The Tigrens' Glory (Soul-Linked Saga) (Volume 9)

by Laura Jo Phillips

  From the moment his eyes fell on Glory, Kyerion wanted nothing more than to pick her up from the bed and pull her close so that he and his brothers could see her, touch her, hold her, and reassure themselves that she was safe and well. He got three steps into the room before the stark longing on Glory’s face stopped all three of them in their tracks. Then it vanished behind a cool mask in the same moment that his mating fangs burst through their protective sheaths, a final confirmation that she truly was their Arima.

  “I see you’re all safe now,” she said. “That’s a relief.”

  Kyerion hesitated. Perhaps they should go slowly. She’d been through so much already, and once she realized she had all of her childhood memories back, there would be more yet for her to deal with. She sat there so calmly, as though speaking with males while sitting in her bed was nothing new to her. He felt a snarl build in his chest at that mental image, his fists clenching with the effort to hold back, to think before he acted.

  “Yes, we’re safe now, thanks to you,” Cade said. “We’ve been very worried about you these last few days.”

  “There’s no need to worry for me,” she said. “I’m perfectly well.” She looked down at herself, hiding a grimace at the pale yellow medical gown she wore, but glad that she was at least covered. Her eyes widened when she saw her hands before she shoved them beneath the blankets, her face paling. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone now.”

  Kyerion’s heart sank at her words and he started to turn, to leave as she’d asked, when something tickled his mind. What was it? He turned back. “Would you please say that again?” he asked.

  Her head bowed, shoulders hunched ever so slightly as she repeated her request. Kyerion ignored the words. He’d heard them fine the first time. It was the way she said them that he focused on with all of his Druid skills. Her body posture. Her tone. That tiny, barely there quiver in her voice that he very nearly missed the second time even though he waited for it.

  His eyes narrowed and he breathed in deeply. Her scent was exotic and wild, like jungle orchids after a warm summer rain. A scent he knew he’d never get enough of, even though it hardened his body to the point of pain. He concentrated, pushing beyond her natural scent, and there it was. The mingled scents of worry, fear, regret and buried most deeply of all, the faintest, softest, delicate scent of need and desire.

  Kyerion’s control snapped and he walked around the bed, reached down, and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He turned so that Kirk and Cade could crowd close enough to press their bodies against hers. They all felt her tremble, watched as she folded her arms across her chest so she could tuck her hands beneath them. Kirk reached over, his movements slow and careful as he grasped one wrist and tugged gently. She resisted, but he was determined. Finally, with the tiniest whimper of regret and surrender, she gave in, allowing him to pull her hand into view.

  Kirk examined her fingertips, turning them so that Kyerion and Cade could see the tips of her retractable claws protruding just slightly from the ends of her fingers. They frowned, but made no comment when they saw that what should have been sharp points had been filed flat.

  Kirk raised her hand to his mouth and kissed each fingertip, shocking Glory so deeply that her mouth fell open as she watched, barely noticing when Cade reached for her other hand. He examined it without resistance and found that it was the same as the first one. After he kissed the fingertips of that hand, they released her.

  Glory frowned. She didn’t understand why they weren’t horrified by her claws. Claws that, she now remembered, were responsible for all the loss, pain and horror that she’d suffered since the day she was born. Claws that had killed her mother, scarred her siblings, and sentenced her to a life of loneliness as an outcast among her own family.

  Kyerion chuckled softly, her face so expressive and easy to read when she allowed her mask to drop. Her eyes shot to him, the sudden wariness in their depths squeezing his heart, but he kept his smile and jerked his chin toward his brothers. She turned her head, then gasped when she saw that both Kirk and Cade were holding their own hands up, claws extended.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  “We are Tigren,” Kyerion said with an easy shrug. “Retractable claws are normal for us. Just as they are normal for you.” He watched the dark shadows pass behind her eyes, and knew that the memories she’d hidden from herself for so long lurked close by. “There is much to tell you,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Most of it can wait, but there are a few things you should know now.”

  Glory nodded, her eyes fixed on his, her body tense. “You are descended from the Tigren, Glory. It’s in your father’s blood.”

  Her hands went up as if to protect herself from the words that seemed to cut her very soul. After a long moment she lowered them. “Please, go on,” she whispered.

  “You had nothing whatsoever to do with your mother’s death,” he said. “It wasn’t because you carry Tigren blood, nor was it because you have claws.”

  “How do you know this?” she asked.

  “The female you thought was our Arima is Kelta Zainlea,” Cade said. “She is the Guardienne of Clan Tigren. I suppose the closest equivalent for you would be goddess, though she is more than that. If you look at the mosaic now, you will see that her visage no longer appears within it.”

  “Why?” Glory asked, not even sure that was the right question.

  “Because her task was complete,” Kirk said. “We will tell you the whole story later, but in short, she revealed certain truths to us. That was one of them.”

  “You are certain?”

  “Positive,” Kyerion replied. “Kelta Zainlea would never lie. It was she who aided Pusan-Lo so that he was able to save your life and your sanity. Pusan-Lo forced his descendant, your father, to release you into his care. He has Tigren blood in him of course, as does Bashir, and you.”

  “How is such a thing possible?” she asked.

  “We aren’t sure, but it explains much,” Kyerion replied. “The language similarities. Your claws. Your metallic eyes, which in our time belonged to all Clan Tigren. We now know that some Clan Tigren escaped Ugaztun during the slaughter of the Tigren and the Owlfen. Some of those refugees must have landed on Ramouri.”

  Glory’s head spun as a thousand questions raced through her mind. Too many for her to focus on any one of them clearly. “Your claws are not something to be ashamed of, or to be afraid of,” Kyerion continued. “They are part of who and what you are. There isn’t anything wrong with you. Your father, on the other hand, is either insane, mentally defective, or both.”

  They watched intently as she absorbed that, relieved when she neither rejected the information, nor argued with it. They understood that it would take more than a little knowledge to overcome her childhood traumas, but they had to begin somewhere. They took her reaction as a sign that she was willing to move past it.

  “Tell me what happened,” she said, her body relaxing fractionally in his arms. Kyerion smiled to himself, pleased that he understood her meaning without having to ask.

  “You injured yourself while freeing me from the hibernation tank,” Kyerion explained. “We aren’t sure if it was that injury, or if it was because you were unconscious for an extended period of time, but you became caught behind the door in your mind where you’d hidden all of your bad memories. Kelta Zainlea warned us that if we went in after you, as we intended, we would become trapped as well. So, we did the only thing left to us. We destroyed the door, releasing your memories so that they can be faced and dealt with by the strong woman you are now.”

  Glory thought about that. After a few moments she sighed softly, her body relaxing further. “Thank you,” she said. “I remember trying to escape, but I couldn’t. Without your help, I’d have remained there forever.”

  “It was Princess Lariah who thought of how to free you,” Cade said. “What we did is a small thing compared to what you did for us.”


  “We are forever in your debt,” Kirk added.

  “We are forever grateful to you for saving us,” Kyerion said.

  Kyerion was surprised when Glory’s body went stiff in his arms. He ran all that they’d said through his mind, but could not find anything in their words that should have upset her.

  “Please let me down now,” she asked, the smooth mask once more back in place. Kyerion didn’t want to put her down. He wanted to hold her more tightly and demand that she tell them what she was thinking, why she was hiding again. “Please,” she said. “I need to go into the bathroom.”

  Kyerion clenched his jaw, but he couldn’t very well deny that request. He lowered her to her feet, not quite releasing her until he was certain she was steady. “You’ve been in a healing tank for several days, so you should move slowly. You may experience some dizziness or weakness.”

  “Thank you,” Glory said, not meeting his eyes as she walked the few steps to the bathroom door with all three of them hovering closely. She barely breathed until she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, shutting them out. She turned the lock on the doorknob, knowing that they could break in easily if they wanted to. She could only hope they’d respect her need for privacy.

  One glance in the mirror was enough to convince her she needed a long, hot shower immediately. Her hair was braided, but it was stiff and sticky from the gel of the healing tank, just like the rest of her body. Her face was dull and grayish, the circles beneath her eyes so dark they looked like bruises. She stripped off the med gown and stepped into the shower. After shampooing her hair three times to get all of the gel out, and scrubbing her body from head to toe twice for the same reason, she stood beneath the spray for a long time, just letting the hot water flow over her. Dark memories from her childhood drifted to the forefront of her mind, but she shoved them back impatiently. After spending so much time trapped in those memories, reliving them over and over again, they no longer held much power over her. It was ironic, but it wasn’t the horrors of her childhood causing the tears to flow down her cheeks. It was the Tigren.

  Once they’d made it clear that they really didn’t have an Arima, she’d foolishly allowed herself to imagine, just for a few moments, that they might actually want her. Oh, she’d fantasized about it for weeks, months, maybe even years if she were completely honest with herself, though the real yearning for them had begun when she’d started Dream Walking with them. Now she had to force herself to accept that they didn’t want her in that way. Why would they? She barely qualified as a true female, as she’d been told her entire life.

  They’d worried about her, which had been kind of them. They also felt indebted to her, and grateful, which was also kind, but completely unnecessary. As far as she was concerned, no one owed her anything. She’d done what she had to do for her own reasons, and now it was time to move on. She stilled. Move on to what?

  The Tigren had always been a part of her life. She remembered all of her childhood now, including the fact that they’d been there, in her dreams, from the very beginning. Not just now and then, as she’d believed, but constantly, from her earliest memories. They’d given her something to focus on when she’d had nothing else but pain and fear. They’d given her a purpose, a reason for existing. They’d helped her escape the nightmare of her early childhood, and the loneliness of later years. They’d helped her escape Ramouri. In her estimation, they’d done far more for her than she’d done for them, even if they were unaware of it. But that was all over now.

  They were alive and safe, strong and healthy. They were with their own people, and no longer needed her. They’d made it abundantly clear that what they felt for her was gratitude, appreciation, and obligation. Nothing more. She understood them well enough to know that what they saw as their obligation to her would prevent them from getting on with their lives. The best thing she could do for them, and herself, was leave Jasan.

  She turned her face up beneath the spray, suddenly impatient with herself and her tears. It was time to look to her own future, she decided. A future that did not include Ramouri, Jasani, or Tigren. A future where she could be who she wanted, subject to no one’s rules and opinions but her own. A future where she could come and go as she willed. A future alone.

  She shut the water off, gathered her hair over one shoulder and twisted it into a thick rope, wringing the water from it. She had to stay away from the Tigren, she decided. Their entire relationship had existed in dreams, and that’s where it needed to remain. It shouldn’t be too difficult to avoid them until they reached Jasan. The Ugaztun was a really big ship and, according to Darlene, it would only be for three days. If she had to, she’d ask Summer, Aisling, or Faith if she could move to one of their ships. Now that the Tigren were safe and she was no longer needed, she didn’t think the Dracons would mind, though she’d really miss spending time with Lariah.

  As soon as they reached the Jasani skyport, she’d buy a ticket for whatever passenger liner was leaving next. She wouldn’t even go down to the planet. The faster she left, the better it would be for everyone.

  She reached for the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and slipped it on, then towel dried her hair. Feeling better now that she’d made a few decisions, she brushed her teeth, then picked up her hairbrush, unlocked the door, and paused.

  She’d been assuming that the Tigren would have left her room. It would have been the polite thing to do on Ramouri, but of course this was not Ramouri, and they were not Ramourian. Actually, they weren’t even Jasani. Who knew what the rules of politeness had been on Ugaztun seven thousand years ago regarding guest behavior when one’s hostess closeted herself in the bathroom. Hell, for all she knew, they hadn’t even had bathrooms. That thought caused several unpleasant images to flash through her mind in rapid succession. She shuddered with mild disgust, then told herself to get a grip, which reminded her of Lariah and the petite woman’s easy confidence and unruffled calm. Usually unruffled, she amended. Lariah really did have a bit of a temper sometimes. She really liked that about her.

  Glory shook her head, and took a deep breath. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom until they reached Jasan. As that thought crossed her mind, she toyed with it. Briefly. It was ridiculous enough that she became impatient with herself, turned the knob and pulled the door open with a sharp yank.

  She was surprised to see that Doc and Darlene had returned. She was not quite as surprised to see Kyerion, Kirk, and Cade. She fought the urge to go back into the bathroom and close the door again.

  “How are you feeling?” Darlene asked, breaking the silence.

  “I feel good,” she replied. “A little hungry, but that’s all.”

  “Good,” Doc said. “Get some food into you, and then get some rest. I’d like you to drop by the infirmary tomorrow afternoon. Let us give you the once over to make sure everything’s as it should be.”

  “All right, I’ll do that,” Glory agreed, surprising herself when her usual aversion to physicians didn’t manifest itself. She felt somewhat tense at the thought of being examined, but not violently opposed to it. She supposed that knowing why she’d had the aversion had something to do with it. Or maybe her emotions were just too overloaded at the moment for it to matter. “Thank you for all your help, Doc, Darlene.”

  “You’re welcome,” Doc said. “You let us know if you feel the slightest bit out of sorts. Dizzy, weak, sick, anything at all, ya hear?”

  “I will,” Glory said. Darlene gave her a look she couldn’t decipher, then she and Doc left her alone with the Tigren. She hadn’t moved from the bathroom doorway, nor did she intend to. They looked as though they had something they wanted to say, so she waited.

  “Did the shower help?” Kyerion asked. She nodded.

  “Of all the new things we’ve seen these past days, I have to admit those showers are among my favorite,” Cade said, smiling. “Well, showers and fabricators. I’m still trying to accept that that thing’s real.” Cade was as big and intimid
ating as Kirk and Kyerion, but there was something in his eyes that made her want to smile. She didn’t.

  “What are you thinking?” Kirk asked after a long, uncomfortable silence.

  “I’m thinking that I’d like to be alone so I can comb my hair and get dressed,” she said honestly. They stiffened. It wasn’t something she saw. She felt it, and that scared her. This was no dream. Was it? Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Is this a dream?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice but needing the answer. Kyerion’s face softened.

  “No, Glory, we are not in a dream, and neither are you,” he said. “We are all awake and safe on the Ugaztun.”

  Glory allowed herself to relax just a little. She was beginning to think she never wanted to have another dream again for the remainder of her life.

  “Will you dine with us?” he asked.

  Her heart skipped another beat. Have dinner with them? Alone? No, that was a torture she wanted no part of. Not now. Not ever. “I thank you for the invitation,” she said, thinking quickly. “I’m tired. I plan to order food from the cafeteria, then go to sleep.”

  Kyerion’s eyes bored into her, his displeasure plain, but she returned his gaze calmly and remained silent. Finally, he bowed slightly from the waist, Cade and Kirk following his lead though they made no attempt to hide their disappointment. “In that case, we will impose on you no longer,” Kyerion said. She watched as he opened the door and stepped out, followed closely by Kirk, then Cade.

  “Goodnight Glory,” Cade said, glancing back at her before stepping out into the corridor.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered, the door closing before the word was fully out of her mouth. She remained where she was for several moments, half expecting the door to fly open again. When it remained closed she let out a long sigh, then walked to the bed where she all but fell onto it, her legs trembling from the effort required to keep her from running to the door and calling them back. When the trembling stopped, she began combing her hair out, her mind calming with the familiar task. When she was finished she set the comb aside and placed an order with the cafeteria. While waiting for her food to be delivered, she dressed in a pair of lounging pants and sleeveless top, her hungry growing by the minute.