by Kyle, Celia
“Shaa kouva,” he whispered. He attempted to call out with all his strength, but the moment had stolen his voice. He took a few steps toward her and gazed into her blue eyes, not even realizing at first that she backed away from him.
The images continued to fly through his mind, revealing her world to him with unending visions. He thought he had learned much about the human and Preor worlds on his own, but now that he was connected to her, he realized he was like a babe in the depth of his knowledge. The Knowing provided him with her experiences as well as how she viewed the world she occupied, and it was like being inside her heart and understanding the world from her perspective.
“Shaa kouva…” he repeated the term of endearment, louder this time. He held out his hand as he took careful, slow steps toward his mate. The Knowing provided her name to him and he tried that instead. “Sasha…”
“Whelon,” she murmured, her eyes locked on him. Only a few feet separated them then.
Everyone in the meeting room had stepped back against the walls. Preor warriors spoke softly and pointed, nodding and smiling. This was what they had all come to hope for. Even if no others found their mate, this match would give everyone renewed hope that another was waiting for them among the human populace.
The women gathered on the opposite side of the room watched with amazement though some seemed downright hostile. He got the impression that some had come to the Choosings several times and still had not found a male. He could almost feel their jealousy stealing across the room toward him and Sasha.
Yet… that was not quite right. No, he realized it was a reflection of emotions from his mate. It wasn’t that he sensed their jealousy. It was her. There was a deep well of insecurity attached to the emotions, as if she could not go anywhere or do anything without being judged harshly.
Unacceptable.
“You are perfect, shaa kouva.”
Sasha shook her head. Her beautiful red lips opened and she mouthed the words, “Shaa kouvi.”
It was the most beautiful sound Whelon had ever heard.
Now that they no longer fought one another, his dragon gave him strength. He found he could straighten and catch his breath as he took careful, slow steps toward his mate. He smiled and reached for her, desperate to touch her hand and feel the softness of her skin on his own. As he drew near enough to touch her, she took a quick step back, and it struck him that she backed away from him now.
What was this? They were mates. Why would she…
He frowned and his dragon experienced the first twinges of panic at her retreat. It raged to be free, to take her, claim her. The beast knew nothing of finesse or common sense. It simply wanted and it had been searching for centuries for its mate. It wanted her to belong to them. Now.
Whelon continued to hold out his hand as he crept forward further. If she was afraid and attempting to reject the Knowing… why had she attended the cattle call? His mind was blinded by red-gold fiery fury, and he knew he could not think clearly until his dragon was appeased.
How do I appease the beast when my mate will not take my hand? he wondered wearily.
Even as she continued to back away, his fear did not consume him. They were not far apart, and he knew that within a couple of steps he would be able to touch her and all would be well.
Except… a mass of people suddenly appeared, swarming his mate, and it took him a few moments to realize what was happening. He was so focused on his mate’s face he didn’t see the several darkly clad people rush through the doors and surround Sasha until they entirely blocked her from his view. They grabbed her, dragging her toward the door. Even though she had been resisting him, her eyes filled with panic and she cried out for Whelon.
“Shaa kouvi!” Her cry was all the dragon needed to wrench complete control over him. Whelon’s shift rolled through him before he had even left the room in pursuit of his mate.
Several Preor warriors launched themselves at Whelon, their muscles straining as they attempted to restrain him. But he threw them off and chased after the small crowd of humans who had spirited away his mate. He shook off the last, lingering warrior and raced to the wide parking lot outside the Choosing station, but… no one was to be seen in the area. Fresh tire marks lay on the asphalt, as if a large vehicle had raced away.
Dragon still riding him hard, Whelon was in the sky before he contemplated his actions, his beast roaring fire toward the clouds above as he took to the skies. He didn’t know where he ventured, nor did he know how to find her, but that didn’t stop the beast. The dragon flew frantic circles over the surrounding roads and buildings, but he found no clue as to where his mate had been taken.
How did they get away so fast? He mentally cursed the Preor warriors that had slowed his progress, a rumbling growl building in his chest.
Before he could put voice to his impending roar, the impact of another dragon struck his side and sent him careening. He roared and bared his teeth at the other beast, blowing flames at the intruder. Yet the other dragon was undeterred, nudging him again and clicking his teeth together in a feigned bite.
On his other side, another interloper shouldered against him, bracketing him in vicious beasts. He beat his wings and tried to bolt free of their oppressive presence, but he was too confused, too reactive as both he and his dragon approached a state of panic.
Preor were extremely dangerous when threatened—a male hunting for his mate, more so than most.
Yet he soon realized he could not properly hunt with these two warriors intent on getting him to land, so he let the others guide him back to the earth, his dragon only allowing it as his wings began to fail. Before he even touched the ground, the Knowing sickness flooded him, making him stumble as his claws struck the sand. He took one lumbering step and then another before his dragon’s form retreated and his two-legged shape returned to him.
He dropped to his knees in the sands of the Gulf of Mexico, clutching his stomach as it twisted and writhed within him. It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten as his stomach attempted to empty itself while his heart hammered violently. Even through the Knowing sickness, he attempted to find his feet once more, wings outstretched and beating as he tried to fly and find Sasha… Must. Find. Her!
But Whelon could not move. He could do nothing except hold onto himself and pray he did not lose consciousness.
Whoever had taken Sasha had gotten her away with incredible speed. Already they had taken her a great distance from him, the strength of the Knowing sickness telling him how far they had already traveled.
The Knowing sickness… Yes, it was upon him. It consumed his every cell yet he bore the pain with the strength of a soldier. He could not bear that his mate was out there, his shaa kouva, suffering because she was parted from him.
He would find her and those who sought to keep them apart would pay.
Chapter Seven
Sasha was nauseated and weak, the streetlights strobing across the vehicle windows only making her symptoms worse. She wasn’t sure where the large, dark van had come from—she and her mother had traveled to the Choosing station in a taxi—but it seemed her mother had a bigger plan than she initially shared with Sasha.
“What’s happening?” she murmured, swallowing hard against the rising bile in her throat.
Her mother knelt at her side and touched her forehead, pressing the back of her hand to her skin to gauge her temperature. They were in the back of the panel van, Sasha lying on a mattress that covered half of the cargo space. She glanced around weakly and spied cupboards and small panels set with electrical sockets and chargers. Almost as if the van were setup like a small mobile home.
How long has she been planning this? Venom filled her mental voice. This van was not like the trailer they occasionally took to remote locations.
No, that vehicle has my name plastered all over the exterior. This van is for secrecy—for hiding.
Sasha moaned, clutching her stomach and squeezing her eyes shut as dizziness assailed her. Sweat seep
ed from her pores and dried on her skin, making her feel scratchy and gross. Even though she shivered from a sudden chill that claimed her, she continued to sweat.
“Sasha,” her mother snapped with disgust in her tone. “You’re going to ruin your dress with all that sweating, and your makeup is melting off. Stop this instant.”
“Mother. Can I have a blanket, please?” She was so cold. And hot. Both at once and neither at the same time.
Her mother eyed her warily before sitting back and digging in her pocket. To Sasha’s horror, her mother pulled out a cellphone and took a few pictures of her. She was so out of it, she couldn’t even protest or ask why her mother needed a shot of her sweating and shaking—looking her worst.
For the press, of course. This is exactly what she wanted, Sasha mentally sneered.
Pictures secured, her mother tossed her a blanket and then burrowed through a nearby chest to pull out spare clothing and other supplies. Jenna briefly spoke to two black-clad men in the back of the van with them, and they assured her that they knew what they were doing and would soon reach the safehouse, undeterred.
Safehouse? She had no idea what her mother had planned but she was in no condition to fight with Jenna just then. Not with yet another wave of shivering overtaking her. Even with the blanket her mother had provided, the trembles continued to plague her.
While her mother spoke with one of the guards, the other looked over Sasha with curiosity in his gaze. He glanced at Jenna for a moment, obviously unsure if he was allowed to speak to Sasha, but eventually he just shrugged and shuffled across the floor to her. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Is there something hot to drink?”
He nodded and opened a large chest nearby. “We have some stuff in here for the trip and the van is self-sufficient for a few weeks. Is tea okay?”
Sasha nodded, idly wondering if she was strong enough to even hold the cup.
“No sugar or milk!” her mother snapped.
The tough guy shot Jenna a glance but quickly turned back to Sasha. “Here.” He dropped in a big spoonful of sugar while Jenna was distracted. “You need it. You’re in shock or something.”
As he reached to hand her the cup, she sat up a little, gripping the mug tightly as she took a small sip. It did make her feel a hint warmer and the bitter edge against the sweetness of the sugar soothed her writhing, twisting stomach.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She had to fight tears as she met his gaze.
He glanced over at Jenna once more, and it wasn’t a friendly look he flashed her mother. “I’m Dave,” he spoke softly. “Your mother hired the four of us to guard you and keep you safe from the Preor. We’re mercenaries skilled in stealth and covert operations. Don’t worry. We can keep you safe from the dragons.”
Sasha shook her head as she handed the empty cup back to him, but she truly had nothing to say. Part of her wanted to scream, No, I need the dragons! While the other part of her wanted to get as far away from them as possible.
As her mother turned back to Sasha, Dave retreated to speak with his partner. Jenna once more placed a hand on Sasha’s forehead, but it didn’t feel as soothing and comforting as a mother’s hand should. It felt as if daggers and writhing shadows were ready to tear her apart, wrenching deep sobs out of Sasha’s chest.
“It’s okay, darling,” Jenna murmured with false sympathy. “We had a plan for this all along. This has gone far better than I expected.”
Sasha stared at her mother in disbelief as understanding blossomed within her. She was beginning to understand just how far her mother would go for fame and to push her own agenda.
“Mom, I’m really sick.”
“I know. Isn’t it wonderful! I want to get some more shots of you in the van, just like this. You’re so pale and your eyes look bruised.” She drew one of her sharp-fingered hands across Sasha’s brow. “It’s perfect.”
“I feel like I’m dying, mom,” Sasha tried to explain again.
“Stop it,” Jenna snapped. “I’m not having any of your melodramatics. This is exactly what we need to prove that this is all brainwashing. If women were willing, why would they need to poison you? We have the story, Sasha. That’s all that matters. You can just hang on while we get the footage we need. I’ll have the best doctors on hand as soon as we tape your interview. Then I’ll let them help you.”
“Mother,” the word came from deep within her throat. There was no question she could ask, no plea she could make that would change her mother’s actions. Sasha truly understood the realities of their relationship for the first time, and now she was too weak to fight her circumstances.
“Hmmm?” Her mother raised a single brow, barely paying any attention to her daughter.
Sasha began to shiver once again and pulled the blanket around her even tighter. “I’m getting cold again, Mother.”
Jenna looked up from a small stack of books she had pulled from a chest and spoke to the van’s driver. “Turn on the heater or something, James.” She growled. “I can’t take it when she whines.”
Sasha would have cried if she’d had the strength. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself as warm air began to leak from the vents, but she knew it wasn’t going to do much good. The cold was inside her, an aching longing that couldn’t be cured by blankets or hot air.
The Knowing.
Shaa kouvi.
“What did you just say?” Her mother gave her a sharp look and Sasha shook her head. “I’m writing out the interview questions now,” her mother spoke eagerly. “I really regret we can’t have a proper presenter for this—like Stacy Mae from MTV or something. We’ll have to make do with me, I guess. I can’t convince any of the popular hosts to come out and cover this.”
Because it’s fucking bogus! Sasha screamed in her mind.
Sasha had seen enough to know that the Preor warriors weren’t rapists or anything like her mother accused. They had been respectful of the women, almost hesitant to introduce themselves when faced with the group of ladies.
The Knowing sickness continued to assault her, frightening her deeply. She knew exactly what plagued her as her mind opened to centuries of Preor knowledge. The problem was, none of it convinced her she had any free will. It really did feel like being brainwashed—or like having her entire body hijacked by hormones.
It was as if seeing Whelon had caused a cascade of chemical reactions inside her. They had not even gotten to touch each other before they were torn apart, and she desperately wanted him… Yet she was terribly afraid of her own desires as well.
I feel like I have no choice, she thought desperately. I feel like my mind is not my own!
Those thoughts brought the horrible dread of realization that she had never had her own life. She had always been a toy, a doll, to her only parent. In the past she had brushed off her worries and told herself that her mother only had her best interests at heart, but now, Sasha saw the truth. It was there in her mother’s features as she gave her full attention to organizing the film she wanted instead of to her ailing daughter.
If I have to choose between two masters, I choose Whelon! she thought, rebelliously.
When she had been close to the Preor warrior, she had felt an intimacy she couldn’t have ever imagined. Not just the Knowing, and not just that they were made for each other. He appreciated her. He could see her, the Knowing making sure he knew her as deeply as she knew herself—perhaps even more so.
Another fit of shaking overtook her and Sasha’s stomach lurched, threatening to climb up her throat. She moaned softly, hoping against hope that her mother might change her mind and take her to a hospital.
Except, when Jenna looked up and saw her daughter’s drawn, anguished face, she smiled. “Let me get a good shot of that. You look even sicker now than you did before!”
Chapter Eight
Whelon had barely touched down for five seconds, not even long enough to settle on two legs, before the dragon within roared free once more
. The others did not have time to react as his wings grew and his talons sank into sun-warmed sand. Fire billowed around him as he took off, and the others had to focus on getting out of his way rather than stopping his progress.
The surging of the Knowing sickness and the weakness had driven his dragon straight into a panic. Irrational. Furious. Desperate. In many ways his mind was not his own, his body pushed beyond its endurance as he now ran on pure emotion.
Find her. Find her. Find her.
Sickness welled in his belly and he lurched into the sky, belching flame. He cruised low over roads and rooftops, ignoring those humans who stopped and pointed at him as others ran for cover. As if he bombed them with fire. He snorted, a puff of smoke escaping his dragon’s nose.
His keen eyes picked out every human he spied, searching for his mate. No matter how fast he traveled or how distant the street, he could pick his Sasha out of ten billion lookalikes if necessary.
Which meant that within minutes, he had swept the city for his mate and discovered she was not walking on the street or sitting outside at a restaurant. He could not detect her scent as he traveled. The Knowing bound them together, which meant he could sense her, but he could not locate her.
The illness that seeped through him—and her—enraged him. Adrenaline and fury ran through him so fiercely he could not feel his own sickness at the moment. This was his dragon’s final attempt at locating his mate before exhaustion finally claimed him. It was a last rage against the inevitable.
He examined the vehicles that moved along the roads far below, but soon his eyesight blurred. His wings faltered in their rhythmic beating and he tumbled toward the ground before he could rectify his error. He twisted and turned, aiming his body at a dilapidated warehouse, and prayed none would come to harm as he crashed into its roof. But even though he’d fallen, he did not cease. He took to the skies once more.
Above him, he spied other dragons hovering and tracking his progress. If any dared drop toward him, he shot a gout of flame in their direction, howling in agony.