by Laney Kaye
She shot me a grateful look. “But Terra stays here.”
I expected the witch to argue, but her fight with Smithton seemed to have taken all her energy. She nodded, sliding to the sandy floor in a slight hollow of the rock. “I stays. I rest. I has plans beyond. After.”
Aren snorted. “Given what you did, I should probably be concerned about that.”
“But you understands?” For the first time, the elderly Dragarian sounded unsure.
Aren dropped to her haunches, stroking the wispy gray hair from the woman’s face. “Sort of. I understand that you did what you had to do, Terra. Now I’ll do what I have to do. I’m just glad that you see an after.”
I wasn’t so sure. The melancholy look on Terra’s face didn’t exactly fill me with hope for the future.
Leo’s backpack lifted a plume of sand as he dropped it at Terra’s feet. “Right, you’re official bag watcher, then. Guard our packs with your life, okay?” He shot her a grin, though his tawny eyes were solemn. “I don’t think Glia’s ready to deal with a pride of naked cat shifters prowling around, so we’ll be back.”
“You wills.”
I tried not to read anything into the fact that Terra only looked at Leo as she made her prediction. Surely she wouldn’t let Aren go, if she foresaw danger for her? Though would she be able to control this fierce, reserved woman, whom I barely understood, but planned to get to know a whole lot better?
Whatever, whether as her lover, her mate, or her friend, I had no right to try to sway Aren’s decision.
We each dropped our packs, rifling through them for weapons we transferred to smaller sacks, which we’d sling diagonally across our shoulders. Although usually the last one to shift would have to carry his sack in his jaws, Terra and Aren would be able to strap them on for all of us. Our fangs and claws were formidable weapons, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some firepower as backup if we chose to shift back and use it.
I pulled the P220 from my pack and offered it to Aren. She took it uncertainly, her right hand straying toward her blade. “I’ll use…”
“You don’t have to get in close with a hand gun.” It was as near as I dared come to telling her I was concerned, that I cared for her welfare. Hells, chances were, I wasn’t getting out of here alive. If I said more, I risked losing my focus. Right now, we each had to concentrate on the looming battle.
She took the weapon. “Is it okay if I ride with you?”
“Where else would you be, woman?” I mock growled, trying to hide my fear for her.
She flashed me a quick grin, but it seemed uncertain, a little sad. Probably mirrored how I looked. We had unfinished business.
Aren dropped to her haunches and embraced the elderly woman. “Be safe, Terra. You’re all I have left.”
“Terra is not all.” The crone’s eyes slid to me.
Okay, so I officially liked the witch. She not only took care of what Aren thought was her duty, but she reinforced that I had a place in Aren’s life.
“I is all you allow self.” Terra sighed gustily. “You is smart, yet still don’t know how to use this.” She tapped a gnarled finger on her temple. “Still, is not time. My love be with you, Aren of the Dragarians.”
Aren placed her palms either side of Terra’s cheeks, and pressed her lips to the old woman’s forehead three times, in what I assumed was a Dragarian farewell. When she stood, her teal eyes glistened.
And damned if my heart didn’t crack open. Leo and Herc would be worried for their bondmates, separated from them by war and distance, but they couldn’t fear for their future any more than I did right now.
#
The guys quickly drew on their lightweight camo synthfab pants when we shifted back. I knew they did so for Aren’s sake—and, I guess, out of respect for the tenuous bond Aren and I shared. If it’d just been the merc team, we would’ve facilitated a quick shift back into cat form by staying naked while we finalized our strategy.
We hunkered in the sparse shade of the last dune before the short plains that surrounded the enemy camp on all four sides. Our voices low, they were almost drowned out by the sounds of battle now, the occasional lull worsened by the surging tempest that followed.
Aren’s beautiful, elongated eyes were wide and frightened. Though she’d proved herself over the last two years, defeating vipers and leading Refugees in from the wilderness, there was no way she’d encountered a battle on this scale.
“Khal will have the northern ingress covered,” Herc said, drawing quick figures in the sand. “Tennant didn’t have much choice of a battlefield, it’s so damn open out here, so he doesn’t have his flanks protected by natural formations. If Khal’s still in charge, he’ll know that we’ll be coming in on Tennant’s rear. He’ll try to keep the Regime attention committed to the front, so we can get in close, before they realize we’re there. We’ll split up, create a distraction on all three sides, to divide his troops.”
Leo nodded. “Signal once we’re on point?”
“Yep. It’ll alert Khal. He’ll know to order a cease fire from the fort, so we’re not copping incoming.”
Though Herc didn’t say it, our roars, issued one after the other, were also designed to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.
“When the artillery fire and snipers stop, we’ll have to move quickly”—I knew Herc spelled it out for Aren’s sake. We already knew the drill—“Because the Resistance force trapped outside will have no backup until we signal Khal that we’ve cleared the camp.”
“Cleared the camp?” Her forehead furrowed, Aren’s lips formed a thin line as she compressed and bit at them.
“We need to drive them toward the Headquarters,” I explained.
“But—that makes no sense,” she said hesitantly. “We want them to leave the area.”
“Be nice if we could make that happen,” Herc said. “But it’s too late. To do that, we’d have to get around the back of the mountain range, make our way through the HQ, and join the Resistance force defending the fence. Tennant wouldn’t even notice our presence, we’d just increase the numbers for them to sling their catapults at. This way, we have the element of surprise. Khal will have forces massed, waiting for us to herd the Resistance into his killing zone. The more we concentrate them, the more they’ll panic and surge toward exactly where he wants them.”
“You really think we can do this?” Sudden hope lifted Aren’s voice.
Herc’s gaze flicked to me. He knew we couldn’t. We didn’t have the numbers. “Or we die trying,” he said.
The Cap had never been able to lie.
Aren nodded. “Where do you want me?”
I growled, unable to suppress my emotion, but she ignored me.
“I don’t suppose telling you to stay here will do any good?” Herc asked mildly, knowing what I wanted.
She didn’t even bother shaking her head, just met his gaze with her own steadfast one.
“Okay. I want you on Jag, then. You two will come in from the south, the rear of the camp. That’s the largest area, size-wise, and Jag will need you with firepower on his back.”
The largest area, but also the safest, with the enemy’s attention focused to their north.
I turned to Aren. “We need a signal. I might not be able to maneuver with you on my back. If I drop to the ground, that’s the signal for you to get off, take cover anywhere you can find it.”
She looked at me silently for a long moment, though her eyes flashed challenge. “Don’t you dare order me to dismount just because you think it best for me.” Her lips were thin and tight. “If you’re thinking of doing that, I’m riding in with Leo.”
“You have my word.” Hells, I wanted to keep her safe. But I also understood the call of duty. “We’re partners. Same as before.” Like before we’d bonded. And now, like back then, I’d protect her with my life. But she had a right to make her own decisions, whether that meant fighting in the battle, or choosing when we’d complete the bond that called each time we touche
d.
She nodded and strode up to me. Her fingers tangling in my hair, like she never wanted to let go, she pressed her lips to mine. The second Felidaekin bond.
Hells, I never wanted to let her go, either. But I hadn’t even needed the bond to make that the truth.
Her gaze never left me as I handed her my blade, stripped, and initiated the change, biting back the urge to roar as the still-unfamiliar Dragarian spikes ripped through my back. I lowered my forelegs, so Aren could climb on. As she fisted my fur, sitting far back to avoid the spines jutting from my back, I felt one hand stroke across my flank.
Damn, it felt so wrong to carry her into danger. But I was bound by my word. And by the knowledge that, if I protected her as I longed to do, I’d lose her forever.
The stench of blood and shit and piss hit the back of my throat, and I tried to breathe shallowly, prevent the acrid burn across my vomeronasal organ. Sometimes, heightened senses were no help to a guy. I’d given Herc and Leo a head start, as they had to travel further to bring in their attack from the flanks. Exposed by the lack of cover once we left the protection of the outcrop, I committed myself to the run, bounding across the sand toward the outlying structures. Mostly of weathered canvas, they offered no protection, but at least a little disguise.
It seemed no-one kept guard, which told me two things; either Tennant found the resistance he encountered greater than he expected, and committed all his troops to the front line. Or we were being lured into a trap.
With no way to communicate with Khal— who, like all cheetahs, couldn’t roar—we had no damn way to know which was the truth.
My heart pounding in my chest, I listened intently to the battle, trying to pick individual voices amongst the mêlée and screaming as I waited for Herc’s signal.
As I moved forward, seeking a better angle to view from, Aren’s knees tightened around my sides, and I felt, rather than heard, her gasp at the precise instant a huge form blocked the milky light of the nearest of the moons.
My head jerked around, and my pace faltered for a moment. Hells. So that was what a griffin looked like.
I had no doubt that the form surveying the encampment was Lyrie, searching for us. She kept her circles high, careful not to give away our positions, but I was certain she saw us. Swooping low, she beat her wings furiously, stirring up dust as she darted toward the eastern edge of the front. Fire spewed from her great jaws like a flame-thrower, then she lifted easily, circling up on the warm thermals, before repeating the maneuver twice.
Once for each of us.
She’d spied Leo, Herc, and me, and was directing our attack.
My heart eased pace a little, relieved at the clear instruction, though the adrenalin surge of imminent battle still thundered in my veins.
Herc’s roar made the earth tremble. Leo’s joined in, and even the air quivered. Before their bellows had faded into echoes, I unleashed my own call, then quickly raced across the ground, heading east to take up a new position on the perimeter, before roaring again. Three times we repeated the sequence, the noises of battle stilling as our enemy tried to count their attackers, and place us as we moved, using the echoes from the mountain before us to our advantage.
Muscles furled beneath me, I leapt forward, between the tents, and into the battle.
The Regime troops might be concentrated at the front, but hells, here they still swarmed thicker than teezter flies on a bloated corpse.
With Aren on my back, I couldn’t use my claws as I normally would, as I didn’t want to rear back and risk unseating her. But I could hear the zip and ping as she fired the P220, the occasional thwack as her bullets found their mark. I charged into the thick of the soldiers, seizing any limb I could close my jaws on, and ripping them apart.
I closed my mind to the fact that some of these men may have been my comrades when I’d been hired to fight for the Regime. Hopefully, they had the sense to hide.
My shoulder burned as a laser found its mark, and I swiped one huge paw to my left, disemboweling the idiot who’d risk shooting his own soldiers in the too-close combat.
The dirt slippery with guts and blood, I fought my way forward, roaring every few seconds to force the retreat of the opposing forces.
We weren’t gaining ground quickly enough, though. For every man Aren or I took down, it seemed another rushed in to fill the void, boiling out from between the tents like teromotan.
We’d dangerously underestimated the enemy forces.
My breath sawing in my throat, I shook the dust from hundreds of panicked feet from my face, blinked hard to clear my eyes.
We were losing. We were fucking losing, and I’d dragged Aren onto this killing ground.
I’d as good as murdered the only woman I’d ever loved.
I roared again, this time from pain, as a bullet buried itself in my thigh. At least every shot I took was one that didn’t find Aren. But if Leo and Herc were faring as badly as us, we were screwed. It was only a matter of time until the soldiers had me down. They’d rip Aren from my back and—My train of thought broke as Lyrie’s shadow blotted out the moon again.
Except the darkness went on forever. The sounds of battle faltered, and movement stopped as soldiers lowered their weapons, gazing up open-mouthed. Pressing my advantage with their distraction, I only chanced a quick glance. But I couldn’t stop a grin stretching my jaws as I leapt for my next victim.
The Aaidarian reinforcements had arrived.
And behind them, a silver-blue, sleek ship descended. Dragarian?
Suddenly uncertain, the soldiers milled around. A stentorhorn blared, the uncoded communication of commands a sure indicator that the Regime had been thrown into disarray.
Some of the forces turned to obey the directions, sweeping to the east, to where a massive plume of dust rose from the thrusters as the Aaidarian ship landed.
Others, maybe realizing the ship may contain more cat shifters, or other horrors unknown, cast furtive glances, then started slipping away between the tents, disappearing into the gloom. I let them go. They were fighting a battle they were paid for, not a war they believed in.
Those that remained, though, choosing to confront Aren and me?
They’d signed their own death warrants.
My energy renewed, I leapt into the fray. Aren was no longer firing, but I could feel her strong thighs gripping me. She must’ve run out of ammo, despite the hundreds of rounds that’d been in my bag.
The soldiers who faced us now knew that they fought for their lives. I could see the terror in their eyes and the stench of fear hung thick in the air as the slowly rising sun illuminated the dim battleground. But still they fought on. We were gaining ground, though, slowly pressing them toward the northern front.
The electronic bellow of the stentorhorn screeched across my ear drums, and I winced. Then realized that the screech was because whoever was shouting the increasingly frantic commands was close by.
I flicked my ears, whirling to track the sound.
Got him.
Take down the commander, and you take down his army.
As I fought my way into a clearing, I snorted with sudden glee. Distinguished by his uniform, it was General Tennant himself who clutched the stentorhorn. He stood on a raised platform that lifted him above the clashing hordes.
Sure as hells didn’t lift him above a Jaguarkin, though.
There wasn’t time to let Aren climb off, and nowhere safe for her to hide anyway, our surroundings a whirl of color and blood as men and women fought in close combat. I dropped to my haunches, gathering my strength to leap. Aren gripped my fur more tightly as she realized my intention. Like we were two halves of one whole. With a powerful thrust, I left the ground, easily clearing the heads of the combatants filling the dusty square between us and the general.
I landed firm on the platform, taking a second to get my balance.
The general was faster than I anticipated, whirling toward us, a laser pistol in his left hand.
&nbs
p; Damn, that caught me out every time. Herc always cautioned me to watch for the lefties. I sliced at him with my claws, but he dove toward my unprotected flank, lifting the weapon in a fluid movement. The blue charge light ignited as it activated.
Aren launched from my back.
The weapon fell to the floor.
With Tennant’s hand.
Aren crouched over the severed limb, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. The Dragarian blade in her grasp gleamed wetly red.
Tennant staggered backward, his stump raised, blood spurting high into the air.
I pounced and put him out of his misery.
#
In every story I’d ever heard told in any sleaze-easy on Aaidar, the battles always ended neatly, as though the defeated gave up.
That never happens in real life. Instead, a few will fight grimly to the end, refusing to acknowledge their defeat, choosing death over dishonor.
Even with Tennant dead, it was hours before Aren and I sighted the main gate to the Headquarters. With the occasional scream of a dying Regime soldier still echoing off the mountain face, the gate was closed, but as we approached, Fen’s voice rang from above. “Cat shifter. And the leader of the Refugees. Let our friends enter.”
I lowered to my haunches to let Aren clamber off. I’d wanted to shift hours earlier, take her in my arms in celebration, but danger had still been imminent. Now, there was no rush. We had all the time in the world.
As she stumbled, I gently nudged her toward the opening gate with my nose.
Soon, this woman would be all mine. I’d wipe away the sadness that seemed to surround her, replace it with joy and love.
Aren stroked a hand down my forehead, her posture drooping. “Let’s go home, Jag.”
I’d never heard finer words.
In the lee of the mountain, I shifted quickly and strapped my Dragarian blade back on. Aren’s eyes caressed my naked, filthy body, lingering for a moment on my wounds. Because of our second bond, my physiology had changed, and I’d heal quicker in cat form. But then I couldn’t kiss her. And I was damn sure going to kiss her right now.