Several strokes later, his body shuddered above her and he released with a groan that made her wrap her arms around him. He rolled to the side and she curled against him. Neither moved, neither spoke.
In the space of hours, they’d escaped the king’s ship and taken six of the cyborgs with them. And X-Blade had freed her from the collar. Her hand went to her throat. Her magic had never been the strongest, one of the reasons she’d decided to become a healer. But having her fireballs back made her feel more. . .elven again.
Despite what Tristin had said, she still felt guilt about what she’d done in the service of the Ardaks. There was only one way to rectify that. She would join the resistance and do what she could to avenge her people and the cyborgs she hadn’t been able to save.
Lying there in Tristin’s arms, it was easy to believe that she might be able to make a difference. But she knew the power at the king’s disposal, had witnessed the vastness of his operation firsthand.
And though Tristin might be attracted to her, the differences between them may prove to be too much for him to commit to her. And there was much he hadn’t told her. His bearing, the force behind his eyes, spoke of power. The others had called him King Tristin. King of who? King of where? There was much more behind the man that she had yet to uncover.
She lay awake against his chest, feeling his heart beat slow and steady.
She would have thought it impossible, but she must have eventually drifted off.
Because she was fast asleep when the screams began.
Chapter Nineteen
Tristin
Andraya screamed as a second Ardak came at him from behind, sword raised.
He dodged the first, then jumped and spun in a high, sweeping kick using his mind and his breath to slow time slightly, the ancient technique of Xu that gave them the advantage of speed against their opponents.
For a moment as he spun, he witnessed the crumbling of his world’s largest city. Plumes of red poison rose into the air above the city, largely trapped from escaping by the dome above. The Ardaks hadn’t dropped the enormous square metal boxes on the ice, no, they had cut holes in the domes with their lasers and dropped the boxes inside.
The concentrated doses of poison were too much for many of his people, who were used to the clean air of the domes. Bodies littered the streets and screams of anguish filled the air. The Ardaks were landing smaller ships through the holes in the domes, killing his people as they tried to evacuate.
They had lost completely.
And it had been just forty-three minutes since the attack.
More ships were landing every second, and his air force was already maxed out trying to buy time for civilian ships to escape.
He landed, kicking the sword away from the Ardak. It growled and sprang at him, and he narrowly avoided its claws, countering with a sweep of his sword that took off its paw well above the wrist. Its roar became a scream of pain, but it didn’t spring at him again, instead it tried to stop the bleeding from its arm.
An armed royal cruiser landed behind him and he glanced over his shoulder. His cousins disembarked.
“Tristin, we need to get out of here,” Juordin shouted at him.
“I can’t!” Tristin shouted back. “We can’t give in to these animals. My people. . .”
Joachin was suddenly right beside him. “They’re evacuating, too. We brought three hundred ships and landed in every green space you have. We’re leaving. Now.” He shoved Tristin toward their waiting craft.
“I can’t leave them here.” Their screams were ringing in his ears.
“Tell them to get to the ships.” Joachin ordered.
Tristin spoke into the com on his wrist, his voice booming out over the city. “Leave everything! Don’t hide! Evacuate to the nearest park and board a Tuorian ship! Run!”
Less than a minute later civilians began to appear from between the buildings, running for their craft. Others were visible in the distance, heading for the park in that direction.
Then the Ardaks troops began shooting them.
“No! Noooo!”
“Tristin.” Andraya was shaking him. “Tristin wake up.”
He fought against her. “The people. They’re dying.”
“Tristin, wake up.”
He screamed again, even as the voice penetrated his mind. It wasn’t Andraya. His eyes sprang open, chest heaving. When he saw Kirelle’s glowing golden eyes, he clenched his fists, forcing himself to lie back.
“Are you with me?” Kirelle asked.
“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair and shoved it back over his shoulder. Embarrassment flooded him at his actions—then and now. “I’m a coward.”
“I doubt that,” she commented, sitting back and covering herself with the blanket. “The Ardaks?”
“The invasion of my planet, Tuorin Andala,” he tried to get control of his heavy breaths.
“Those nightmares are brutal,” she replied. “What happened on your planet?”
“We tried to evacuate the civilians—the Ardaks began shooting them in the back as they tried to reach the ships.” He felt hot anger rise in his throat. “My cousins wouldn’t let me go out and defend them. They killed two for every one that made it.” He swallowed. “I can still hear their screams.”
She put her hand on his shoulder, and when he looked up, her eyes sucked him in. She pushed his long black hair back over his shoulder. “It was like that on my world, too. They killed everyone. Especially the civilians.”
“Yes,” his voice broke. “But you weren’t responsible for them.”
“No one can be responsible for everyone.”
He looked away. “I was their king.” He waited for recrimination, accusation, anything that gave evidence to the guilt he felt.
But her downcast eyes showed only sadness when she finally met his gaze. She gave a small shrug. “Even then. No one could have expected the Ardaks.”
He was quiet for several moments. “That’s what bothers me the most. To my people, I was royalty. I lived and breathed power. But against the Ardaks, I was just a man.”
Her face came closer to his. “Then it’s good you are no longer just a man.”
The comment stunned him into silence. She was correct. He was no longer just a man. And most of his people who were still alive had evacuated to Juordin’s planet while the domes were repaired. So right now, he wasn’t even a king. He stared at her mouth. What was it about her that was so attractive? “Are you always so optimistic?”
“No,” she whispered, her tongue darting out to lick her lips nervously.
“Good. Because I would find that boring.” Words failed him as he closed the distance between them and his lips touched hers. She was soft, sweet—almost tentative in returning his kisses. It was different than the other women he’d known, and lured him more than anything else.
He held her to him with one arm around her back, and the fingers of his other hand came up to gently touch her face. Her skin was smooth, impossibly soft, and delicate.
He kissed her this time with the softness he felt for her, the warmth his heart was beginning to feel. When he slid deep inside her once more with smooth, measured strokes, something about the concern in her eyes, their shared pain, soothed the gaping hole in the center of his soul.
It seemed to take forever, this shared space between them, where nothing existed but soft touches and whispered words of passion.
When they finished, he pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms, her head against his chest. And he finally admitted to the abject terror that resided within him, down deep where he continued to shove it. He was afraid to care for another person, afraid she might be taken from him.
But fear was no way to live, and he’d made a choice after the invasion that he would live for the moment. And for the moment he was warm and content, certain that they would make a plan of action in the morning.
He set the chip to wake him in six hours and let himself drift off to sleep.
/> Chapter Twenty
Kirelle
Kirelle woke and began to stretch. Her arm hit something warm and solid, and she realized she wasn’t alone. She stilled as memories of the night before came rushing back, then allowed herself to feel the comfort of the moment. She was warm and the bed was soft for the first time since before the Ardak invasion. And there were arms around her. Tristin’s arms.
She looked up into glowing purple eyes. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I was thinking. I still can’t determine how the Ardaks caught us on the station. If X-Blade was the one who saved me, if he was still alive until we saw him in the elevator, the Ardaks didn’t know he was with the resistance.”
“Right,” she mused. “So if they didn’t know he was the traitor, how did they catch you?”
“I have no idea. If they weren’t following him, they might have been following me. But if they followed me, they would have caught him.” His thumb was slowly caressing her hand as he thought.
“Perhaps they weren’t following you, either,” she suggested. “Perhaps they were following your sister.”
His thumb stilled. “What are you talking about?”
“She gave me the device I inserted into your neck.”
“What?” Realization swept over his face. “You told me just before you inserted the device to give me back my memories.”
“Yes. She followed me into the personal room and tried to give it to me just before you were captured.” She paused. “I hit her so her lip started bleeding.” Her breath caught and a pain lanced through her chest. “Oh gods. Do you think she died because I hit her?”
“No.” He clenched her hand tightly, throwing off the blankets and sitting up. Then he let go of her hand. “She died because she was an idiot. She shouldn’t have spoken to you. Shouldn’t have had a device!” He jumped from the bed and began pacing the room, naked. “She must have stolen it from Juordin. I can’t believe he would give it to her willingly.”
She didn’t know what to say, what to do. Nothing she did could bring his sister back.
“I should have known,” he seethed, running his fingers through his hair. He rose and paced the room. “She never did listen to me.”
“It wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“I could have made her stay on the fucking ship! Fuck!” He’d reached the wall next to the personal room and hit it. “I’m the one that was responsible for her!”
Kirelle was silent for long moments. “You can blame yourself if you wish. But in times like these, beings make their own destinies. Your sister chose to be brave. That act of bravery saved us. If your sister hadn’t given me the device, I couldn’t have saved you.”
“If she hadn’t given you the device, we wouldn’t have been caught.”
“And if I hadn’t created you, you’d probably be dead,” she said slowly. “Even though I was a coward for doing it.”
His eyes were distant, lost in thought. The silence was heavy, both of them grappling with the horror of the Ardaks and the mistakes they’d made. But at the same time, it was comforting to know that she was not alone. That someone else was there, living through it with her.
After several minutes he turned to her, his eyes pensive. “I’m sorry for what I said about you before. You didn’t deserve it.”
“What are you talking about?”
He sighed. “I was rude to you more than once. I’m sorry for everything I said.” He cupped her arm just below the elbow and his gaze pierced hers.
“No, you were right.” She looked away. “I was a coward to do their bidding for so long.”
He shook his head. “No, Kirelle. Sometimes there are acts of bravery, and sometimes there is just survival. Your survival then may allow you to commit acts of bravery now that are much greater due to everything you know.”
She tilted her head, thinking. “Those acts would have to be pretty spectacular to make up for what I’ve done.”
“I have a feeling they will be.” Tristin’s voice was certain. “And as for the other. . .there are differences between us, but they aren’t what matters. I was just. . . afraid. I feel the same pull toward you that you feel toward me.”
“You do?” she asked faintly. She couldn’t believe he was admitting it. It made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Didn’t deserve to feel.
“Yes.” His voice was low. Tortured. “I do.” He looked away. “But I need you to understand that I’m not free to indulge my personal feelings. I have responsibilities to my people, to the ARF. My cousin and I started the ARF after the invasion of our system. I have to see it through.”
“You started the resistance?” Her voice was a high squeak.
He grimaced. “Actually, my cousin Juordin is the one who started it. He dragged me into it when he was captured on his first mission, and I realized I’d better get involved for the safety of everyone in my extended family.” His expression grew pained. “A lot of good that’s done now.”
She felt a pang of sympathy for the loss of his sister. “It has done a lot of good. The resistance strikes fear in the hearts of the Ardaks. Without you, we wouldn’t have any chance to defeat them.”
He reached for her hand, his fingers threading through hers. “It’s dangerous. I’m gone a lot on missions. You’re going to have to decide whether or not you can live with that.”
She nodded silently, her voice momentarily frozen. Could she become brave, part of the resistance? Could she be the elf he thought she was?
She looked up from their joined hands to find him staring at her. His purple eyes glowed as they took her in, penetrating her soul.
Finally, he looked away. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have stared. We’ve been trained not to look at others for too long.”
“Your gaze is rather intense,” she admitted breathlessly.
“Yes.” He licked his lips. “Part of our training is to hold our focus in the current moment. It gathers our soul force, but tends to make people uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, exactly. . .” she protested.
“How does it make you feel?” The purple of his eyes glowed brighter and he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“It makes me feel. . .” She shivered, the words breaking off as he covered her lips with his. She sighed into his mouth as she gave in to the kiss.
His lips were warm, firm, questing, tasting. He devoured her with the same intensity as his gaze—ardently, searchingly.
His fingertips ran down the underside of her arm. The fingertips weren’t smooth, were slightly roughened from long experience with a sword.
The fingers of a cyborg.
The fingers of a king.
And just like that, her mind clicked back into focus. His must have done the same, because they broke the kiss at the same time.
He brushed his long hair back over his shoulder. “I have to find a way to recharge the cyborgs and finish my mission.” Tristin began looking for his clothing, and faced her with a grimace when he found it still on the floor of the shower.
“My clothing isn’t much better,” she admitted.
A knock at the door made him tense again. “Yes?”
She heard another male voice. “We thought you two could use some new clothing. I went to your room first, but. . .” Wry humor laced the words.
She hid in the personal room, peeking out. Tristin opened the door slightly, keeping his body hidden. He reached for the pile of clothes. “Thank you.”
When he closed the door, Kirelle crossed the room, eager to see what they’d brought her. It was an elven dress, laced with gold up the front, long stockings, and a pair of knee-high boots on the bottom of the pile.
Tristin frowned at his stack of clothing. “We’re going to look like elves.”
“I am an elf,” she laughed, placing the pile on the bed and the boots on the floor. “Besides, Tordan was wearing the same thing and he didn’t look like an elf.”
<
br /> Once they were dressed, she took him in, awed. Tristin clothed in finery was a sight to behold. She would never tell him, but with his long straight black hair, lighter frame and wiry muscles, he did look like an elven king. His perfectly straight posture belied his position of power as he strode toward the door.
Then he stopped abruptly.
“Tristin?”
His eyes were distant, and he held up one finger. After another minute of silence, his eyes focused on her once more.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Roihan,” he answered, striding toward the door as if he’d never stopped.
She hurried after him. “What did he want?”
Tristin smiled for the first time. “They’ve figured out how to recharge our batteries.”
Kirelle silently thanked the gods, but her joy was tinged with a pang of sorrow. Part of her had been hoping it would take a few days before they could leave again. As they reached the door, she took one last look at the bed that had been a blissful haven for a few hours.
She’d known better than to think it could last.
But then, with one hand on the handle, he turned and reached out a hand toward her.
She knew that gesture. It was a formal offer. Which meant it was time to make a decision.
The weight of the moment bore down on her. He was no longer just a cyborg, but a king. One of the leaders of the ARF. And they were in the middle of a war.
If she took his hand, there would be no running, no escaping. She would join the ARF, and she would always be second to his duty.
His purple eyes glowed as he simply waited to see what she would do. His earlier words came back to her.
You must live. That is the punishment. That is the privilege.
Could she do it? Was she strong enough to live—to fight the Ardaks with him?
Become the healer you were meant to be.
She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. There was no going back. And if she had to go forward, she wanted to do so with Tristin.
Tristin (Cyborg Warriors Book 7) Page 11