Shield of Drani (World of Drani Book 1)

by Melonie Purcell

  Disgusted with herself, she swiped the door and found Nevvis waiting by the bed with his laser key. “Do you have anything with you besides your clothes?” he asked before she crossed the room.

  Shaking her head, Taymar dropped her clothes on the floor and spread her arms out to the side. She fully expected to have to kneel again, and as total exhaustion continued its consumption of her body, she wondered if she would have the energy to get back up. But, Nevvis surprised her by giving her a curt okay and motioning her toward him.

  After taking her clothes from her and tossing them to the floor, Nevvis held up his key expectantly. Taymar didn’t dare petition for her freedom tonight. Instead, she just turned her weary body around and placed her hands behind her back, the whole time trying not to sway as she stood waiting, but Nevvis didn’t bind her hands. Instead, he took hold of her armband and turned her around to face him.

  “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere tonight,” he foretold with a wry grin. Then he fired at her band, locking her hands in front of her.

  As if prompted by his words, Taymar began losing her fight against the encroaching sleep. She could no longer keep her eyes open, and her legs started to betray her. She would have fallen had Nevvis not caught her and lifted her onto the bed.

  “What was in the glass?” Taymar murmured as Nevvis pulled the blankets over her and called off the lights.

  Nevvis climbed into bed beside her and pushed her closer the wall. “Slow-activating klonide and a sedative,” he answered. “Good night,” he whispered, but Taymar was already too sleepy to answer.

  ###

  The next morning, Taymar woke to the soft tingling of Nevvis’s hand brushing lightly across her skin. Her first instinct was to try to scramble out of bed, but Nevvis tightened his grip on the arm he held pinned above her head. After last night, it was all the warning she needed.

  He propped himself up on his elbow next to her and moved a lock of hair aside. The room was still dark, but judging by the way she felt, she was fairly certain she was in the ship’s day cycle.

  Taymar concentrated on not moving as Nevvis traced along the narrow band of spots that started above her temple and followed her hairline down to her shoulder. She wanted to twist away, to break free of his intrusive touch, but she knew any freedom gained would only be temporary. He was making a point. He was her ki, and he could do what he wanted. And he was right, mostly.

  “Relax, Tay,” Nevvis coaxed. “Your body was enjoying this quite a bit before you woke up.” He brushed the hair away from her neck and continued following the diamond of spots that started below her ear. He stopped just shy of where they disappeared beneath her shirt and ended in tiny dots along her outer breast. “I wish Drani women had spots,” Nevvis decided, casually pausing in his exploration while Taymar shuddered.

  Despite her best intentions, she bent her free leg and was about to twist away when mild pain crept in through her shaki. As soon as her leg went down, the pain stopped and Nevvis continued as if nothing had happened. “Spots are so alluring; especially yours, Tay. Not all Arlele women have spots so seductively placed.” As he spoke, Nevvis hooked one of his legs over hers and pulled it toward him.

  Although her arms were no longer pinned, she didn’t bother trying to put them down. She knew he would just put them back up again. There were times, though thankfully rare, that he demanded cooperation. An entire week in isolation had been spent on that one lesson. She had fought with him about touching her hair. It turned into a massive battle of wills that ended in isolation. In the end, he won. She still had a vivid memory of him finally walking back through the door of that isolation room after all of those eternal days. All she could think was, Please, touch it. Do whatever you want with it. Just let me out of this room.

  As Nevvis’s fingers continued to dance over her skin with frightening precision, Taymar closed her eyes and forced her mind away from the sudden waves of intense pleasure he sent coursing through her body. She hated that he could do that to her, and like everything else with Nevvis, fighting him only seemed to make things worse. He never crossed the line, though. His fingers would dip under her shirt, along her collar bone, but no further. His presence was invasive, but never overtly sexual. It was as if he has a personal filter that always stopped him just shy of pushing too far. But even if he did ever try to take her body, she would always have her will. That was the one thing he could never take. She had to give that to him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

  His hand pressed against shoulder and then dipped down to follow the spots along her inner forearm. She felt his breath on her neck and his nearness set her skin tingling, but Taymar steeled her thoughts and her will. This was a battle he would never win. She tucked her bound wrists under her head and focused on her sarokk and on Rook. She thought about the funny vines that covered the paths on Daryus and about her fight with Idin. She filled her mind with visions of the last five months, until Nevvis’s hand slowed its exploration.

  When his fingers decided to placate themselves picking at locks of hair, she decided to ask him one of the questions that had been haunting her since she had been brought aboard the ship. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  Nevvis stared. After a brief hesitation he nodded, but his frown said that he didn’t like the question.

  “When an Arlele is sentenced to death, they are killed through their shaki, right?”

  Again, Nevvis nodded. “Why?”

  “I want to know, have you ever killed an Arlele that way?”

  “Yes,” came his simple, if reluctant, reply, but he offered no more.

  Taymar nodded. “Would you be the one to kill me if I receive a death sentence when we get back to Drani?”

  She could see by his expression that Nevvis didn’t like the question. In fact, she was beginning to think he wouldn’t answer it when he finally brushed her cheek with his thumb and nodded. “Could be. Usually a chalki does it. But what makes you think you will get a death sentence? You didn’t kill anyone. Or is there something you need to tell me?”

  Taymar shook her head. That wasn’t the point. For a moment she thought about his answer, and then, pulling her arms closer to her head to keep them from going numb, she looked directly at Nevvis and asked him, “Do you have anyone who cares for you?”

  Nevvis looked at her in confusion, but as he thought about the answer, a rueful smile crossed his lips. “As we speak, there are quite a number of women, not just on Drani, who care very deeply for my position and my wealth, but I can’t say that any of them care much for me.”

  Taymar didn’t smile. Instead, she turned her attention to the wall.

  “What’s the problem?” Nevvis asked at last, pulling the cover back over her and scooting back.

  “No one cares for me. You would be the one to kill me. Jalkean would do the same thing, if he were told to. I have no parents, no siblings, and no friends. No one cares about me.”

  “Tay,” Nevvis began. “That’s emotions talking. You got a good night’s sleep. Now you just need to eat and get some exercise, and you will feel much better.” With his diagnosis made, he pulled her arms back down to her chest and smiled at her.

  Taymar turned to stare at the wall again.

  “Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I have no parents to speak of either, at least none that are speaking to me. I didn’t take over the family mine as I was supposed to, being the oldest, and I have apparently led my youngest brother astray, so I’ve been disowned. It seems like half of my friends are jealous of you, and like I said, my female friends want the power and position, not the man. So I understand where you’re coming from, but you need to think about it a different way.”

  Nevvis paused. When he didn’t start again, Taymar grudgingly turned to face him. “Yesterday you said something about a sarokk. I assume it’s an animal that is kept as a pet?”

  Taymar nodded, “But it would have been free to come and go as it pleased.”

  “All
right,” Nevvis said. “Now, what if this sarokk started to get mean? What if it killed other people’s pets and even attacked you? You would lock it up and try to teach it not to be so mean, but if that didn’t work, what then? You could either keep it locked up and watch it grow meaner and miserable, or you could kill it. What would you do, Tay?”

  For a long time, Taymar thought about what he had asked her. If she let it go, it could still come back and kill the other people’s pets, but she could never keep it locked up. She thought about taking it out into the jungle to let it go, but if it were a pet, it wouldn’t survive. It would probably die a slow and horrible death. Finally, she answered. “I would kill it.”

  “Why?” Nevvis persisted, driving home his point.

  “Because I wouldn’t want it to suffer.”

  “So, you would take its life because you cared about it?”

  Taymar nodded. While her situation wasn’t quite the same, he did have a point.

  “You’re right about Jalkean and me in one respect. We would both kill you if we had to, but you’re wrong about not caring. Jalkean likes you very much. He always has. He’s the one who asked to work with you as a kar. He would gladly accept the responsibility of ki for you if he were a little older and a stronger telepath. And, unlike everyone else, it’s not because he wants the status of being your ki. Jalkean just likes you, plain and simple. He does care for you, Tay. And so do I. If I didn’t, you would have been through sakuritu long ago. In fact, you would have been dead that first time we met in the medical lab when you killed the technician.”

  Taymar snapped her head around to look at him again.

  “Yes, Tay. When you knocked that cabinet unit down on him, it killed him. I covered for you because I couldn’t blame you for what you did. In that situation, I would have done the same thing.” Nevvis paused and ran his fingers through her bangs again. “Now, come on. Let’s get some breakfast and get out of here.” With that, Nevvis rolled away and climbed out of bed, naked.

  “Up. Up. Up,” he called when Taymar curled up in a ball of blankets instead of getting out of bed.

  “I’m still tired,” she insisted.

  Nevvis walked back to the bed and pulled the covers away. “No, you’re still depressed. There is a difference. Now, get up.”

  “Okay,” Taymar yelled, just before Nevvis pulled her out by her feet. “I’ll get up, but I’m not hungry.”

  “Well, you’re going to eat,” he said, and then left to dress.

  ###

  After some coaxing, Nevvis managed to get Taymar out of bed and to the table for breakfast. Nevvis had decided on a loose burgundy tunic that dropped casually over black pants and offered plenty of mobility in case he had to chase Taymar through the ship again. But he doubted it would come to that. She was on the verge of despondent, still wearing his oversize shirt and picking at her food. It was going to be a long day if this kept up. A chirp at the door was a welcomed distraction from the gloom she was putting out.

  “Enter,” yelled Nevvis. He didn’t try to hide his smile as Ranealla glided in, carrying two changes of clothes. “Tay. You’re saved! She managed to shred the shirt you gave her yesterday trying to blow up the ship. What was she thinking?” he said, standing to greet the intoxicating telepath. Gods! She even smelled good.

  Ranealla just shook her head at him and handed the clothes to Taymar. Her hands were still bound, which wasn’t an oversight. Klonide or not, she was still dangerous and she needed to lose some of that overconfidence. Being alone on Daryus hadn’t been good for her. Ranealla’s look of condemnation as Taymar picked a pair of pants out of the pile and headed for the washroom said she didn’t agree. Interestingly, her telepathy said nothing.

  “Oh, all right!” he said, trying for amused as he attempted to slip unnoticed into Ranealla’s thoughts. “Tay, grab my key and come here.”

  Taymar wandered over to the bed table and picked up his key. When she finally made it to the breakfast table, she was even dragging her feet. He settled his thumb over the identifier and fired the light from the key at her band. The solid beam encircling her other wrist dissolved into the particles it was made from. With a wink, he sent her off to change, but his playfulness didn’t even earn him an eye roll. Oh, yes. A very long day.

  “She’s really down,” Ranealla said, grabbing the third chair off the floor, noting its broken leg and returning it to its final resting place. “I will get you a replacement.”

  Nevvis wrinkled his nose and motioned for her to take his seat. “I’ve seen worse. She’ll come whizzing back in a day or so and be meaner than ever. Want some breakfast?”

  “No thanks. Go ahead and eat. Will you come whizzing out of it too and start being nice?”

  Nevvis grinned and sat back down. “In a day or two,” he said, and then added, “You sure are being forgiving to the woman who tried to kill. Twice.”

  “I am convinced that had she wanted to kill anybody either time, she would have done it.”

  “Okay. I concede.” Nevvis stabbed another bite and took his time chewing it before continuing. “You’re right. I should back off a little. After all, she was good last night.”

  “In what way?” Ranealla’s expression was a cross between curiosity and disapproval.

  Nevvis looked up briefly, considered addressing her unspoken accusation, and decided against it. Let her wonder. Without answering, he went back to his meal.

  “Unseal that airtight mind of yours and listen to me,” Ranealla ordered, stabbing at him with his knife.

  Nevvis continued eating with a grin.

  She set the knife down.

  Nevvis shook his head to clear it, then looked at Ranealla in surprise. Taymar hadn’t exaggerated when she’d described the Asheerian’s telepathy as being difficult to follow. Nearly impossible was a better descriptor. Her entire message had entered his mind as a solid thought. A confused thought, but one thought just the same.

  As he sorted it out, he shoved down the brief desire to choke the captain for confiding in her so thoroughly, but if the truth were told, he probably didn’t have a choice. She was a telepath, after all. But something about her nagged at him. he sent without looking at her.

  Just then Taymar came back, clean and dressed in red. As soon as she looked at Nevvis and Ranealla, resentment flooded her thoughts. She knew they were speaking telepathically, and she hated them for it.

  “Tay,” he called as she was about to climb back into bed. When she finally looked up, he motioned for her to come to him.

  With a heavy sigh, Taymar trudged back to the table and held her arms out so he could bind them again. Nevvis just shook his head and pointed to her virtually untouched plate. “Eat.”

  “I’m really not hungry.”

  “I really don’t recall asking. You’ve had two meals in two days. You’re going to eat.”

  Taymar stared at her plate. For a moment, Nevvis wondered if she was about to be sick, but she finally stabbed at another bite and watched bitterly as the conversation before her resumed.

  Ranealla’s brows furled in concern as she turned back to Nevvis.

  Nevvis took a minute to figure out what she had thought to him, and then without looking up, sent back,

  Ranealla had nothing else to say. She needed only to watch Taymar push her food from one side of her plate to the other to know that Nevvis spoke the truth.

  Nevvis looked up at his charge and smiled. “She’s got to get mad,” he said aloud. “She can’t be mad and sad at the same time.” Then, to Taymar he announced, “You nee
d to go pick a fight with some unsuspecting arrogant man, Tay.”

  He had left all sorts of openings for one of Taymar’s witty comebacks, but she offered none. She just worked on swallowing another bite.

  “Seriously, Taymar. You need to get some exercise. If you want, we can go down to the recreation center and spar. It will be your chance to get me back. I’m a little out of practice since you left.”

  “You will have to wait in line,” she informed him. “Lieutenant Sacadorey wants me first.”

  Baffled, Nevvis and Ranealla looked at each other. “Who?” Nevvis inquired, scooting away from the table.

  “That hairy man who was in here last night. The one I shot on Daryus. He wants a second chance at me.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Ranealla. “You mean Kellin Sacondore,” she corrected, putting the accent back on the middle syllable where it belonged. “I’ll bet he does want a second shot at you. You leveled him as if he were a new recruit the first time you two met. He’s off today, at least for now, so I’ll let him know you’re ready.”

  Nevvis was satisfied with that arrangement and got up to clear their plates. “Are you finished?” he inquired before taking Taymar’s dish. He knew full well what the answer was.

  Taymar shoved the full plate toward him and got up.

  In a short time, all three were leaving the room. Nevvis and Ranealla were headed for a meeting with Sean, and Taymar was on her way to meet Kellin under the escort of two ship security officers.

  Chapter 18 – Fight

  Her escorts led Taymar to a large gray room that had been divided into several smaller chambers by clear, thick walls. The area closest to the door was spattered with a variety of exercise machines, most of which were occupied by clearly unhappy people. After a brief conversation that she didn’t even try to listen to, the female escort continued into the rec-com, leaving her male counterpart stationed at the door. Taymar ignored them both and wandered farther into the room to see what had drawn the crowd in front of her.