We Are Forever (Rishi's Wish Book 2)

by C. M. Martens

  When Dee pressed her weight into the pressure he maintained on her waist, he wasn’t prepared. Before either could recalibrate inertia, she stumbled into him.

  His arms came around her to keep her from falling, stiffness locking her muscles against his touch. He righted her, pulling away quickly despite his body wanting nothing more than to keep her in his protective embrace.

  Porrima laughed, filled the tight space with the scratching noise of scorn. “Well, I’ll remember not to have you two assigned to guard duty ever again. If what happened earlier wasn’t enough, this surely tops the cake. Can’t even keep her from falling over.”

  Her words grated Daniel’s last nerve. He was lucky she turned on a heel to march back the way she’d come, sure his expression would have warranted his execution.

  22

  God, she hated that woman. Rishi. Whatever.

  Did anyone not hate her?

  She meant to ask the question of the closest Soldier. It was probably better she hadn't.

  Porrima marched back the way she'd come, the dim lighting not dim enough to mute her power. Dee told herself that was the reason she didn't attack, told herself she still cared about surviving all this, about getting her life back. She ignored the voice in her head that thought her a coward.

  It was her own will that allowed her to step forward, not Daniel's warm presence at her back. It hadn't been his touch that anchored her to reality as Porrima approached, and it hadn't been his presence she'd pressed into to keep her from crumbling to nothing. She'd merely stumbled under the pressure of all that happened.

  Amrae had tried to kill her.

  One foot in front of the other, that was all she needed to focus on. When she found herself back upstairs, it wasn't because she'd followed the Rishi's command. It was the better place to be. She wanted to be back upstairs.

  Porrima led Dee to an area Dee had passed with barely a glance in her haste to hide. Taking a seat at the bar wrapping off to their left, martini already waiting, the Rishi motioned for Dee to sit. Leaning over the bar, Dee might have guessed Porrima was some lonely businesswoman relaxing with a drink and not a super-bitch with superpowers.

  Porrima swirled the clear liquid, watched the whirlpool created by the motion, seeming to ignore Dee perched on a seat an arm's length away.

  "Daniel, having a problem?"

  Porrima continued to stare into her drink, and, at first, Dee didn't understand who she spoke to. When Dee realized the Rishi addressed the Soldier behind her, she refused to turn and look at him regardless of her confusion at the question.

  His answer overrode her decision not to look. "Rishi, I wish to be reassigned."

  Dee blinked fast, knowing her surprise mirrored Boots'.

  Porrima smirked, eyes never leaving the swirling liquid in her hand. "Oh, that's a given. Both of you have shown complete failure in this type of work."

  She set her glass on the bar hard enough for liquid to slosh over the edge.

  The Rishi studied Dee's face before returning to her drink. A glass slid across the bar to rest in front of Dee, sent by the no-man who materialized from the shadows.

  Dee blinked long into the amber liquid, waiting with tense expectancy for the Rishi to start her lecture. What she'd really like to do was throw her drink, glass and all, into the Rishi's face. Remembering she'd had the same inclination at their first meeting brought Dee's lips curving upwards.

  "What are you still doing here? You're dismissed. Send replacements. I trust you can at least accomplish this small task."

  Again, Porrima spoke to the Soldiers at Dee's back, and again, Dee resisted the impulse to turn. She listened to the quiet sounds of the Soldiers’ steps fade away, disliking that she was now alone with the Rishi and her shadow-man.

  "You weren't injured, were you? I saw where Amrae landed her weapon. Close call."

  Dee matched Porrima’s clinical tone. "Very close."

  Porrima looked her over out of the corner of her eye. When she spoke again, Dee couldn't have been more surprised if the Rishi had hugged her. "Take my room. Shower. Relax. Find something to wear. You'll have time to change again when we land before being presented to Zibanitu."

  The martini continued its dance inside the wide-mouth glass.

  "The door locks. I'll insist two guards be kept inside the room, but the others can remain outside. They will be working in pairs for the remainder of the flight. You can have them all hang out in the room if you believe safety in numbers. As long as at least one pair remains in the room with you, I care not where the others are stationed."

  Dee clamped her mouth shut against her surprise. Not sure how to react, she pulled her drink to her lips, draining the contents in a single gulp, relishing the burn of the alcohol.

  With a controlled clink, she returned the glass to the counter. "Thank you, Rishi."

  Dee managed to inflect sincerity, despite thinking the olive branch was nothing more than the reaction of a guilty conscience. That, or fear of being reprimanded for failing to escort Dee safely to her destination. Either way, Dee could play nice, too.

  Porrima nodded acknowledgment of Dee's gratitude, still not looking at her.

  It was when Dee moved to leave the bar that Porrima turned her head. "NO!"

  Dee froze, heart in her throat.

  As suddenly as she'd reacted, the Rishi regained calm, though a sheen of embarrassment hung over her. "Please. Wait until the guards arrive."

  Dee slid back onto the stool, startled more by the concern in the words than by the change in volume. Her gaze moved to the bartender, but he'd melted back to shadow.

  Daniel and Boots made short work of Porrima's request. Seconds later, six Soldiers paced in to stand in a half-circle behind them. Dee, still startled by Porrima's request to wait, remained seated with her back to the group.

  When the new group settled, Porrima slid from her stool to address them. Dee turned to watch Porrima slide down the line. She stared into each face, communicating with whispered words Dee couldn't overhear. Whatever was said, Dee noted they stood just a little taller after her pass.

  "A grave breach has occurred this day. There is no way to know, yet, if any of you share Amrae's mission. If there is one," she met each eye in turn again. "You will not survive."

  Part 7

  23

  Dee paced the living area. Shuffled hastily through a modern mansion that was a cross between castle and tech high-rise, she’d barely had time to note her surroundings before being locked up in this apartment.

  She didn’t know what it meant that Zibanitu hadn’t greeted her. She didn’t know how long to expect to be here. She didn’t know where here was, and there was no one to tell her.

  So, she paced.

  She ignored the three guards stationed inside the room with her. Her first hours had exhausted her attempts at getting them to speak. They answered no question or comment, remaining in their perfect pose of military rest. With drawn out time to overthink, to wonder who else was in on Amrae’s plot, she couldn’t relax. Any of these new faces, all of them, could be here just to bide their time until that perfect moment when they might strike.

  She’d tried locking them out of the bedroom. That rebellion was met with a broken door that now hung haphazardly on a single hinge. Face cast in seditious anger to hide the shock of the swift justice, she’d refrained from sticking out her tongue. Better to wait to push her luck.

  Or, that’s what she told herself to stave off the nagging voice that claimed cowardice. A voice she couldn’t seem to quiet, no matter how quickly she moved back and forth across the room.

  Amrae tried to kill her.

  Her fingers twitched to feel the smooth weight of a weapon in her hand. Since her training sessions at Asellus’, she hadn’t been allowed to carry a weapon. Just three days ago that might have been a lifetime.

  This fourth relocation had Dee feeling more isolated than ever. Especially because of the harsh taste Porrima’s scorn left added with the linge
ring panic of Amrae’s assault. Here, there was not one for Dee to connect with. No friendly face. No Hamal or Daniel. When Daniel bailed on her before they’d landed, this isolation solidified in a ball of lead lumped in her stomach. Hamal, so long pushed from her mind, seemed a figment of another life. Not to mention, his human talents would do her no good among the fantastical.

  -Right, because his superior bodyguarding talent is why you keep thinking of him.-

  She didn’t argue. It was because they were friends.

  But was that even true? Since the outset, he’d been under orders, his life upheaved by her unbidden insertion into their lives. So unbidden, her death was on the table before most even knew she existed.

  Her attention turned to the trio of Soldiers in the room, not fooled by their vacant stares. They watched her every move. They watched her every breath. She watched them, too. She wouldn’t go down without a fight, no matter how many of them were against her.

  Her eyes scanned the room for the thousandth time in search of a telephone or computer. There wasn’t one, but she might have missed it in. There had to be some way to contact the outside world. Zosma would come to her rescue. Or Amalthea.

  -You’re trusting them?-

  She did trust them. Zosma and Amalthea. As her paranoia erected walls that pushed even Daniel into the realm of untrustworthy, these two remained constant. She knew they would help her out of this. Whatever selfish motive either had, they at least didn’t want to kill her. She trusted that.

  Her frenzied pace increased. Her heart slammed inside her chest. Her brain pitched infinite scenarios of mights and might-nots, what-ifs, and could-haves.

  Before she was conscious of the decision, she was at the door.

  The Soldier posted next to the frame, a male with an Asian sounding name she couldn’t recall, a head taller than her, took a step towards her as she reached for the knob. She didn’t look at him even as her heart-rate spiked, muscles tensed to defend herself if he moved to make a physical connection.

  Repositioning her hand reaching for the doorknob into a fist, she knocked, rather than try to open it. The Soldier paused, his expression fading from stern resolve to pensive understanding, though he remained ready in case she did something that deserved dissuasion.

  The door inched open, and a Soldier not much bigger than her peered through the slit of space he allowed.

  She smiled, hoping the expression reached her eyes to make him more pliable to honoring her request. “I was wondering if I could speak with Daniel?”

  The Soldier stared at her for a moment, mien blank. Whether he was surprised by her request or deciding if he should respond, Dee couldn’t tell. She waited, feigning patience. His eyes looked over her head, where she assumed they latched onto the Soldier behind her, before dropping back to her face.

  “I’ll pass on your request.”

  She nodded thanks, but the Soldier had already shut the door, the quiet click punching noise through the room.

  Her pacing resumed, thoughts muddy.

  She needed to sleep.

  She needed to not get killed more.

  Her steps slowed until she stared at the wall in dazed reverie. The pressure of the room grew and thickened around her. She pivoted three-hundred and sixty degrees to take in her surroundings as if for the first time. What was obvious, but unnoticed until now, was that there were no windows.

  Surely a security measure, both so she couldn’t escape and to make it more difficult for an assailant to get to her, she understood the utility of it. Still, the claustrophobia wouldn’t be talked down by logic.

  She took a deep draught of air, held it a moment with eyes closed. Letting it out slowly, she opened her eyes to no change. Vertigo crept from the back of her skull. Her hand went out to the wall in front of her. She pressed into that solid surface as an anchor to solidity. Concentrating on this tactile input, she took slow breaths, forced a single-pointed stare on the floor while ignoring the import her subconscious made of the confining space.

  By no means was the room small enough to elicit feelings of suppression. Easily sixty paces square, decorated sparsely with a modern flair, the room should not have incited claustrophobia. But those details bore no meaning to Dee’s psychology.

  When her breathing exercise added no comfort to her distress, Dee crept to the center of the room where a shag rug spanned a conversation area of couch, table, and chair. Eyes squinted just enough to guide her, she spun the items out of the way to leave an open space.

  Her guards traced her movements with baffled eyes but didn’t interfere.

  In that exact center of the room, the farthest point from each wall she could get, she lay down.

  Still, her mind refused to quiet.

  After hours, maybe seconds, she got to her feet. More bewildered looks followed her movements. Thick blindness settled as the last light clicked off. Not even the glow from the hall penetrated the door’s seal to mar the illusion Dee created.

  She returned to the carpet, soothed by darkness.

  Time passed. Maybe some. Maybe less. It was irrelevant to Dee, whose life had paused, decisions in the hands of others. There was nothing but to wait, confined.

  Something strained within her at that. That she would need to wait. Be confined. That she had no power over her destiny.

  She was more than this.

  As quickly as it unfurled, this spark of motivation, of rebellion, was stifled by despondency.

  Time passed.

  When the door opened, letting in a sliver of light, her closed eyes noted the shift in illumination though she didn’t react to it. Whatever would be done, would be. She had no control, so she would wait. It mattered little what she did, so she would do nothing.

  The sliver of light disappeared, and blessed darkness wrapped around her once more.

  No noise alerted her to the new presence. Just her ability to sense those connected to the Rishis. It was a simple matter of following him with her mind’s eye as he glided to her position.

  He knelt near, paused to study her, and she wondered if he could see in the blackness that even her vision could not penetrate. After a pause, he lay down, a mirror of her, his body stretched away, the crown of his head a breath from the crown of hers.

  They lay quietly, Dee falling back to the nothing-thoughts that encompassed her mind on the border of despair and surrender.

  Time passed. Maybe more. Maybe less.

  Her arm reached up so she could clasp his shoulder with a hand. His crossed his body so his hand could rest against hers.

  More time passed. Her despair was less. Thoughts of surrender gone, there was only sleep.

  24

  He ignored his teammates.

  Yes, he was embarrassed but equally disgusted. It wasn’t his place to explain and he didn’t want to be in a situation where he might be expected to. If their commanders deemed it information worthy of general knowledge, they’d be briefed.

  They hadn’t been briefed. Hadn’t been told that one of Porrima’s Soldiers had tried to kill her charge. That there was no way Amrae had worked alone. This information that he knew, that he wouldn’t tell, that centered around his own failure, kept him away. Kept him ignoring his mates as he ignored his own raging emotions that were antithesis to who he was.

  Daniel let the barbell crash to the ground with a satisfying slam. It barely hit the ground before he was sprinting around the perimeter of the weight room, pushing himself to burst. He’d work this emotion out. He just needed to push himself hard enough that it washed away.

  But that point never came. He pushed and pushed, but still, he never broke through.

  Slowing to a halt, he glanced around the room for someone stupid enough to join him in the sparring ring. But the Soldiers who hadn’t been driven away by his energy avoided eye contact.

  Frustrated, he turned to push out another set of clean-and-jerks, surprised to find his team standing close. He was out of sorts if he hadn’t noticed them walk up on hi
m.

  “Not now.” He brushed past them.

  “Tell us what’s going on. Is it about the mission you were on?”

  He laughed. It was his defense, and came easily, though he’d much rather have thrown punches or crossed blades with someone.

  Lēza grabbed his arm, realizing too late the mistake of turning the confrontation physical. Hamal stepped forward to intervene when Daniel whirled on them.

  The look in Hamal’s eyes changed Daniel’s attention, and he chuckled, knowing the sound was anything but warm. “Chivalry has no place here. I know you’re new, but we are equal in every way. If she wants to put her hands on me, she’s more than welcome. I have more than enough energy to kick her ass.”

  He whirled away, choking on a fresh wave of embarrassment. That there was room for more, that it could compound so deep brought more anger. If he didn’t get a handle on it, he’d never be able to rip the feelings out. He’d never be able to look anyone in the eye if he did.

  He pretended his stomp towards the weights wasn’t similar to a child’s tantrum. Ignoring his team’s attention, he focused on pushing the weight at his feet. Focused on channeling the bursting energy inside him into something other than homicidal action.

  He added weight to the bar, wondering how badly he might injure himself if he pushed too hard. Could he pull his own arms off? Collapse his spine? He wasn’t sure he cared.

  He yanked, extending his legs to apply momentum for his arms to bring up the massive weight. Dropping into a deep squat, he caught the weight at his chest before pressing legs and arms, so the heavy barbell was over his head. Breathing hard, he paused, relishing the strong body, remembering why he had done this. Remembering…

  He dropped the weight, timing it correctly, so the sound interrupted whatever Nathan was about to say. He pressed the bar into the ground with his foot to stop its bounce, readying himself for the next rep, unwilling to meet his team’s questioning stares. Kanchi would brief them all soon enough. Then they would know.