Dark Warrior Unbroken

by Alexis Morgan

  He couldn’t sit there any longer. He picked up his tableware and headed into the kitchen. After setting it in the sink, he stared out the window.

  Someone punched him on the arm. “Earth to Sandor. Earth to Sandor.”

  Kerry was looking at him with mild exasperation. “We’ve still got business to attend to. I assume you tried to block her memory.”

  “No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t. I did the other night in the alley because I had no choice. This morning’s trip down memory lane also showed her that, too.”

  “And she didn’t take it well.” His Dame calmly rinsed and loaded the coffee mugs in the top rack of the dishwasher.

  When he didn’t immediately respond, she used her energy power to give him a slight shove. Despite her diminutive size, Kerry wasn’t afraid to face down irate males several times her size. “Well? Details please.”

  Irritated, Sandor snapped, “No, Kerry, she didn’t. Not only that, she accused me of using my secret abilities to coerce her into bed. This, after a night of mind-blowing sex that I’ve never experienced before and probably never will again. Is that enough detail for you?”

  “Watch it, Sandor. That’s my wife you’re crowding there.”

  Ranulf muscled in to get right up in Sandor’s face, his eyes blazing with blue fire. “I don’t give a rat’s ass how upset you are over this mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Talion. You do NOT talk to my wife like that. Am I making myself clear?”

  Sandor had been pushed far enough. “No, we’re not clear on that, you low-life berserker. This conversation between me and the Dame does not involve you. Stay the hell out of my business!”

  He gave Ranulf a shove, a move guaranteed to unleash the Consort’s own need to strike out. But before a single fist connected, an invisible force froze both of them in midswing. Son of a bitch, he wished Kerry would quit doing that. He really needed to punch someone, and Ranulf was such a great target.

  Kerry slowly eased off the pressure, making them prove they’d regained control of their tempers before she released them completely. Sandor wasn’t the only one breathing hard from the strain of trying to break through her hold; sweat dripped off Ranulf’s forehead.

  The Viking gave his wife a chagrined look. “I hate it more every time you do that.”

  “The answer is obvious: don’t make me have to do it again.” Her smile was impish.

  Normally Sandor enjoyed watching Kerry run her big warrior husband around in circles, but right now he needed some breathing room.

  “I’ll be back down in a while.” He stalked out of the kitchen without looking back.

  Half an hour later he came back downstairs, showered and shaved, and still wired. To his surprise, Ranulf was sitting at the kitchen counter alone with a fresh pot of coffee. Kerry’s absence gave Sandor a sense of foreboding.

  “Okay, where did she go?” he asked, although he suspected that he knew the answer.

  Ranulf turned to face him. “To talk to your woman.”

  “Lena’s not one of our people. Kerry has no jurisdiction over her.” Though Lena wouldn’t be the first human casualty sacrificed for the greater good of the Kyth people. Sandor headed for the door with his keys in hand.

  Ranulf just smiled. “I’ll ride along so I can catch a lift home with Kerry.”

  Without waiting for a response, Sandor slammed out the back door and headed for the garage. The Viking could ride along if he wanted to. But if he or Kerry raised a finger to harm Lena, there would be hell to pay.

  Kerry approached Lena’s door slowly. At this point only full honesty would do; that was the only option other than a total mind scrub. Even if Kerry was willing to risk the possible damage that might cause to Lena’s mind, she didn’t think Sandor would ever forgive her.

  Besides, they owed the woman. Thanks to her, Sandor was finally showing signs of moving past the horrific experience of having to execute his lifelong friend. The scary deadness in his eyes had all but disappeared since he’d met Lena.

  Sometimes she hated her new role as Grand Dame of the Kyth. The burden seemed to grow heavier all the time. It would have been nice to have time to adjust to the knowledge of what she was before having to take on the full duties as Dame, and she wasn’t the only one questioning her ability to do the job. But now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

  Ignoring the Do Not Disturb sign, Kerry rapped softly on the door, then harder when she didn’t get a response. After the third time, foot steps shuffled toward the door and the dead bolt was unlocked.

  Lena left the chain on and blinked sleepily through the small crack in the doorway. “What the heck do you want?”

  Kerry said soothingly, “I thought you might want to talk. If you’ve got questions, I probably have answers.”

  The door closed long enough for Lena to undo the chain. When she swung the door open, she looked far more awake and battle ready. “And how do I know you’re not planning to use some kind of Vulcan mind meld on me?”

  “Because that would upset Sandor, and he matters a lot to me.”

  Lena allowed Kerry into her room. “Why would it upset him? He’s already used it on me himself.”

  Kerry let a little of her temper show. “And he’s beating himself up over that. Why don’t you get off your high horse and cut the man some slack?”

  Unless she’d missed her guess, those were Sandor’s sweats that Lena was wearing. The question was why? For convenience, or for the connection to him? She’d know more about the strength of their chemistry when she saw them together. Which, knowing Sandor, should be very soon.

  “So ask your questions, Lena. I’m sure you must have some doozies.”

  Lena opened the small fridge in the corner and took out two cans of diet cola, set one down on the table in front of Kerry, then sat cross-legged on the bed and popped open her own.

  “Thanks.” Kerry took a long drink before setting the can aside. “If you want answers from me, you’d better get started, because I have a feeling Sandor will come charging in here any minute.”

  Lena choked on her drink. When she could breathe, she sputtered, “Why? Is he afraid I’ll drag you into a serious smackdown?”

  Kerry prayed for patience. “Not because he’s worried about me. It’s you he’ll want to protect.”

  “I don’t need his protection.” Lena looked insulted.

  This time Kerry smiled. She knew just how the woman felt. Ranulf’s overprotective tendencies drove her crazy at times, no matter how well intentioned.

  “Yeah, but Sandor won’t see it that way. The man’s got a protective streak a mile wide. Not only that, I suspect Ranulf will be hot on Sandor’s heels to keep him from running roughshod over me.”

  Chapter 10

  Lena wondered. Would Sandor really side with her against the Thorsens? That didn’t make sense—Kerry and her husband were obviously very important to him. Buried in the swirling darkness she’d fallen into that morning was the feeling that Kerry and the older woman she’d seen were different from the other people in Sandor’s world. Lena tried to remember how, and Sandor’s voice echoed in her head.

  Kerry Thorsen was…royalty? Lena stared at the petite woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the local baseball team’s logo on the front, and tried to bring that picture into focus. Kerry wasn’t a queen; she was a dame—with a capital D.

  She blurted, “What’s a Dame, anyway?”

  Kerry set her drink aside. “A short history lesson first. Mind you, I only recently found out about all of this myself. If you want more details, you’ll have to ask Ranulf. He’s lived through most of the history of our people.

  “At some time in the far distant past, a subspecies of humans evolved in northern Europe and Scandinavia. Although they looked like everyone else, they had some different abilities. The important one was that they could absorb life energy from other humans, which helped them thrive in harsh climates, especially when food was scarce. When there got to be too many Kyth, as they came to
call themselves, they started migrating to other parts of their world.”

  She continued, “Some of the Kyth developed other abilities. The strongest of the Kyth became the Talions, the defenders of our people. You’ve met two of the strongest.”

  “Sandor and Ranulf.” That was a no-brainer—not that she was buying into this fairy tale.

  “Exactly. But the Kyth have always been a matriarchal society, ruled by a woman known as the Grand Dame. For the past thousand-plus years, that woman was Grand Dame Judith. We lost her recently, and that’s been hard on all of us.” A shadow passed over Kerry’s expressive face.

  “But moving on—to rule the Kyth, the Dame has to be stronger in some ways than even the Ta lions, which is the reason I can control Ranulf and Sandor when I have to. The Dame has the additional ability to share energy with others and use it to heal. Evidently that combination of talents is incredibly rare. According to my husband, he’s known only one other woman besides Dame Judith in his thousand-year-long life with that same combination of abilities. And surprise, surprise—that’s me.”

  “You do realize that this sounds like a Movie of the Week feature for the Sci-Fi Channel.” Lena laughed even though it didn’t do to take wackjobs lightly.

  Kerry arched an eyebrow, and suddenly Lena found herself flattened on the bed. She struggled to sit up, but it was as if a heavy, invisible blanket was holding her down.

  Kerry walked over to stand by the bed. “It would really help if you believe what I’m trying to tell you.”

  Then she tugged Lena back up into a sitting position. As soon as she was upright, Lena jerked her hand away.

  “If it’s any comfort, Sandor and Ranulf really hate it when I do that, too.” Her grin was infectious, inviting Lena to enjoy the idea of the two men being controlled by a woman half their size.

  Lena gave in and snickered. How much could it hurt to play along? “So, you’re telling me that your husband is really, really old?”

  “Yes. He’s a real Viking, and about a thousand years old, give or take a decade or two.”

  “So what does all of this have to do with me?”

  “We’re not sure. Evidently you have your own unusual talent. Sandor said that you were able to read what happened to that poor woman in the alley.”

  Lena had spent so much of her life hiding that secret that it was difficult to admit to it. “It hit around puberty. Suddenly, I could see and hear things no one else could.”

  Kerry’s sympathetic look was almost Lena’s undoing, but she quickly squashed the desire to confess all. “It comes and goes. My guard must have been down when I touched her. I just wanted to see if she was all right.”

  “And your guard was definitely down this morning when you touched Sandor’s tattoo.”

  Okay, they’d finally gotten to the crux of the matter. “Yes. All hell broke loose.”

  Even as Lena said it, the darkness swirled in her head, threatening to overwhelm her again. It took every ounce of willpower she could muster to refuse to let it control her. When she was sure the room was no longer spinning, she slowly opened her eyes to find Kerry standing right next to her again.

  Kerry looked relieved when she returned to her chair. “Nice job pulling yourself together, Lena. I didn’t want to have to interfere.”

  The immediate surge of anger burned away the last bit of fog clouding Lena’s thoughts. “As in, mess with my mind? I’m glad you didn’t, because I wouldn’t want to have to deck royalty.”

  God, she needed to put some space between herself and everything Kerry Thorsen represented. A knock at the door gave her the excuse she was looking for. Please let it be Sandor. As upset as she was with the big jerk, she needed his help to make sense of all this.

  Then she could figure out what she was going to do with the knowledge that he’d murdered someone, with the help of his Grand Dame and a thousand-year-old Viking.

  “Sean, are you all right?”

  He opened his eyes to find a very worried Tara hovering over him. When he tried to move nausea ripped through him, sending him diving over the edge of the bed to grab the wastebasket. It was a position he’d been in off and on all night.

  The pain from spending so many hours retch ing left him weak, and his head felt on the verge of exploding.

  When the latest batch of spasms had passed, Tara helped him back up and wiped his face with a cool rag. God, could he be any more pathetic?

  “Water?” he whispered.

  “Here, but take it easy. Sip it slowly.”

  She gently raised his head to take sips from a bottle. The liquid gurgled uneasily in his stomach but eventually settled down.

  He couldn’t remember ever being this sick. Come to think of it, he didn’t remember ever being sick at all. What the heck had happened to him? When he tried to remember the past twenty-four hours, all he could come up with was a vague memory of laughing wildly as he’d walked home with Kenny. No—staggered home, with Kenny fighting to keep him upright.

  “Is Kenny okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. I sent him out for some of that sports drink you like and some chicken soup. I’ve got crackers, too, when you feel up to nibbling on something.”

  The thought of regular food almost had him diving back for the wastebasket again. “I’ve never reacted to feeding this way. It’s like I’ve been poisoned.”

  Tara pulled a chair over to sit beside him. She brushed his hair back off his face and laid the cool cloth on his forehead. He tried not to moan at how good that felt.

  She looked worried. “I don’t know what happened, but thank goodness Kenny decided to follow you last night. You were staggering and acting like you were drunk when you got back. I kept trying to hush you so we didn’t wake up the neighbors, and all of a sudden you turned pasty white and then honest-to-God green. Before we could prevent it, you hit the floor like a ton of bricks.”

  She dipped the cloth in water again, wrung it out, and started wiping down his arms and chest with long, soothing strokes. “About five minutes after we got you into bed, the vomiting started.”

  “I’m sorry.” The one person he never wanted to worry was Tara, and right now she looked scared. “I’m starting to feel better.”

  “You look better—but roadkill would’ve looked better than you did a few hours ago.” She managed a faint smile, but the dark circles under her eyes screamed exhaustion.

  “Have you had any sleep?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Not so much.”

  “Go to bed. I’ll be all right now.”

  “I will when Kenny gets back. He already caught a few z’s.” She dipped the cloth again. “Sean, we almost called nine-one-one.”

  Which would have spelled disaster for all of them. He wished Kenny hadn’t dragged him back here. Especially because he wasn’t sure he’d find the courage to leave Tara behind again.

  “I’m glad you didn’t make that call. Hard to explain that what I ate was human in origin. I doubt they’d understand.” He tried to smile.

  “This is no joking matter, Sean. I thought you were going to die last night, and then where would I be? And Kenny, too.” Tears tumbled down her cheeks, each one like a stab in his heart.

  “Tara, honey, I’m so sorry. I know I’m saying that a lot lately, but I mean it.”

  Then her expression hardened. “I also know that you weren’t planning on coming back at all last night, you bastard. How dare you think you could just walk away from me? From us? You’ll stay in tonight, or I’ll tie you to the bed.” She slopped the rag onto his forehead, sending rivulets of cold water down his face and neck.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mostly because he was too weak to stand, much less hunt. Besides, he’d promise her anything if it would make her happy. Even if he had to break those promises later.

  Silence settled over them, but it wasn’t particularly peaceful.

  He was seriously losing it. He’d overfed last night, a first for him. Even so, he should have been able to process the en
ergy or pass it off to Kenny. Had feeding from the sick drunk caused this or had it been the other guy? There was no way to know.

  The door to the apartment opened and shut quietly, and Kenny came in with a grocery sack. “I got the stuff you wanted for sicko there, Tara.”

  “Thanks, Kenny. Would you pour some of the sports drink in a glass? I want to get some of it down Sean before I sleep.”

  The boy did as she asked, grousing about it the whole time, but Sean could tell Kenny wasn’t as upset about having to watch over him as he wanted them to believe.

  The lemon-lime flavor tasted good as it trickled down Sean’s throat. As tempting as it was to guzzle the whole glass, he forced himself to take it slow while his stomach was still so unsettled.

  “Go on and get some sleep, Tara. Nurse Kenny is officially on duty.”

  Kenny slid into the seat by the bed as soon as Tara left. “And I’d better be getting paid for this.”

  “You’ll get paid exactly what you’re worth.” Sean hid a smile as he rolled over toward the wall. It would take Kenny a while to realize he’d just been insulted, but that was half the fun.

  For the moment his stomach behaved itself, which was a relief. Maybe when he woke up, he could figure out what had happened and what he was going to do about it. Now that Tara was aware that he’d planned to leave in order to protect her and Kenny, she’d be watching him like a hawk. But at the first hint that he’d become a real danger to Tara and Kenny, he’d find a way to disappear. Even if it killed him.

  Lena flung open the door and glared at Sandor, her temper obviously still running at full bore. “Well, are you going to come in, or stand out there in the hallway?”

  It wasn’t the friendliest greeting he’d ever had, but at least she was willing to let him in.

  He held up a paper bag and a tray with four coffee cups in it. “The good news is, I come bearing gifts.”