by Owner
When she began screaming, he had no idea how to stop her. There were no words, just remorse and mourning spilling out of her. He held her close to his chest, her face pressed against him with one hand at the back of her neck, while she screamed until she had no voice left. Var felt her agonized desolation, but he was at a loss how to handle it.
When her knees buckled, he held her even tighter to keep her upright. Quiet now, he felt her shatter. He did not let her go, fearing she would evaporate and float away like ash on the wind.
It was probably dangerous to hold her. She could project, but instinct told Var that he held her together in some way he did not understand. He could not let her go.
“I thought you knew,” he said gently.
Bess shook her head and covered her face with her hands.
Var cursed his luck. Not only did he get a suicidal MX, he got one who was having a breakdown. Now he had to be soothing. He had seen it done only rarely and had little personal experience. No experience as a matter of fact. He had not soothed females. The kind of females he was most often around required only money if they even wanted that from him. There had never been a need for any emotional interaction from him and he certainly had no idea what actions might help Bess.
The empath was different and he was unable to comfort her. Var rubbed slow circles on her back with his open palm while he held her. He could say nothing that would make her feel better. She had lost everything she had ever known. No matter how much she may have hated the Facility, there was no going back.
Var had never been good with words, but there was no time he could remember when he regretted that fact more than now. She’d hated him this morning. During the stampede, she had sought to help him by calming the horses even though she was terrified. Now, here she was, clinging to him as if he could hide her from all the evils of the world. As if he were her only defense against the extreme cruelty of fate.
Fierce emotions rose up in him. He must protect her. At a loss and angry with himself, Var wondered how it could be that he had lived this long and except for his failure as a child, was only now running into problems over which he had no control.
It was not right for him to feel helpless. What he had to offer females was sex. Hard, fast, brutally satisfying sex. Females who wanted that were many and willing to lay with a Warlord of Kryst, even one covered with scars.
But this little female in his arms needed something else from him. Even if he knew what she needed, he had no idea how to give it.
Her spine stiffened and she stood straighter. As if realizing she had sought comfort from her enemy, the girl pushed against his chest with fisted hands, stepping back, turning away.
Why did he feel such painful loss? Did she project that to him, or was the emotion his own resulting when she stepped out of his arms?
Darkness was falling fast. “I would know if you can continue,” Var said.
He thought Bess nodded her head. Not sure, he got the horses. They had to continue now.
Her words, whispered to the wind. “This is my fault. I am so sorry.”
Var was careful to hold her gently when they resumed their journey. She said nothing when he urged the horses toward the darker shadows of the forest.
They rode for hours in the cooler shade of the trees as night slowly overtook them.
The girl filled his heart with her silence and brokenness.
Var handed her the canteen. She didn’t take it. “Drink.”
Her movements were slow, languid. She took the canteen. Held it, but did not drink. When it slipped from her hands and hit the ground, Var stopped and retrieved it.
He pulled her from the horse. She walked a few steps and slowly sank to her knees.
Var tilted her face up and pressed the canteen to her lips. She drank, but he had to fist her hair to keep her drinking. When he let her go, he expected to see fury in her eyes. There was none. Bess did not even look at him. She sat, listless, staring into the forest. The girl had given up. He saw that clearly, but just as clearly, he saw his duty. He could not allow her to quit. Her existence was vital to their plans.
They rode as fast as he dared. He needed to make up time if he was to meet Mack tomorrow. Var pushed on through the darkness, his night vision allowing him to find his way through the trees. Bess must be tired, but she never said a word. Var knew what it was like to have everything you had known violently ripped from you. She was devastated and he understood why. He remembered well those first few days as a slave.
When Var had driven the horses as hard as he dared, he found a secluded area surrounded by an impenetrable hedge. It would make a good camp for the night.
Bess stood, staring blankly, where he had put her down off the horse. Var led her into the dense brush, sat on a fallen tree, and handed food to her. He ate quickly, but Bess just sat. “I would have you eat.” If she heard him, she gave no notice.
“Eat.” She turned her face away. All of her movements were slow as if she moved through water. He put the food away and held the canteen to her lips. “Drink.”
She drank and held the canteen until he took it from her.
Var had seen this behavior in females after raids. She was in shock and he was keeping a close eye on her.
He walked them into the dense thicket for cover, threw a blanket on the ground, sat down with his back against a large tree, and pulled her down to sit between his legs.
She did not fight when he pulled her back against his chest and covered them both with a soft blanket.
He missed the defiant lift of her chin, the flash of fire in her deep green eyes. She was small and soft against him. How would he rest with the scent of her so close? Her skin and hair were silky against his skin. When her breathing slowed and her body relaxed against his, he picked up a ribbon of her hair and brought it to his nose. It was soft and smelled good. He wanted her, even broken as she was, and he hated himself for it.
During the night she turned and snuggled into him for warmth. Although his body heat kept her warm, he was careful to keep her covered with the thin blanket. Later, she sank down until her head with all that sweet-smelling hair lay across his thigh. How could a male withstand this temptation?
She was all delicate vulnerability. Var was filled with primordial lust as if the coals of a fire he did not remember had been left smoldering inside him for eternity. These embers flamed into a red hot blaze that threatened to consume him. Would consume him. He wanted the fire to consume him.
Var had been entrusted with her life and safety. For the first time ever, he was torn between his duty and his personal desire. Desire for a female. Not just lust, but possession of her.
“Mine,” he whispered. He wanted to own this one. She was his alone.
Var yearned to stroke her hair, her face, to touch her all over. He wanted his mouth on that soft skin, kissing every bit of her, loving her with his tongue. Var would devour her essence until she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Then he would gently slide into her. He would make her like his touch. No, he would make her crave it. She would need him and want him with a passion that drove away her silly modesty. He would give her everything she desired. Just as he was compelled to protect her, she would be driven to fulfill his needs, to share her softness with him. He wanted to ease himself between her legs and feel her balm on his soul. If he did not have her, the fire she had started within him would consume what was left of his heart. A heart he had long avoided acknowledging.
All though the night, he imagined loving her. He tortured himself. First, she would have to submit to his love. Even if she were to do that, in the cold light of day, she had seen the scars on his face and his body.
Var was not worthy of her. He had always known that, but now, for the first time, he tasted the bitterness and regret at not being able to have the mate his soul cried out for.
Var wanted this female for his own. His senses told him she was his.
He had failed once, long ago. A failure that had cost his moth
er her life, and cost him his freedom. Var was taken then, enslaved, beaten, and abused. Pure rage and hatred, had sustained him. He had grown strong, eventually pledging himself to Koda and accepting his birthright as a Warlord of Kryst. Duty had become his reason to live.
It had been enough.
It was no longer. He needed more. Wanted more.
The rage still smoldered inside him, but now it was overcome with desire for her.
He was in the mines when Koda’s father found him, downtrodden and without hope, surviving on his hate of the Conglomerate. Var had sworn an oath of duty to Koda and his family. He still honored that oath today.
Koda’s family was the only one he remembered clearly. His mother’s face had faded. Much as he wanted to picture her in his mind, he was no longer able to see her. He should be able to remember his own mother’s face.
She had given her life for his.
His duty was to serve Koda and help save his race. All these years, it had been enough. It was the only way he could atone for his mistake. But now he wanted something for himself. It was wrong, but he did not care.
Life had made Var hard. Koda’s family had given him purpose. His stubbornness had served him well. Like his coldness, it kept him alive while many around him had perished.
Var had never considered that he might find a mate. The little MX feared him. She said she hated him. Long forgotten memories of injustices crept into his thoughts again. Bitterness, vile and black as tar, filled him.
What was he thinking?
She would never want him. His only experience with females was with the pleasure females who threw themselves at him. His reputation as a lover meant only the most daring females approached him. If he were to take this innocent little female, would she even survive it?
Var watched over Bess as she dreamed. He put his hand on her neck to see her dreams. What he saw horrified him. People on fire, screaming in agony. They ran, clawing at the air for relief. Scorched, they tried to scream, only to pull fire into their burning lungs. Pain. So much pain, until the screaming was cut short by lack of oxygen and lungs burned away, no longer able to draw in air. They continued writhing in agony, limbs contorted.
The charred bodies no longer looked human. Yet they were far too hideously human. He was convinced she dreamed of something she had witnessed.
Bess cried out in her sleep.
Var stroked her hair and face. The dream finally released her so she could sleep again. He wondered at the horrors that came to her in dreams. It was as if she experienced their ghastly deaths with them. Now he too felt their pain, stark fear and knowledge they were dying as they were swallowed up in darkness.
It was no wonder she feared him. His first thought was to find whoever had exposed her to such a scene, and kill them. She was too pure, too good, to have witnessed such a gruesome spectacle.
Var was ashamed of killing so many in front of her. His job was a bloody one. He had killed to protect her. She probably thought of him as a scary killer who dealt in death and had no remorse.
It was his duty.
In the end, all he had was his duty, except, that was not enough anymore. His life had been complete until he met this empath with freckles on her face and wild red hair and green eyes that soothed his soul.
He settled in to keep the bad dreams away. Maybe she could feel safe until he could deliver her to his people. Sanctuary was no lie. He would show her.
The stampede had not been an accident. There were many who wanted her dead or alive. He had already killed several and he would kill a lot more to keep this female safe. It was a good thing he excelled at killing.
Chapter 23
Bess lay on her side, the blanket pulled almost completely over her head. Standing over her, Var spoke. “Make ready to move out.”
She turned over. Var pulled the blanket off and helped her stand. She did not meet his gaze as he examined her. “I would know if you are ill.”
Bess did not answer.
Var walked her out of the thicket. She moved woodenly and avoided eye contact. He thrust a cup of hot chocolate into her hands. “Drink. We leave soon.”
Her hands shook with cold as she sipped the hot liquid. By the time she was done, he was finished breaking camp.
Var moved in front of her and put his hands on either side of her face. Tilting it up to him, he fought the urge to kiss her lips. Instead, he rubbed the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. He was gentle. Careful. Those green eyes did not find his. She might as well have been in another country.
Var leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. It was the first kiss he had ever bestowed on a female. He expected a slap, or at least defiance. The way those green eyes could spit fire at him was something Var enjoyed. Now he missed it. He sighed and caressed her face, but she stood absolutely still as if rooted to the spot.
The darkness gave way to gray. Fog completely obscured the tops of the tall hardwood trees. The forest floor was mostly empty after they left the thicket. Var was grateful for the vapor and dampness of the leaves on the ground. He set a fast pace. The wisps of fog moving over the ground made the scene look unreal and soaked up sounds as fast as they were made. Trees and rocks appeared and changed shapes as the fog swirled through the branches and leaves of the trees.
The MX still had not acknowledged him. She did not eat anything he offered her, even when they stopped at midday. Bess maintained her silence.
By afternoon, the fog had burned off to reveal a beautiful day filled with sunshine though little of the light made it through the heavy canopies of the trees.
Var let her have a short rest while he checked the saddle and horses.
He felt her move behind him. Why was she so close?
Her little hand grasped his knife and she pulled it from the scabbard at his side. Twisting around, his left arm up to shield against the knife thrust he expected, he knocked her off balance when his forearm hit her. Grabbing her arm, he prevented her fall. Spinning her, he yanked her wrist up behind her and squeezed until the knife fell from her hand.
Her sharp cry of pain did not slow him down as he jerked her around to face him. He held both her wrists in his hand.
Bess kicked him. He knew she intended to hurt him, but her soft moccasins were no match for the metal that reinforced the shins of his boots. No doubt she had hurt her foot. She tried to loosen his grip.
He pushed her down, held her on the ground with his body weight and let her struggle. What had possessed her?
His body responded to her. Oh, that was just great. He should be punishing her. Instead, he was...
What was wrong with him? She had to understand that he was in charge. It was the only way to keep her safe since she did not trust him.
She was soon exhausted. “I will always win a physical contest, little mouse.” He stayed on top of her longer than necessary to emphasize his point. Bess was having trouble breathing, but said nothing. She did not beg him to get off of her and she did not look at him.
“I have let you get away with much. To attack a warlord is to invite harsh punishment.” Var stood intending to spank her, but stopped when he pulled her up in front of him and saw the devastated look on her face. She stood trembling and silent.
“Never touch a male’s weapons.” He could not bring himself to give her the discipline she deserved. Instead, he put her on the horse and mounted behind her.
As they rode in silence, Var’s mind raced. She deserved at least a hard spanking, but he could not bring himself to do it. That alone left him wondering about her effect on him. He was the Enforcer and had never backed down from handing out punishment or discipline. It was his job.
“It is forbidden to touch a Kryst Warlord without permission,” he said. “To do so invites severe punishment, sometimes even death.”
Bess made no reply.
She was a stubborn girl. Her silence angered him. “I would know your plan to survive on your own. You have no place to go if you kill me. “
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br /> Still, she said nothing.
“Answer, girl. Perhaps I should punish you now.”
“I had no plan to hurt you and no plan to escape.” Her voice was so low he barely heard it.
So that was it. She still wanted to hurt herself.
Var had never been good at understanding females, but this one baffled him completely.
“I would know why,” he said.
Bess remained silent.
“I asked you a question, girl. I do not like to repeat myself. I vow to you, I came here to escort you to safety. You have no need to fear me, but I will retaliate if you try to harm me or yourself.”
Bess shook her head.
“I would understand.”
“I cannot...”
“I would know the reason you wish to harm yourself.” He put harshness in his voice. The spirits of men had broken when he used that tone with them.
Bess shook her head. “Please. Please, stop. Leave me alone or do what you will. Just don’t ask me…”
A wave of grief rolled over him. She projected it. He did not receive anything close to the power he felt when Claire had projected her feelings to everyone in the castle, but Bess’s sorrow was absolute. It was almost a physical thing, as if her despair would suffocate him. Could the knowledge that the Facility closed cause all this from her? Var rode on in silence. He would be patient for now, but he would know the problem, he would understand her actions.
Late that afternoon they arrived at the rendezvous site where they were to meet Mack. Var stopped and whistled. Hearing Mack’s answering whistle, he continued.
Where the trees ended abruptly, Mack and two females sat close around a fire. They were camped at the edge of a clearing, the forest on one side and a view of rolling hills that stretched to the horizon on the other.
Var tended the animals. Bess stood there, shivering with cold and looking out over the hills.
Mack watched the girl a moment. “I see she is still a challenging travel companion.”
“She is,” Var said, moving her closer to the fire. He joined Mack sitting cross-legged on the ground.