The Exiled

by Frost Kay

  Planting her feet, she waited.

  Eighteen

  Hazel

  Her heart raced as one jeep, two four-wheelers, and one side-by-side stopped ahead. Their riders all climbed out carrying a vast array of huge guns Hazel had never seen before. Were these the slavers?

  She scanned the group—a total of nine potential enemies, eight men and one woman. The petite woman stayed in the back of the jeep as the men climbed from their rides.

  The burly man from the passenger side of the jeep stepped ahead of everyone and held his hand up, a kind smile on his face. Hot damn. He was pretty, like, fallen-from-the-sky pretty. Even from that distance, she could see his honey eyes and long gilded hair. She clocked him at mid to late twenties.

  “We come in peace,” he called.

  Hazel didn’t move. She lifted her bow, so her arrow was aimed at his chest but said nothing in return.

  He lifted his hands higher. “We mean no harm, friend. There’s no need for violence.”

  She held back a snort. There was every reason for violence. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice raspy and deep, thanks to the smoke inhalation. The sore throat that had been plaguing her since the attack was well worth it for this moment.

  “We’re only here for some water and to pass on some news.”

  Fat chance. “You have a lot of weapons out to just get a drink of water.”

  “It’s a dangerous world. We never know who or what we’ll meet.”

  “Understandable,” she said carefully. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be on my way, and you’re welcome to the creek.” Maybe a warning would sweeten them up. She jerked her chin back toward the water. “Keep an eye out. I battled a particularly nasty snake and almost came out the loser.”

  The angelic-looking man’s smile deepened, revealing two dimples. Two sexy dimples. Ridiculous.

  “Thank you for the heads up. A Tainted?”

  “From what I can tell.”

  “Did it harm you?”

  She scoffed. “I had an arrow through its head before it could get me. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Hazel made a move to get on her ATV and all weapons pointed in her direction. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were threatening me,” she said softly. “Friend.”

  Angel man took another step closer, hands still held up high. “You’re my friend until you prove otherwise.” He shook his head. “Although, the problem with our enemies is that they sometimes act like our friends.”

  “I have no quarrels with you,” she said bluntly. “Frankly, I don’t know who you are, nor do I care. I wish to return home and that’s all.”

  “Home? Where is home exactly?”

  Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.

  “See, there are those of us who have sworn to protect the innocent and pure from those defiled and wicked.”

  Good God. They were the people Abuela spoke about. Only a crazy religious sect would spout garbage about pure and defiled in the middle of the godforsaken desert.

  “A righteous endeavor, for sure,” she replied carefully.

  The angel man beamed. “I had hoped you’d see it that way. Our kind have to stick together to rid the scourge of the wicked from our world.” He clapped his hands together. “Trust is difficult to come by, no?”

  She nodded, wondering where in the world he was going with the subject change.

  “In a pledge of trust between us, I will bare myself to you to prove I’m not the enemy, just as I hope you choose to do so also to reciprocate that trust.”

  Bare himself? That better not mean what she thought it meant. He reached behind his head and yanked off his shirt, his muscular golden chest on display. He reached for the button on his pants, and Hazel held up a hand.

  “That’s quite enough.”

  He paused and peeked at her through the halo of his blond hair. “You choose to trust me?”

  It felt like some sort of test. Was she supposed to trust him or demand more proof?

  “Open your mouth.” A self-satisfied grin crossed his face before he opened his mouth so she could see he had completely normal teeth. “You’re not Tainted.”

  He waved a hand toward her and crossed his arms. “Now, your turn.”

  “And if I decline?”

  “Then, we’ll assume you’re the enemy and one of my men will shoot you in the head.”

  She swallowed hard at how matter-of-fact he spoke about murder. Hazel didn’t want to reveal she was a woman, but that was better than being shot in the head, wasn’t it? She hoped she was making the right decision.

  Hazel lowered her bow and lifted the goggles from her face with her left hand. She kept her gaze pinned to the leader and unwound her scarf, exposing her face and wet blonde hair. Next, she shoved up the sleeves of her shirt to reveal her bruised arms that hid what was left of the faint henna, then lifted the hem of her shirt to just under her breasts.

  “You’ll excuse me if I don’t take my entire shirt off. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  Angel man chuckled, looking entirely too pleased. “Darlin’, I couldn’t agree more. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you.”

  Even though he said the right words in the right tone, she didn’t like it. He sounded a little too pleased.

  Hazel dropped the hem of her shirt and once again adjusted her stance. “Now that we’ve established that we are on the same side, friend, I’d like to be on my way.”

  He took another damn step. “You’re welcome to go, but since we are on the same side, I’ll share a little bit of info we’ve picked up in the last two days. There are slavers just south of here and Tainted up north. It is not safe where you’re going.”

  “As you said before, nowhere is safe.”

  “I’d hate to see you in either of their hands.” His gaze grew knowing. “By the looks of it, you’ve already come across some trouble. Who hurt you, darlin’?”

  “Someone long gone from this world.”

  “As it should be,” he crooned. “Now, we are heading south ourselves with a large caravan. We’ll travel through the pass and onward to trade. I think you should come with us. There’s safety in numbers.”

  There was safety in numbers if they were people you trusted.

  “I, in good conscience, cannot allow you to go on by yourself. You’re obviously capable, but slavers are a tricky lot. Come with us.”

  Hazel studied him, and then the group of men. They weren’t filthy. In fact, they were some of the cleanest men she’d ever seen. She’d even go as far as saying they were nicely dressed, which was an impressive feat in a decaying world. Trusting them was out of the question, but if they were telling the truth and she came upon slavers… well, having men with their kind of weapons would be useful.

  What if they are the slavers?

  Angel man had extended an invitation, but it was more of a nice command. Hazel had a feeling if she declined, he wouldn’t let her leave. Might as well play like they were friends until she found a better option. But first…

  She zeroed in on the silent woman in the back of the jeep. “I’d like to speak to her.” She chucked her chin toward the woman.

  The leader turned and waved a hand at the jeep.

  What Hazel thought was a woman, was more of a girl. She was probably seventeen at the most, younger than Hazel but still close in age. She jumped from the jeep, a light tan old-fashioned dress flowing around her ankles. Her red hair was braided back from a round face dusted in freckles. Loose red corkscrew curls framed her face, and she stared at Hazel with large sage-green eyes.

  The girl paused just to the left and one step behind the angel man, her hands clasped demurely at her waist.

  “What is your name?” Hazel asked.

  “Naomi.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Hazel said. “You stayed behind and have no weapon. Why?”

  The girl slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a dainty-looking pistol. “They’d never leave me without protec
tion and, as for staying in the jeep, it’s safer.”

  A plausible explanation. “Is your leader telling me the truth?”

  The girl didn’t look away from Hazel. “Yes.”

  “And how are you treated? Well?”

  “I am.”

  Simple answers. No hesitation or shifty eyes. It seemed like she was telling the truth, but Hazel didn’t trust it.

  Trust no one, niña.

  Someone being trustworthy and useful were two different things.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Angel man smiled and approached her, leaving Naomi standing by herself. He slowly moved around her ATV and held out his right hand. Hazel eyed it and cautiously slipped hers into his huge palm. He shook it once and then surprised her by lifting her hand and kissing the back of it.

  She schooled her expression and pulled her hand back, half tempted to wipe it on her pants, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well.

  He beamed at her. “It’s nice to meet you…”

  “Hazel.”

  “Hazel.” His lips curled around her name, making it sound almost indecent. “I’m Chem.”

  “That’s an unusual name,” she commented, still holding her bow.

  “It’s short for Shechem,” he supplied and turned toward the dead snake.

  Her nose wrinkled in distaste. Her ancestors had been a god-fearing people, so they’d made sure to keep a copy of the bible protected throughout the generations. Hazel’s papa had done his best to teach their family right from wrong, but there was one story he made sure she remembered.

  The daughter of Jacob. Dinah.

  The story of a good girl who chose bad friends and put herself in dangerous situations that led to her rape and marriage to the bad man. Her rapist’s name?

  Shechem.

  Hopefully, the man she’d just made a deal with wasn’t anything like his namesake.

  If he was, Hazel had a dagger with his name on it.

  Nineteen

  Noah

  He lay on his stomach, his head propped on his crossed arms. Noah stared at the dust motes dancing through the stream of sunlight that cut in sharply from the huge west-facing window. He was so bloody bored.

  Doc’s cold hand touched his bare shoulder, and he flinched. “Jesus, Doc. Your hands are like freaking ice.”

  “Stop being such a baby,” the kitsune retorted, his freezing fingers never halting. “Flex your wing.”

  A sharp ache flashed around his right shoulder when he extended his right wing.

  Doc ran his hands along the joints and muscles on his wing. “Good, it healed nicely. You won’t have any residual muscle or tissue damage. Your flight won’t be affected in the least.”

  Noah breathed a sigh of relief. Losing his ability to fly would have been horrible—almost worse than death. There was nothing more terrible than a flightless avian. A warrior without a purpose.

  His lip curled as his thoughts took a dark turn toward the culprits of the attack.

  Marco.

  The bastard knew exactly what he was doing when he tried to slice through Noah’s wing.

  “Calm down,” Doc soothed.

  “I am calm.” Sort of.

  “Your whole body is full of tension, and you growled. Not to mention you reek of aggression.”

  “Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. Marco would die. Slowly and painfully.

  “That was insincere, but I’ll allow it. I would be angry if I was in your position, too.”

  “Any more news on the traitor?”

  Doc walked around to the front of the bed and sat on a wooden chair that had seen better days. He ran a hand through his rusty hair and shook his head, meeting Noah’s gaze.

  “No, he disappeared. There’s no sign of him, and his scent trail is nonexistent.”

  “So he had help,” Noah concluded.

  Everyone had a scent. If he was scentless, someone had helped cover his tracks. Plus, there was the fact Marco had been wounded. He vaguely remembered Hazel hitting him with an arrow. He couldn’t have escaped in that condition alone.

  “How’s Hazel?”

  He didn’t remember much after busting into the outbuilding and spotting her beaten, bloody, and gagged on the floor, Marco kicking her in the back. Even thinking about it sent a spike of rage through him. He couldn’t get the image of her golden skin turned pale and covered in black and purple bruises from his mind.

  “She’s fine,” Doc said quickly.

  The same answer he’d received for the last twenty-four hours. His wings twitched restlessly. If Doc hadn’t confined him to bed, Noah would have already visited. She’d saved his life. It was still hard to believe. Hazel hated him. She could have left him to die and escaped. With all the insanity that night, it would have been easy for her. But she didn’t.

  She came back.

  That meant something.

  His chest warmed. “I want to see her.”

  Doc examined his nails. “I don’t think that’ll be possible.”

  “If she’s fine, then she can come here.” Noah frowned at his friend. “Unless she doesn’t want to see me.” The thought didn’t sit well with him. “Has she said anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  A one-word answer. He narrowed his eyes on the kitsune. “You’re being very vague.”

  Doc pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes closed. “Abuela wouldn’t let anyone see her, not even me, with everything that’s been going on. I don’t know much more than you.”

  Everything that was going on… what did that mean exactly? His parents had been vague on that front, too. They kept telling him he needed to rest, but his rest wasn’t freaking restful when all he did was worry about the things they weren’t telling him.

  “How bad is it out there, Doc?”

  “People have calmed down. The day before you woke, it got pretty bad, but things are settling down.” Doc sighed and hung his head, clasping his hands between his knees. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Noah, and I’ve always been honest with you. I’m not sure it’s my place to say anything, but I’m not going to lie to you.” The kitsune raised his head and scrutinized him. “You and Hazel are the only ones who came out of that attack alive—other than Marco, who’s in the wind. Four are dead.”

  Noah swallowed hard. Taking a life was never easy, even when it was self-defense.

  “And you’ve been in a healing sleep, so that left Hazel to tell the story of what occurred. An outsider’s story.”

  His brows snapped together as a picture began to form in his mind. His people had mostly accepted Hazel, but she was still a foreigner and the enemy to some. Hell, she drove him crazy most of the time. But if she was the only witness and everyone else had died, disappeared, or was unconscious…

  “Damn it,” he growled. “They blame her, don’t they?”

  Doc nodded, his lips turning downward. “To those who didn’t witness the aftermath, it looks suspicious.”

  Noah pressed his face in the pillow and mumbled, “Of course it does.”

  “I can’t understand you when you’re mumbling.”

  He lifted his head and glared at his friend. “Of course they think she’s to blame. She’s been trying to escape for two months, she’s been punished for wounding me, and we’ve been fighting nonstop. Why did no one speak up?”

  “Your parents did. A mob still formed two days ago.”

  “A mob?” His people wouldn’t go that far, would they?

  Doc rubbed his ear, his expression grim. “They attacked at dawn before your parents and the avians arrived.”

  Noah levered up, his whole body screaming in pain, and he grabbed a handful of Doc’s blue shirt, almost yanking his friend out of the chair. “My abuelita?”

  The kitsune was completely unfazed by his antics. “She’s completely fine. The old bat had a heyday ripping people apart.”

  He slowly relaxed his friend’s shirt with an apologetic smile.

  That did sound li
ke his abuela. She was bloodthirsty.

  Doc held the fabric out and snarled. “You put holes in my favorite shirt!”

  “And Hazel?” Noah asked, his heart still pounding in his chest. “Did she get hurt?”

  “No,” Doc muttered and dropped his mutilated shirt. “She was long gone by then.”

  Noah blinked slowly and tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. Hazel was gone? Something dark slithered through him, and a rumble began in his chest. Someone had taken her? Taken what was his?

  “Where is she?” he bit out, his voice hardly sounding like himself.

  The kitsune lifted his head slowly and held his hands up. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean ‘don’t know’?” Noah exploded, levering out of the bed. Where was Hazel?

  “I’ve never been through this stage, but I know the signs. You need to take a breath and calm down.”

  He stabbed a shaking finger at Doc. “Don’t tell me to freaking calm down. Where. Is. She?”

  “Your abuela knows.”

  “Bring her to me. Now!” He was going to lose it.

  His friend casually stood from his chair and backed toward the door. “You’ll hurt yourself if you get any more worked up. I’ll retrieve your damn grandmother, but you better not rip out all my perfect stitches.” Doc paused with his hand on the door. “And for god sakes, open a window. Your aggression and mating musk are searing my nostrils.”

  Tremors rocked his body, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  Mating musk. Mate.

  The little Untouched meant more to him than she should.

  And his attraction was going to kill her.

  Twenty

  Noah

  The slow click of his abuelita’s cane registered before he heard her shuffling steps. Noah rolled his eyes at her antics. She needed that damn cane as much as he did. Noah clicked his nails on the headboard of his bed while he waited for her to bless him with her presence.

  She opened his door and he straightened despite the pain. Her dark eyes locked on him and she hustled across the room, the cane held uselessly in her claws.