Beyond the Rain

by Jess Granger

  “Gotcha.” Cyani smiled, turning the beacon over in her hand. “And in a skirt, too.”

  She rushed outside and crouched in the shadow of the hull. Twin moons rose through the threatening clouds, lighting the savannah in a soft silvery light. Using her flick knife, she pried open the beacon and set to work connecting it to the com of her eyepiece. Once she had it synced up, it took a minute to hack into the programming before she could order the computer to relay the Union signal.

  The top of the beacon glowed with a bright green light as it came to life.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  A slow tingle raced down her neck. She froze, listening. She heard a soft exhale.

  Cyani grabbed her knife and whipped around, leaping in the air just as a dark leopard landed where she’d been kneeling.

  The cat wheeled, the epitome of predatory grace and speed. Cyani watched its muscles, gleaning its next move as it lunged toward her with its razor claws unsheathed.

  She ducked and rolled out of the way, the claws catching the edge of her skirt and ripping through the fabric. She spun to her feet and vaulted over the cat.

  The great cat swiped, screaming at her with an alien howl, then crouched back against the hull, its luminous eyes large, and its ears folded back.

  Cyani gripped her knife tighter as she watched the beast, waiting for the next move.

  “Aren’t you going to run away, pretty kitty?” she asked it. Leopards were the same the universe over. If they didn’t succeed in an ambush, they usually let their prey go and waited for an easier meal to stumble beneath them.

  The cat hissed at her and bared her long fangs. Through her earpiece, Cyani heard two soft frightened calls inside the hull of the ship.

  “Just my luck, you have babies.”

  The cat lunged again; this time Cyani threw herself on top of it and wrestled it to the ground. With her arm wrapped under the cat’s foreleg, she reached up and grasped its lower jaw in an iron-tight grip, then tangled her arms and legs around the cat to immobilize it.

  Now what was she going to do? She was stuck wrestling with an angry mother leopard in the open savannah of a backward planet, wearing a skirt that kept tangling around her legs.

  “Cyani?” She heard the familiar voice, and her rush of relief almost made her grip on the cat’s jaw slip.

  “Soren, over here!” she shouted as loud as she could. The leopard tried to twist, but Cyani gripped her tighter, burying her face in the cat’s red spotted fur.

  She heard Soren’s footsteps barreling toward her. He rounded the back end of the wrecked hull, and froze in his tracks.

  She had to look ridiculous.

  “Soren, can you put the cat to sleep?” she asked him, twisting her body in sync with the writhing animal.

  Soren’s eyes began to glow in the darkness. She shut her own and concentrated on holding the frightened cat. The leopard hissed and arched her neck, then suddenly went limp.

  Cyani let go and scuttled backward. The mother cat lay still in the dirt.

  She took a deep breath as her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. Soren stalked toward her, his eyes blazing with blue violet fury.

  “What in blight infested rot do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  “I was subduing the cat, but then you came.” It was a flippant answer, but she didn’t feel like being dressed down by him. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet.

  Before she could stop her momentum, he pulled her into his body and wrapped her in his powerful arms.

  He looked down at her, clasped her face in his hands, and kissed her. She tried to push against him, but gave up as the kiss stole her thoughts and will.

  He mercilessly scorched her with his caress, nipping with his teeth, soothing with his tongue. He punished her with intimacy as he stole her breath, and gave her his.

  Her senses heightened until the heat of his skin burned hers. She could smell him, she let his scent invade her, and she could smell another.

  Cyani broke away from him and turned to the Makkolen man near them. He stalked toward the sleeping mother with a knife in his hand.

  “Stop!” she shouted and threw herself toward the body of the sleeping cat. “Don’t hurt her.”

  She stared up at the wild warrior as Soren’s kiss made the world swirl in a new spectrum of iridescent light. She could see heat rising off the warrior’s shoulders, and a strange firelike aura pulsing with the rhythm of his heart.

  “Leave her alone,” she demanded.

  The Makkolen sheathed his knife.

  “Kaln didn’t mean any harm, Cyani. Get away from the cat before she wakes up.” Soren offered her a hand, but she refused to take it.

  Instead she stood on her own and heaved the large cat onto her shoulders. Cyani swayed under the beast’s weight. The cat was as large as she was. With staggering steps, she carried the mother leopard into the hull of the ship. The soft fur of the cat’s belly pressed in around Cyani’s ears, enveloping her in the scent of sun-warmed dust and sweet milk. She couldn’t leave the cat exposed on the savannah. She would be eaten. She had to return her to her cubs.

  Cyani found them in the back, deep in the shadows. She gently placed their mother next to them, and rubbed their fluffy spotted heads before she turned and left the ship. She could hear the cubs purr as they snuggled in close to their brave mother.

  She turned the volume on her ear set down. Now her ears could naturally hear things she hadn’t heard before, and her nose alone could smell danger before it struck. She moved the beacon next to the cockpit, so if a landing party did arrive, they would stay clear of the hull of the ship. She gathered debris and made an arrow in the direction of the village then turned to face Soren.

  He didn’t say a thing.

  Lightning flashed across the savannah, and reflected in his dark eyes.

  “We must return to the village as fast as we can. Plains wolves come out at night.” The Makkolen warrior placed his hand on the head of his large pet lioness, and began the journey back to the village.

  Cyani followed him. She could feel Soren’s gaze burning into the back of her head. What was he thinking? She knew he was angry, but his eyes had never flared so blue. Blue was the only color she couldn’t read. It was the only color that frightened her.

  11

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU,” SOREN GROWLED AS THEY ENTERED THEIR HUT. What was she thinking? Vicca snored in the corner with her feet dangling in the air and her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Cyani stroked her exposed belly, but the fox didn’t stir.

  “Sorry,” Cyani offered with a casual shrug. “I planned to be back before you realized I left. But that doesn’t give you the right to kiss me. I told you never to do that again.”

  A flash of light illuminated the interior of the hut, followed by a shattering crash of thunder. “You almost got yourself killed, and the only thing you can worry about is that I kissed you? Blight.” Soren clenched his hands to try to hold back his fury. She didn’t get it. She didn’t get what would happen if she died. “You’re still healing. And I’ll never apologize for kissing you.”

  “It takes a lot to kill me, Soren. People have been trying to kill me for years. They haven’t succeeded.” Cyani turned and looked him in the eye. The light from a small fire burning in a hammered metal bowl flickered across her determined face.

  “You were wrestling with a leopard!”

  “And I was winning.”

  Soren kicked the stool and rubbed his face. What was he going to do with her? She thought she was invincible. Or maybe she just didn’t care about her own death? “Could you at least bother telling me when you’re about to run off on a suicide mission?”

  She inspected the tear in the red layer of her skirt. “You’re being dramatic. I was just trying to get us home.”

  “It’s not worth your life.”

  “I know what my life is worth.” Her voice dripped bitterness as she turned from him and lifted the edge of the cloth
hanging over the window. The hushed roar of rain falling on parched clay encompassed them.

  “You don’t know what your life is worth to me.”

  Cyani stared at him, her hands trembling. She tried to still them by bunching the fabric in the window so the rain wouldn’t seep in. He was too good at disarming her. She didn’t want to have this argument. Not now, not ever. She knew what she was. A worthless mudbird. High-hawk fodder. She could be hunted for sport like an animal, raped, sold to a brothel, or killed. No one would care. If she defended herself, then she was a murderer. Her palms itched. She could still feel the sticky mud clinging to her skin, the filth pressing under her nails. She had defended herself.

  “Why didn’t you kill the leopard?” he asked. “You had your knife in your hand.”

  “I couldn’t.” She gathered up the skirt and rubbed the palms of her hands. They were dirty. Her skin looked clean, and felt raw, but she needed to scrub them harder. They still felt dirty.

  “But you could, you’re a warrior. You’ve taken more lives than you can count, both in and out of battle. What stopped you? You were under attack.”

  Damn him, why wouldn’t he let this drop? She couldn’t read his eyes, and didn’t want to. She just wanted to be left alone.

  “She was trying to protect her babies. It wouldn’t have been right.” She realized she was rubbing her hands again and forced them to her sides.

  “So you kill according to a moral code?” Soren pushed her. Why was he doing this to her? Because he felt like he could touch her? Because they had nearly died together? It didn’t matter that he was the only person she had really talked to in decades—that didn’t give him the right to dig. He persisted, “Why are you on this path, Cyani?”

  She glared at him. What was she supposed to say? That she had been attacked by a highborn man intent on raping her for sport? That in fear she struck out with her hands and stopped the man’s heart? That she was guilty of murder and so deserved all of this? She had no choice. “I do what I’m ordered to do. I have orders to kill the Garulen, so I do. Don’t try to tell me you think they don’t deserve to be sent to judgment before the Creator. You’ve sent a few there yourself. You know better than anyone what those depraved leeches deserve.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you on this path? You aren’t a killer.” Soren slowly stripped off his vest and let it fall onto his bed as he took a step toward her. Her eyes flickered over his chest as she retreated to the far side of the room. He looked too good. Her heart fluttered with nerves, anger, and the memory of waking inhaling the scent of his smooth, warm skin.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She’d tried to sound forceful, but she sounded as lost and alone as she felt. Another flash of lightning struck overhead as the angry rain continued to fall.

  He took a step toward her, backing her against the wall. He had pinned her like this once before, and this time he had a look in his eyes that told her he wouldn’t let her go, not until she gave him what he wanted.

  He stroked his fingers down her cheek. “What happened to you?” The brief touch burned her skin. Her nerves set on edge, she glared at him. Why did he affect her? He was only a man. No, he was more than that, and she knew it.

  Soren didn’t back away; instead he waited for her answer with steeled patience in his expression. The light from the brazier flickered on the walls as the steady beat of the relentless storm surrounded their hut.

  “I’m done talking about this,” she protested.

  “I’m not,” he insisted, pressing even closer.

  “You want to know why I’m on this path?” Cyani snapped, shoving him hard and slipping out to adjust the blanket covering the door. Rain had started to pool in the sand. She kicked the dry dirt over it. “They’ll kill me if I fail. They’ll carry out my death sentence, and I will fall to my death.”

  Soren didn’t seem fazed. “Who will kill you?”

  “The Elite.”

  “I don’t understand; aren’t you training to become one of them?”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Cyani cast her eyes back to the ground as she used the side of her foot to shove more dry sand toward the door. She couldn’t let the rain in.

  “What happened, Cyani?” Soren stroked the back of her hair. She stilled, her toes curling in the cool sand. She had forgotten just how alone she felt, how heavy her burden was.

  “I really don’t need this right now. It’s over. End of discussion.”

  “It isn’t over,” he stated. “If it was, it wouldn’t affect you. Talk to me.”

  Damn him.

  “You want to know what happened? Fine.” She kicked the dirt toward the door and turned on him. “I was checking bird traps with my brother and our friend when I ran into a high-hawk out hunting mudbirds.”

  “What are high-hawks and mudbirds?” Soren asked. She couldn’t bear to look up at him. She knew he wouldn’t look at her with scorn the way the other Elite did. His eyes would be filled with understanding, and she couldn’t bear the weight of it.

  “Catching mudbirds is a lovely little euphemism for highborn men, high-hawks, descending into the ground cities with three or four mercenary bodyguards, finding very young, defenseless girls, and raping them. In fact, the practice is so popular, flesh traders make a business out of catching pretty mudbirds, keeping them in brothels, and selling them to the highest bidder.” The words spilled out of her before she could stop them.

  Soren ran his hand over her shoulder.

  “Damn it, Soren, don’t touch me,” she warned.

  “Did this happen to you, Cyani?”

  Cyani locked gazes with him. He understood. Of all the people in the entire universe, he understood what it was like to feel powerless and in pain.

  “I wasn’t defenseless. My mother had been the best Elite warrior Azra had ever known before she was banished for getting pregnant. She taught me too well. I struck the high-hawk that attacked me, and he fell dead before I even knew what happened.”

  Soren leaned forward, reaching out to fold her in his arms. No, she couldn’t. She felt the mud on her hands.

  “Don’t,” she shouted and ducked under his arm. In a blind fury she ran out the door into the pouring rain. She had to escape. The memories twisted through her mind. They overwhelmed her until she couldn’t tell what was real anymore.

  She fought, ran, plunging herself deep into the shadows and filth, hoping he wouldn’t follow her there. The high-hawks from the canopy didn’t like to be dirty. This one didn’t seem to care.

  He didn’t back away. He just laughed at her as he rolled up his sleeves.

  Cyani couldn’t see as the rain streaked over her face. Her foot slipped and she fell forward into the sticky mud. She looked down at the red clay coating her hands. It dripped over her pale skin like blood.

  “Cyani,” Soren called as he followed her into the pounding rain.

  “Cyani, wait.” The cold rain seeped through her hair and drenched her shoulders. His feet slapped through the puddles until he knelt next to her.

  She held out her dripping red hands to him. “One blow. It only took one blow with these hands, and his heart stopped cold. His mercenaries didn’t know what happened. He just fell backward. I did it. I killed him. I wanted to, and I did, so don’t try to tell me I am not a killer. I’m not kind. I’m not compassionate. I’m a murderer.”

  “Cyani,” Soren implored, inching toward her as the pounding rain dripped into her stinging eyes. She tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, but she was covered with mud. She was filthy, dirty, worthless. He reached out for her hand and placed his over it. She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her. With gentle care and attention, he rubbed the mud away.

  Too drained to do anything more than watch, she stared, transfixed by his fingers sliding over hers, taking the dirt with them and leaving her clean hands gleaming in the wild rain.

  He pulled her closer and tilted her muddy face to the sky. She f
elt the cold rain flow over her face, purifying her as his hands gently smoothed her hair, wiped her hot cheeks.

  “You can judge yourself, but I won’t,” Soren whispered, tucking his face close to her ear. “You’re not a killer, Cyani. You’re my savior.”

  Thunder roared overhead as Cyani let her head fall on his shoulder. Her tears fell on his warm skin as he continued to bathe her in the falling rain.

  “You are my savior,” he whispered again as he lifted her to her feet and pulled her into the familiar circle of his arms.

  He smoothed his hands over her wet hair and kissed her forehead, her brow. He kissed the tears from her cheeks as he comforted her. Each kiss tingled on her cool skin, reminding her of the intensity and power of his touch.

  But his touch was nothing compared to his words. They entrenched themselves deep in her battered heart.

  She looked up into his glowing blue violet eyes.

  Her fingers trembled as she reached up and touched the skin along the edge of his jaw. He understood her. She rose, snaking her arm around the back of his neck. His wet hair felt cool and silky on her arm.

  He pulled her closer, pressing her body into his.

  She felt naked, vulnerable as she reached up, finding his lips with hers.

  She kissed him.

  His hands fisted in her wet hair as her lips slid over his. He took what she offered him, gently, as if in awe of her touch. She wondered if her kiss did to him the things his did to her.

  Even as she thought it, she nearly collapsed with the rush of his kiss. She felt the adrenaline flowing through her head as her muscles felt heavy and languid. And like a dream just stealing the mind in the depths of sleep, the slow, heavy pulse deep in her abdomen pushed her to new aching awareness of him.

  She opened her eyes as she clung to his wet shoulders and his soft mouth trailed hungry kisses down her neck.

  The pounding rain burst in glowing waves of magenta, gold, green, and blue as it fell around them.