Twice the fire burnt down to embers before he stoked it up again. It was the only measure of time they had for their conversation.
“Would you mind going back over the names of the Clan Na again . . . ?”
Cramps twisted her gut, fast and hard. Imhara gasped, her inhalation a guttural cry. Arek’s voice faded to the background. Every muscle spasmed, then a ferocious heat blasted through her, head to toe, adrenaline chasing in its wake.
Pulse hammering, she sucked in a breath as every nerve fed her an overwhelming cacophony of sensation and sound. The hard thud of Arek’s heart became the pounding of a drum. His scent in her nose an overpowering reek that made her gasp. The coarse rasp of her cloak against her skin an unbearable irritant. Everything so grossly amplified or perverted it hurt.
She shuddered and would have doubled over if Arek’s arms hadn’t tightened around her.
“Imhara? Are you all right?”
She tried to speak but groaned instead as another wave of nausea ripped through her.
“Imhara?”
“Don’t. Move.” She winced at the gravelly sound of her voice.
He stiffened, every muscle in his body hardening like steel. She pushed at the cloak covering her, unable to stand it against her skin any longer. Another surge had her writhing in his arms.
His hand pressed against her forehead. “Now you’re burning up. What’s wrong?”
With a sinking heart, she couldn’t ignore what was happening.
“I need . . .” She broke off, cursing, wishing anyone but Arek had tracked her down.
“Water?” He reached for the canteen sitting beside them. “Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Would he let her explain before reacting?
“Blood.” She had to feed or risk slipping into unconsciousness. She had to convince him. “I need . . . your blood.”
Chapter 21
“MOTHER of Light!” None too gently Arek jerked away from Imhara, ignoring her cry of pain as he scrambled back from her.
Keeping the fire between them, he snatched up a weapon from the pile stacked near the wall and whipped around, expecting to find her ready to launch herself at him. She still lay on the ground, her arms wrapped around her middle, panting. He blinked.
Curled up into a tight ball on the pallet of needle-leaves, she didn’t look capable of moving an inch let alone the few feet separating them.
“I won’t attack you.” Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper. The dark smudges ringing her eyes only emphasized the sickly, gray pallor of her face.
“I thought you had cold-sickness!” His gut burned and twisted with his stupidity. “You could be lying now!”
She flinched. “As the Lady is my witness, I’m not.”
They toy. They torment and then they strike. His grandfather’s voice echoed in his head. Demons don’t change their spots! More fool the warrior who believes otherwise!
He should have listened to his instincts when he’d seen Imhara shivering—the hard facts had been there from the time he’d taken the arrowheads out of her, but like an idiot, he’d let down his guard and trusted her.
“Arek, please, listen to me. . . .”
Tendrils of cold slithered and curled around his heart and squeezed. He’d heard a voice like hers only once before—Annika’s; gravelly, thick with need—not something he could forget. He and Kalan had found her locked in Davyn’s apartment, consumed by blood-rage, driven over the edge by her hunger. She’d attacked those who’d come to help. It’d taken Varian and Kalan to control her, to stop her from killing Rissa.
Annika hadn’t been able to control herself.
Nor had the Na’Reish he’d seen on patrol.
Why would Imhara be any different?
“I’ve seen your kind with blood-rage,” he hissed. Breath rasping in through his mouth, his pulse thundering in his ears, he stared across the small distance between them. “You feed, then discard the victim like an empty water pouch. Your hunger for blood is all consuming until you heal.” His grip tightened on the dagger. “What’s to stop you attacking me?”
“Not all of us are affected by it, Arek. Only a rare few.” Her purple-hued eyes locked with his. “Yes, I’m starving, but I’m not a danger to you.”
His lips twisted. To think he’d believed she’d been about to die from cold-sickness. Her plight had brought back memories of the failed rescue mission and the uncertainty of not knowing whether his best friend had lived or died because of his actions.
With Imhara, sharing his body heat had been the only thing he could think to do, and doing something was better than nothing. While helping her had felt good, and should have been his only purpose, as he’d slid behind her, his thoughts hadn’t been on the healing benefits of their position.
In truth, all he could think about was the way her body fit against his. How her torso molded to his chest, the curved softness of her buttocks nestled into his lap, and her long legs resting between his. The sensation of cradling her against him went from pleasure to desire in less than a heartbeat, and it’d taken every ounce of will to control that need.
The heavy tension seething low in his gut made it impossible to pretend it wasn’t happening. He’d been tempted to draw away, but his conscience hadn’t let him, not when he knew his actions could save her life.
But it turned out she hadn’t needed that kind of help.
Goose bumps prickled his skin. She was just like his grandfather, twisting situations to further her own agenda and keeping him in the dark unless given no other choice.
What was the truth? Was Imhara like the blood-crazed demons he witnessed after skirmishes, the ones who drain captured warriors or human-slaves of blood in order to heal? Or could she control her blood-need?
“You had the chance to tell me about your hunger. You didn’t.” His voice shook. “You speak of wanting me to trust you, yet you withhold information when it suits you.”
“I was trying to protect you, not hide anything from you!” He snorted. Her mouth pulled flat, her gaze flared hot. “One moment I scent your desire, the next a loathing so intense it chokes me. I don’t understand. Why do you cling to your hatred like a child clutches his mother’s leg?”
Heat surged into his cheeks. “Because you give me plenty of reason to, demon!”
Closing the distance between them, Arek called on his Gift and pushed her flat, his hand pressed to her chest. Her soft gasp and pinched expression warned him the energy seared her senses. She shuddered.
He reined it in, detesting that she’d made him lose control, despising the extreme emotions that were shredding him raw.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was wrong with you?” he ground out from behind gritted teeth.
She glared at him, the fire in her gaze bright. “Are you telling me you’d have reacted differently if I had?”
“You never gave me the chance!”
Guilt and regret flickered across her ashen face. “I’m sorry—”
Beneath his hand, her body jerked as another convulsion cut off whatever she was going to say next. Her face contorted as a muscle-twisting shudder tore through her. The seizure lasted several heartbeats, agonizing to watch in its intensity. Her body bowed upward. She bit her lip so hard blood welled from it. Sweat beaded on her cheeks like tears.
His gut contracted as she suffered in silence. One heartbeat. Two. Another half dozen. Then her body went limp.
While there was nothing weak about Imhara, there was a definite vulnerability in the way she lay there after the seizure subsided, her dry, cracked lips parted, sucking in ragged breaths. Beneath his palm, he could feel the rapid thump of her heart in her chest and the clammy dampness of her skin.
Deep inside him, something stirred. As the feeling persisted and gnawed at him, he fought it. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for anyone who lied to him. She was strong, tough. She was Na’Reish and more than capable of deceit when it suited
her.
But still, if she was as hungry as she claimed to be, or consumed by blood-rage, why hadn’t she tried to bite him? His arm had been close enough.
She wasn’t behaving like he’d expected her to.
“It seems your desire to see me dead means more to you than your oath to help kill Savyr.” The thick slur to Imhara’s voice brought his attention back to her. “So much for Light Blade honor.”
Her goading pricked like a healer’s needle.
Hissing a curse, he released his hold on her. “You’d use that to manipulate me?”
“Whatever it takes,” she refuted. Exhaustion rode her hard yet her gaze remained fierce. “I shouldn’t have to remind you, but your hatred blinds you. You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.”
Didn’t she ever give up?
His jaw clenched. “My hatred for the Na’Reish is shared by every other Light Blade.”
“Scents don’t lie, Arek. Yours is much deeper, darker. Why?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is if it endangers our plan!”
No way he was telling her anything about himself, or his family.
Yet his promise committed him, his honor bound him to seeing this through. Once given, to break with either breached the sacred trust he’d been given by the Lady the day he’d sworn allegiance to serve Her.
Nor could he dismiss the fact that Savyr’s death would satisfy their common need for vengeance.
His lip curled. “What endangers it is you not telling me the truth about your illness . . . you letting me believe the cause of it was something else. If you want it to succeed, then you tell me everything I need to know. Regardless.” He stabbed a finger at her. “Don’t withhold the facts. Don’t lie to me. Don’t honey coat anything because you’re worried about how I’ll react. I’ve given you my oath. Trust me to deal with my hatred. Trust me to make the right decision. But give me the information I need to do both. It’s the only way this will work.”
In the name of the Lady, why was he giving her another chance when logic warned him against believing her? Arek scraped a hand over his jaw, the rasp of skin on stubble harsh in the heartbeat of silence. He had no explanation, none whatsoever.
“All right. You’ve made your point.” Imhara nodded and drew in an unsteady breath. “It wasn’t a lie when I said I wasn’t a danger to you. If you wanted to, you could kill me right now using your Gift or the dagger.” Her chin lifted, then her head tilted to expose her throat. “I’m too weak to stop you.”
Beneath her skin he could see the rapid beat of her pulse. One swift flick of his wrist and the blade would slice through her artery.
Vulnerability and submission.
Something he’d never seen any Na’Reish offer voluntarily.
Yet she was a fighter, a warrior, to the core.
“Twice now you’ve given me the opportunity to take your life.” He shook his head. “You aren’t like any Na’Reish I’ve known.”
After several long heartbeats, Imhara brought her chin down. Wary hope flickered across her face.
Her tongue swept out to moisten dry lips. “So, does this mean you’ll let me feed from you?”
Chapter 22
WITH Imhara’s question, the memory of her feeding from him the first time they’d met had Arek fisting her shirt again. The crawling sensation between his shoulder blades intensified and more goose bumps prickled his skin.
“Light save me . . .” The curse ripped from him. He grimaced at the hoarse tone. “There’s no other way, is there?”
Her pinched expression answered his question. He bit off another curse.
It wasn’t that long ago he’d sworn to die before letting any demon make him their blood-slave, yet her ancestors’ journals backed up the information he’d found in the library at Sacred Lake and negated everything he’d been raised to believe.
Honor demanded he set his fear and dislike aside.
He ground his teeth together. “All right.” Both their peoples depended on them seeing this through. “Feed from me.”
Part of him couldn’t believe he’d agreed.
His lips thinned. It would be worth it.
He expected to hear the voice of his grandfather berate him for losing his mind, and for the first time, there was silence.
“Thank you.” A shaky exhalation accompanied her soft reply.
Arek rolled his shoulders. Her feeding from him still troubled him, but if he were honest, keeping him ignorant of certain facts disturbed him just as much. Trusting her wouldn’t be easy but he’d try. Whether she lived up to her promise of keeping him informed remained to be seen.
If only Kymora could see him now. She’d definitely label this as Her divine will. But he had asked the goddess for help and the strength to change. She had to be helping him take this next step in his journey. There was no way he could have done it by himself.
Arek slid the dagger into his belt. “Let’s get it over with before I change my mind.”
Hooking an arm around her shoulders he helped her into a sitting position, leaning her side onto him so that his arm remained free. The one she would feed from. He pulled up his sleeve. The marks of her first feeding were just pale pink scars.
More would adorn his skin shortly.
Imhara’s hand shook as she grasped his wrist. “Lady, bless Arek and his gift of blood. I receive it with thanks and a grateful heart. May the cycle of life—restoration, rejuvenation, and renewal—continue.”
Her prayer held all the similarities of a ritual invocation of gratitude used by the Lady’s Servants in the weekly services in the temple, and reminded him again of their common past. Soft voiced, her words were filled with sincere gratitude and as humble as any devotee.
But when Imhara lowered her mouth toward his arm, lips parted, he couldn’t stop himself from tensing.
She hesitated, her breath hot and moist as it caressed his flesh. “Would you feel more comfortable if I used the dagger rather than my teeth to slice open your skin?”
“Just do it, before I change my mind.”
She bit down, her teeth piercing his flesh, the pain sharp and swift. Her groan vibrated against his skin. He hissed—the stark memories of other, less pleasant feedings he’d witnessed in the past while on patrol flashed through his mind—and resisted the urge to pull away. Instead he stared at the flames of the fire, unable to go so far as to watch her.
Feeling and hearing it was bad enough. The heat of her mouth against the skin of his arm, the steady suck and hot laving of her tongue against his flesh, her quiet, drawn-out groan of pleasure as she swallowed, the hard pump of his heart as it raced in reaction. Every sensation sent waves of heat and cold rippling through him, a warring combination of pleasure and revulsion. Something he couldn’t even attempt to explain.
A minute passed.
Another.
Then Imhara drew away, far sooner than he’d expected. Her breaths came in short, shallow pants as she wiped her lips with the sleeve of her shirt. Color flushed her cheeks.
“You’re done?” he asked.
“I’ve taken as much as I need to last the night.”
“Was it enough?”
“I’ll heal eventually.”
“I’ve seen Na’Reish warriors heal almost instantly. They fed for much longer though.” Even as he commented, he wondered why he was encouraging her to feed from him for a third time, but then he’d given his oath to help her, hadn’t he?
Her eyes met his, her gaze direct. “I can scent your discomfort, Arek. I won’t prolong the feeding with a full session. I want you to see that I can control my need, that you don’t have to fear me slipping into a blood-rage.”
Again, her behavior startled him.
Her fingers tightened around his wrist. “You’ve saved my life twice now. Thank you.” The strength in her grip had already improved. “By tomorrow morning I’ll be strong enough to climb. We can find out then what happened to the caravan.”
Arek shifted, cupping her shoulders to ease her back onto the pallet of needle-leaves so she could rest. He pulled his sleeve back down over his arm, ignoring the blood seeping from the fresh puncture marks. The wounds would clot soon enough.
The image of Imhara, her head bent over his arm, replayed through his thoughts. He could almost feel her tongue stroking his skin, licking away the rivulets, her lips brushing over the wounds in the softest of caresses.
Heat curled in his gut.
Anticipation. Not revulsion.
Mouth tightening, Arek tugged at the sleeve. His shook his head and strangled the reaction into submission.
“I have no objection to sharing this cloak.” Imhara’s soft comment drew him from his thoughts. “It’s the only one we have.”
He grunted. Practicality was certainly the reason for the offer. As the supply of wood dwindled, it would get only colder, and there were still many hours to go before dawn broke.
Yet his decision to accept wouldn’t be driven by logic alone. Just the idea of curling up with her, of being that close to her again, was enough to send his blood surging through his veins and reignite the heavy heat in his gut.
Even knowing she’d just fed from him, he couldn’t stop wanting her. “I’ll tend the fire.”
Imhara watched him. The speculative look, the hint of a smile on her lips, told him she knew exactly why he’d refused her invitation.
Lady of Light, controlling his scent around her was something he just couldn’t seem to accomplish. Shaking his head, he retreated to the other side of the fire and stretched out his hands toward the flames. The heat was as solid and real as the one burning in his gut. Another reaction he couldn’t seem to suppress, regardless of his intent.
“You know, Light Blade, there’s usually a reason for the events we’re led to experience in our lives. Sometimes the Lady reveals them to us, more often than not She makes us work it out ourselves.” Imhara gave him a wry smile and snuggled deeper into the cloak. “If it’s any comfort, like you, I’m still trying to figure out the purpose of this attraction and why we share the same path.”
Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE) Page 16