Grier fell to his knees. It was too late to stop what was happening. He was shifting.
“Ah-hh!”
The startled exclamation came from the direction of the forest.
His head snapped to the side to see a woman staring at him. Her parted lips and frozen stance reminded him of a beautiful statue. Only her blue gown moved. It was not the dress of a bride. Her brunette hair had been pulled back, revealing the soft brown of her eyes. She couldn’t have appeared at a worse time.
Energy shot through his legs, propelling him upward so that he leapt in her direction. The half-shift of his body turned him into a man-dragon, running on two legs but covered in the protective armor of his shifted form.
The woman screamed and took off through the tents.
Grier ran after her, the hunter in him overtaking all reason. He chased her as she wove around the structures in a haphazard pattern as if to throw him off. Coming to a yellow tent, he paused. The sound of her feet had stopped.
Grier panted, though he was hardly out of breath from the minor excursion. Light glowed on the yellow tent wall and he lifted his hand to the flap so he may enter. The light moved with him.
It didn’t come from inside. The crystal on his wrist glowed.
Desire surged, tempered only by the fact he was half-shifted and Draig did not mate in dragon form. A tingling spread from his wrist, up his arm, as if he could feel a physical change happening. The pulsating glow was a beacon of hope. The gods forgave him for his careless words. He would not doubt their wisdom again.
As soon as the woman agreed to give him a chance, he would go to the temple and give thanks, as was the tradition. Then he would spend the night in a tent, convincing his bride of his worth. He would do all the traditions—every single one—if that meant he could have her. If the gods wanted him here and not at Shelter City that is what he’d do.
First, he needed to find her.
His taloned fingers ripped the material of the tent flap as he charged inside. Heat pushed out with every breath. He turned in circles, but it didn’t take long to realize the tent was empty. Mindless and desperate, he clawed through the sidewall material. He could not lose her again. He needed to find his woman.
7
What in all the universes…
Salena stood in the dark tent, made more so by the black walls. Strands of her hair had fallen free, and she pushed them behind her ears. She saw the shadow of a figure run by the outside of the tent and watched as the beast-man passed her.
Salena had never seen anything like him. She’d heard a strange noise and had gone to look, only to discover the transmutation of man to man-dragon. The hardening of skin and the growing of talons had been intimidating, but they were nothing when compared to the yellow of his eyes when he looked at her. She’d been held captive in place, unable to move. In that extraordinary second, she’d not been scared of him.
Then he’d tried to pounce on her.
Jaxx did not want the dragon to be called a monster, but what else was she to think of the man who pursued her? Even now her heart pounded, and her throat felt like it was closing. A ridge protruded down his forehead to his nose, thickening his brow over his eyes. Fangs filled his mouth and deadly talons stretched in place of fingernails. It was the thing of nightmares.
Jaxx had said to come here if she got into any trouble. She would say being hunted by a man clearly going through a painful metamorphosis counted as trouble. Jaxx might not be a monster, he had saved her, but she couldn’t say the same for the creature chasing her like prey through a forest of canvas.
Jaxx’s proposed hiding spot did not feel safe. As her eyes adjusted to the darker light, she detected a bed, a table with empty serving trays, and a bathing tub. A thick rug covered the ground, cushioning her as she walked. She moved toward the trays and lifted one to swing it through the air. The test only convinced her that she couldn’t strike hard enough to stop the man chasing her if it came to it. She set the tray back down.
“Think, Salena,” she whispered. “What should you do?”
You have to wake—
“Oh, shut up.” She cut off her own thoughts. Her sister’s voice really wasn’t helpful in this situation. Her eyes fell onto a knife. She grabbed it.
Salena forced a calming breath and repeated to herself, The darkness will protect me from monsters. The darkness will protect me from monsters. If they can’t see me, they can’t get me. The darkness will protect me…
She heard material rip from the direction the dragon had gone. He was too close.
Salena ran to the opposite side of the tent and sliced an opening. Still carrying the knife, she crawled out and made a run for the dark forest. Without really consulting her brain, her feet chose speed over stealth, and she pushed her body as fast as it could go.
A figure leapt out from behind a tent, and she screamed, stumbling to a stop before backing away. The dragon-man stared at her. His chest lifted and fell with harsh breaths. His mouth shifted and, she couldn’t be sure, but he looked like he was smiling. He towered over her, just like the others she’d seen at the festival. Sounds from the celebration were so close, and yet the people there felt so far away.
The man was dressed like a groom, with a mask and loincloth. There were hints of muscles beneath the armored flesh. The ground did not appear to bother his bare feet.
There was something primal about the way he focused on her. Energy seemed to jump off of him toward her. It pulsed so thick that the air became heavy with it. Already she was breathing hard from her run and the sensation made her lightheaded.
“What do you want?” she managed, unsure he could understand her. Her hand shook as she held up the knife in warning.
“Come.” The one guttural word barely sounded like the Old Star language most aliens spoke, but the passionate intent was clear.
A shiver worked over her body. He wanted her to follow him? She could only guess at the purpose of that trip. “No, thanks.”
He lifted a hand as if to point a glowing device at her. She flinched, not taking her eyes from his sharpened fingertips as they twitched to beckon her forward. “Come.”
“Not happening, scary man.” Salena darted to the side, tripping on a rope tethered to the ground. The knife slipped from her fingers, and a hand wrapped around her upper arm from behind to keep her from falling. The heat of the touch caused her to call out in alarm. “Let go!”
Surprisingly, he obeyed the command.
Salena caught hold of the rope and righted herself before backing away from him. She glanced to the side just enough to make sure she didn’t back into a tent. Seeing the knife, she snatched it from the ground and held the blade before her.
“I heard a scream. This way,” a deep voice announced, the words followed by the thundering of feet.
The noise prompted her to run again. She turned, bursting from the village of tents onto the festival grounds. The crowd had thinned, but those remaining parted, giving her space. Salena skidded to a stop. She pressed her knife hand against her skirt in an effort to hide the weapon. Eyes moved from her toward the man chasing her.
Salena turned to see a human figure standing in a loincloth. The dragon had disappeared from his features to be replaced by an incredibly handsome man. Her heart continued to beat fast, the adrenaline flowing full force. It didn’t take much to feel the excitement coursing through her. She instantly wished he’d turn back into dragon form. It was less intimidating.
Liquid-hot eyes gazed at her from beneath the mask. Firm lips were framed by a trimmed beard and proud jaw, which led to a strong neck. He was as fit as the rest of them, and she could assume shifting burned a lot of energy, which would account for the muscles…so many muscles.
Salena wasn’t sure how long they stood, staring at each other, before someone yelled, “His crystal glows!”
“Many blessings,” another voice added, joined by a chorus of shouts.
“Take her to feast with the other brides!”
<
br /> “To the feast!”
“Come.” Her pursuer’s one word sounded odd against the shouts of his people.
“Someone is overeager to start the wedding night,” a man teased, causing laughter to erupt.
“To the tent!” came the new cries.
“Take her to the tent!”
“Stop it,” Salena ordered.
“I don’t understand what we are supposed to stop.” A woman leaned into the arm of the man next to her.
“I wish you would stop trying to cook wilddeor stew,” the man answered, looking momentarily stunned at the confession that came out of nowhere.
“You said you loved it,” the woman said.
“No, I said I love you.” The man lifted her up and kissed her.
Salena knew that was just the first of the unprompted confessions to come, and they generally became much worse. The fact everyone had been drinking made her effect on them worse. For obvious reasons, she hated crowds.
“Come.” The man held out his hand, and she realized the glow came from a bracelet.
“Go to him!”
“Go!”
“Put him out of his misery, my lady!”
“No.” She shook her head in denial. The cheers were meant in good fun, but their focused attention made her want to run. The voices didn’t stop with their endless suggestions, ones that were becoming increasingly bawdier. “No!”
She held up her hands to get them to stop shouting, but the gesture revealed her weapon. Her hand shook violently. Silence fell over the grounds like a wave where she was the epicenter, and like a ripple, murmurs returned as those farther away sent questions back as they tried to figure out what was happening.
“You threaten him?”
“How dare you say no to a Draig prince,” a woman’s voice shot, the words slurred, “as if he had no honor and was not worthy of you!”
The honesty kept coming and she would not be able to stop it.
“Why come to marry if you do not agree to such a fine husband?” a man demanded.
“Why are you here?” another asked. “Who are you?”
“It’s as if you mock us,” yet another concluded.
“The gods would never set a match like this.”
“Someone should get her out of here.”
Salena stared at the man with the glowing crystal. Why in the world had he picked her? She wasn’t dressed as a bride. She wasn’t with the other…
Wait. Did they say prince?
A large hand seized her wrist, instantly disarming her before she even saw who’d touched her. The blade fell to the ground. She followed the hand up a thick forearm littered with scars only to land on a face that had clearly seen its fair share of fights.
“Halt! Farvald, release her!” Her would-be mate commanded.
Farvald obeyed.
The crowd instantly turned to watch the prince, pressing in on itself as those in back tried to move closer. Gradually, he raised his hand and pulled the mask from his features. Gasps sounded at the gesture.
“No, you mustn’t. Don’t lose hope. Not all brides decide quickly.” The man who spoke pushed through the crowd. He was older, with long black hair streaked with silver. “Put your mask on.”
“We’re scaring her. Can’t you see she’s terrified?” The prince dropped his mask on the ground and tried to move toward her.
“Salena?” Olena appeared at her side. She pulled at her arm. “What are you doing here…?”
“She carried this.” Farvald handed the knife to the princess.
Olena took the blade. Her eyes went toward the groom prince and widened. She stepped past Salena toward him, only to stop and glance back. “Oh, no.”
“My love?” the man with long black hair asked. He reached to pick up the discarded mask.
“Maiden’s Last Breath! Calms even the most skittish,” Olena yelled. A round of cheering went up over the crowd. She hooked Salena’s arm and whispered, “Come with me. Now.”
The words were not a request, and Salena wasn’t given much of a choice. Since it would get her out of the crowd, she didn’t protest.
She glanced back to see the man with black hair thrusting the mask at the prince. “By all the gods, boy, put this on.”
The prince’s eyes met hers. She wasn’t frightened of him in this form, but more of what she felt when she looked at him. Attraction was the last thing she’d expected, considering the crazy man had chased her down to propose.
Olena cut through the crowd toward the tents, angling their path slightly away from the prince. As they made it to the edge of the crowd, she waved a man over to them. He wore the same style of tunic Salena had seen on men stationed around the festival, and she assumed him to be security. He rushed to their side.
“Find my son,” Olena ordered. “He is with the grooms. Send him to his tent.”
“Yes, princess.” The man bowed his head before running to do as she bid.
Olena led her through the tents until they reached the black one. Lifting the flap, she pushed Salena in. The men followed, the older one carrying a torch which he slid into a sconce to cast light over the area. Her suiter once again wore the mask.
Olena tossed the knife onto the bed. “Yusef, this is Salena. Salena, my husband.”
“I am glad to see you have recovered from your ordeal,” Yusef said.
Salena nodded at the man. She started to speak, but in the end felt it best to stay quiet.
“And Prince Grier, my nephew,” Olena finished. “He—”
“My lady?” a voice called from outside.
“What is it?” Yusef answered.
A servant entered carrying a decorative goblet on a tray. She wore a loose-fitted tunic and her hair was slicked back from her face. The woman walked the cup to Salena. “Your drink.”
“Thank…you?” Salena’s hands shook as she took it. She was parched. The servant left as quickly as she’d arrived. She lifted the goblet to her lips.
Olena swiped it from her and the liquid sloshed onto Salena’s hand.
“Don’t drink that,” Olena said. “You were not part of the bride orientation, so trust me on this. Maiden’s Last Breath has side effects, and I think clear heads are required at present.”
“What will happen now?” Salena looked around the tent.
What was scarier than anything they could have said was the fact they said nothing. They didn’t know.
“I suppose we will go speak to my brother before he hears what has happened,” Yusef said after some deliberation.
“Good plan.” Olena nodded. “The last thing we need is palace guards sent to look for them. They’d assuredly send a few to the forest to search, and we took great pains to ensure what we do does not reach the elders.”
“That,” Yusef said, his tone a little wry, “and the fact Rigan will worry about her son.”
“Well, of course, that,” Olena dismissed. “I meant that as well.”
“We should go,” Yusef said to his wife. “These two have much to sort out.” To Grier, he instructed, “Use this tent. We do not need it. Jaxx did not find a bride.”
“I’m not a bride.” Salena looked meaningfully at Olena. “Tell them I am not here to marry. Tell them I’m leaving.”
“The Federation is after her,” Olena said. “Jaxx was going to smuggle her to my old ship and secure her a ride off-world.”
“Was?” Salena inserted. “Don’t you mean he is going to smuggle me?”
But the woman didn’t mean that. Everyone always told her what they meant whether they wanted to or not.
“No.” Olena looked at her nephew. “I’m sorry, Salena. Things have changed. I can no longer help you leave.”
The small hope, her only hope really, slipped away with that admission. Why was she saved if only to watch liberation slip from her grasp? It was a question no one could answer. The world did not need a reason to be the world. It just was. People just were. She was nothing in the scheme of everything.
&n
bsp; A tear slipped down her cheek. All her life, nothing had been in her control, not beyond the briefest of instances. The ache of that knowledge filled her. Maybe fighting was useless. If she remained on this world, the Federation would track her down eventually. They had pursued her through space, a little bit of planetary terrain would hardly be a challenge.
She went to Olena, clutching the woman’s hands in hers. “You can’t change your mind. I don’t want to be a prisoner. The things they will ask of me. Jaxx should have left me in the cave.”
“What cave?” Grier had pulled the mask off his head.
“Grier, you can’t…” Yusef reached for the mask as if to force it back on his nephew.
“Leave him be, Yusef,” Olena said, before answering Grier. “By the Shelter City watchtower. She was in hiding in one of the cliffside caves.”
“You were hiding from the Federation?” As a man, Grier had a kind voice, one filled with concern. He sounded nothing like the dragon who had chased her through the tents. She glanced at the slit she had made in the canvas. It was like a completely different person faced her now.
“Yes,” Salena answered.
“In a cave?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“By the watchtower overlooking Shelter City?” he persisted.
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to relieve him, and he let loose a short sigh. “And why do they want you?”
“She has something they want,” Olena answered for her.
“Can we return it to them?” Grier asked.
“What they want is part of her,” Olena said.
Not wanting Olena to speak on her behalf as if she were a child, Salena broke in, “I have a talent for extracting the truth out of people.”
“An interrogator?” Grier eyed her but did not seem to doubt her words.
She nodded.
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