Jessabelle's Beast (Shadows in Sanctuary Book 3)

by Susan Trombley

  Her hesitation to slide into the booth he led her to was due more to subjecting herself to the full focus of his intense gaze. She feared that he might see through her subterfuge, but more than that, she feared that he would see even deeper, into the woman she truly was—the one no one had ever wanted to call their own. She couldn’t imagine why he would be any different.

  Her looks had always gained her male attention, but her nature had quickly lost it. Men found her to be too “moody” or “sullen” though she’d never felt like either of those. “Guarded” would be how she’d described herself in encounters with others. The fact that she’d withheld sexual favors until she felt she could trust a man had chased away even the most persistent of them. No one had worked to get past her barriers.

  With Gorzo, she had already committed to allowing him into her bed. That was one barrier he wouldn’t have to work through, but because of her motives, she could never allow him to earn her trust. She wasn’t worthy of his.

  These thoughts put a damper on what might have been an enjoyable experience, because underlying all her fears was a sense of excitement and anticipation that caused her to shiver as she sat across from him, studying the way his body shifted with each movement, the black lines of his tattoos sliding over corded muscle.

  They’d quickly run out of small-talk about innocuous topics, and without anyone else to distract them, Jessa struggled for something to say to fill the growing silence. Her desperation had her blurting out the first thing that came to mind, given her focus on his body. “What do your tattoos mean?”

  Gorzo’s lips tilted in a slight smile. It seemed that was the most he’d allow himself around her, perhaps believing she found his teeth frightening—which had been true at first, but she’d grown accustomed to the sight of them. “They mean different things. Each tells a tale.” He pointed to a tattoo that crossed his shoulder. It was formed of sharp edges and graceful curves. “This is the story of my first hunt.”

  His deep chuckle coaxed an answering smile from Jessa. “I take it there’s a good story there?”

  “Indeed.” His smile widened, baring teeth for a moment, before he seemed to recall he was trying not to, and it slipped, shielding his massive canines. “I stalked a has-gra for days to prove my worth to our tribe.” Perhaps seeing the question in her eyes, he answered it before she could ask. “A has-gra is a feline that lives in the grasslands. This one—a huntress of her pride—was killing animals in our herd. I found her hiding among the waving grass, waiting, only the slight hump of her back visible to me as I stalked her. I crouched down, aware that I must take her by surprise because she was as big as I was at the time.”

  “What happened?” Jessa was struggling to picture the scene. She hadn’t had much experience with wide open spaces like Gorzo was describing.

  He smiled again. “I crouched for hours, waiting for her to make the first move. Night was passing into dawn, and I had begun to grow impatient. I had no desire to hunt beneath the Father’s Eye. Finally, in an impulsive move, I crept forward and leapt upon her back.”

  “That must have been terrifying.”

  “It was exhilarating, up until the moment I struck the top of a large boulder instead of the more forgiving spine of my prey.”

  “Oh…” Jessa couldn’t hold back a grin. “I see.” She giggled. “You were stalking a rock.”

  “The good news is, my actual prey was very close, which was why I’d scented her in that area. My movement did startle her, flushing her out. The bad news was that I’d knocked the wind out of myself in my ill-advised dive onto the rock, giving her long enough to recover from her surprise.”

  “How did you defeat her?”

  “It was a hard fight. With the light of day spilling across the grasslands, my shadow abilities were dwindling. She gained the upper hand. It was only my primal that saved me from fear that would have paralyzed me.”

  Jessa wanted to ask about the primal he kept mentioning. It was something the Diakonos had never spoken of and perhaps didn’t even know about. Yet, she felt uncomfortable asking about it. It seemed too personal. If she asked him too many questions about himself, he might decide to do the same to her. Instead she tried to keep her conversation more general. “I didn’t realize that there were grasslands around Sanctuary.”

  Gorzo’s expression took on a faraway look. “There aren’t, Schodecora. The grasslands were in my native land. I am not originally from Sanctuary.”

  Jessa wondered what Schodecora meant, because her translator hadn’t provided an answer, but there was something more interesting about what he’d said. She hadn’t been aware that he wasn’t from Sanctuary, but that information explained a great deal about why his appearance differed so much from the other umbrose. “I didn’t know there were grasslands anywhere on this continent. You must be very far from home.”

  Gorzo’s gaze sharpened, his eyes fixing on her face. “For my people, home has always been where you make it.”

  She didn’t know what having a true home felt like, but she liked the sentiment. The only place she’d ever felt the warmth that made her think of a home was with Micah. Yet now, she wondered if she could have ever felt something like that with Gorzo. Perhaps in different circumstances, if she wasn’t who she was, she could truly find home. It was pointless to wish for something she could never have. She’d learned that at a young age. “So each tattoo tells a story. Are the designs part of your language?”

  Gorzo turned his arm to reveal the patterns spiraling up his forearm. “It is not words as you understand it, or indeed as the umbrose of Sanctuary understand them. These patterns are symbolic. My tribe kin understood them, and that was what mattered. Our stories are what make us who we are. They could take the measure of my honor… and my mistakes,” his brief smile was crooked, revealing just a hint of fang, “by looking upon my markings.”

  “And the markings on your face?” They were scars rather than tattoos, so Jessa had hesitated to ask about them first because perhaps he might not appreciate the question, yet they were also in patterns, as if intentionally inflicted.

  He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her question. He touched his face with his forefinger, tracing a pattern along his cheekbone. “These are symbolic of my walk with Father.”

  “Father?”

  Gorzo dropped his hand. “The umbrose of Sanctuary only worship the feminine aspect of life—the Mother of Shadows. My tribe also worshipped the masculine aspect—the Father of Light.” He shrugged. “We viewed the adurians as our lost brothers.”

  Jessa’s heart beat faster at the mention of the adurians. She’d once believed them to be gods, as all the Diakonos had. The umbrose viewed them as mortal enemies and the antithesis of their very existence. Yet, apparently Gorzo’s people had viewed them differently. It could not have made him popular in Sanctuary. “Did it hurt? The scarring?”

  “I was young and sure of myself. I turned down the medicinal potion the shaman offered. The pain was so great that my primal took over, and I had to be pinned down by my tribesmen.”

  “I can’t even imagine something like that.” Jessa touched his hand where it sat on the table.

  They both jerked as if an electric shock ran from her hand to his. His hooded gaze shot to their linked hands and then back to her face. Jessa swallowed and licked her lips. A low growl emanated from his throat as he watched her with a suddenly feral expression. Slowly, she withdrew her hand, shaken from her reaction to the contact even more than from his.

  She watched him warily as his focus remained intent on her face for a long moment. Then, like air releasing from a balloon, the tension in his body melted, and he sat back against the booth, shifting his wings to accommodate the new position.

  He tilted his head from side to side as if he was stretching his neck. Muscles bulged, then relaxed. “The pain was necessary. I learned control. It has served me well since then.”

  Still feeling warm and unsettled after touching him, she tried to ret
urn to their discussion. “Do you ever want to go back to visit your people?”

  Tension corded his muscles again. This time there was no hunger in his expression as he met her eyes, only sadness that was so profound it was almost palpable to Jessa. She felt a kinship to it immediately. Loss and grief were things she understood well, unlike the desire that she felt for this strange umbrose.

  “There are no people left to visit.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gorzo.”

  “As am I, but I will not dwell on the past. There are always new beginnings to be found, Schodecora.”

  “What does that mean? My translator isn’t picking it up.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps I should not tell you.”

  “Oh? Is it insulting?” She softened the question with a teasing tone, not wanting him to think she really believed that.

  “Hardly. It roughly translates into ‘beautiful one.’”

  Jessa knew that she was an attractive woman. She’d been told this more than once, usually by people urging her to smile more, or suggesting that she’d be so much more attractive if she were only more cheerful. Still, something about the way he said the word implied that it had nothing to do with her physical appearance. “I… I’m flattered.”

  Gorzo waved her words away. “I apologize. The word slipped out. It’s been so long since…” He shook his head. “I will address you by whatever name you wish.”

  “I like the endearment.” Convincing him to make an offer for her was Jessa’s job, but she wasn’t saying that because of her mission. She wanted him to know that she welcomed his attention, simply because she did.

  This time, when Gorzo took her hand in his, she was more prepared for the contact of his warm velvety skin against her palm. Hard calluses rubbed against her smaller calluses from working at the machine shop. His other hand closed over the top of hers, trapping her in the heat of his grasp. “Schodecora, I wished to take this slowly. I desire you and would have you as my concubine, but I understand that we’ve only just met.”

  Elation unfurled within Jessa’s chest. He wanted her. It wasn’t the first time she’d been desired, but this time, she felt wanted. Then her happiness crumbled as she recalled that this outcome was all part of a plan. If she encouraged his claim, she would be setting him up and ultimately using him for her own ends. She could put a stop to this now. She could pull her hand free and leave the booth. She wasn’t certain if he would follow her, or if he would respect her wishes. The civilized part of him would let her leave, but there was that other part of him, the one she could sense lived just beneath the surface, the one that growled with hunger when they touched. That part of him might not let her leave, but at least then, it would be his choice. She wouldn’t have to be responsible for hurting him then.

  She tried to recall Micah’s face, to remind herself of why she was doing this in the first place. It had been so easy to do when she’d started out on this mission. Throughout all her doubts, she’d needed only to think of Micah to encourage her to move forward with the plan. Now, the only face she saw was Gorzo’s.

  Micah needs me! I must do this! But if I betray Gorzo, he’ll never forgive me! He’ll hate me forever. Torn between her duty and her conscience, Jessa must have hesitated too long for Gorzo. He gently released her hand and sat back in his seat.

  “Perhaps we should slow down. There’s plenty of time yet, Jessa.” Though he wasn’t frowning, all hints of his earlier good humor had disappeared.

  “I-I’m sorry, I just…” Jessa slid out of the booth. “I need to go freshen up real quick.”

  Though she could practically feel the tension in his body as if he wanted to chase after her, Gorzo remained in the booth, his steady gaze burning a hole in her back as she escaped to the rest room.

  *****

  The security guard she passed gave her a questioning look, as if asking whether she was running from the umbrose. She shook her head and tried to smile reassuringly, certain that her usual politely detached mask had failed her in her distress and confusion. “I’m just using the ladies’ room.”

  He nodded in understanding and returned his attention to the room.

  Jessa slipped past the guard and out into the corridor, heading towards the bathrooms. Once inside the austere restroom, she stood at the mirror staring into her reflection. The woman who looked back at her was flushed beet-red and breathing hard, her riotous mahogany curls breaking free of the braid she usually imprisoned them in.

  “I can’t do this.” Though she’d only whispered the words, they seemed to echo in the empty bathroom, bouncing off the corners of the gray walls and the metalline tiles of the silver floors. Her voice sounded hollow as it came back to her from the tiny stalls.

  Then it wasn’t her voice speaking. “You can’t do what?”

  Jessa spun around to face a stranger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

  The woman shrugged. She looked vaguely familiar now that Jessa studied her. “I followed you. You were so intrigued with your reflection that you didn’t notice me come in.” The other woman smiled thinly. “Vanity is a sin.”

  Jessa’s pulse throbbed so hard in her throat that it was difficult to swallow. “Who are you?”

  The stranger brushed her hand over the single blond lock of hair that had escaped her tight bun. “Just a friend looking out for you.” She winked, and a red-light briefly flashed in her open eye.

  Cyborg! She’s a sentinel!

  “Micah misses you. He looks forward to seeing you again.” The woman’s hard admonishing voice had softened.

  “I… don’t think I can go through with this!” Jessa now found it difficult to even breathe. She loved Micah, she truly did, but what the Diakonos wanted her to do was wrong. Gorzo wasn’t the monster they claimed the umbrose were.

  The woman grabbed her upper arms with cold fingers that tightened on her flesh. She pushed her face so close to Jessa’s that Jessa could see her individual pores. “You have a very easy task. The demon already wants you. It doesn’t take an expert to recognize that simply by watching him. Once he agrees to take you back to Sanctuary, we will give you the device. You need do nothing else but carry it into the city.”

  “But I—”

  The sentinel’s hands tightened further until Jessa flinched in pain. “Micah’s very existence depends on this mission. Do you understand?”

  Shock distracted Jessa from the pain. “What do you mean?”

  Blue eyes narrowed, the sentinel relaxed her grip slightly, whispering her next words. “He grows sicker every day. If he does not complete his ascension, he will die.”

  “No!”

  The sentinel allowed Jessa to pull away from her hard grip. Jessa staggered back into the sink well. The automatic sprayer came on as the sensor picked up her presence. Water spattered her dress, but she didn’t care. Each of her heartbeats felt like broken glass stabbing into her chest. “You have to be lying! I was never told this!”

  The sentinel’s expression was one of pity. “Why would you be? You were Micah’s caretaker. Not his doctor.”

  “I can’t allow him to die!”

  “Exactly! You must complete your mission. Only that will save Micah. Then, the two of you can be reunited.”

  Jessa swallowed the lump in her throat, speaking through a throat that felt shredded. “I’ll complete the mission. Today.”

  Chapter 8

  Gorzo watched Jessa walk back from the restroom. Though she smiled at him when she caught sight of him, the expression of happiness didn’t reach her eyes. In fact, her whole demeanor was one of distress. She’d gotten water on the fabric of her dress, though it looked as if she’d taken a moment to try and dry it out, which left the fabric further warped and stained.

  His primal growled when he recognized the red marks on her upper arms. Someone had accosted her in the restroom while he’d sat here uselessly waiting for her. He nearly jumped to his feet to go to her side and demand who’d dared to touch her, when he
remembered that she wasn’t yet his to protect.

  She’d shut him out when he’d spoken of his intentions to stake a claim for her. She’d even run away from him, though she’d said she was only going to “freshen up”—whatever that meant. He recognized fleeing when he saw it. He’d seen people flee from him a lot in his lifetime.

  He schooled his own expression into a polite smile as she slid back into the booth. Once again her scent clouded his head and stirred his primal into different thoughts. Each moment that passed in her company made him want her even more. Yet he knew next to nothing about her. Their conversation had been almost solely about him. He wanted her to share some of her stories. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

  Perhaps it was because he’d avoided asking personal questions about her that she’d run away in the first place. Perhaps she felt like he was moving too fast without taking the time to know her first. He couldn’t let his eagerness to share her bed blind him to her needs—or his own for that matter. He still wanted more than just sex from his concubine.

  He recognized that she was guarded. According to her file, which Lilith had shared with him, she was an orphan who had aged-out of the system, making her own way in life as a machinist.

  The umbrose didn’t have orphans. All the spawn were raised by the brood mothers of the nest, regardless of who bore them or sired them. Spawn were children of the Mother of Shadows, not of individual umbrose, though they often had a strong bond with their birth mother. The fact that their dam retained their shadow power until their majority no doubt encouraged that bond.

  Humans did things differently. It was something he constantly had to remind himself of when dealing with Jessa. He’d avoided questions that were too personal because of her careful answers and guarded nature. Clearly she wasn’t ready to open up to him about herself, but they had only just met. Perhaps he needed to take a more aggressive stance on that.

  What he really wanted to do was demand an explanation for the bruises on her arms and the despair in her eyes. Someone had accosted her. He couldn’t just let that go, even though he didn’t yet have the right to protect her.