“How can you speak my language?”
“I do not know that, either. It is like—” She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to voice the alien concept. “It is like all your words crowd my mind, waiting for me to find them when I need them.” She knuckled her eyes. “It makes my head ache.”
“I’m not surprised.”
She set her jaw and scowled at nothing in particular. It seemed every time she rebelled against her situation, the headache returned with a vengeance. If she didn’t know better she’d think some bizarre, otherworldly force was guiding her down a predestined path. Keep worrying about this and your head will hurt. Be a good girl and follow the big strong man, and I’ll make the headache disappear.
A delusion? Perhaps. But no more delusional than drifting off to sleep in one world and waking up in another.
“What is next?” she asked.
“Checking the strapping on your ankle.”
“And then?”
“I plan on returning to my settlement. It would be best if you came with me.”
“Why?”
“When I say ‘Dayamar’, what does that mean to you?”
She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t appreciate his clumsy attempt to change the subject but the word snagged in her mind, refusing to be dismissed. “Dayamar. It is a name, I think. I feel like it is familiar but I do not know why.” She glared in his general direction. “What is the significance of this name?”
“Hope, I need you to come with me. Please.”
“But I do not want to go to your settlement. I want to go home!”
“And I wish I could help you, but I don’t know where your home is. I know someone who might be able to help, though.”
She sensed that he was holding his breath, willing her to cooperate. She flopped back on the ground and closed her eyes, trying to shut out her troubles. “I cannot recall—how long did you say it would take to reach this settlement of yours?”
“About a week’s travel at my usual pace.”
“I guess we must walk?”
“Of course. How else would we get there?”
She tossed him a weak smile. “How else indeed.” A week of walking? Where were cars, or even horses, when you needed them?
“Could you not return me to the place you found me and leave me there? Maybe whatever brought me here will occur again and take me back to my home.” Wait for it—
The inevitable headache bloomed. She scrunched her eyes shut, willing the pain to subside.
“There was a wolf sniffing around you,” Blayne said. “How long would you survive on your own while you waited to be returned to your home?”
She shivered. “You could wait with me.”
Silence. And then, “My people need me. I’ve already been gone too long.”
The headache worsened and this time her stomach rebelled, too. He held the hair back from her face while she vomited up her fears. And when she’d emptied her stomach, he cradled her in his arms while she cried for everything she’d lost.
Go with him. He will keep you safe. Trust him. He will help you. Trust him.
The inner voices nagged her. The more she resisted, the worse her head ached and throbbed, until the pain was so overwhelming she wanted to scream. And as if that wasn’t punishment enough, the truth of her situation smacked her like a punch from an unseen assailant. She was stuck here in this wild, primitive place. Without Blayne, she’d be at the mercy of animals, the weather, and her own ignorance. She had to go with him. She had no choice.
She gave in. She’d go wherever Blayne cared to take her. Anything was better than suffering like this. Or wandering around alone, at the mercy of whatever creature decided she’d make a tasty snack.
All right, all right. I get it already! I’m going with him, okay? That’s what you want me to do, right? Happy now?
Her headache vanished and she resisted the urge to make a rude gesture to the cosmos. Instead, she rinsed the sour taste from her mouth and allowed Blayne to tug her to her feet. Here—now—was real. She had to put aside her yearning for the only home she’d known, treat it like a distant memory. She had to face the very real possibility she would live out the rest of her life in this place.
She clasped Blayne’s hand and took a huge step into the unknown.
Chapter Three
Hope slumped with her elbows propped on her knees, head hanging. She ached in places she didn’t know could ache, yet she’d only been carrying the clothes on her back—not what must be a massive pack considering all the gear Blayne had extracted from it. It was all she could do to stay awake to eat the meal he prepared for her.
She crawled inside the small tent he’d pitched. A sniff of her armpits compelled her to shuck her shirt and shorts along with her sandals, before crawling atop the sleeping roll Blayne had laid out, and snuggling beneath a blanket. Sleep immediately dragged her down.
Sometime during the night the covers slipped from her shoulders. A cold draught of air skimmed her neck. She shivered and a muscled arm encircled her and pulled her in close, settling her against a warm bare chest. She pulled away, murmuring a sleepy protest, but the arm around her tightened. Before she could awaken fully, she inhaled a herbal fragrance. Blayne. He was warm and he was safe—the sole familiar thing in this frightening new world. She relaxed back into sleep.
When she awoke the only evidence Blayne had shared the tent was the faint herbal odor that always accompanied him emanating from the blankets. She caught a whiff of her sweaty body. Whew. What she wouldn’t give for a bath and deodorant. Not to mention the sheer bliss of a change of underwear. And speaking of clothes, where the heck were hers?
Nowhere to be found.
Thankfully she still wore the bikini she’d had on beneath her clothes when she “arrived”. It would have to do.
Blayne hailed her the instant she ventured out of the tent in search of water. “It’s a beautiful morning. Come, I’ll take you to the pool to bathe.”
He took her hand and wrapped an arm about her waist. “Careful now. There are rocks here and the ground is uneven.”
She encountered a great deal of bare damp skin and her stomach flip-flopped. She inhaled his clean fresh scent and couldn’t help the rueful sigh that escaped her lips. “Uh, Blayne? I smell very bad. Do you have soap?”
“Here.” He handed her a small cake of something and a damp cloth. “Bathe while I see to breakfast. And you can borrow some of my clothes—they’re far more suitable for traveling than yours.” He paused. And she heard him suck in a deep breath.
She imagined his gaze raking her and the bikini she wore suddenly seemed inadequate. Provocative. Her face flushed with warmth. Damn! This would not do. She punched him in the arm.
“What was that for?”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
She moistened her lips with her tongue. “You know how.”
“Sorry.” He sounded anything but. “Will you be okay here on your own?” he asked.
She nodded, ducking her head to hide her still-warm face. Bathing while Blayne stood by was an intimacy she wasn’t prepared to face. So she told herself she was relieved to hear his footfalls fading into the distance. She wanted to be left alone. Just for a little while.
She dipped a toe into the cool water and ventured into the pool. The cake of soap lathered surprisingly well. She washed, and then worked it into her knotted hair. It took three attempts to rinse out the suds but having squeaky clean hair was worth the effort.
She waded back to shore, sluicing water from her body with her palms. Even at this early hour, it was warm enough to sunbathe. A large, smooth-surfaced rock served as a place to sit and wring out her hair, and hopefully dry off her bikini.
The hissss sounded directly by her feet.
She froze. Images of being bitten and enduring a slow, painful death flickered through her mind. She smothered her fear and extended all her senses in the direction the hiss had come f
rom. Time stood still. In her mind’s eye, she saw a four-foot long black reptile with red bands. It had coiled about itself and its tongue flickered, tasting the air. Tasting her.
It was magnificent, a creature encapsulating both beauty and menace. She lost herself in the intensity of its cold gold reptilian eyes. Her own eyes began to tingle but she ignored the irritating sensation. Her heartbeat and breathing slowed. In a peculiar fashion she could not entirely comprehend, she and the snake communed.
~~~
Blayne sauntered up the path toward the pool. He spotted Hope perched on a rock clad only in those brief red garments. An appreciative grin split his face. She was beautiful. And such a fragile little thing, so unlike the robust, tanned women of his settlement. Her hair was the rich russet of a cervida doe—a stark contrast to skin so pale he’d originally thought her a spirit. And those sky-blue eyes….
Her unnatural stillness finally registered. His gaze darted to the highly venomous reptile coiled at her feet. Kunnandi’s teeth. Please gods, she hadn’t been bitten.
He crept forward.
Closer now, he could see that her eyes were wide open, pupils hugely dilated as she gazed fixedly at the snake. Her lips moved. The snake hissed a response. Spirit-fingers played icy tunes up and down his spine.
“Hope. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.” He scanned the area for a weapon. His gaze lit upon a broken leafy branch. Slowly, taking care to keep his movements smooth, he reached for it. He got a grip on the makeshift weapon and inched sideways, measuring the distance to the snake, readying himself to spring. Just a little closer….
He lunged, thrusting out the branch to sweep the reptile from the rock. Continuing his forward momentum he grabbed Hope by the waist, snatching her from harm’s way and tossing her on the ground. He pivoted to deal with the irate reptile, defending with the branch while he bent to grope for another weapon. His hand closed upon a good-sized rock. Perfect.
He advanced on the snake, intending to pin it down and bash it to death with his makeshift weapon.
“Do not hurt it, please.”
He halted. She’d spoken calmly. A glance over his shoulder showed that she’d risen to her knees and her lips had curved in a dreamy smile—the same sort of smile women got when they looked at newborns or cute baby animals.
“Did it bite you?” Worry made him brusque and uncharacteristically sarcastic.
“No. It did not hurt me.”
He turned back to the snake, intending to pulverize it with the rock still gripped tightly in his hand. Too late. The snake had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to slither off and lose itself in the undergrowth.
He dropped the rock and tossed the branch aside. Three steps and he grabbed Hope’s arms to haul her upright. Her eyes were once more drenched with that unearthly molten-gold hue. As he watched the color drained away, returning her eyes to their natural blue. She whimpered once, a heart-breaking sound like a wolf-pup crying for its mother, and then she collapsed in his arms.
He laid her on the ground and checked her from head to toe for puncture wounds.
She hadn’t been bitten. Her breathing, pulse rate and skin tone were normal. He checked her pupils again and finally allowed the terrible tension to seep from his muscles.
Hold on…. His gaze was drawn to a pale slash on the right side of her abdomen, near her hipbone. He ran gently probing fingers over the scar. It appeared to be a precise, intentional cut—yet another mystery he’d like to solve.
He sat back on his heels to gather his thoughts. He’d commenced his healer training as a raw youngling—just ten years of age. He’d been gifted with such natural ability his mentor had seen fit to shorten his apprenticeship. He’d honed his skills, risen quickly through the ranks and was well respected by his peers. Despite his youth, no elder had voted against his elevation to Panakeya, First among healers. Since then he’d witnessed many miraculous recoveries that couldn’t be explained by a healer’s skill alone, and he believed wholeheartedly in his gods and the magic that Sehani like Dayamar wielded.
But Sehani transformation only took those with Sehani ancestors. There had been but one Sehan born since Dayamar, and although she’d survived the initial transformation, she’d not survived what came afterward. Hope was well past puberty, the age when Sehani transformation generally occurred. And she was not Dayamari—she couldn’t possibly have Sehani ancestors. She was an anomaly.
Anomaly or not, Blayne would give his life and his soul to keep a potential Sehan alive. But the middle of nowhere was hardly the place to nurse one through a potentially life-threatening change. He had to get her to Dayamar.
He scooped her into his arms and hastened back to the campsite.
The instant he laid her on the ground she stirred. She struggled to rise and he helped her sit while observing her closely. When she scrubbed her eyes with the back of one hand he gently grasped her wrist. “Don’t rub your eyes. You’ll make them sore.”
“What happened?”
Pointless to worry her if he was mistaken. And he dearly hoped he was mistaken. He kept his tone deliberately light. “You fainted. Probably lack of food after all the walking yesterday. It’s common when you’re unaccustomed to such intense exercise. Can you stand?”
She nodded and when he assisted her to her feet, smiled tentatively up at him. “Do you have those clothes you mentioned?”
He snatched up the spare pair of trousers he’d laid out. And steadied her as she hopped about on one foot, trying to inch a trouser leg up over her foot. Given her diminutive stature and his six-foot-plus height, his trousers were far too long. She could swim in them.
“You need a belt.” He rummaged around in his pack for a length of cord. He folded over the waistband of her trousers, tied the cord around her waist, and did his best to ignore the hitch in her breathing and his own reaction whenever his hands brushed her bare midriff. Finally, he rolled up the bottoms of her trousers to form large cuffs about her ankles.
“Much better,” he said. “This clothing will help protect you from vegetation, sunburn and insect bites.” Pity about her lack of boots but it couldn’t be helped. He draped the shirt over her shoulders and she shoved her arms into the sleeves, fumbling with the toggles and loops.
While he organized food she sat cross-legged, finger-combing her hair. Noting her dazed expression, he wished he dared stay camped here another night. He was stirring porridge when movement caught his eye and he glimpsed the flash of a blade.
“Gods, no!”
Blayne’s lunge toppled Hope onto her back and he followed her down, his thighs clamping around her hips and his fingers digging into her wrist.
The knife fell from her numbed fingers. “What is wrong?” she yelled at him, the panicked thumping of her heart roaring in her ears.
“What do you think you’re doing, woman?”
Good grief. What was his problem? “I am cutting my hair, of course. It is long and too hot during the day. Full of tangles, like the nest of a bird.”
“Tangles? Tangles?”
“Yes!”
He muttered an imprecation. “Why didn’t you simply ask for a comb?”
“It is my hair. I can cut it or not!” She glowered at him, wishing she could see the expression on his face. It might give her a clue to what was going through his mind. “Blayne? Are you all right?”
He barked a sharp laugh. “Gods save me.”
“I am glad to provide you with amusement.”
“There’s nothing amusing about what I thought you were going to do,” he muttered.
He couldn’t have believed she was going to do something stupid like… like… slit her own throat. Could he? Then again, given her distress and her foolishness in striking out alone, it wasn’t too surprising he might believe she was ready to end it all with the slash of a knife.
Shame heated her cheeks. What must he think of her? “Ah, Blayne? You are quite heavy. Please—?”
“What? Oh. Sorry.” He rolled
off and she scrambled to sit up.
She finally plucked up the courage to say, “You thought I was going to kill myself.”
“Yes.”
“I would not do such a thing. I have lived through far worse than this.” She waved a hand, indicating her surroundings.
“I’m sorry. I saw the knife and—”
“Jumped to the wrong conclusion.” She blew out a sigh. “It is understandable. I have made it abundantly clear I am not thrilled to be here.”
“You can say that again.” His snort diffused the tension that’d sprung up between them.
“May I please have the knife back?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’ll plait your hair to keep it out of your way.”
“But I want to cut it.” She rubbed her wrist, unable to fathom why he would go to such trouble when it was far easier to simply lop off her hair. She was beyond caring what she looked like.
“That would be a crying shame.” He lifted a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his fingertips.
She sat perfectly still, hyper-aware of the intimacy of the moment, barely breathing until he dropped his hand.
“Give me a moment.” She heard him rifling around in his pack. And then his arm encircled her waist and before she could do more than squeak, he had settled her in the vee of his spread thighs. He proceeded to comb out her hair. She bore his ministrations with impatience. Men. She’d never understand them.
He plaited her hair into one fat braid and secured it with a piece of leather thong “How’s that?” he asked.
“Feels good. Cooler. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Anything else you need help with?”
“No, thank you.” She ventured a sunny smile—a fake smile, because her self-confidence had taken a massive swan-dive. She was useless. A burden. Her struggles to cope with the deaths of her parents and brothers, discovering the accident had left her blind, her fierce pride in becoming self-sufficient and beholden to no one, meant nothing in Blayne’s world. She was dependent upon him. She needed assistance to perform even the simplest task and many would be completely beyond her—sourcing food, cooking, erecting the tent. She was woefully ill-equipped to survive on her own, reduced to a helpless female reliant upon a man for her food and shelter. For her life.
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