Starwalker (Starborn 1) (Sci-Fi Fantasy Romance)

by P. Jameson

  “So that’s your excuse, then? You were waiting on fate?”

  “Yes,” he snapped. “I was waiting on the Fates, like a good little wren. Rather impatiently, I might add. I knew I’d angered them. Why else would they give me my Heartbeat when I couldn’t have her?”

  Row was quiet, contemplating.

  “Well, sir, it appears you’ve been screwed by fate. Because now your mate wants nothing to do with you.”

  “Yes,” he grumbled. “I see that.”

  Rowene smoothed the table covering with her weathered hand. “Are you heartsick?” she asked.

  “No. I am not heartsick. Not yet anyway.”

  Another long pause.

  “Do you think you could love her?”

  He looked at her squarely. “I know I can. I already do, with my entire soul. I always will. No matter what comes of us.”

  No matter what. No matter if she never loved him back. The thought had his bones aching.

  Her gaze bore into him, screaming disbelief.

  “You don’t have to believe me for it to be true. I have watched her every day for a thousand years. Watched her grow into a maiden. I know things about her nobody else does. Not even you. And I love my maiden.”

  Rowene was quiet still.

  Just as Breckken was getting up to return to his post outside, she spoke up.

  “She’s going to kill me for this.”

  He frowned.

  Row chuckled wryly. “That wasn’t to be taken literal. Canna could have killed me many times over if she truly wanted to. I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s actually quite fond of me. I simply meant she’s going to be very angry over what I’m about to do.”

  ***

  Davian coughed until his breath wouldn’t come. The air inside the tank was far too warm, too dense. How could any being live in such conditions?

  He glared at the one huddled in the corner.

  The prisoner spoke a different language, though some of his words were familiar. He was several inches smaller than the shortest wren Davian knew. And he required this awful combination of gasses than no one else required. Oxygen, he’d called it. Strange word for a strange composition. Luckily, it only took a slight change to the makeup of Brilliette’s air to allow him to breath easily again.

  Good thing Davian employed intelligent and capable people—in all areas of knowledge.

  Otherwise this golden little nugget might have perished before he was able to make use of him.

  Davian coughed again and sucked in a shallow breath.

  “Where are you from?” he barked, for probably the millionth time.

  The prisoner said nothing. Just shivered.

  If only he employed a translator. Or rather, a translator that could speak this strange language. Except they had no idea what this creature was.

  “How did you get here?”

  Still no answer. The prisoner glared with steely eyes, fueling Davian’s anger. He knelt to meet the male’s gaze.

  “You know what I think? I think you can understand me just fine.” Davian glanced at his main guard. “Take his blood. Drain him until he talks. If he doesn’t talk… kill him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Davian watched the frisson of fear dance in the strangers gaze as his eyes passed over the guard.

  “Yes,” Davian said, a cruel smile touching his lips. “It’s talk or die time, and something tells me you…” He stood, towering over the prisoner once more. “You are going to talk.”

  There was a thunderous sound, and the door to the holding cell burst open. Davian swung his head around to see a creature he didn’t recognize. He was male, as were the two others with him, but they were not Star Dwellers. They did not belong to Brilliette.

  Davian straightened to his full height as his guards came running. Even though the strangers were smaller in stature, they reeked of danger. Lethal. It was their eyes. They seemed to be made of stone, cold and unyielding. Their irises had no color, but they bore down on Davian as if they intended to annihilate him with their gaze alone.

  The leader, the one who’d effortlessly kicked open the door, smiled, and the cruelty of it wrapped around Davian’s windpipe, keeping his words from escaping.

  “Davian, I presume.” The stranger’s voice was odd, but refined. If he didn’t know any better he’d say he was an Ice Dweller with his pale skin and cool countenance.

  Davian set his face in a threatening scowl. “Who are you?”

  The stranger smiled wider, and Davian’s gaze zeroed in on two sharp teeth, the likes of which he’d never seen before. They were longer than normal and came to a razor tipped point. Instinctually, he knew they were weapons.

  “I am Drak and these are my colleagues, Simon and Kristoff.” He spoke pleasantly, which made him seem even more dangerous. Davian was no fool. If the male had kicked down a stone door, he wasn’t here peaceably.

  “What do you want?” Davian growled.

  The stranger laughed, and from the corner of his eye, Davian watched his soldiers fidget under the odd, lilting sound.

  “You ask rather easy questions, Davian, Leader of the Helix.” His smile faded, and his voice turned hard. “I want my human back.”

  “Your what?” Davian had never heard of the term.

  “My human.” He gestured to the prisoner. “The man you have tied up belongs to me. I want him back.”

  Davian glanced at the male he’d been about to torture for information. He seemed strangely relieved to see Drak and his men.

  “He’s in my cell. Under my guards,” Davian mused. “It looks like he belongs to me now.”

  Drak looked at his two cohorts. “Well… if you won’t return to me what you’ve stolen, I suppose I will have to force you to.”

  “Is that right.”

  Drak nodded, clucking his tongue. “It isn’t nice to take what’s not yours. But you’ve spent your entire life striving to do just that, haven’t you, Davian?”

  Davian glared at the intruder. “You know nothing of me. And just how do you plan to force me to do anything?” He stepped up to Drak, reminding him that he had almost a foot in height on him.

  Drak’s face turned cold, the geniality gone with his exhale. His voice chill as the air of their star, he said, “First my colleagues are going to eat your guards. Drink them dry. Then I’ll do the same to you. Except, I’ll leave a little of your lifeblood so that I may turn you into one of us. For your thievery, you shall know the hunger we know. You shall live with it. Perhaps even die with it. And it will be my pleasure to watch.”

  The threat chilled Davian to the bone. What Dweller ate from another’s body? No, these males were not of Brilliette. But he couldn’t back down. Couldn’t show fear. He had a Helix to lead. And someday… a mate to redeem.

  He hadn’t forgotten her. She was the reason he was so brutal. The reason he fought so hard. He’d grown power hungry, yes. But he had to be. He needed to be good enough for her. This was the only way he knew how.

  He looked the stranger up and down, sizing him up. He’d take the bastard down, whatever it took. He never let anything stand in his way.

  “What are you?”

  The male’s eyes seemed to glow, transforming from stone to fire.

  “Daybreaker,” he hissed, and then lunged forward, grabbing Davian by the throat.

  The last thing he remembered was Drak’s weapon-like teeth piercing his neck and the soft tug of the creature’s mouth as he sucked his lifeblood from his body.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cannalise tossed in her frozen bed, her gossamer sheets twisting around her naked body. She was lost in sleep, but it was fitful. Even in rest, she felt as though things were amiss.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat somehow broke through the fog of sleep, alerting her that she wasn’t alone in her room.

  Her eyes snapped open to find her wren seated in a chair near the bed. His arms were crossed over his chest, his brow curled in a frown. He stared, his eyes
never leaving hers.

  She should be angry. But she could only assume she hadn’t actually woken. This was a dream. Rowene would never allow a stranger into Canna’s room. Not when she was asleep and undressed and unable to defend herself.

  His gaze left hers and traveled down to her bare breasts, pausing there for several breaths before continuing to her waist where the translucent sheet had tangled.

  Canna tried to relax. It was a dream. She could dream of her wren, the same way she used to dream of having friends as a childmaiden. Dreams were harmless. No one ever had to know about them. She could lock them up inside herself and keep them for however long she wished. Perhaps the Fates gave her dreams to make up for the all the sadness they’d let befall her.

  She watched as his gaze traveled back up to her face. His expression was sullen. There was no fight in him now.

  A dream, that’s why.

  Anything could happen. It was her carriage to drive. What would she say to him? If things weren’t as they were. What would she reveal to him? If she knew he’d never really know.

  There was one thing she wanted to get off her chest more than any other.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered so faintly she barely heard her own words.

  Breckken went still at her confession.

  “Are you?” he murmured, skeptical. “For what?”

  For so much. Where to begin? For being so difficult. For being hard to love. Even though she swore she’d never apologize for that, she wanted to. For him. Because in this, her mind’s conjuring of him, she felt he deserved it. But most of all, she was sorry for humiliating him, degrading him in front of others. Even if his intentions were only to heal himself of heartsickness, he didn’t deserve her ridicule. She knew how badly careless words could hurt.

  She wanted him gone, true. But her actions last night stemmed purely from a place of self-defense. Soul-defense. She couldn’t let anyone see how much this wren’s betrayal hurt. And so she’d hurt him as a distraction.

  “Sorry for what, my maiden?”

  “For it all.”

  She couldn’t make her voice any stronger. She felt weak as a newborn. Even in her dreams, her fear still had a hold of her. That inner fear that no one ever saw, that no one knew existed. If she could have whatever she wanted, she would run to him, curl up in his lap, and he would hold her. She would cry tears and not be ashamed of them. She would ask his forgiveness for her cruelty, and he would give it. And he wouldn’t want her only as a cure. And he wouldn’t have abandoned her for a millennia. He’d want her for his mate. His partner. And they would begin their life together, and she would do her very best to make him happy.

  Her very best. She would try harder than she ever had at anything.

  But this wasn’t real. And she could not have whatever she wanted.

  “For sleeping soundly while I nearly froze?” he mused, his eyes passing over her body once more.

  “Yes.”

  “For pretending you feel nothing for me when you indeed do?”

  Canna pressed her lips together. It wasn’t real. She could admit it. No one would know. “Yes.”

  Breckken’s eyes closed, and when they opened, he looked even sadder than before.

  “Why are you here?” she rasped. “In my dreams.”

  He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his gaze at her. “Is that what you think? That you dream now?”

  Canna nodded.

  He was quiet, his eyes making the journey from her face to her toes yet again. Perhaps she should cover herself, but she didn’t see the point if it was her dream. She could be herself.

  “I wonder if you’d lay there so peacefully if I told you this was no dream.”

  She frowned at his hard words. They were like cold water in the face, waking her right up. This was a dream, wasn’t it? Her wren wasn’t truly in her room, staring at her naked body.

  She sat up, yanking at the sheet to untangle it from her legs.

  “Don’t do it,” he warned. “Don’t you dare.”

  She froze, her mouth agape. Was this really happening?

  “I’m dreaming of you,” she murmured. “I must be. Row would never betray me by letting you into my quarters.”

  “Betray you? This isn’t betrayal. Betrayal is what you did to me last night.”

  It was true. This was no dream. Why hadn’t she pinched herself earlier. Perhaps she could have avoided this embarrassment.

  She let her face harden. Let her mask fall over the vulnerability she’d so carelessly shown minutes earlier.

  “Don’t do that either,” Breckken snapped. “Don’t hide behind that foolish hard shell.”

  “Who was the first to betray?” she demanded. “Who?”

  “Me!” He shouted. “Me. But I never meant to. I never abandoned you. I cried when you did. I hurt when you hurt. I watched you. Followed you. I waited for the Fates. That was my great betrayal. I wished things to be perfect for us. I was too careful, wanting to do everything right by you when what I should have done was said, fuck it, and shown myself as soon as you were a grown maiden. But I didn’t. I waited until happenstance took its course. And now, I suppose we will both pay for my mistake.” He leaned forward in the chair, his gaze so intense she wanted to run. “But I never wished you dead, my maiden. Never.”

  Canna swallowed, the lump in her throat painful with regret. “I didn’t mean it,” she breathed. How could she have said something so awful. For the first time in her life, she felt like the monster people thought her to be.

  “You never say things you don’t mean. Remember?”

  She stared at him, her breath racing, feeding off his fury. She wanted to be someone else right now. She wanted to erase the past hours. But this was the reality of regret. You could never undo the hurts you caused. You could only build monuments atop them, and pledge to never do it again.

  “I should dress,” she said carefully. Anything to lessen the brutality of her vulnerability.

  “No.” He looked like he could barely contain himself. If he exploded, she didn’t know if it would be anger or desire that escaped. Maybe both. “I know what you’re doing. You’re hiding.” He shook his head. “You’re so strong, Cannalise, but you’re so damn afraid. But for now, you’re going to sit there, naked before me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are mine, and I’ve wished for so long to look upon you. So I will. You are lucky I didn’t wish to touch.”

  “Why didn’t you wish to touch me?” Did he find her nakedness repulsive?

  Breckken sighed, running his hands down his unshaven cheeks. “Because I do not wish to make you unhappy. And apparently my touch does the opposite of what I wish it to.”

  He was right. She was scared. Maybe she wouldn’t admit it with her voice, but he could see through that anyway. What was the point in arguing? For once in her life, she didn’t want to fight. She should want to. Should want to demand her will, own her actions, but she had no fight left. He’d seen too much. Whatever happened now, would happen at his whim.

  “I’ve said my piece. Now say yours.”

  She shook her head. “I have nothing to say.”

  “Not true. Tell me your fault with me. Tell me every fault. I need to hear why my maiden won’t give me the chance I’ve waited an eternity for.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to imagine a world where she could be open with him. That world didn’t exist.

  “I cannot.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  Canna swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, but that only brought his eyes downward.

  Breckken sat back in his chair, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. “My strong Cannalise. She can take down several Helix at once. Best any wren in the city. Shoot arrows with laser sharp precision. But she cannot be naked before her mate.”

  She couldn’t even glare at him as she wanted to. Being bare physically was doing something to her soul. She felt bare to the bone. Could he not
just read her mind now? Did she really have to say all the things she felt?

  She straightened her shoulders, determined to prove him wrong. “It’s not that,” she said. “I just don’t wish to talk of these things.”

  He stared at her, his mouth forming a hard line. Suddenly he stood, towering over her bed. Her wren was tall, she knew, but she’d always met him standing. Now, she felt significantly smaller.

  With sure, quick motions, he began unbuttoning his thick fur robe until his chest was exposed, along with the pants underneath. He unsheathed his daggers and laid them on the side table. Then came his belt.

  “What are you doing?” she rushed out.

  “Undressing.”

  Well, that much she knew. But why?

  “I… I… do not understand.”

  He slid the pants down his muscled legs revealing his rather large sex and she turned her head away.

  “Perhaps being the only one naked has caused you to become shy.”

  “It isn’t that.”

  “Well, it only seems fair. I have gazed upon you all morning, memorizing the intimate details of your body. It’s your turn. Then perhaps your tongue will loosen.”

  She took a deep breath, hoping to steady the shaking that threatened to overtake her. “I told you, it has nothing to do with that.”

  “You wish to look upon me. I can hear your heart racing in your chest. You are excited, or perhaps scared. Probably both. But you wish to look. I know you do.”

  Damn it. Her wren was tearing her to shreds. If he meant to abolish every wall she’d built, every protective barrier, he’s was doing a fine job.

  She heard the rustling of clothing. His boots being removed. Her eyes had a mind of their own.

  She peeked. His gaze was on her as he removed every article of clothing except his robe. And she was riveted. Then with a heavy sigh, he shrugged off the thick fur, revealing his sculptured torso.

  Canna gasped.

  Not because he was the most lovely male she’d ever beheld, even though he was. Not because of his brute strength and fine cut muscle. Not because he was finally as exposed as she was. No, what took her breath was the apparent harm that had been done to him.