razorsedge

by Lisanne Norman

  “Thank you for saving my mother from that,” she said abruptly. “I didn’t mean what I said. If I’m ever caught by them, will you do the same for me?”

  “We’d all do it for each other,” he said. “You’ve no need to worry.”

  “Don’t leave it to anyone else,” she said, tears beginning to roll down her face. “You do it. For me and Tal. I trust you; I know it’ll be quick.”

  Rezac nodded, aware of her distress. He knew he should be doing more to comfort her, but he was at a complete loss as to what to do or say.

  She sniffed and scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand as she got up. At the door she stopped, her back still to him. “I just came to say I was sorry.”

  Rezac sat up. “There’s no need. I wish we could have rescued them.”

  “I know.”

  “Look, you don’t have to leave. You can stay if you want,” he said awkwardly.

  “I’d like to,” she said, turning round. “For the company. There’s no one else I can go to.”

  “Then stay,” said Rezac, moving so he could pull the covers back.

  She crossed the room and stood beside the bed, hesitating.

  He held his hand out. “Come on,” he said. “You need to get some sleep.”

  Taking his hand, she climbed into the bed, curling up at his side as he pulled the covers over them both.

  Reaching across her, he turned the light out, gently easing his arm under her head as he lay down. He heard her sigh and felt her relax. A few minutes later, her breathing was slow and regular. It was his turn to sigh. He knew he’d get little sleep that night. He didn’t like sharing his bed for more than a few hours, but he felt that he owed her his company for at least tonight.

  *

  He woke with a start, mentally checking the room to see what had wakened him. Nothing. They were alone. The pale light of dawn filtered through the curtains. Then he felt Jaisa’s hand traveling slowly across his chest toward his neck. As he took hold of it, she moved her leg, sliding it between his as her tail flicked across him. Where her face lay against his chest, she began to bite him gently.

  He reached down, the need to move her leg suddenly becoming urgent. Obligingly, she moved, only to replace her leg with her hand.

  With a noise halfway between a growl and a groan of pleasure, Rezac grasped her by the waist and tipped her onto her back. Her robe was pushed unceremoniously aside, and as he lowered himself onto her, she grasped him just as demandingly. Her hands clasped his hips, claw tips pricking his flesh as she pulled him inside her.

  “Not so fast!” he gasped, his claws flexing against her back as he tried to slow her down.

  Their minds touched, each a little aware of what the other felt. Jaisa returned to biting his chest, her teeth this time not so gentle. He lowered his head, tongue rasping against her jaw then he began to nip her, too. Slowly he let the sensations build. As she began to climax, he could hold back no longer.

  *

  Afterward, she fell asleep, emotionally and physically drained. Making sure she was covered by the blankets, Rezac left her there and headed for the refectory. Collecting his food from the counter, he joined the others at their table.

  Tiernay looked up as he sat down. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Jaisa? She wasn’t in her room when I stopped by.”

  “She’s in mine,” he said, concentrating on his food. “I left her sleeping.”

  “I don’t believe it!” said Zashou. “She saw you kill her mother! She’d never spend the night with you!”

  “Leave him alone, Zashou,” said Tiernay. “Neither of them needs to justify their actions to you.”

  Goran leaned forward and slid a couple of photos from his pocket across the table to her. “You want to know why she went to Rezac? Look at these, girl.”

  Curious despite herself, Zashou picked them up and turned them over. With an exclamation of horror, she threw them back at Goran. Her chair fell over as she stumbled to her feet, ears plastered back in distress.

  “I showed these to Jaisa last night,” Goran said, picking them up again. “That’s what they do to hostages, that’s what we saved them from. Now you know why she went to Rezac last night.”

  “What you did was despicable!” Zashou said. “Hadn’t she suffered enough without you showing her those… horror pictures?”

  “She needed to know we’re different from the Valtegans,” said Goran. “Now leave her alone to get her comfort where she wants. Just because you’re too prissy to take up with a real male, don’t expect her to be the same!”

  “How dare you infer that… Ooh!” Beside herself with rage, Zashou turned and ran from the room.

  “Just what do you mean by that?” Shanka growled, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet.

  “He meant nothing, Shanka,” said Tiernay, fixing Goran with a meaningful stare.

  Shanka’s tail flicked. “He’d better not,” he said, before stalking after his mate.

  Tiernay sighed. “Did you have to set them off like that?” he asked Goran. “Whatever you think of her, Goran, Zashou’s all right, and we’re trying to get Shanka to pull his weight. If we keep baiting each other like this, we’ll split the team apart. Leave us to sort out our own internal politics, if you please.”

  Goran shrugged. “She wanted to know why Jaisa spent the night with Rezac. I told her.”

  “Well, I’d prefer you not involve yourself like that again. I can handle my own people.”

  “Whatever you say,” said Goran, getting up. “But I’ve done you a favor. At least now it’s me she hates, not Rezac or Jaisa.”

  Rezac’s jerky movements brought Jo instantly awake. As she tried to move away from him, he clutched her closer, beginning to make small noises of distress. She was groggy herself, but she’d picked up enough of his dream to understand what was wrong. His mind had returned to the time before he and Zashou were Leskas, when he’d had to kill Jaisa’s mother.

  She knew exactly what he’d gone through. She’d had to make a similar decision herself during a raid on one of the Valtegan guard posts on Keiss.

  Pulling an arm free, she reached out to touch his face, trying to wake him. She wasted a good couple of minutes till she remembered seeing Carrie grab Kusac by the ear to get his attention. She knew from last night just how sensitive to the touch Sholan ears could be, and Rezac’s were no exception. Taking hold of one, she tugged. Nothing. She tried again, then gave up and sank her teeth into the thin flesh near the tip. That produced the desired result.

  With a grunt of pain, the ear was flicked from her mouth and his hand came up instinctively to brush her away. Instead, he touched her cheek and froze, eyes flicking open. Face to face, they lay looking at each other.

  Jo broke the silence. “You were having a nightmare.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice quiet. She felt him try to block their contact as he tensed, waiting for her to say more.

  “It was a brave thing you did, killing Jaisa’s mother,” she said, letting her hand touch his cheek, replaying her memory of that day on Keiss. “I’ve had to do it too. She was a friend, and the fear of not killing her outright was the worst part of it.”

  Rezac let his breath out in a long sigh. “What do you know about our customs?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He could hardly credit what he was doing. Had he lost his senses? He shouldn’t even be thinking of this, let along doing it! He ignored that side of his mind, sure beyond doubt that this was what he wanted.

  “I know what you know, I just don’t know where to find the memory yet.”

  “Then I’ll ask you,” he said, lowering his face till his mouth was touching her throat. He began to lick her gently with the tip of his tongue, great long sweeps that sent fire racing through her, the fire that she’d experienced for the first time the night before.

  She tilted her head up, lost in a world of shared senses, bounded by the circle of his arms and the covers wrapped around them. His scent filled her
nostrils and at this moment, Linked as they were, her sense of smell was as sharp as his. The warmth of his body was like a fire before which the cold that the Valtegans had put within her finally began to melt.

  She could feel the texture of his tongue change as he used a different part of it. Now it was rougher, sending even stronger shivers of pleasure coursing through her. Then his teeth closed over her larynx. Her eyes flew open, but with her throat held like this, she could do nothing, see nothing but the ceiling above her.

  To be like this is to be at the mercy of the person whose jaws hold you, he sent. It’s either a death grip— or one of love, when you accept your partner as your lover. I want you as my lover, Jo. Will you have me? He let her go and raised his head to look at her.

  He’d never seemed more alien than he did now. She looked at his face— so nearly human despite its covering of short fur— and wondered what the hell she was doing here, in bed with a member of another species. It was utter madness, an act of pure insanity! Moving her hands, she touched him, letting her fingers push through his pelt and twine themselves in his long belly fur.

  She remembered how it had felt when they’d joined, their minds so bound together there had only been us. The sensible portion of her mind cut in, asking her if she was prepared to throw herself away on a pair of velvet-brown eyes and a dark, soft pelt. She was shocked to hear herself say, Yes.

  He began to purr, the sound fuller and slower than the one she’d heard the night before. It seemed to come from deep within the heart of him.

  His jaws tightened until she could feel his canines pressing into her flesh, then suddenly, they were gone, and he was covering her face with a multitude of tiny bites and licks. It was erotic yet ticklish. She began to giggle, trying futilely to fend him off.

  “Rezac, please, let me catch my breath,” she gasped at last.

  He moved back, giving her the space she needed to make herself comfortable again. While she did, he propped himself up on one arm, watching her, still purring. “Would you believe you’re the first female I’ve ever asked to be my lover?”

  “I’d believe it,” she said. “How on earth did you manage to survive so long? So much hurt and anger in you, it’s a wonder you didn’t try to end it all.”

  “I couldn’t, because of Zashou,” he said, looking away for a moment. “To do that would be to kill her as well.”

  “I hope I haven’t complicated your life,” she said quietly.

  “What if you have?” he countered, moving closer again. “You’ve brought me the first taste of happiness in a relationship that I’ve ever known. From you I sense none of the hatred and criticism that Zashou feels for me. You really understand what it was like. The Gods know, I didn’t choose my life!”

  “I know,” she said soothingly, stroking his cheek, loving its velvety texture. Her eyes were becoming heavy as the now familiar lassitude stole through her. “Stop talking and make love to me.”

  “Make love?” he purred, beginning to kiss her. “What a lovely way to say it. I’ve never made love before.”

  *

  As soon as he’d recovered enough to escape from Vanna’s and Garras’ home, Brynne had returned to his room at the Terran house on the estate. It seemed as if everyone with a vested interest in either the Humans, or the mixed Leska pairs, had been to visit him as soon as he was well enough to be questioned. From Clan Lord Aldatan down, they wanted either information on Derwent’s teaching, or permission to do brain scans to find out for themselves what, if anything, was different.

  He’d refused to cooperate out of embarrassment. He wanted to drop the whole issue. His experiences with Derwent when he fell ill had made him face what he’d really known all along. Derwent’s gifts were minor in comparison to those of the Sholans; his knowledge was a self-acquired, crazy mixture of annexed traditions he considered useful from the many different Earth cultures. However, as far as he was concerned, the Sholans had nothing of value to teach him as his knowledge was the only truth. That had been why he’d refused to accept the reality of Brynne’s Link with Vanna.

  Brynne realized his own ignorance had contributed to Derwent’s ability to convince him he was a great teacher. In that, Vanna had been right. It was time for him to face reality and catch up with his own long neglected studies. So here he was, at the Shrine, with Father Ghyan.

  Ghyan’s voice broke into his wandering thoughts. “One of my advanced students is taking the acolytes for their meditation this morning,” he said, standing up. “Normally I don’t go to these sessions until they’re ready to sit their final tests. However, I’m finding it hard to concentrate today. A little meditation might help me focus. Would you like to accompany me?”

  “A break would be good,” Brynne agreed, stretching his arms and rotating his shoulders to free them of tightness. He hadn’t realized how much writing was involved in learning to use his mental abilities.

  As they walked down the corridor to the Shrine room, Ghyan began to tell him about the statue of Vartra and its dedication. He barely listened, managing to make appropriate responses when he felt one was expected of him.

  “You’re not really interested, are you?” Ghyan asked gently, touching him on the arm to insure that he had his attention. “Perhaps you’ve not allowed yourself enough time to recover from your illness.”

  “I’m sorry, Father Ghyan,” he apologized. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

  “It takes a while to build up your strength after a fever like that. I think we should find you something less demanding to do for a few days. The Litanies would be good as, in fact, would meditation. It’s part of your course anyway. Leave it with me,” he said, opening the door into the Shrine and waiting for Brynne to enter. “When we finish here, I’ll get someone to accompany you to the training hall. Have a long, hot bath, and then go home and rest. Tomorrow’s another day.”

  “I really am fine, Father,” he tried to protest, but Ghyan cut him short.

  “Half-day sessions are more than enough for this week, Brynne. There’s no rush, you know. No one standing over you demanding you finish the course in a finite time. Here on the Valsgarth Estate, the teaching is tailored to the individual: It takes as long as it takes. Were you under pressure from your Mr. Derwent? I assure you that’s not the case here.”

  Brynne eyed him carefully as they approached the braziers flanking the God. What was he up to? Was this just a more subtle approach to find out what Derwent had been doing?

  “No, Brynne, it isn’t,” replied Ghyan, stopping to pick up a piece of incense to crumble over the flames. “I want to know only what you wish to freely tell me. Anything we discuss will stay within our Order.”

  Brynne grunted and picked up a piece of incense, copying what the priest had done. “Ross was like a man driven or possessed. He was never still, always on the go testing one or another of his theories. Yes, he pushed me. Said I was wasting time when I was with Vanna, or went to see our son.”

  “Someone like him, with no ties, no loved ones, would think like that,” Ghyan murmured, approaching the God. He crossed his forearms over his chest, bowing in respect before passing the statue. He stopped, obviously waiting for Brynne.

  As he made the same bow of respect to the statue before joining his teacher, Brynne remembered his visit to the Retreat with Derwent. He must go back there some day. On his own, though. He owed it to Guardian Dhaika.

  Walking along the side of the curtain, Ghyan stopped and pulled back a section to reveal a door. He laughed as he opened it. “No, not some secret place, Brynne! Merely the storage for the prayer mats! Come, help me set them out. They’re light enough that shifting them won’t tire you unduly.”

  *

  The last mat had just been laid as a group of ten younglings scampered into the hall, their plain black robes flapping around their bare feel. They ground to an ignominious halt as they saw who was there.

  “Father Ghyan,” the foremost one stammered. “We hadn’t expecte
d anyone.”

  Brynne watched Ghyan frown at the youths. “Running within the building is strictly forbidden, let alone within the Shrine! Have you no respect for the God? Dzio, I had expected better of you! Chya, have you learned nothing in your time with Rulla? You will both report to me when you finish your studies today! Now attend to your chores! The rest of you, snow clearing detail after lessons until it’s too dark to see!”

  The group dispersed to their various jobs, faces sullen, ears almost invisible. A couple of minutes later, Rulla arrived.

  “Take a mat, Brynne,” said Gyan. “The lesson will begin shortly.”

  Brynne watched him go over to the Brother and exchange a few, terse words with him before he returned. Rulla, meanwhile, began organizing those fetching the meditation lamp, oil, and incense from its cupboard.

  Not knowing the words for the Litany of Preparation, Brynne couldn’t join in, but he found the cadence soothing and relaxing. Under the watchful eye of Father Ghyan, he let himself go, let his mind gently join with those of the students. Without a senior telepath present, this would not normally happen, but since he was here now, Ghyan had decided to work them harder and stretch their abilities.

  As instructed, Brynne focused his attention on the meditation lamp, watching the flame’s gentle glow, letting it fill his vision. Ghyan was providing the instructions mentally, and gradually the glow grew and filled his mind till nothing else remained.

  He felt light, as if his body were floating. Relaxing into it, he found an inner peace start to build. Images began to form, images of snow-covered hills. Trees, their green-needled branches coated with frost, swayed slightly in the wind that came down from the high lands above. High overhead, he heard the cry of a hunting bird and looked up, watching it soar against the sharp, blue sky. The throaty yowl of a catlike predator drew his eyes back to the land, and he scanned the tree line, looking for a movement against the carpet of white that covered everything.