by Alison Aimes
She wasn’t surprised he was unaware. Such networks were the lifeblood of the pack, used for travel as well as transport and sustenance. However, not once had she come across a live Other using them. She wasn’t sure they could. Along with flatter teeth, Others seemed to have diminished lung capabilities that made the use of such waterways more treacherous, especially if they did not have the proper animals to use for transport.
She and Sharluff had used them many times since Talg sent her away to live as the go-between with the Others. Hitched high on the back of her beast, the treacherous currents had been no problem.
This time, however, would be different. This time she was utterly and completely alone.
Something flickered up ahead to the east. The faint wavering light of an above-surface opening. Freedom.
With a small cry of victory, she paddled toward the side, her center sparking with the heat of Grif’s touch even now. She pushed the foolish longing aside.
It would take all her focus to grab a handhold and pull herself to solid land before the twisting waterway dipped and narrowed, potentially pulling her deeper underground.
With a grunt, she kicked upward and grabbed hold of a pointed edge before it raced by. For an instant, her grip held, her palm cutting into the sharp edge as her body slammed into the rocky wall beneath the water’s surface. But the slickness of the rock proved too much.
Her grip slipped. She dropped beneath the surface, the surging water a roar in her ears, her palms and legs stinging from the scrapes.
A voice that sounded a lot like Talg whispered through her mind. It would be so much easier to just let the water pull her under. To go into the Void and never suffer the anguish of endless aloneness that stretched before her without end.
But she wouldn’t. Because Grif was right about one thing, she was a fighter and she would not simply give up.
Kicking hard, she propelled herself upward and made it to the surface once more. Up ahead another pointed rock beckoned.
Stretching, she caught the ledge with both hands and hung on tight, kicking hard to raise herself high enough to get out of the worst of the current’s grip.
She collapsed onto the rocks, panting hard as the current swirled around her ankles. Bumps rose on her skin as cool air blanketed her, and spread to her heart.
She was free, but for what? For so long, her goal to be accepted by the pack had kept her sane and strong.
Now, Grif had pulled aside the veil and shown her all the reasons such a goal would no longer work.
So where did that leave her? Adrift.
If she went back to warn her pack, she would be killed. Such a choice would also mean destroying any chance for the missing females to return home to a better life and people who missed them. Maybe she shouldn’t care after what her captor had done to her, but she did.
If she stayed silent, Grif and his crew would bring war to pack territory and wipe out her people.
Neither was a good option.
And she definitely could not stay with Grif and the Others.
Be her savior? The male was delusional. He wanted to make her into even more of an outsider than she’d been before.
Be a burden? She had been that long enough. She did not need pity. Or another false promise of impending acceptance as long as she did what she was told.
As if by rote, she pushed to her feet, squeezed the water from the cloth she’d found in the storage cavern, and surveyed the least slippery path to the cave opening. The gentle light spilling into the cave indicated the hottest part of the rotation had already come and gone, the suns on their way to rest. Still, if she found the energy and inclination, there was plenty of time left to find shelter and food before she had to hide for the night.
A roar echoed through the cliffs. Her heart slammed into her throat. Her captor had discovered her escape.
She slipped on a slick rock and went down hard. Pain rocketed up her spine. She stifled a whimper and pushed herself up once more. Warm liquid snaked down her thigh. A small cut. Nothing she hadn’t experienced a hundred times before.
Nothing like the near-sweet, achy burn caused by Grif’s palm.
A strong wave of longing hit, making her stumble over the next rock. Horrified, she turned the impulse over in her mind and acknowledged the truth.
She wasn’t just lost. She was altered.
He’d changed her. Wrecked her.
She’d been with her captor for only a short time, but he’d transformed her as surely as the dust storm reshaped the cliffs, remaking her edges into something fundamentally different.
She had thought Gazi could not experience pleasure. Her captor had proved her wrong. Now she was unable to stop craving something she hadn’t known existed only a short time before.
She had thought she’d been enduring so she could eventually thrive, but her captor had shown her how foolish her ideas were. He’d destroyed not just her anazi but her ignorance.
He’d torn away her lies and forced her to see that by accepting their rules, she had allowed Talg to keep punishing her, mostly because she felt she deserved it.
But now that she knew the truth, she could not go back to the pack. She could not beg their forgiveness or accept Talg’s punishment.
She would not betray her pack though, simply because someone had given her praise and shown her pleasure.
A snuffling sound echoed from the rocks directly in front of her.
Her blood. Even a small amount was enough to alert certain predators.
Ducking behind a cluster of rocks, she scanned the area, searching for the source of the noise even as she took measure of the distance to the mouth of the cave, her body clammy. Sharluff had always scared off the worst of the predators before.
Her fingers closed around the first solid heavy rock she found.
The snuffling sound came again.
She’d gotten good at discerning a thigose sound from a far less troubling walrhinot’s, but it was hard to hear anything over the slamming of her heart. Now more than ever, she wished for her spear.
Another snuffle.
Walrhinot. For sure. Massive silvery beasts with long trunks and sharp teeth, they loved to leave the water and soak up the sun while lying on the rocks. But they also loved to eat. She bolted up and, skirting around the boulder, broke into a run. Walrhinots were slow and stupid, their flippers making them clumsy. She could easily outrun one as long as they weren’t in heat and there was not more than—
Something hard slammed into her from the side. Her weapon slipped from her grasp.
24
Grif hurried down the sharp incline of the cliff, droplets of water slicing off him with every stride.
It had taken him all of three heartbeats to put two and two together and figure out what Nayla had done. With the single exit blocked and every ceiling hole too high to reach, it had been the only alternative.
One that had filled him with horror.
He’d dove after her. Terrified he’d find her lifeless body at the bottom of the pool. Only to realize that the fucking pool kept going, narrowing into a long tunnel that twisted downward.
He’d made it less than a hundred painful heartbeats before the crushing pressure on his head and lungs had been too much. He’d had to turn back, fighting the growing current, nearly blacking out, before he made it back to the bathing pool and pulled himself out.
I’m sorry, baby.
He’d strapped her down and pushed her to the edge. He’d torn her up like the monster he was and left her bleeding. He’d run his hands along every crack in her defenses and promised he’d be there when she’d shattered. He’d vowed to protect her and swore she could trust him.
Then he’d left her alone to deal with the fallout and failed to realize she had a way to escape.
Now she was out there, vulnerable and reeling. Unguarded.
He’d fucking failed her.
Help me. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that to someone he’d promised to car
e for.
“What’s going on?” Ryker sprinted around the bend, ax raised high, gaze darting left and right as he searched for the threat. “We heard your shout and circled back. Malin and the others are close behind.”
Grif beat back his impatience. “She escaped.”
“Escaped? Dragath hells. You said she was neutralized.” His friend’s axe dropped. “How?”
“A water-filled tunnel that snaked beneath the cave. I’m heading to the bottom of the cliff to see if I can tell where it might have spit her out.”
“Shit, Grif. I’m sorry. I know you’d gotten attached. I know you thought you could help her.”
“She’s not dead.” His teammate had jumped to the same wrong conclusion he had.
“Grif—”
“No.” He ignored the flicker of pity in the male’s gaze. “I couldn’t make it, but her kind is not exactly like ours. I’ve been thinking a lot about how she was able to disappear before and I’m pretty sure she’s been using tunnels like this one all along. It would explain how she and the missing females seemed to just vanish before. It would also explain how come the scent of fresh water clung to her skin. She knew to use such a route to escape. She’s smart and cunning—and not suicidal. She cares too much about her pack.” He hoped to the Goddess that he wasn’t just trying to convince himself. “She made it out.”
She was a survivor. She’d proven that to him more than once.
The crunch of boots signaled the others’ arrival.
“What’s wrong?’ Malin stood in front of Lana, his big body serving as a shield. Behind them, coming up fast was a crowd of tense faces that included his teammates, Cam, and Britta, another civilian Grif recognized from camp.
Grif braced himself for what was coming. Thanks to her disappearance, they would perceive Nayla as more of a threat than ever.
Ryker filled them in.
“I knew it.” Malin’s curse echoed through the canyon. “The commander was right. You should have let me fucking break the bitch while I could. Now, she’ll warn the pack and we’ll lose the element of surprise.”
Every muscle in Grif’s body went tight. “Stop running your mouth before I close it permanently.”
“Is she going to get our people killed?” Surprisingly, it was Cam who spoke, but it was clear she was only voicing what everyone else was thinking.
“She won’t.” Grif tightened the strap of his pack over his shoulder and started forward. “I’ll bring her back.”
“Bullshit.” Malin stepped into his path. “You had your chance and failed. You’re not fit to run this mission.”
“Enough.” Ryker’s roar had them all freezing in place. “The commander put Grif in charge and until he says otherwise, that’s how the situation remains.”
Surprise ran through Grif. He hadn’t expected Ryker to back him.
His second turned his way. “Where do you think she’s headed?”
Grif didn’t hesitate. “To the missing females. But not to warn her pack. To try to help them escape. We need to intercept her before then.”
“Agreed.” Ryker was in full second-in-command mode. “You go, move as fast as you need to. Drop markers along the way so the team can follow. They’ll be two steps behind. I need to report what’s happened to the commander and deal with our flesh-and-blood ghost situation before he becomes more of a problem. If you find out more about this potential threat, send someone back. If not…” he shrugged. “Whether you find her in time or not, you’ll need the full extraction team to get the missing females out. This situation can’t be handled alone.”
He hated to admit it, but Ryker was right. “Makes sense.”
He’d make damn sure, though, that he found Nayla first.
“She better not have ruined everything,” snarled Malin. “If she has, I don’t care what kind of hard-on you’ve got for her, she’s going down.”
He shoved past the other male.
Stay safe, Nayla. I’m coming for you.
Skin and tendon gave under the snap of the sluglike walrhinot’s jaw.
Agony ripped through Nayla’s calf. She stifled the scream, forcing herself to remain limp. Playing dead was the only option with walrhinots in heat.
Dissatisfied and aggressive, the beast shook her leg once more. The back of her head banged against the rocks, and sharp edges scraped her spine.
Determination roared through her.
She would not die. Her captor might have broken her down, but he’d also shown her she was stronger than she’d realized.
She could still choose to make a difference.
She could still fix what she had done.
She would develop a new goal to sustain her. A worthy goal.
Trading with the bad Others had been a mistake. Taking the females as slaves an even worse one.
She had created an escalating confrontation that would only end in bloodshed if she did nothing to change it.
She could not allow that to happen. The pack was mostly hardworking, frightened people confronting starvation and the end of their old way of life, looking for a way to save themselves and their children, following a leader who told them he had the solution. And Grif…well, he was not the terrible savage she’d once believed, either.
None of them deserved to die because of her mistake or Talg’s bitterness.
So, a new plan was forming. She would return to pack land and sneak into the encampment where she had left the missing females, She would free them, leading them to safe territory where they would be easily found by Grif and the Others.
She would end the confrontation she had set in motion, erasing Grif’s main justification for war. She would save her people and prove her worth—to herself.
It was a new goal. A better goal. Honest. Unburdened by secret longings that could never be.
Perhaps the Ancients had known what they were doing when they put her in her captor’s path, after all.
Her fingers inched toward the nearest rock.
With a chittering set of outraged squeaks, the creature shook her harder. Its six large silver eyes, each one as big as four of her hands, blinked in unison as it released her ankle—and lunged for her throat.
Surging upward, she swung her weapon toward its closest eye.
Where are you, wild thing?
Grif peered from beneath the overhang, surveying the empty stretch of barren, desertlike land spread out in front of him. Nothing but caked sand, cracked crimson mud, and the occasional bit of scrub brush as far as the eye could see.
The suns dip below the horizon, setting the sky aflame with vibrant purple, orange, and pink hues. It was beautiful, but he really didn’t give a shit.
For three rotations, he’d tracked Nayla. For three rotations, she’d eluded him.
He’d always suspected she was clever and resourceful, but she’d exceeded his expectations.
Meanwhile, his worry grew.
When he’d found dried blood splattered on the rocks near the base of the cliff and followed it back to a torn piece of one of his old shirts stuck on a jagged rock, he’d wanted to sink to his knees and cry like a fucking baby. The proof that she really had made it out of that tunnel rocking him to his core.
The few footprints he’d found since indicated she was limping, but he had no idea the extent of her injury. Still, it hadn’t slowed her down too much. She’d managed to stay one step ahead all this time.
Except she was still out there, unprotected, on her own, and it was killing him.
He’d tracked her, then lost her again—he suspected she’d slipped back into one of those water tunnel networks—then found her trail on land in a whole different section, suggesting that the underground networks she was using were not continuous.
If he had any chance of catching her, it would be before she slipped back underground. He needed to do so soon.
The rest of the hunting party was only a little of the way behind.
He scoured the darkening landscape, the urgent need to
find her clawing at him, a brutal beast that shredded his insides and gave him no rest.
He sensed she was close.
But not close enough.
On a slow, deep inhale, he wrestled his feelings back under control.
Once he found her, he’d make things right.
As long as one of his crew or some other danger didn’t find her first.
25
Hands planted on her thighs, Nayla leaned over and sucked down a long, slow breath, debating whether she had it in her to keep going or find a hideout for the night.
The back of her neck prickled. Just as it had for these past rotations.
Someone was on her trail. Likely Grif.
Gathering her energy, she crept forward, scanning her surroundings. She’d long ago passed the jagged cliffs and entered the terrain with flatter rolling sand hills. The open expanses made it easier to spot predators, but also harder for her to hide. Right now, though, with the moons covered by dust clouds, everything was in shadow.
Still, she didn’t like traveling above ground. But the underground currents only carried her so far before they disappeared where even her kind could not follow. When that happened, the best bet was to return to the surface and head to the next access point. She was only a rotation or two’s walk from the next water tunnel entrance now.
Lips pressed flat with resolve, she hobbled on. Her injured calf, while better after repeated treatment from the taldish paste she’d made from plants found along the way, still stung with each footfall.
No matter. She would endure.
“Look what we’ve got here.” A dark form separated from the hillside. Flat, gray eyes glittered in the moons’ lights. A necklace of finger bones jangled from around the big male’s throat.
Icy fear slid down her spine. She’d thought she’d sensed Grif close at hand. She’d been wrong.
This was an altogether different kind of Other, the violence and depravity that oozed from his form thicker than the red dust coating his body and face.