by Autumn Dawn
There was a telling pause. “I know a place. No one will follow us.”
“And I’m supposed to trust your tender mercies?”
“You know I wouldn’t harm you.”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “There are a great many things I don’t know about you, Captain. Like your real name, and age, for instance.”
He placed a finger on her lips. “Then come and talk with me, Dey. Let’s settle this.”
Tempting. Very tempting. Too bad she wasn’t in the habit of trusting anyone, especially him. “I made that mistake years ago. I’m not doing it tonight.”
He sighed and snuggled a gun against her spine. “You make this so difficult, sweetheart.”
Frozen in place, unable to quite believe he’d pull a gun on her, she said stiffly, “I was right about your desperation, wasn’t I? Though even I would have doubted you’d use a gun on a woman.”
If he was angry, he didn’t show it. “Get off the bike, Dey.”
Laughter at his expense bubbled out. “It is difficult to get me loose unless I will it, isn’t it? What would you do if I refused? Somehow I doubt you’d really shoot me. Your kind needs women too badly.” In fact, she was counting on it.
“I could shoot your symbiont,” he said in a sinister tone.
For a moment her heart stopped. He could not be so cruel. Then reason asserted itself. “You wouldn’t, not while I’m attached. The shock to my system might kill me, too. That isn’t what you want, is it?”
Two other Beasts had drawn near while she talked. In the distance she could make out the blinking red lights of Beast aircraft: big aircraft. Other Beasts began to move around the darkened village.
Ignoring the motion around them, Keg swiftly sheathed his gun and pulled her hands behind her back, securing them with binders. “Then here’s how we do this,” he whispered in her ear, his breath caressing her cheek. “I’ll have my men throw a tent up around us. Right here, in the dark, we’ll settle this. I think you’d like it, Dey.”
Absolutely still, she considered his threat. Oh, yes. He’d do it. Already his hands had settled at her hips, his thumbs circling slowly at the small of her back, under her shirt. It would take so little for those hands to move higher.
Or lower.
She shivered.
Keg moved in for the kill. “Is this how you want it, Dey? I wouldn’t mind. You might be webbed in, but you could stand up. I could stand behind you. It wouldn’t be hard. Or maybe it would.” He laughed, low and mocking.
A fine trembling overtook her whole body as sweat popped out on her skin. “You’re crazy.”
She felt him shift as he snapped to one of the Beasts, “Bring us a tent.”
“No!” Now she was certain he really would carry out his threat. He wasn’t the Keg she remembered.
The Beast kept walking away.
“Tell him to stop!” she ordered Keg, really worried now.
“Un-web from your symbiont,” he said calmly.
A snarl crawled from her throat. She’d underestimated him, based her strategy on what she’d known of the other Keg, a pre-war Keg. That man would never have forced her like this.
The Beast was coming back. He had something with him.
“Make your choice,” Keg demanded.
With a silent curse, she disengaged from her symbiont cycle.
And was pulled away from it with amazing swiftness.
“You give up too easily,” Keg said with a smile that was not.
A withering look was all he got in reply.
Dey glowered out the window. A glowing blue city appeared in the distance and rapidly grew larger.
“Your new home,” Keg said. He’d sat beside her for most of the way, guarding her as a family heirloom. Defiant satisfaction fairly radiated from him.
She grunted. More like her prison, at least until she found a way to break out of it.
The walls of the city were laid out in a ring, and the whole thing shimmered with what she suspected was another shield. As they got closer, she discovered that the walls were truly massive and completely smooth, like metal.
Big hairy deal. She refused to be impressed.
Intermittent sniffling broke out among the other prisoners, making her edgy. Dey had little illusions about what awaited them, but memories of a younger Keg and even Drostra, tempered her own concern.
For the other’s benefit, she drawled in a carrying, insolent tone, “So this is what you’ve come to, eh, Keg? Enslaving women for your friends to beat and rape?”
Startled anger flashed in his face. “You are to be wives, not slaves, and the man who harms a woman here is executed. You are far too valuable to us to abuse.”
A snort expressed her opinion. “So you don’t consider rape to be abuse?”
“You know better,” he said, his tone quiet with fury. A warning glittered in his eyes.
Aware of the many listening ears, hoping that she was giving them comfort, she said, “I see. So you’ll force these women into marriage, but their husbands aren’t allowed to force anything else on them, is that right? Then why bother stealing them? From my point of view, you’ve got a problem.”
“Why do you insist on speaking as if what happens will not concern you?” Keg countered sardonically. “In case it’s escaped your notice, you’ve been captured along with them.”
She gave him a superior smile. “I’m a long way from a slave, boy. You let me worry about that.”
The intensity of his gaze got sharper with every word she spoke. He raked that potent stare over her body. “There are ways to make a woman feel desire, sweet thing. I believe you’re acquainted with a few. You women won’t resist for long.”
Eyes wide in shock at his boldness, hot blood in her cheeks, she looked away. The old Keg had never been this bold, this… A small shiver racked her.
Maybe this Keg was more than she’d bargained for.
CHAPTER 6
“Kegtaar! Well done.” Tzar Dagon, his brother, greeted Kegtaar with a salute. Not satisfied with that, he put his arm around him in a fast, rare hug. “You bring hope to your brothers. Tonight we feast in your honor.” Shiny acid burns like silver paint ran in a narrow, long streak from his left eye and curved behind his ear. Ice blue eyes and dark hair, combined with his imposing height, only added to his presence. As a warrior, Dagon was feared throughout the land. As a surrogate father, he was the best thing that could happen to a child.
With a grin of triumph, Kegtaar slapped his brother’s back and turned to greet his scowling mother, Vana. Still pretty and only slightly mellowed since she’d wed his brother and become the surrogate mother to Dagon’s brothers, she made it plain with her stern expression what she thought of his return with the women. Still, she kissed his cheek and hugged him. “Welcome home, Keg. I’ve missed you.” Her eyes moved to behind his left shoulder and narrowed thoughtfully on the scowling Dey.
Reaching back to tug Dey forward, Keg said respectfully, “Mother, Tzar, this is my adajah, Dey. With your permission, I would like to board her in your house, instead of with the others.” He waved a hand at the throng of women descending the transport ramp under heavy guard. A line reached from the courtyard to the fortress-like Bride House nearby.
His mother looked Dey’s binders with displeasure. “Are those necessary?”
You have no idea, Keg thought ruefully, but turned to Dey questioningly.
She slanted him a cool look.
Keg sighed. “I’m sorry, mother, but it would be wiser to wait until we’ve reached the house, if you’re willing. Dey is still sulking.” That earned him a hot glare.
“I disagree. Unbind her,” Vana said with rare command. Once a captive, she had little patience for the sight of others still bound.
With an apologetic glance at his brother, Keg shook his head. “I’m sorry, no. But soon, I promise. I don’t intend to keep her bound all day.”
But Vana was not easily thwarted. She asked Dey straight out, “Would you rea
lly try to run in broad daylight, with two Beast warriors at hand and a hundred nearby?” She clearly expected a negative.
Dey raised an imperious brow.
Vana laughed outright. “Mm. Maybe Keg’s finally found one I can approve of after all.”
Dey didn’t want to like Keg’s mother, but it was tough. Tired, grumpy and stressed as she was, she appreciated that Vana led her straight to a bedchamber and ordered food to be brought immediately. Nor was it a second-best room, not with a polished pink marble floor, a gleaming blue and gold glass bed and lavender and gold, floor-length curtains for the bay windows. Silky throw rugs in blue, purple and gold carpeted the floor, and brass furniture with blue glass accents and multi-colored cushions in jewel tones invited one to rest.
Dey blinked at all the bright colors. Living in the swamp for the last few years hadn’t prepared her for the visual riot.
Vana grinned. “I know. It’s bright, but I like it.” She nodded her thanks to a servant, who left a laden tray on the table and retreated. Delicious smells rose from that direction.
Smile fading, Vana said, “You’ll be under guard. I’m sorry for that, but it’s not my choice. At best I can say, as Keg’s mother, that he would never hurt you, whatever happens.”
“I know that,” Dey said impatiently. The situation was making her snappish. Not that she felt particularly sorry just then. It had been a long night.
Surprise lifted Vana’s brows. “I forgot; you know him from before. It’s been some time since I’ve heard him say your name, though.” The tilt of her head suggested curiosity.
Dey stared back.
Ignoring the obvious hint, Vana skimmed her fingers over the footboard, as if searching for dust. “There was a time when he could hardly sit at dinner without mentioning your name. Of course, during his search for you in the swamps after your exile, we hardly saw him. When we did, he was very tired, very grim. I would never like to see him that way again.” She paused, and when Dey said nothing, she added, “These years of war have been hard on our men. Keg is not the same person he was.”
Dey refused to be moved. “Neither am I.”
“I hope that’s not true. I would have welcomed the girl Keg loved as a daughter,” Vana said softly. “I’ll see you again once you’ve rested.” She bowed gracefully out.
Alone, Dey prowled the room, made quick use of the bathroom, and ate. The food was good, the bed soft. Dey slept.
Keg entered the room quietly, knowing from the sensors that Dey was still asleep.
She looked beautiful on the blue bed, inviting. Instead of crawling between the covers, she’d chosen to forgo blankets and lain on top. That white braid of hers glowed against the dark backdrop, an interesting frame for her creamy skin.
Pity for the girl she’d been, remorse for what she’d been through, moved him. He reached for her face…
And barely missed disembowelment by a symbiont-claw as she boiled out of bed, snarling.
He cursed and leaped back, ready to defend himself.
At that moment she became fully awake. Her voice was scratchy, rough. Her eyes widened at the sight of his blood. “Keg!”
“Remind me not to wake you in the mornings,” he snapped, pressing his hand against the twin claw marks on his stomach. It was a good thing he had quick reflexes, otherwise it would have been his guts he’d be holding in his hands. “A simple, ‘go away’, would have sufficed.”
With the symbiont now retracted into its normal gauntlet form, she rubbed her face, then her arms. “A dead woman wakes nicely in the swamps.”
“You’re not there now.” He pulled his short-sleeved shirt off and bunched it against his stomach, ready to leave.
Dey stopped him. “Why don’t you have your symbiont…” Her eyes moved to his wrists, narrowed in confusion. “Where’s your symbiont?”
“It was never real,” he said tightly. “Just as Luna’s was never real. Even my great symbiont was just an advanced machine.”
“Why?” She rubbed her arms harder.
“To fit in. The real symbionts don’t like my kind.”
She stopped him as he turned away. “Wait! Let me heal you.”
“Why?” he bit out. “Don’t you like the sight of my blood?”
Without answering, she pushed at his arm, found it immobile. Annoyance in her expression, she tugged harder, daring him with her eyes to provoke her.
Reluctantly amused, he let her move his arm slightly, a little mollified when she hissed at the sight of his wound.
She touched him, and her symbiont started to move down her arm.
“No.” He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away, tucking his shirt back against the wound. “I told you, symbionts don’t like us. You’ll become sick helping me.”
“I owe you,” she whispered, stricken.
Keg stared at her, weighing the moment. “Repay me another way.” Slowly, he claimed her lips.
The melting started. It had been a long time coming, and he didn’t rush it. She was soft, and sweet under his tongue, as captured as he was by the blaze between them. A softly breathed sigh, the way her hands hesitantly settled on his bare chest…He crushed her to him, then broke their kiss with a hiss of pain. But he didn’t let her go.
“You’re hurting!” She tried to push away without hurting him more and failed.
“I’ll live.” He aimed for her mouth again.
She dodged him, wiggled away with his reluctant permission. “Go fix yourself. You’re getting blood on me.”
He looked at the red smear on her shirt. “We could wash together,” he suggested.
“Don’t push me, Keg.” By the vulnerable look in her eye, the way she turned away, he’d better not.
“Later, then. But don’t kid yourself, adajah. I intend to push you right over the brink.” He touched her hair, then left.
His adopted brother, Roac, was loitering outside the door. He frowned at the blood-soaked shirt. “What did she try to do, little brother? Geld you and miss?”
“Very funny.” Keg walked on, ignoring him.
Roac, whose hair was nearly as white as Dey’s, easily matched his stride. A good half-head taller than Keg, he wore his long hair braided at the temples. No two brothers could have been more different in looks and similar in spirit. “You know, if you keep letting her beat you, little brother, she’s bound to think she’s master of the bedroom.”
“Shouldn’t you be finding a woman of your own to place in your bedroom?” Keg hinted, knowing that any attempt to dislodge Roac would only make him more determined.
“It’s far more entertaining to see you bumble in yours,” Roac assured him.
“She wakes up fighting, and kisses sweetly when she’s sorry,” Keg admitted. Nothing less was going to gain him privacy.
Roac chuckled. “I would expect nothing less from the woman you searched for so long. Does she know that you turned the swamps inside out looking for her? It might earn you more of those kisses.”
Keg tripped him. And while he didn’t go down, the stumble did temporarily halt Roac’s teasing.
Dinner with his family was a trial he would have rather skipped. Dey watched the room as if expecting venomous vermin to swarm the place at any moment. Even worse, she kept slowly opening and closing her right hand while her eyes tracked over the long table and cozy dining room. Anyone entering and leaving was treated with an appraising stare.
Shell-shocked was a mild term for her behavior.
It hurt. He knew how dangerous the swamps were. Anyone weaker wouldn’t have survived. But to see her changed to this…
Her hand flexed again, and he reached across her body and gripped it. She tensed at his touch. “What are you doing?” he asked, concerned.
“It keeps me alert.” She pulled her hand away, hiding it under the table.
Knowing that she was still doing it, he grit his teeth and directed his killing glare to his plate. Curse Jackson and the Symbionts! They should have known better than to send her i
nto the swamps.
His brother, who’d been watching their reluctant guest, asked casually, “Tell me, Dey, what was your favorite hunting in the swamps? It must have been difficult to have to do your own cooking every day.”
She focused on him for a moment before her eyes started roving again. “You learn to have a care after a few raw or charred meals. It was harder not to get eaten by something sneaking up to my fire than it was to cook.” She paused. “Fish and swamp slugs were easy to come by. Eggs, birds…sometimes I hunted spiny-fawn or grazers.”
Dagon nodded. “Did you prefer a rifle for that?”
She shook her head. “It’s hard to get ammunition, so I saved it. Most of the time I trapped dinner and slit its throat with my symbiont.”
He canted his head in mild surprise. “Hard to get ammunition? That surprises me, considering the state of constant war.”
That caught her full attention. “It’s easier to steal it than to buy it. I robbed the dead when I could. Buying it…the men who have it rarely care to trade money for it. It’s not fun to hold a man at gunpoint while conducting a trade.”
Her remark was treated with uncomfortable silence. She continued her scan of the room.
Grief and rage made Keg’s vision blur. Someone might have hurt Dey. In his relief to finally have her in his home, he hadn’t considered that. If she had been hurt, she would need healing. Did he dare hope he could accomplish that?
As if she sensed his agitation, she glanced at him. In her own language, she said quietly, “No one got close enough, Keg. I know better than to trust like that.”
Relief made him slowly exhale. Even as his shoulders relaxed, her words settled heavily in his gut. I know better than to trust like that.
His mother cleared her throat. “Well, you can rest easy now. Here at the edge of the swamps, we have less dangerous predators, and what we do have can’t possibly penetrate the city’s shields.”
Dey’s expression turned inscrutable. “Hm.”
Suddenly weary, Keg scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Nightmare visions of chasing an escaped Dey down through the swamps assailed him. He didn’t even want to contemplate it.