by Lili Zander
She giggles. “On Boarus 4,” she explains, “A woman only undoes her braids for a man she intends to bed.”
There you go, I tell my cock ruefully. That’s a pretty clear message. She’s not interested.
I can smell her scent, tantalizing, alluring and ever-so-dangerous. A vein beats in the nape of her neck, and I ache to sink my fangs into that soft flesh and drink from her. I want to slice open one of my veins for her and let her feast on me.
“Goodnight, Saber,” she whispers, sweet and trusting, and I push my baser impulses down.
“Sleep well, little human,” I say into her ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I hope I’m not making promises I can’t keep.
Someone’s touching me. Running their hands all over my body. Licking my nipples, closing their hand over my cock.
Raven?
Bit by bit, I force myself out of slumber, something that only the most battle-hardened Shayde can do. As I come awake, I feel her mouth lower onto my hard length, and she hums in her throat, sounding satisfied and pleased.
I’m still suspended between sleep and wakefulness, and my body reacts on instinct. I stroke her shoulder and run my hands through her hair. A thought niggles in the back of my mind when I encounter loose strands. Something about braiding.
She grips the base of my cock with one hand and takes the tip in her mouth. A groan escapes my lips. This has to be a dream.
Shayde don’t dream.
My eyes flicker open. Raven straddles me, her red-brown hair tumbling around her face, her lips wrapped around my cock. She takes me deeper, and I groan again. Ever since I met her, ever since I pulled her on my lap, ever since I first held her in my arms, I’ve been fantasizing about her, yet trying to deny how I feel.
Something tugs me to this human, and I don’t know what it is, only that the way I feel is stronger than I’ve ever felt before. She’s a mix of frailty and strength, of silk and steel, and the smell of her is intoxicating. She carries within her a disease that is almost certain to kill me, yet it’s everything I can do to prevent my fangs from dropping.
She twirls her tongue over my head, again and again, until I can’t possibly bear it. “Come here,” I growl, lifting her next to me. “Your braids are undone,” I say, lowering my mouth over the pink nipple nearest to me and sucking it between my lips. “So beautiful.”
“Okay,” she replies.
I pinch the other one, rolling the erect nub between my fingertips before her words sink in. Okay.
Fuck. Though her eyes are open, she’s still asleep. To her, this is a pleasurable dream, nothing else.
When she wakes, I’ll still be a vampyr. My race killed her parents and sentenced a young, innocent little girl to ten years in the brutal re-education camps. No matter what I want, no matter what I crave, I cannot overwrite what is done.
When she wakes, she will hate me.
“Raven,” I say quietly. I can’t help it; I run my fingers through her glorious tresses. I can smell her slickness, and my cock aches for her heat.
“Mmm.” She trails her fingers over my chest, and I swallow hard.
“Little human, wake up.”
“No,” she pouts. “Don’t want to.”
Neither do I. “You must.”
Her eyes blink open. For a moment, her expression is clouded with desire, and then awareness returns, and the heat is replaced with horror. She sits up, grabbing the blanket and covering her nakedness. “Saber? What are you doing here?”
Fuck me. I get to my feet, my head dizzy and my body slow and uncooperative. I might be able to fight the deep slumber, but it comes at a cost. “You had a nightmare,” I tell her. “You asked me to stay with you.”
Her cheeks go pink. “I remember…” Her gaze sharpens with concern. “You’re awake during the day. I thought that was impossible.”
“Can be fought. Not easy.”
I sway again, and she jumps out of bed and steadies me. “You need to sleep. Come. I’ll help you to your room.”
I lean against her, and the two of us stagger across the hall. When I reach my bed, I slump down on it, my eyes shutting. I think I hear Raven say something, but I’m not sure if I’m imagining it.
“Thank you, Saber,” she whispers.
What are you thanking me for? I want to ask, but the words don’t come. Deep slumber claims me.
15
Raven
I can't go back to sleep after that. I lie awake, my entire body filled with embarrassment. One thought stays with me. I thought I was in the middle of a very hot, sexy dream. Saber didn't have to wake me up. He could have slept with me.
Instead, he did the right thing.
Not just that. I remember having a nightmare, but it was after sun-up. Saber must have heard me cry out, even though he was in deep slumber, and he woke himself up just to comfort me.
I don't know who to trust, or what to do. I'm more confused than ever.
Before I know it, it's sundown, almost time for the tournament to begin. Saber releases me from his compulsion. I’m almost at the front door when I remember Joanna’s parcel. “Lula Kenner sent you something,” I say, handing Saber the box. After the way I groped him, I can’t quite meet his eyes.
He lifts an eyebrow. “She did?”
I’m a little curious about what it is she sent him, but he doesn’t open the parcel. Instead, he tucks it into his backpack and smiles at me. “Are you ready to leave?”
He’s acting perfectly normal, which is unexpectedly nice of him. “Yes,” I reply. “Let’s go.”
Admit it, Raven. They’re not as bad as you’ve made them out to be.
The four of us head to the outskirts of the colony. The race’s start point is near Sector 25. There is already a large crowd of people there when we arrive. Overlord Zimmer is there, of course, as is his second-in-command, Olaf Vandar. There is also a Shayde who I don't recognize, but he's clearly somebody important, because the moment they see him, Saber, Nero, and Zeke bow low. “Jarl Ragnar,” Saber says, his voice respectful. “What a pleasure it is to see you here.”
Jarl Ragnar. This is the Empress’ half-brother. The second most powerful Shayde in the Empire, and he’s here on Boarus 4.
If he smells me… if he realizes what's in my blood… Then I will die in his prison. Of that, I am absolutely certain.
Ragnar is tall and lean. He nods to Saber in greeting, giving him a questioning look. “I must say,” he says, “that I'm quite surprised to see three of the Empire's best enforcers in the middle of nowhere. What are you doing here, Saber?”
Saber grimaces. “My superior officer was not pleased by my failure in Rothis,” he says. “I'm here to whip the enforcers on this colony into shape.”
Ragnar's expression sharpens with understanding. “Levitan has you on a punishment tour,” he says. “What a shame.” He pats Saber on the back. “When this tournament is done,” he says, waving his hand toward Glacis, “We must dine together.” His eyes take in the way Nero and Zeke flank me protectively. “Bring your men,” he adds. “And the human that you all seem so enthralled with.”
Go to a banquet with the second-most powerful Shayde in the Empire. No thanks. I'm going to pass.
Jarl Ragnar turns to Overlord Zimmer. “Let's kick this off, shall we?” He looks around with distaste at the bleak surroundings.
The Overlord nods eagerly. “Of course, Jarl Ragnar.” He turns to us. “Contestants, please line up.”
I join the nine others at the marked line. An enforcer hands me a backpack. Before I can wonder what's in it, Overlord Zimmer offers Jarl Ragnar an explanation. “In their packs,” he says, “are some equipment that will help them survive. A tent, a sleeping bag, some food, other necessities. There is also a set of ten flares.” He turns back to us. “If you are in trouble and wish to concede, then activate your flare, and a patrol chopper will come for you.” He gives Saber a malicious glance. “Does that meet with your satisfaction, Jarl Saber?”
The Overlord smiles triumphantly at the implied rebuke. “Jarl Saber was quite insistent that the humans have a way to get back to safety.”
Saber stands his ground. “All life matters,” he says steadily. “Not just Shayde life. Surely we do not watch humans die for sport?”
Ragnar’s lips twist, and his eyes are bleak. For an instant, it seems like he almost drops the walls that surround him. “You’re right,” he agrees quietly. “I have no desire to watch another person die.” He turns to Overlord Zimmer, and the mask is back in place. “Will you be filming this tournament for the holos, Jarl Klaus?”
“I'm afraid not, my Lord,” the Overlord responds apologetically. “We are a poor colony, and we do not have the resources to perform such a task. The contestants will be on their own. But never fear, we will be able to track them.”
Nero exchanges a look with Saber. “Track them?” he demands. “How?”
I can almost see the Overlord’s thought process. He’s wondering if he should take umbrage at Nero’s tone, and then he realizes that so far, Jarl Ragnar’s sided with Saber every single time. “With these.” He gestures to an enforcer, who hurries up with a handful of syringes. “They contain a tracker that will be injected into the contestants,” he explains.
A Shayde standing next to the Overlord takes the needles from the enforcer, and heads toward us, a sinister grin on his face. My heartbeat speeds up. If he gets close enough to me to inject the tracker, he will be able to smell my blood.
Saber’s thinking the same thing. “No,” he snaps. “I control who touches my pet. I will do that myself.”
The vampyr immediately halts and hands Saber the needle. “My apologies, Jarl Saber,” he mumbles deferentially.
Jarl Ragnar's eyes are thoughtful. “Interesting,” he muses. “I didn't know you had a jealous streak in you, Saber.”
Great Spirit. Overlord Zimmer, we might be able to fool, but this man isn’t stupid at all.
“Calm down,” Saber murmurs. “We can handle this. Hold out your arm.” I do as he says, and the needle pierces my skin. I grit my teeth against the sharp pain but keep still. “Good girl,” Saber says approvingly.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my cheeks heating. Inside, I’m yelling at myself. I’m blushing at a Shayde?
When all the trackers are implanted, Overlord Zimmer takes over again. “As you know,” he announces to the crowd, “the contestants will have to find five flags that are spread all over Glacis. The first one to return with all five will be crowned the winner of this year's Night of the Shayde. The rules are pretty simple. You may not use a skimmer, or a chopper to get to the flags. Is that clear?”
I nod, as do the others.
“On the count of three, you may begin. One… Two… Three.”
We set off in a run. There is a small hill in front of us, and we run up it, and slide down the other side. As soon as we’re out of sight, I yell out. “Hey. Wait a minute.”
Everyone is still within earshot. They turn around and look at me, suspicion etched on their faces. “What do you want?” one of them asks.
Ever since the Overlord announced the challenge, I’ve known that I can complete it. I might not be able to win, but I’ve had ten years of experience surviving Glacis. I’m confident I’ll manage to stay alive.
But the others? They’re from the inner sectors. They’ve never experienced the harshness of the ice deserts. They won’t make it.
And maybe I should let them fail, but I can’t. There’s no margin of error out in the ice deserts. If you do something stupid, you will die.
I’ve lost my parents. Ma Kaila is in the Overlord’s dungeon, and I blame myself for her arrest. If the enforcers hadn’t been looking for me, they would have never found her.
I can’t let these nine people run into Glacis without warning them of some of the dangers that lie ahead. If anything were to happen to them, I would never be able to forgive myself.
“I lived out here for ten years,” I tell them. “Let me give you some tips.”
One of the girls—I think her name is Molly—looks at me warily. “Why should we trust you?”
They’re edging closer to me. Good. “Because there are lot worse things than not winning a race,” I reply. “These are the ice deserts. If you don't know what you're doing, you could die out here.”
Tomas Cabal, the Overlord’s chosen champion nods. “I'm prepared to listen,” he says. “What can you tell us?”
Thank the Great Spirit. One of them shows some sense. “The most important thing,” I say, “Is that you cannot maintain Shayde hours. During the day, the s’kal cats hunt in packs. If you are asleep when they come upon you, they will maul you to death. You must be vigilant. Sleep at night and run during the day.”
“S’kal cats?” The young man who asks the question sounds decidedly nervous. “What are those?”
“Predators,” I reply shortly. “They’re about waist high. White in color, so they blend into the ice. Yellow eyes. They're afraid of fire. If you see one, use your flare immediately. It’ll buy you some time.”
Molly still looks suspicious. “If we use our flare,” she points out, “The patrol choppers will take us back. Is that what you're trying to do, thin the field?”
“Listen to me,” I snap. “Surviving out here is the hardest thing you will ever have to do in your life. This isn't about a stupid tournament. This is about staying alive. If a pack of s’kal cats finds you, you burn every single fucking flare, and you hope like hell that you get pulled out by the choppers.”
Tomas is the calmest of the lot. “Got it,” he says. “What else?”
I open the pack and pull out the ice pick. “You can use this to cut through the ice,” I tell them, showing them how. “There are fish in the water underneath. Use your food supply as bait.” I show them how to pitch their tents. How to use the valleys in the ice deserts as shelter from the bone-chilling winds. I try and cram in ten years of survival into thirty minutes of instruction.
“Remember the most important thing,” I tell them. “Do not sleep during the day. The nights are colder, and your light won’t last long.”
“And of course, there are the s’kal cats,” Tomas murmurs. “You didn’t have to help us, but you did. Thank you for your kindness, sister.” He smiles at me warmly. “Good luck in the tournament.”
Though he's sponsored by the Overlord, he still seems a decent sort. Good-looking too. If I had any sense, I’d be attracted to someone like him, not to three infuriating Shayde. “Good luck to you too.”
Once the others are out of sight, I turn west. The other contestants are from the inner sectors. They don't know about the dump, the site where everything that’s no longer used by the colony ends up. But I do.
The rules prohibit skimmers. Not that I have one. But there are other ways to move around on Glacis, and the easiest one is to harness the power of the wind that constantly blows over the ice deserts.
I intend to build a rudimentary ice boat.
The tent will do perfectly well as a sail. Now, I just need to find something that will serve as the base.
The dump is usually more picked through, but everyone must have been caught up in the tournament. Good for me. I don’t have to look too hard for what I need. After only ten minutes of searching, I find the perfect flat piece of plastic, probably torn off from the roof of one of the pods. I even find a tall metal pole, one that I can use as a mast.
I lash my mast tightly to the plastic with some scavenged rope, and then assemble the tent, shaping its frame into a crude sail. By the time the three moons are high in the sky, I'm ready to try it out.
I meant what I said to the others. It is sheer folly to travel at night. But it's not midnight yet, and I've lost time making the boat. Time to gain some of it back.
I toss my pack on the plastic. Strapping th
e light to my forehead, I raise my sail, gripping the frame tightly to keep my improvised boat on course. A gust of wind catches the fabric, and I start to glide on the ice, faster than most people think possible.
The others are concerned about Glacis. But I survived ten years here.
I have what it takes to win this tournament.
16
Zeke
We watched the contestants disappear from sight. Jarl Ragnar wants us to walk back with him, but Saber excuses himself. “I beg your forgiveness, my Lord,” he says apologetically. “But I have duties here, and if I neglect them, Jarl Harek will not be pleased with me.”
Clever Saber. Ragnar is already sympathetic toward us. He’ll respect his excuse.
Sure enough, the Jarl nods understandingly. “Of course,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work. But perhaps, if you’re done early, you’ll join us in Klaus’ palace.”
I very much doubt it. We’re going to spend the entire night watching over Raven, making sure she's safe. We don't have time for Ragnar's feasts.
Saber bows again. “I will do my best, my Lord,” he promises.
The delegation isn’t used to being on the outskirts of town. They quickly head back to the clean and ordered streets of the inner sectors. When they’re out of sight, Nero turns to us. “Let’s head to Sector 23. I have a skimmer stashed there.”
We walk quickly. Nero’s skimmer is indeed where it’s supposed to be. It’s a top-of-the-line model too and looks brand new. Saber raises his eyebrow as he climbs on. “Dare I ask how you got us this?”
Nero shrugs. “I told you,” he says. “I spent a lot of time in this colony’s taverns, and I bought a lot of drinks. It bought me some goodwill. Most people here loathe Zimmer. The only reason they haven’t risen up in rebellion is because they’re too afraid. The Overlord seems to have locked up a member of every family in either his dungeons or in his re-education camps.” He looks angry for a minute. “In any case, we have access to this skimmer for as long as we need it.”