorny bush. He didn’t register a reaction—the last thing he wanted to do was alert an enemy to their presence—rather, he reached out to his brothers on a telepathic wavelength: Marquis, fifty yards ahead. Three o’clock. Beneath the bush.
I see it, the fearsome warrior grumbled.
It…is a her, Nachari offered, his psychic voice even yet alert.
Indeed, Nathaniel chimed in. The heart is smaller and the rhythm is faster, and not just because she’s afraid. And by the familiar aroma of the hormones being released into her bloodstream, it would appear that she is a human.
And alone, Nachari said.
Are you sure? Marquis asked. That she’s alone? There was no room for error in such calculations.
Nachari paused only for a moment. She’s alone, he reiterated.
And scared to death, Nathaniel added.
Kagen turned his gaze in the female’s direction and lightly scented the air. Adrenaline, he commented to no one in particular. Fight or flight response. She’s getting ready to do…something.
Yes, Nathaniel agreed, and by the acrid scent of her fear, the sudden constriction in her veins, my guess is that she’s preparing to fight. Not run.
Kagen nodded in agreement. What say you, warrior? he asked Marquis. Is it time to meet the natives? Find out a bit more about this oddly picturesque yet repulsive land?
Marquis grunted his permission, and it was all Kagen needed to proceed.
He instantly teleported from where he stood and reappeared just as suddenly about two feet in front of the bush. Reaching down to extend a hand, he gave the woman a quiet command. “Come out from underneath the bush, sweeting.”
The woman moved incredibly fast for a human. She sprang to her knees, rocked back on her heels, and immediately released an arrow from a crude, makeshift bow, the missile heading straight for Kagen’s heart.
Kagen caught the arrow in his right hand and crushed it on impact, but before he could reach out to stop her, she released two more arrows, each in quick succession. By all the gods, she was skilled with that weapon. Kagen swatted the last two arrows away and reached for the bow. He snatched it out of her hand, flung it over his right shoulder, and scooped her up by the crook of her arm before she could even register what had happened.
And then he let go of her and took a measured step back.
The female was literally quaking in her animal-hide boots, her stunning aquamarine eyes as wide as saucers. Her impossibly thick, wavy hair was the color of burnt copper with fiery red highlights interspersed throughout, and it stood up in several places—no doubt, mussed by the prickly branches of the bush—so that she looked like a wild-thing from the nearby swamps, fiercely beautiful, inconceivably rare, and despite her obvious fear, angry as a rattlesnake.
She was dressed in some primitive outfit from a time long gone, the hide of some native beast wrapped around her torso, from the left side of her neck to the right side of her waist, leaving one shoulder bare. The garment clung to her midriff and descended to her thighs, before dividing into two long flaps that covered an equally crude pair of leggings. The leggings were tucked inside a thick pair of boots, and the entire visage practically screamed Amazon, queen of the jungle. She was fairly tall and unmistakably lean, with all the right curves in all the right places, and the clear definition of the muscles in her arms belied the fact that she was in spectacular shape: She was a warrior of some standing.
Kagen held up both hands in a defensive posture. “I mean you no harm, little warrior.” He eyed the quiver at her back and tapped the bow, the one he had taken just moments before, with respect. “As long as you make no further attempts to harm me.”
The woman’s eyes darted frantically from one end of the clearing to the next—she was obviously trying to map out an escape, to determine whether or not she could get away.
“You won’t get far,” Kagen said softly, trying to relax the rasp in his voice. “What is your name?”
Her aquamarine eyes grew even bigger—if that was possible—and by the tortured look on her exquisite face, one would have sworn the healer had just asked her to remove her clothes. She pursed her lips together in defiance and angled her jaw upward, refusing to answer.
Kagen pushed gently into her mind. “Arielle Nightsong…that’s an unusual name.”
She staggered backward. “What? How? Who are you?”
Just then, Marquis, Nathaniel, and Nachari approached, and the terrified woman bolted in fear. She shoved at Kagen’s chest, barely moving him an inch, and then tried to duck around his wide shoulders before tearing off to the left and running straight into Marquis’s implacable girth.
She screamed like a cougar, twisting this way and that, trying to break out of his hold.
Marquis instantly stole her voice—he blocked all sound from emerging—lest she alert an enemy to their presence.
She reached up for her throat and stroked her larynx impulsively, her hand quivering with barely concealed panic. She tried several times to speak before falling to her knees and cowering on the ground.
Back up a bit, Marquis, Kagen suggested on the family bandwidth. We don’t want her to die of fright before we have a chance to question her. He bent to address the cowering woman at eye level. “My brother would be happy to return your voice, but you must agree to stop screaming.” He held her gaze with one of compassion. “Do I have your word?”
Arielle nodded slowly, staring blankly at each male before her like a deer staring into a pair of blinding headlights.
“Very well,” Kagen said. He nodded at Marquis.
The Ancient Master Warrior released her voice and harrumphed. “You are wasting our precious time, female. The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we can scrub your memory of this unfortunate event and get on about our business. So just be quiet and cooperate.”
“Tactful, Marquis,” Nachari said.
The warrior leveled a warning glance at the wizard.
Tears filled Arielle’s eyes, and she shivered uncontrollably. “Please,” she whimpered, “I don’t want any trouble. I just…I just…”
Her cowering was a ruse.
As she stammered before them, she reached into her tunic and withdrew a hidden short-sword from a thin leather sheath, gripping it like one who knew how to wield it. Great celestial gods, she was going to fight them to the death, even though she stood no chance, whatsoever, of prevailing in the battle. With a sudden burst of speed, she slashed sideways at Kagen’s chest, managing to draw the tip of the blade across his right pectoral muscle. Although the clever maneuver failed to draw blood, she didn’t appear daunted. She leapt to her feet with amazing dexterity and lunged at Marquis in one fluid motion, placing the full weight of her body into the stab.
Marquis flew back, moving instantly out of her reach, and then he held out a hand to keep her at bay. “Stop this, at once,” he grumbled. “Are you daft?” And then he reached out slowly to grab her arm.
She spun around in a circle, crouching as she revolved in order to evade his hold, and then she leapt backward like a gazelle
, landing with both legs and one arm braced against the ground, the short-sword still brandished in her free hand, her proud jaw tilted upward to meet the warrior’s stare head-on.
Marquis’s typically stoic features registered surprise at the female’s audacity, and then he rolled his dark eyes in annoyance and took a single step forward to end the battle, once and for all. By the way he raised his hand and angled it toward her head, he intended to paralyze her where she stood, reduce her to a granite statue—perhaps one of bravery and courage—but a statue nonetheless.
The woman jolted, almost as if Marquis had struck her, and then she slowly stood to her full height and glared at him, open mouthed, as she instinctively lowered her sword to her side.
Perhaps she has chosen to acquiesce after all, Marquis said telepathically, sounding relieved.
Her eyelids fluttered rapidly several times, as if a small butterfly had taken possession of the frail skin, and then she tilted her head at a peculiar angle and nearly gawked at Nachari. Surely the male’s striking good looks had not halted a warrior such as she in the midst of a life-and-death struggle, but then again, Kagen had seen stronger reactions to the wizard’s good looks before…
She cleared her throat.
Twice.
As if all at once testing her voice.
And then she took an unwitting step forward toward Nachari. “Did you just call him Marquis?”
Nachari’s eyes opened wide with curiosity. “I did. Why?”
“Marquis?” she repeated. “Like the angular cut of a diamond?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Rather, she stared at Nachari like he had just descended from the heavens and walked on water, measuring every little nuance of his features with scrutinizing interest: his eyes, his nose, his jaw, even the shape of his lips. Then she turned and did the same to Nathaniel and Kagen, each male in turn. “You’re vampires, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice reflecting a considerable measure of awe in its depth.