"Shhh! It’s OK." He lowers his gun but doesn’t move away.
His pulse races at the base of his neck. A shudder runs down his spine. He doesn’t touch me though. Just goes still, the planes of his body molded to mine.
And I want him to stay, too.
I want him to brush his lips to mine, run his finger down between my breasts, over my belly, lower still. And then his weight is gone.
His bare feet thud on the ground.
By the time I open my eyes he’s already slipping on a shoulder holster over his unbuttoned shirt and sliding the gun in.
Dropping back into the armchair he says, "You know how to fight with a sword, I’ll give you that, but you had the gun on safety all along."
I redden at that.
"Fine. I’m sure there’ll be many out there who will happily take what I have to offer and give me a place to stay," I bite out.
Sliding out of bed, I turn around and make for the door.
Where can I go? What do I do now?
My thoughts race around my head and yet I keep going. As I reach the door of the bedroom a feeling of helplessness flickers through me and I flinch. If I don’t complete my mission, if I can’t persuade him to let me stay…my sister and my mother will certainly not make it out of this city alive. A wave of sickness washes over me. I wonder if I should stop, turn around and throw myself at his mercy when he says, his voice reluctant. “One day. You can stay one day.”
I keep going.
"Two," he grinds out.
I stop just outside the bedroom door, my hands folded over my waist, squashing down the desperation that still twists my gut.
"Five days," I throw at him over my shoulder, pleased when my voice comes out all firm. Unemotional. Like him.
"Three days. And. Not. An. Hour. More," he snaps, a tone of finality in his voice.
I try not to let the triumph show on my face. But I can’t stop the relief from creeping into my eyes.
"Don’t be too happy about it. You’re going to have to bunk on the couch in the living room," he says, adding, "remember you have to keep completely out of sight. No one and I mean No. One. Can know you are here. Do you understand?"
I’m about to nod when there's a knock on the door.
Chapter Six
She can’t be seen here, no way. Jumping to his feet he walks up to her and gripping her hand drags her back into the bedroom.
"Hey," she protests.
"Shut up. And stay quiet," he snaps and the vehemence in his voice finally gets through to her.
Almost flinging her inside the room, he slams the bedroom door shut before heading to the main door and flinging it open. The man pushes his way past Jai into the room.
As usual, his father fills the space with his presence. He’s almost as tall as Jai’s six-feet-two-inches in height. But he’s broader, his well-sculpted shoulders showing the marks of his life – surviving the tsunami, getting through Jai’s mother’s death and now this, the responsibility of running the capital of the newly formed Indostan.
At forty-nine, Vikram’s jet-black hair is just beginning to gray at the temples. He looks more youthful than his years. Enough to still set female hearts racing, as Jai knows. Enough for the younger cadets in his team to crush on him.
"You should have called, Mayor," Jai tells him, his voice formal.
The man’s amber eyes, so like Jai’s, rake his son’s face. "I wanted to get a report of the operation. Firsthand," he says.
Vik’s features are closed. Jai’s always admired his ability to shut off all feeling and focus on his duty. To do what’s best for everyone, for his family, for his country.
Taking a step forward, the older man clamps his hand on Jai’s shoulder, gripping it so tight it hurts. Jai winces a little but the other man doesn’t notice. A smile cracks his features. It takes the edge off the harshness of his uniform. As always, Vik wears black trousers, a black shirt and army issue boots, which weigh a ton, as Jai well knows. When he was younger he’d tried to walk around in them, wanting to see how it felt to fit into his father’s shoes. Now he knows better.
"You did well, Jaidon," he says.
In the five years since Jai started training, this is the first time his father’s told him anything resembling a compliment.
Then Vik surprises him even more by adding, "I know how difficult it is for you to do this. I know you don’t always agree with the decisions the council and I make."
The council, formed of eight self-elected "elders" who survived the tsunami, may have started out with good intentions but Jai often doubts their judgment. Their sole aim is to make this city the foremost economic power in the world. And it’s not that part he disagrees with.
It’s just…what if you didn’t want only that? What if you wanted more than just commerce and the comforts it could buy? What if you wanted something that went deeper? Something to feed your soul?
As if reading Jai’s mind, his father’s eyes soften, and a smile plays around his lips. It lights up his features, giving Jai a glimpse of a younger, more caring version of the person he knows today. For a second, he sees the man his mother fell in love with. Just thinking about her makes it unbearable for him to be so close to his father. It’s as if Jai can sense her through him.
He’d been just eight when Ruby had been killed, protecting the city from the shifters. She’d died but not before making Jai promise that he’d carry on what she’d started. That he’d become a Guardian of the city she loved.
His mother may have gone but she had made sure she’d tied him to the city. Tied him to her apron strings. Pushing that thought away, Jai moves to the window. When his father walks up to stand next to him, he shifts away but the other man doesn’t notice.
Outside, the late evening sun catches the sparkling waters of the bay. Looming over it all are the twisted girders of what was once the Sea Link Bridge.
While the city had reinvented itself after the tsunami the ruins of the broken bridge had been deemed a waste of time and money to clean up. Or perhaps they had been left as a reminder, a warning that however far they may have come, at heart, the city would always be about money.
Sometimes Jai feels he’s been born in the wrong decade, for, in this post-tsunami universe there’s no space for feelings or emotions. All there is is, is duty, about finding your space in the system and staying there.
"Whenever I see it, I think of her…" his father says softly, then looks away as if unable to bear the sight of his past. "It’s not like me to get emotional. I am getting sentimental in my old age." He laughs a little before turning to look at Jai. "But today when I heard that you’d been called out on a mission—"
"You should have more confidence in me," Jai says, a tinge of bitterness creeping into his voice.
"Oh! I do. And more than you know. You are so like her though—"
"You underestimated her too, didn’t you?" Jai shoots back.
Strange, these flashes of insight, which come as you grow up. When you begin to see your parents and their relationships with each other in a new light.
"She was strong all right. Ruby had a will of her own. And if you thought I was the one in control of our relationship you are wrong."
They chuckle in shared memory, still staring out the window, still refusing to look at each other.
Finally, Jai places a tentative hand on the other man’s shoulder. He feels the strength of Vik’s muscles below his military fatigues. It reminds him that this is the same father he’d leaned on in his growing years. The one who’d comforted him when he was bullied at school for preferring to read poetry over participating in a shooting competition.
"I’m a lot like her," he says. "But I’m like you too," he tells Vik.
The other man nods and this time when his father smiles it reaches his eyes. "I have no doubt about that. You wouldn’t put aside your own wishes to keep the promise you made to her if you weren’t like me," he says.
But inside, Jai knows that’s not co
mpletely true. Like his mother, he’d much rather just follow his heart’s desires. Just jump in first and think later. And yet, as if to stop that, as if to hold him back, it’s she who’s bound him to this life of ‘doing what’s expected of him first’.
"I’m just glad you’re safe," says Vik. "I had to come see you in person to make sure you were fine."
"That wasn’t hard to admit now, was it?" Jai says in a droll voice. This, at least he’s inherited from his father. This dry humor.
Vik nods. "Touché. I deserved that." He nods. Folding his hand over his chest he asks, "So the shifters are getting desperate aren’t they? I’m surprised we haven’t had any outbreaks inside the city—"
"There’s more," says Jai, then hesitates before continuing. ‘They seem to have grown stronger, faster. Fast enough to dodge our bullets.
"They move swift enough to evade bullets?" he repeats as if he hasn’t heard Jai correctly. "That’s impossible…"
"Is it?" asks Jai. "We’ve always assumed that the occult nature of the sword, and whatever forces it triggered when it sparked off the tsunamis is responsible for the accelerating genetic shifts in the world. No one even knew of shifters till we sighted them a few years ago. What’s to stop them from becoming more agile as they learn how to tap into their strengths?"
The full impact of what Jai’s saying dawns on Vik.
"So how did you kill them?" he asks.
Jai glances at the sword.
"They may be able to dodge bullets but apparently a blade is harder to evade," Jai replies. "It also means that—"
Vik interrupts him, his mind already moving a couple of steps ahead. "—that we need to organize intensive hand-to-hand and sword-training camps, immediately. This is far more serious than I thought—"
He pauses halfway and looks at Jai strangely. "Still, you did manage to overcome the shifters with your sword?"
I nod. "It helped that it was that sword," he says. "There was one other thing I wanted to tell you." Jai hesitates, then goes on, "This one wolf…shifter…" he corrects himself. "It was younger than the others. And it didn’t fight me, didn’t threaten me, just stood there watching me. It was almost friendly—"
"Friendly!" Vik bursts out. "These are savage creatures, half-human only in name. There’s no humanity in them. Don’t forget they killed your mother, Jai, so I hope you didn’t let your emotions get in the way."
At his tone Jai bristles.
"I killed it," he says simply.
"You did the right thing." Vik claps his hand on Jai’s back. "If you’d let it go, it would only have come back. The world’s a better place with one less shifter."
The same words Jai had used to reason with himself. So, why is it that Jai does not believe them himself?
Vik makes for the door and is about to step out when they hear a crash in the bedroom.
Chapter Seven
"You have company?" Vik frowns.
Jai’s saved from replying when the door opens and Ariana saunters in with a breezy "Hello!"
She’s taken off the long-sleeved shirt to reveal a thin vest. Her hair’s in disarray as if…as if someone’s run their fingers through it. As if they’d been making out.
He knows then that she’s overheard their conversation and knows Vik is his father and wants to give him that impression too. Jai swears to himself.
He’d told her specifically not to come out. And she’d disobeyed him. All just to rub him up the wrong way. Just to annoy him. To get under his skin. A sizzle of anger and something else licks his nerve endings. Lust. A fierce need to go up to her and shake her up, mess her up even more. To kiss her. And that sends a shock of desire through him. Clamping down on it without questioning why he’s reacting so strongly to her, he turns around. He has every intention of telling her off but already she’s strutting past him. She holds out a hand to his father.
"I’m Ariana West," she says.
Vic’s jaw hardens as he looks down at her. Unmoving. His face as pitiless as the sunrays beating down on the city.
"You’re Jaidon’s father." She draws out his full name and Jai winces.
Vikram doesn’t respond, doesn’t shake her hand. His father is suspicious of her and rightly so.
He’s had women stay over before, of course, he’s just never had to introduce them to his father. Besides, his father has never been good with strangers. This comes from years of regarding everyone and everything with distrust. You never know who’s your enemy.
No, Vik only trusted blood relations. And perhaps that’s why, despite all the differences with his half-brother, he’s chosen to keep Vishal on as the General of the Guardians.
"No doubt you see the resemblance," Vik finally replies, his voice cool.
"So this is where he gets his bad attitude from?" Dropping her arm to her side, she responds, not in the least awed by the older man.
And Jai’s seen grown-up men, toughened soldiers cower under the weight of his father’s stare. At that moment Jai wants to pull her to him and kiss her.
And that confuses him, turns him on even more. Feeling a tug of desire, Jai pushes all thought of her out of his head. It won’t do to let on what he’s feeling. Not when his father is bound to pick up the effect Ariana has on him.
And he’s very aware that the more time his father spends with Ariana the more chance he has of finding out that she’s also illegal. And then Vik wouldn’t hesitate to throw her back into the camp, or worse, on a suicide mission to hunt down the shifters.
Deciding to end this right here, he says, "Ah! Mayor, you were just leaving, weren’t you?" he prompts Vik and, to his relief, Vik takes the hint.
Still frowning, he nevertheless turns to go. "Keep me posted on the progress," Vik commands before striding to the door.
Allowing his muscles to relax, Jai turns and glares at Ariana, letting her have the full blast of his frustration.
Ignoring him, she sweeps past him and to the kitchen. "So is there something to eat or do all you tough soldier types survive on anger?"
Gritting his teeth, he follows her in. Reaching for the painkillers, he swallows one with water from the tap. All in the hope it will drive away the headache that’s hammering at the back of his eyes.
"Are you upset I crept into your vehicle, made it into your house and took you by surprise?" she asks.
"Maybe just a little," he concedes. "How did you do that?"
"Stowaway in your vehicle?" she asks. "That was easy—"
He interrupts her. "No, I mean learn to fight like that with a sword." In his head he’s trying to reconcile the wildling holding up the bloodied sword with the girl who had coyly half-flirted with his dad.
She shuffles her feet and folds her hands over her chest, "I’ve been fighting since I was five. The other girls wanted to wear frilly frocks and play with dolls…me? I was playing football with the boys and learning to fence and ride."
"Ride?" he asks.
If she’s learnt fencing and sword-fighting from a young age, she must come from a well-to-do family. Especially since most people in the West today are struggling to make ends meet.
"Horses," she replies. "We ride horses where I come from. Not wolves."
"Touché." Jai tilts his head, conceding her the point.
Unable to stay still, she walks to the kitchen shelves and begins opening and closing doors.
"What are you looking for?" he asks.
As if in answer her stomach growls. She doesn’t reply, just stands on tiptoe trying to reach one of the upper shelves. Her vest rises to reveal the pale-gold expanse of her stomach. Her skin would be soft to touch. Soft with a thread of strength running below.
He wants to reach out and touch her there. Just where her waist curves at the side, where it dips before flaring out over her hips.
A spark in his lower belly shakes loose. Jai’s eyes travel up, noticing how her ribs stand out, outlined against her skin. Anger flares, but more than that, what takes him by surprise is this need to take c
are of her.
She’s so skinny, dammit.
Probably hasn’t eaten in days.
And he wants to help her. Wants to keep her here, away from the refugee camp. Away from the shifters. From his father and the council. Here in his house, where he can protect her,
But to do so is the first step against everything he’s sworn to live by, everything he’s learned and trained for since the promise he made to his mother. And that he cannot do.
Jai runs his fingers through his hair, the only outward sign of the thoughts spinning through his head. "Sit down," he says. "I’ll get us something to eat."
She drops back on her heels. When she turns, her forehead is furrowed, "You cook?" she asks.
He smiles grimly at the surprise on her face, then gestures to the table. "Sit, will you? And do you mind first putting your shirt back on?"
He doesn’t look at her as he walks to the cooler in the corner of the kitchen.
"What? Am I distracting you?" she asks, her voice smug.
He doesn’t react, just says, "You may have deceived the mayor with your act but I’m not buying it. So go wash up. And put on some clothes," he adds.
She goes quiet at that.
He wants to turn around and see the play of emotions on her face. Watch her react to his snub.
She’s angry, he’s sure.
Probably swearing to get back at him in some form. Resisting the impulse, he focuses on pulling out a pack of tomatoes (they seem fine), spinach leaves going brown with age, a cucumber (already gone soggy; he drops this into the garbage chute), and cheese slices (still edible).
Finally, after what seems like a long interval, she flounces off.
His muscles going slack with relief. How would she surprise him next?
Chapter Eight
By the time she stalks back in and plops herself into one of the chairs, he’s spooning out the tea leaves into boiling water.
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 127