Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  Despite her surprise she recognized the feeling prickling beneath her skin. Sexual attraction. Lust. Desire. A combination of all three. Again she had to restrain herself from smiling. Pity neither warrior in the room would appreciate her . . . interest.

  “You sent for refreshments, Na Kaal.” Arek’s tone was quiet, respectful. He neither looked up nor ventured farther into the room, waiting for her permission to approach.

  Calm. Composed. Compliant.

  “So I did.” Imhara blinked with the reminder. She hoped Arek knew what he was doing, for he’d committed them both to their roles now. “Approach and serve us.”

  She caught the slight tightening of his jaw as he made his way over to her desk. Ahh, not so controlled after all. She swallowed another smile. Instead she tested his scent as he drew closer. Heat, warm spice, a trace of trepidation, but he controlled his darker emotions. He placed the tray on the desk, then hesitated, his scent deepening to an acrid mixture of tension and uncertainty.

  “Pour the k’sa.” Imhara glanced to Yur. “A cup, Second?” The warrior nodded. “Take one to him.”

  Gold flashed on Arek’s arm as he complied with her order. The sight of the armband wrapped around his bicep sent a surge of satisfaction through her. Though she knew he’d donned it to play his part, it looked good on him, but the desire to see him wear it voluntarily and truly belong to the House of Kaal was strong enough to leave an ache in her chest, one she couldn’t suppress, and one she dared not examine too closely.

  Arek passed in front of her desk, tray in hand, to offer the cups to Savyr’s Second. Straightening in his seat, Yur’s gaze raked over the Light Blade then narrowed, his lip curling. His hand dropped to his belt, forearm brushing the hilt of his weapon.

  The posture and bitter scent flooding the air brought Imhara out of her chair, her own hand straying to the dagger at the side of her belt. Reassured by the cool touch of it, she came around the end of her desk, drawing Yur’s attention away from Arek. His curled lip morphed into a malevolent smile, as if he’d guessed her concern for Arek’s safety. He helped himself to the k’sa, then dismissed the human with a grunt.

  Imhara placed a hand in the middle of Arek’s back, stalling his retreat. He stiffened at her touch but didn’t pull away.

  Reaching around to take the remaining cup from the tray, she raised her cup. “To fine weather for the Clan Challenge.”

  Yur lifted his in agreement. “May the strength of our champions endure the length of the games.”

  The warrior tilted his head back to drain the cup and seal the toast. Imhara swallowed the contents of her cup, then retreated to the table, placing the cup on the edge of it.

  “So, Second, will the Na’Reishi lords who petitioned the Na’Rei be presented to me, or am I to remain ignorant of their identities until the decision is made?” she asked, relieved to hear her voice remained steady, and squared her shoulders to face Yur again.

  He made her wait for his answer as Arek refilled his cup. “You’ll have the chance to meet them prior to the Enclave.”

  “No names until then?” At Yur’s shake of the head, she feigned disappointment. “How many petitioned the Na’Rei?”

  “Three. All Na’Reishi of standing and rank. Warriors in their prime.” Again his tone indicated he took pleasure in imparting that piece of information.

  Two could play at that.

  “I’d expect nothing less,” she retorted, and waved Arek back to her side, gesturing to her cup. Silently he filled it again. She shot him a sideways glance as the nutty odor of k’sa wafted through the air. “While impressive, a male’s standing and rank holds little attraction if he can’t fulfill his obligations as my mate.”

  Mother of Light, she hoped Arek was ready to play his role. She moved closer to him.

  “I prefer a male with stamina and virility.” She trailed her fingertips across Arek’s broad shoulders. There was little give in the flesh beneath them. A pale scar stretched from his right shoulder to the middle of his back amidst fresh lash marks. A blade had created the raised ridge. During training or while on patrol? “I’ve grown accustomed to a certain standard. I’m afraid an older warrior might have trouble meeting my expectations.”

  It was gratifying to see Yur’s posture stiffen. Had he forgotten she was nothing like the other Na’Reishi women? How typical of him to think she’d quietly accept a mating ceremony. One that would never eventuate.

  “My forwardness upsets you”—she shrugged, a half-assed apology considering she had trouble containing a smile—“but my potential mate needs to know that I’m a woman of particular tastes.”

  She wrapped her fingers around Arek’s arm, just beneath the armband, the sleek warmth of his skin as pleasing as the fine dusting of hair covering it. Brushing her cheek against his bicep, she inhaled deeply, drawing his clean, earthy scent in to her lungs. A welcome respite from Yur’s heavy musk.

  “Tastes I enjoy indulging in. Frequently.” Imhara slid her fingers over the wide curve of Arek’s chest, enjoying the latent strength contained in his hard flesh, then traced the hollow dip of his collarbone. “As this human would know. Isn’t that right, slave?”

  Beneath the tanned column of Arek’s throat, the rhythm of his pulse was fast. Pressing her hand flat to his chest, she could feel the heavy pounding of his heart.

  When Arek didn’t answer immediately, she scraped her nails down the smooth slopes of his chest and ridged abdomen. His stomach sucked inward and goose bumps prickled his flesh. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his breeches. “Answer me.”

  “Yes, Na Kaal.” That came from between clenched teeth.

  Perfect.

  Yur issued a deep-throated sound of disgust. While the inference drawn would be based on a lie, Lady forgive them, she didn’t care as long as he believed.

  Laughing softly, she pressed her lips in an openmouthed kiss to the warm flesh of Arek’s shoulder, just above the armband. Salt and heat coated her tongue. He issued a startled gasp, his whole body going rigid as her tongue swirled over the faint ridge of a vein beneath his skin.

  She peered up at him, unsurprised to see his blue gaze storm-dark, his expression pulled so tight the lines around his eyes and lips were white. Yet while he clearly resented her actions, what intrigued her was the heavy, spicy odor rising from his skin.

  Arousal.

  She’d witnessed enough sexual encounters to recognize the scent. A small kernel of excitement tempered with caution stirred within her. She hadn’t anticipated that, and gauging by the tension radiating from Arek, neither had he. Scenting anything from him other than hostility and hatred was a major breakthrough. His response might have been unexpected, but the possibility of it not being so was . . . stimulating.

  A need long denied accentuated the hollow ache in her chest. This time Imhara couldn’t ignore it. For far too long, she’d denied herself the simple pleasure of enjoying a lover, the demands of protecting her Clan the convenient excuse; an excuse that wore parchment thin when weariness cloaked her with its suffocating weight.

  But maintaining a working relationship with a lover had proven difficult in previous liaisons, and while she’d never favored one warrior above another, it’d created tension among the ranks of her Na’Hord, so she’d put aside the need. Destiny didn’t favor such a journey for her.

  How she wished the circumstances were different so she could explore Arek’s reaction though. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it formed, calling herself a fool for even imagining something could come of their mutual arousal. Arek would never welcome any sort of intimacy with her.

  For the briefest moment, their gazes connected. His jaw flexed hard, then he looked away, color staining his cheeks, but he didn’t move away from her touch as she expected. He held his position, every muscle quivering with the effort.

  She bit her lip, regretting that she’d drawn that response from him when he’d not intended it. On her next breath, the scent vanished. She blinked. No s
cent could disperse so quickly, unless Arek had suppressed his reaction. She tested the air again.

  Nothing. His willpower impressed her, and left her breathless. Ironically, this time she was turned on by his show of determination and control. For now though, as tempting as it was to reflect on her response to him, her attention needed to be on Yur.

  The Second’s expression was blacker than Arek’s, and darkness glittered in the depths of his gaze. Pulling the tail of an already provoked Vorc ensured retaliation. Yur was twice as dangerous and she needed her wits about her.

  “I intend to continue satiating my needs, whether my mate approves or not.” Imhara pinned the Na’Reishi warrior with her gaze. Her tone hardened. “For him to assume I’ll conform to his wishes will only lead to disappointment.”

  The Na’Reishi warrior surged to his feet, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword. A heavy charred odor assaulted her nostrils. She inched her own hand closer to her weapon, astonished yet deeply satisfied that she’d managed to get such a reaction from him so quickly.

  Would he draw on her?

  Chapter 13

  AREK cursed under his breath as the Na’Reish warrior rose from the lounge. As shocked and angry as he was by Imhara’s little demonstration and the effect she’d had on him, her blatant exhibition of sexual preferences enraged Savyr’s Second. The scowl on his broad face was a cross between disgust and fury, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Arek placed the pot and tray down on the table. If a confrontation was coming, he wanted his hands free. Yur would have been an intimidating figure had he not faced other Na’Reish demons on the battlefield before. Seven feet of brawn and heavy muscle, hostility oozed from his solid-boned frame. One large hand gripped his sword so tightly every knuckle flushed white.

  Listening to them spar verbally, subtle barbs and threats cloaked in civility, each word uttered with veiled politeness, Arek had been reminded of the previous Blade Council, the one his grandfather had corrupted.

  Sourness coated the back of his throat. Political maneuverings for power and leverage had never interested him. Yet he understood Imhara’s need to take the offensive. From what he knew about the demon culture, rank gave a female certain privileges, but power was wielded by and reserved for males alone.

  In such a world, a woman as strong and willful as Imhara would threaten any male used to dominating those weaker than themselves. For a Na’Reishi male, putting her in her place was as second nature as breathing.

  The underhanded arrogance of threatening her with a mate lent credence to her claim that this warrior had murdered her family at Savyr’s behest. And while Imhara’s tactics sparked Arek’s anger, he’d walked into the role willingly. Honor demanded he carry through on the task he’d begun. He just wished he knew Imhara’s purpose for provoking Yur.

  Slowly he widened his stance, inching one leg in front of hers so that his side offered her partial protection should Yur attack. Her fingers tightened around his bicep. Twice. He froze.

  “I’d rethink your personal habits, Na Kaal.” Yur’s deep voice dropped another notch, his words deceptively soft. “You’ll find none of the Na’Reishi will favor, nor tolerate, such behavior in their mate.”

  She took a step closer to Yur, within arm’s reach of the demon. Only an idiot or someone secure in her abilities would get that close to an enraged warrior. Arek doubted she was a fool.

  “Tolerate? Favor?” The words hissed from her lips. “There are plenty of Na’Reishi males out there who bed humans, yet I don’t see them being asked to change their behavior. If these warriors don’t favor my lifestyle, Second, then they can always withdraw their petition.”

  Yur’s hand arced up. His palm connected with Imhara’s cheek in a sharp slap that knocked her backward. Arek caught her as she stumbled. Teeth bared, Yur kicked out with his boot.

  Arek jerked her out of range. The strike caught his hip and propelled him into the frame of the desk. Pain shot through his leg. It buckled and sent him to his knees.

  “Stay down, slave.” An order. One expected to be obeyed.

  Yur seized the front of Imhara’s shirt and forced her back toward the wall. Gritting his teeth, Arek climbed to his feet. Yur slammed Imhara against the bookshelf. Several tomes tumbled to the floor.

  “You will learn your place!” He raised a clenched fist.

  “Get your hands off me.” Imhara’s order was colder than an arctic blizzard. A flash of silver arced between the demon’s black leather-clad legs and pressed hard up against his crotch.

  The dagger from her belt.

  Yur stilled.

  The Na’Reishi warrior held her trapped against the wall. His larger, stronger physique gave him a clear advantage, yet nothing in her stance suggested she felt intimidated by him.

  Arek pushed away from the table, her courage and skill impressing him. She could definitely take care of herself, but he took another step toward her anyway.

  “Hold, slave.” While her order was directed at him, her gaze remained on Yur.

  The tip of her blade angled upward, bit into the leather of the Na’Reishi’s breeches and the most sensitive part of his body. Breath hissed in through Yur’s teeth.

  “Some might regret my making you a eunuch, Yur.” Her tone implied she wouldn’t. “Release me. Now!”

  Yur’s fist lowered. “Some males like their mates spirited, but none will allow such disrespect, Na Kaal.” His black lips peeled back in an ugly smile. “When Savyr reveals his choice of mate, I’ll look forward to seeing you tamed.”

  He freed her then stepped away, ignoring the dagger she kept level with his groin.

  “You’ve delivered the Na’Rei’s message. Inform him I’ll adjust my itinerary.” Imhara flicked the blade in the direction of the door. “You and your Na’Hord are no longer welcome within my House. You can leave now.”

  The look Yur leveled at Imhara promised retribution. In true arrogant Na’Reishi fashion, he gave her his back as he strode for the door. The thud of it slamming against the wall as it was flung open was loud in the prevailing silence.

  Yur’s boot steps echoed along the corridor in a rapid, angry tattoo. Rassan stepped through the open doorway, hand resting close to his weapon.

  His gaze swept over both of them, then lingered on the blade still clenched in Imhara’s hand. “Everything all right?”

  “Yur’s not staying.” Her curt tone drew a raised eyebrow from her Second, but he made no comment. “See that he leaves the fortress.”

  Rassan gave a nod and drew the door closed behind him as he left to carry out her request. Arek drew in a deep breath and dared to relax.

  He glanced to her. Imhara’s swift actions had diverted what could have been a disastrous confrontation. Violet eyes met his. Fury mixed with relief swirled in their depths. One heartbeat, and another, then her shaky sigh broke the silence between them.

  “Are you all right?” She nodded at his leg. “His boot isn’t small or soft.”

  “The bastard kicks like a war-beast but I’ll live.” Peering at her face, Arek limped across the distance between them. “What about you? He struck you, too.”

  “Nothing I haven’t experienced during training.” She shrugged off his question, so he reached for her chin and tilted her head to one side. The dark coloring on her jaw wasn’t just her Na’Reish markings. He smoothed a thumb over the swollen flesh, his mouth tightened at the bruise already decorating her skin.

  “Yur attacked you.” He dropped his hand to his side. No female deserved such treatment. “Why didn’t you drive that blade home when you had the chance?”

  Imhara slid the dagger in question into her belt. “As tempted as I was, that wasn’t my intention.”

  “You were goading him?” Arek shook his head, then grunted. “You want Yur to report your behavior to Savyr.”

  “He can’t do that if he’s dead.” She gave him a grim smile. “And if he’s dead, I won’t get near Savyr come the Enclave.”
<
br />   “You’re ensuring an audience with Savyr. There’s no way either of them will let this incident go without calling you to task.”

  “Exactly.” This time her smile was genuine. “And Savyr will call me into his chambers, where he can control the situation, giving me the perfect opportunity to carry through on my plan.”

  “Devious and good with a blade.” His own mouth curved upward.

  “Devious?” One dark eyebrow arched, even though her tone remained amused. “I prefer to call it determined, Light Blade.” Again her gaze met his, and this time warmth and something else he couldn’t identify swirled in the violet depths. “I know Rassan pushed you into playing the role of a slave. Even though you don’t trust me, you did it anyway. Thank you.”

  Arek nodded. Imhara might have lied to him the night before, but Yur’s agenda and recent behavior only reinforced her truths. The whole situation left him feeling . . . uncertain, an unwanted yet all too familiar feeling in recent months.

  “So, what happens now?” he asked.

  Her smile faded and a frown replaced it. “With the Enclave moved forward, we’ll leave for Gannec Clan territory at the end of the week. With our caravan of wagons and beasts, it’ll take us a few days to traverse the mountains and Skadda Pass. When we reach the other side, we’ll be in Gannec territory. Another day, maybe two, should see us through the forest. Then we’ll set up our campsite just outside Savyr’s fortress alongside the other Clans.” She grimaced. “Not ideal. I would have liked the extra time so you could experience life here in the fortress and to also better prepare you for your role.”

  She crouched to pick up the books from the floor and smoothed her hands over their covers, her expression pensive.

  “Arek, you need to know this was just a fraction of what you’re going to experience once we enter Savyr’s fortress.”