There was another long pregnant pause, and Sabra could sense his resolve weakening.
‘Sabra — ’ he began, and she felt her stomach knot. She ignored it.
‘Please, don’t’ Sabra, me,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to hear excuses. You can’t just hide me here. I want to be with you. You talk about prophecy and love but are treating me like one of…your kept women. We’re meant to be partners.’
Her accusation was met with stony silence.
‘Have you nothing to say to that?’ Her voice croaked a little.
She could hear him suck through his teeth. ‘I just want you safe and you’re safest where you are. Yes, someone has discovered you there, but it’s unlikely — highly unlikely — that anyone will be able to get you. As long as you stay in the apartment. There has already been a serious breach of security here. I’ve lost the Rakshasa, and I don’t know if I — ’
Sabra interrupted. ‘There has been a serious breach of security here, too. I might be able help you. Here I’m just waiting…’ Sabra reminded him.
His resolve seemed to falter. ‘That apartment is warded and the thriae would have said something if you were in danger. Please, Sabra…’ he faded off, but it was too late — she’d won.
Sabra bit her lip and waited for his next words.
‘All right. I’ll come and get you,’ he said.
***
Sabra didn’t have much time to celebrate her win. Within a few minutes Cain was standing beside her. He looked a little cross, but his eyes softened as they lit on her though his scowl stayed in place. She didn’t mind because the scowl made him look even sexier.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, throwing a cautious glance at the thriae who sat near the lamp watching them carefully.
Cain nodded, then gestured to the table. ‘So, these flowers,’ he said, walking past her. Sabra noticed he looked tired, but not as bad as he should considering the amount of energy he was expending with all his travel.
She nodded.
He studied the flowers for a moment and touched a blood red petal with his dark hand. He closed his eyes as if trying to get a sense from whence they came. After a long moment, he shook his head in clear frustration, picked up the bouquet and threw it in the bin.
He turned and looked at her. His heavy eyes slowly dragged themselves down her body.
‘You’ll need to dress for the jungle.’
Sabra could feel his gaze linger on her breasts, straining against the fabric of her top. She gnawed on her lip. ‘I didn’t exactly pack my safari suit.’ It was a lame joke, but she was rewarded with a small smile. In a shimmer of sweet magic, camouflage pants and a black tee-shirt replaced her other clothes.
‘Thank you,’ she said again.
He nodded, and stepped closer towards her, extending open arms. She could sense the hesitation in him, as if he feared her rejection.
I’ve never rejected him, she thought, slightly confused.
His arms, big and strong, wrapped themselves around her and she sunk into him with a slow exhalation of pleasure. ‘We do not have much time. Jürgen and Christy are waiting.’
Sabra groaned inwardly. Of all Cain’s guards she disliked Christy even more than Jürgen.
He looked over at the thriae. ‘I will bring her back if it becomes too dangerous,’ he told them, and though Sabra couldn’t see them from this distance, she suspected they nodded.
‘Danger is everywhere,’ Hexa replied cryptically.
Sabra didn’t notice, as she was still stuck on the fact that Christy would be waiting.
‘Christy? Really?’ she asked Cain, looking up at him.
He raised an eyebrow and his mouth twitched with another smile. ‘Really,’ he nodded, his lips brushing the top of her head, and then they were gone.
***
They arrived moments later in Cain’s den. Sabra was stunned by the noise around her for a moment. The air, fresh and cool a moment ago, was hot and as thick as soup, but she inhaled the scent of Laos greedily.
Christy and Jürgen were arguing to her left. Though their banter ceased as they noticed her arrival, she felt herself squirm awkwardly from Cain’s embrace.
Cain released her as they arrived and Sabra turned to see Jürgen and Christy staring at him, their faces ridiculous masks of attempted nonchalance.
‘Sabra is coming with us,’ he said after a moment.
Jürgen controlled his surprise minutely better than Christy whose chiselled features curled into a deep angry frown.
‘Is that wise, boss?’ she asked, her feral eyes flicking between Sabra and Cain.
To her surprise, Cain said nothing but looked down calmly at Sabra.
This is some kind of test. If I am the woman he believes me to be, then I should be able to stand up against his guards.
The thought made her need to pee.
She gnawed at her lip, while struggling to hold Christy’s disgusted gaze. She knew she needed to do something and preferably do something impressive. Sabra felt her skin colour and she fought the urge to look away. The old Sabra may have shrunk back from the arrogance and ferocity behind that stare, but she wouldn’t do it now.
As she plundered her brain for something to do or say, she sized up Christy. The enormous woman next to Jürgen had always been her least favourite of Cain’s guards. The werewolf’s hair had been cropped but her perpetual snarl was still in place. Her arm was clearly injured and hung like a dead snake down her side. She found herself wondering what had happened.
Cain had given her this opportunity to prove herself, and all doubts aside, she wanted to convince herself as much as him that she was something special. ‘What are you looking at?’ Sabra eventually asked. It wasn’t perhaps the most original of challenges, but none the less, it was what came to mind.
Christy snarled and revealed her sharp canine teeth. ‘You’ve caused too much trouble.’ Her voice was like ice on gravel.
Sabra felt herself quell slightly and wanted more than anything to take a reassuring glance at Cain, but she didn’t.
As for Christy’s accusation, Sabra had nothing to say on that. Trouble trailed her like a bad fart these days.
‘You going to run again?’ Christy asked. ‘You going to shame our warlord again?’
Sabra stared at her. ‘What I do is none of your concern,’ Sabra retorted with as much strength as she could. She knew picking an argument with this female behemoth was possibly not a good idea. Sabra only reached Christy’s shoulder in height, and looked like uncooked butter pudding in comparison to the buff muscular figure of Cain’s female guard.
‘Isn’t it?’ Christy hissed, as she took a step closer to Sabra. ‘We’ve possibly lost the compound because of you.’
‘Not just because of me,’ she said in her defence.
‘Christy.’ Cain’s voice sliced through the conversation. He glared at the werewolf, his brows furrowed, and the thunderous rage that was never far from his eyes flashed into life.
‘It’s okay,’ Sabra soothed, and rested her hand gently on his forearm. ‘Leave this to me.’
Cain stopped advancing, but his eyes remained heavy and dangerous. Christy’s crew and the others watched with wide eyes.
Sabra knew then that Christy was making a show of dominance and neither Cain nor she could leave it unpunished.
Within a second, Sabra willed her ability into action. Each time it seemed to get easier. She’d practiced with the thriae earlier in the day and found if she focussed enough, she could do it quickly and actually target individuals, though the ability was still not reliable.
She knew her ability had worked when Christy’s eyes widened in surprise, and her head turned from left to right as she rapidly tried to spot where Sabra had gone.
A naughty thought slipped into Sabra’s mind. She released Cain’s arm. She saw him glance down at her and was pleased to realise that she was still visible to everyone else. She quietly walked up to Christy.
The werewolf was snif
fing at the air wildly, trying to scent Sabra.
‘Where did she go? How?’ Christy growled, but no one said a word.
Sabra stood before Christy. The woman was even more massive up close and smelled like mint and sweat. Heat and hostility radiated off her like an electric shield. Sabra reached up carefully with her hand. The hair on her arms prickled. She ignored it and brought her thumb and index finger up to the werewolf’s nose and gave it a strong, tight tweak.
Christy jumped back with a howl, and clutched at her face. ‘Whaddafuck?’
Cain laughed softly, but Jürgen looked amazed.
Relief flooded through Sabra like cool water, and carefully taking a few steps away from the confused werewolf she returned to being visible to Christy.
The werewolf narrowed her eyes and lowered her hands from her nose. ‘How did you do that?’
Sabra shrugged. ‘I’m not as useless as you think,’ she said, and without further word turned her back on Christy and walked back to Cain’s side.
Sabra felt Cain’s eyes burning into her, and her cheeks flushed rainbow in embarrassment.
‘Well played,’ he murmured, and for a brief moment his hand ran down the length of her arm in a faint caress. Pleasure bubbled up through her veins.
***
Cain tore his concentration away from Sabra. It was difficult though. Having her back in his den after all these months made him slightly mad with lust for her. Though he had to admit, her little trick with Christy had more than impressed him. Her talents with her ability were increasing exponentially.
Eventually, he turned his attention to Christy again; her angular cheeks were flushed with what he assumed was embarrassment and her arm still hung like a dead thing. Both the werewolf and the Aufhocker were standing back, avoiding his eyes.
A worrisome thought intruded into his mind.
I may have lost their respect. Their bickering has got to stop. The thought made his stomach revolt but his heart harden.
‘How is your arm, Christy?’
‘It’s fine,’ she replied stiffly, bringing her uninjured arm over and protectively wrapping it about the other.
‘Raise your hand then,’ Cain said coolly. For a moment he thought she may try to be a smart aleck and raise the uninjured one, but she didn’t.
He felt Sabra stiffen beside him as Christy’s face contorted for a brief second when she tried to lift her injured arm. A small surprised gasp leaked from Christy when she failed to raise it. She hesitated and looked down at the arm with an expression of bewilderment, but the look was smoothed over quickly by a carefully neutral one.
‘I asked you to raise it, Christy,’ Cain repeated, unable to keep the cruel bite from his tone. ‘Can you promise me you will be able to crawl through jungle, fight enemy forces, protect our territory and all those who seek safe harbour in it, with your arm in that condition?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she muttered, quickly looking away.
‘Really?’ Cain was unconvinced. ‘Then raise it.’
Cain watched as Christy’s face turned red with the effort and this time a real groan of pain escaped, and it took a fraction longer for Christy to mask her face.
Cain sucked air between his teeth and shook his head. He set his face in a hard implacable mask, one that had never failed to scare his subordinates.
‘I can’t,’ Christy whispered and fell quiet. Her boots shuffled on the floor. She was lost without her hulking crew behind her, Cain realised. It was just another in the ever-growing list of things he’d overlooked in his obsession with Sabra and the damn prophecy.
‘Answer me,’ he commanded.
‘It’s not good,’ she said, her voice low and gravelly with resignation.
‘And why isn’t it good?’ Cain asked, casting a warning glance in Jürgen’s direction to ensure he didn’t interfere.
Jürgen, however, had learned his lesson in the cell and remained silent and impassive.
Sabra stayed motionless, observing, and hopefully taking mental notes. He wanted her to know that his men and women obeyed him and respected him. He took a glance at her, and she looked impressed.
Good, Cain thought as returned his gaze to Christy. Her head fell forward in a gesture similar to a chagrined child.
‘Jürgen’s dislocated my shoulder. I can’t get it back in place on my own,’ she admitted.
Cain nodded, and looked at the both of them, ‘I’m only going to say this once, and it applies to both of you. This shit has got to stop.’
‘Yes, boss,’ they replied in unison.
Cain nodded curtly, then turned and focussed on Christy once again. ‘I could fix your shoulder with a spell and — if we had the time — I’d lock you in that damn cell and leave you there till you learnt some fucking respect.’ He paused and his voice grew deadly. ‘But we don’t have the time for that. Make no mistake, Christy, you have pissed me off. You’ve been parading around this compound as if you own the place. You don’t. You are supposed to look out for your comrades, not just your crew.’ He left the rest unsaid, before continuing. ‘You had no care or empathy for what Jürgen experienced when he caught Maggie South in his room, when you know exactly what that situation can be like for a Aufhocker, or a werewolf. For that reason I’m not going to offer you care or empathy. I’m going to relocate your shoulder, but I’m going to do it manually.’
Christy nodded, but he could see her swallow.
‘Come here,’ he growled, and she took a reluctant step forwards.
Cain took hold of her injured arm and bent it at the elbow. Without any tenderness, he then rotated the arm and shoulder inward to form an ‘L’ shape. He could see sweat bead on Christy’s brow, and heard her grit her teeth, though he did not relish her suffering as he thought he might.
Slowly but steadily be began to rotate the arm and shoulder outward, keeping the upper arm stationary.
‘Make a fist,’ he said softly. She did so, with a wince. ‘And hold onto that wrist with your other arm.’ Obediently, Christy did as she was told. Then, very carefully and with more tenderness than he’d planned, Cain began to coax the shoulder back into the joint.
By the time it popped back into place, Christy was pale and sweat was running rivulets down her face.
‘Done,’ Cain said and walked back towards the credenza to take a sip of lao-hai. He proffered it to Christy once again, and this time she gratefully took it.
‘I don’t know what I can say to make you two get along, but we’re in trouble here, and you two can either back me up, or leave and fight your petty squabbles elsewhere.’
Jürgen nodded enthusiastically, while Christy gave a weak nod.
‘Go to the armoury and kit up, and I want enough for Sabra, too. Be back here in five.’
Jürgen looked unconvinced, and Christy dared not show any emotion, but gave a curt nod, turned and left.
They were alone together.
Cain watched Sabra as she gnawed nervously at her lip.
‘I was impressed by your ability.’
‘Thanks. I guess that’s why my eggs are worth so much trouble.’ She shrugged.
Cain felt his shoulders tighten with displeasure.
Why did she insist on bringing up that topic? Hadn’t he made it abundantly clear he had no interest in them?
‘I’ve told you, I don’t care about the damn eggs,’ Cain said, trying not to sound aggrieved.
Sabra looked up at him, a wistful look in her grey eyes. ‘I just wish I could believe that,’ she said.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, but it was not long before Christy and Jürgen returned.
Cain was careful kitting Sabra up. He strapped on a Kevlar vest that flattened her breasts and pushed the air from her lungs as she squirmed uncomfortably into it. To make matters worse, she’d looked frankly horrified by the small submachine gun he then strapped across her shoulders. She’d never used a weapon before, she’d told him — and the confession made him nervous. He didn’t want her to get
hurt but he wanted her to be able to her to defend herself. Alas, being as green as she was in the world of guerrilla warfare, she was a massive rainbow-coloured liability. He looked down at her, and her skin was fluctuating wildly, the way it did when she was nervous or scared. She looked almost absurdly cute decked out in her camo, Kevlar and gun. He hoped that giving her this opportunity to come with them to recover the Rakshasa may just be proof to her once and for all that he wanted more from her than just damnable eggs. He turned abruptly and scoured the shelves of his library.
He walked along the rows and stopped. He had many copies of the prophecy here. It wasn’t a large document, a few paragraphs at most. He’d had them copied in calligraphy, into Lao and into English. He hadn’t needed it translated into English; it wasn’t as attractive-sounding and the riddles seemed even more convoluted, but he had. He found the section of bookshelf where the laminated cards of the prophecy were stored and picked one up. He read the words.
Jürgen was speaking softly to Sabra, and he turned the card over, grabbed a marker and scrawled a note on the back. He still believed in the prophecy, didn’t he? Until this very moment, he’d never doubted it. He’d never doubted that the lovely blush he’d seen on Sabra that day in the bar made her the rainbow of the prophecy.
‘Here,’ he said, handing her the card. ‘Keep this.’
Sabra stared at the card, and it slowly dawned on her what it was. ‘The prophecy?’ she asked softly and took it. She stared down at the beautifully scripted words in fascination.
‘I hope it will go some way to helping understand things.’ He paused, watching her lips move as she read the prophecy silently. When she stopped, he added, ‘You’ll be pleased to note, that despite being filled with riddles, there doesn’t seem to be any mention of egg harvesting.’
Sabra looked up and held his eyes. There was something indefinable in her expression. He struggled a moment to decipher it, and failed. She gave him a small smile, but it was enough. She slipped the card into her pocket. ‘Thanks.’
Christy was itching to get going, and had finished kitting herself up. She was bristling with weapons, and each movement was heralded by a clatter of weaponry.
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