Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Was he one of Cree's?” Kahmal inquired. “The one who escaped?"

  "Aye. Sajin, twin of Aidan, who died. We were unable to find Sajin when we harvested this last batch."

  "And the other?"

  "Khiershon, Cree's eldest. I am sure you know Khiershon was taken to the Vex."

  Kahmal looked down at her lap and plucked a piece of lint from her pants. “I had heard he'd been captured, aye. Do you have any idea where those two are?"

  Kym shook her head. “No but when they are found—and eventually they will be—I will make sure they are well cared for. They will be incarcerated here in the Titaness but they will not have one hair on their heads harmed."

  "I see,” Kahmal said.

  "I hope you do, Akkadia, for I want nothing to happen to Kamerone Cree or his kin and I would rather see him take his bloodsons and blood nephews and leave this part of the megaverse for good,” Kym stated, meeting the other woman's eye with a stern look. “There are, however, those who would like nothing more than to see him burn alongside his men."

  "I was once of that mind set,” Kahmal said cautiously.

  "Understandable considering your sister met her fate at his hands."

  "Another sibling apparently lost her life on the Vex at the hands of his bloodson,” Kahmal said. “Do you have any knowledge of what happened there?"

  "Only that several Amazeen were there to execute a death warrant upon Khiershon Cree. It would not surprise me to learn the Serenians had a hand in his rescue. Your domestic queen made the comment that Khiershon had a great friend in a Serenian named Iyan McGregor and if they could find McGregor, they'd find Khiershon. I will need to consult with the goddess and see what She will tell me regarding Kamerone's eldest but my heart tells me he is well."

  "Cree spoke with Her while he was on the Alluvia,” Kahmal said. “Or so he claims."

  "Kamerone is incapable of lying,” Kym reminded her. “If he says he spoke to our goddess, he did.” She cocked her head to one side. “Did he relate to you what was said between them?"

  "He said She swore not to interfere with him rescuing his bloodkin but that She also told him She would not help him."

  "Now, that is curious,” Kym commented. “Five of the Elders on the Council are aligned with me to protect our glorious Reaper. The women gathered on the plaza today did not call for his blood."

  "A few showed anger,” Kahmal disagreed.

  "I would wager my left tit they were plants, instructed to behave as they did."

  "That could be. I, myself, witnessed few women willing to condemn him,” Kahmal said.

  "My thought is the goddess has decided to lend Her aid to Cree. Perhaps She feels it is best to rid us of him once and for all but in a way that will be honorable this time and not show the Multitude in a bad light."

  Kahmal nodded. “That is the telling point, isn't it, Your Grace. Honorable?"

  "If I had been allowed to have my way, you and your strike force would not have been sent after him in the first place. He deserved his freedom for what he did in helping our cause."

  Kahmal looked down at her hands. “We would have been sent after him whether or not the Daughters asked us to or not. He killed three of our Sisters. It was the defense queen's decision to send us. One of those killed was her youngest daughter."

  "Ah,” Kym said. “I am sorry to hear that. Will she press the issue when he escapes this time?"

  "She might, but since her eldest daughter will be with him when he flees—never able to return to Amazeen for her treasonous act—she might decide not to intervene."

  "To—as the Terrans say—cut her losses?” Kym pressed.

  "It seems our queens each have a Reaper to thank for her daughter's treachery,” Kahmal said quietly. “Queen Rhia's daughter, Raphaella, fled with Khiershon Cree, helping him escape in the first place.” She closed her eyes. “Now Queen Melanippe's daughter will be branded a traitor, too."

  "I am sure your mother will one day forgive you, Akkadia,” Kym said.

  "Never,” Kahmal said. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. “She will never forgive me, but that can not be helped. Cree saved my life as well as those of Chanz and Sern. He is deserving of our loyalty and help."

  "More than you will ever know,” Kym agreed. “By the way, send the Necromani and the Ionarians to see me as soon as you get back to your ship. I want to assess for myself their willingness to aid Kamerone and his kin."

  Kahmal acknowledged the order although she found it a strange request.

  * * * *

  It was dark, the hour well past midnight, when Cree heard the furtive movement coming closer to the cage. He lay on his side with his eyes cracked open just enough for him to survey the area immediately in front of him. With his acute psychic abilities homing in on the woman creeping toward his prison, he could not detect an aura of anger. All he felt was sadness and fright.

  There was something bulky in the woman's arms as she advanced on the cage. She was looking about her—her terror keen enough to send vibrations through the air.

  Although she was trying to be as quiet as possible, she could not control the rapid beat of her heart and Cree could hear it as clearly as he could her tremulous breathing. He saw her squat down by the cage and push what she carried through the bars.

  Their eyes met as the moon sailed out from behind a bank of clouds. He realized what it was that she had brought him and he sat up slowly. The woman was perched on the ground like a little sparrow and she was trembling from head to toe, poised to run if he made a sudden move.

  "Thank you,” he said quietly.

  Her mouth twitched into a hesitant smile but when he made no move to come toward her, the smile stayed. “You are welcome, Captain Cree,” she whispered.

  "May I know your name?” he asked.

  She looked about, seeming to expect guards to rush at her. “Diana,” she said. “I was a friend of Bridie's."

  "And you still are, Diana,” he said. “She will bless you for aiding her husband."

  "She is well?"

  "She was when last I saw her,” he said. “We have a son."

  A long sigh came from Diana. “I am happy for her, Captain.” She lifted a hand in farewell, got to her feet and disappeared into the night.

  Cree stood up and went to retrieve the pillow and blanket the woman had given him. His body ached from lying on the hard concrete and he had a brutal headache he suspected was because he hadn't had all that much to eat the day before. The food that had been begrudgingly provided for him had been minimal and almost tasteless, shoved into the cage by a woman who had actually hissed at him. He smiled thinking of Deon cursing the woman and calling her a coward.

  Taking the pillow and blanket back to the center of the cage, he lay down on his back, grateful for the softness and the clean smell of the pillow case. Although the night was chill, he was perfectly comfortable since Reaper body temperatures were higher than that of humans. The blanket he folded and shoved under his rump to cushion him from the hardness of the floor.

  He stared up at the juncture where the bars of the cage met at the top, welded together to form an arched ceiling. There was no covering to protect him should the vagaries of the Rysalia Prime weather decide to turn stormy—as it often did at that time of year—and no shade to keep out the blazing sun that had plagued him the day before. But through the overhead bars, he could see the stars and therefore did not feel as claustrophobic as he would have if his confinement had been enclosed. Nevertheless, he felt his imprisonment to the depths of his soul, hating the fact that he was restrained, locked up, unable to move about freely. To a Reaper, it was a torment that was barely endured.

  Though his incarceration was troubling, it was not the cause of the agony that was ripping his heart to shreds, keeping him from sleep. His thoughts as he stared up at the stars were on Bridget and he felt the tears gathering in his eyes. Angrily blinking them away, he clenched his teeth. It would not do for him to give in to his misery. Th
ere was nothing he could do about it at that moment.

  The memory of her face that last day in the hospital cafeteria was burned into his mind's eye. She had been sobbing—her fear a sentient life form. She had held out a hand to him, telling him she was sorry, calling him her beloved, telling him she loved him, a moment before he'd been snatched away from her.

  Tylan Kahn had been laying a few feet away, unconscious, and his condition unknown. If Kahn was able, he would be looking after Bridget now, taking care of her and Jaelin. Cree knew it would be years of Terran time before he might see either again—if he ever did. By now, his and Bridget's son Jaelin would be talking, walking.

  Thinking of his son brought intense hurt to Cree's soul. On Terra, he had been unable to touch his child, even though he ached to do so, for fear the beast within him would hurt the boy.

  "I miss you, milady,” he whispered to the stars. “I miss our son. I hope you both are well."

  He was remembering the last time he made love to her, the last time they had been true husband and wife. It had begun with a silly argument over a garbage bag.

  "Gimme the bag!"

  "No,” he said on a long breath. “But I'll give you something else."

  She had stilled, looking up into his hot eyes to watch the desire forming there. Her own eyes widened. “Oh, no, you won't!” Before she could move, he had her against him, his arms enfolding her. She squirmed, trying to break free, but his hold tightened.

  "Be still,” he whispered, his lips against her ear.

  "Bastard,” she said, but her heart wasn't in the insult for the hardness of him was pressed intimately against her belly.

  "Bitch,” he whispered in return and ran his tongue inside her ear.

  She shivered, melting against him. “Is this all you know how to do?"

  "No,” he replied. “I know how to do this, too.” He moved one hand between her legs.

  "Oh hell.... “She sighed. The heat of his palm was at the juncture of her thighs and pressing against her own heat.

  "How about tearing into something other than a garbage bag, Dr. Dunne?"

  "Like?” she asked as she slowly lifted her gaze to his.

  He grinned and lifted her onto the counter. He pushed her skirt up her thighs then wedged between her legs. “Oh, I don't know,” he muttered. He hooked his fingers in her panties and ripped them away. “Like a bag of cotton candy maybe?"

  She shrieked with exasperation then wrapped her long legs around his waist to anchor him to her. “You are a hateful man, Captain Cree!"

  "I am a horny man, Doctor Dunne."

  "A condition you seem to perpetuate of late."

  He shrugged. “Perhaps I can have Troi engineer a fembot to—"

  "The hell you will!” She reached out to take his face in her hands. She pulled his head toward her then slanted her mouth hungrily across his. As she drove her tongue between his teeth, she had heard his answering growl of passion and felt him fumbling with the zipper of his jeans.

  "Wicked woman,” he said against her mouth as he freed himself.

  "Your wicked woman."

  "Aye,” he agreed as he drove into her. “Cree's very wicked woman."

  A single tear slid unbidden down the Reaper's face, but he didn't notice. His attention was fixed on the black heavens and the twinkling stars that were so far, far away.

  * * * *

  Cirolla Sern sensed Cree's misery and wished there was something she could do to ease his desolation. She'd been reading his thoughts all evening and had known the exact moment the woman had provided a small measure of comfort to him. She had used her unique talents to shield the woman from hostile eyes that might have prevented her from seeing to Cree's needs. Likewise she had protected Diana from guards who might have stopped her and thrown her into prison for what she'd done to aid the Reaper.

  Turning over in her bunk onboard the Alluvia, she sent her mind wanderings out in search of other women who had talents like her own, but she encountered none. If there were such women on Rysalia Prime, they were carefully shielding themselves from her probing or—more than likely—the potential invasion of the Reaper's sublims.

  "Go to sleep, lady. Stop worrying about me."

  The whisper invaded Sern's mind like a slide of velvet and she smiled.

  "You go to sleep, Reaper," she sent back to him and heard a soft chuckle in return.

  "How can I sleep when you're broadcasting louder than a klaxon, wench?"

  "Goodnight, Cree."

  He did not reply and Sern pulled the covers over her shoulders and settled down, closing her eyes and her mind to the man who had inadvertently captured her heart.

  * * * *

  In her lonesome bed, LeJong Kym was also thinking of Kamerone Cree. She had forgotten just how handsome the Reaper was and as she lay there, she pictured the dark thickness of his hair, the sparkle of his sinful amber eyes and she sighed. He still had the ability to give her such wicked, wicked ideas. How she loved the man, she thought—so much so her soul ached for want of him. No man had ever held interest for her and no man ever would save Kamerone Cree. Beside him, no other male could hold a candle to her way of thinking.

  "Ah, Bridget,” the Chrystallusian scientist breathed. “You are such a lucky woman to have his love, to have known the pleasure of that magnificent body."

  A part of LeJong wanted to keep Cree there forever simply to have him near, but the great love she bore the man would not allow her to hurt him such a way. He needed to be with his mate and Kym would make sure that came to pass. Despite the insanity that ruled Cyle Acet and her misguided followers, Kym would see to it that the Prime Reaper gained his freedom to return to Terra.

  But before that could happen, she must see him. Come morning, she would send guards to bring him to her office for there were things she needed to tell him, things he needed to know. Cree's future life with Bridget depended on him learning what Kym had discovered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Where the hell did you get that pillow?"

  Cree slowly opened his eyes and looked at the irate woman on the other side of the bars. He could see her practically quivering with outrage as she stood there holding his vac-syringe of Triso and beaker of Sustenance.

  "Get up and bring that pillow to me right now!” the woman shouted, her eyes blazing with fury.

  Kahmal had just exited the Alluvia and was on her way to the Titaness to check on Cree's bloodkin. She had schooled herself not to look toward the cage but at the angry shout, she turned her head and frowned.

  "Do you hear me, beast?” the guard yelled. “You'll not get this shit until you hand over that pillow and blanket!"

  A muscle flexed in the Prime Reaper's jaw and he sat up, crooked one knee, and rested his wrist upon it. He didn't like being yelled at by a woman and especially not by one who looked as though her face had been constructed in a cement mixer. His amber eyes narrowed viciously as he stared at the guard.

  "Get the hell up, Cree!” the guard screamed again, stomping her foot like a spoiled child.

  Sern and Deon were right behind Kahmal and the three were standing in front of their ship, taking in the scene that had already garnered the attention of every woman on the plaza. A crowd was gathering, pointing, waiting to see what would happen. Aegean, Tyrian, and Chanz were in their ship viewing the ruckus on the Alluvia's vid-com screen.

  "Doesn't she have sense enough to know not to talk to him in that way?” Chanz asked. “Look at his face."

  Aegean shuddered. “I wouldn't want him looking at me like that."

  "Aye, if looks could kill...” Chanz agreed.

  "'Kadia better intercede or the bitch is liable to pour out the Sustenance and take the Triso back into Fleet Command with her,” Tyrian said.

  "I'm not going to say it again, Iceman. Give me that pillow and blanket or else!"

  Kahmal groaned. She knew Cree despised the nickname and no one dared say it to his face, much less scream it at him. She started toward the g
uard, the Prime Reaper's words bringing her up short.

  "You want it, slut?” Cree queried. His eyes were shooting crimson sparks and the fingernails of the hand on his knee had extended to thick curved talons that were idly drumming against leg. He smiled nastily to reveal sharp rows of wicked fangs as his voice lowered to a savage growl. “Then come and get it."

  Women backed away from the cage even though they were nowhere near the bars. Faces turned white as parchment. Eyes grew wide. None had ever seen a Reaper in Transition and few wanted to.

  "Is he Transitioning?” Deon gasped.

  "By the goddess I hope not,” Sern said and tried to slip under his radar to read his mind. When he snapped his head toward her and impaled her with those deadly eyes, she withdrew quickly, feeling the brunt of his anger wash over her like scalding water.

  The guard had gone as still as death. She stood there with the Triso and Sustenance locked in her hands, unable to move as the man in the cage got slowly to his feet like the predator he was. She stared at him as he crouched there—legs spread, claws flexed, fangs showing—and felt her water cascading down her pant leg. The hot stench of her urine made her moan.

  "What are you waiting for?” the Reaper taunted. “You wanted this stuff. I dare you to come in here to retrieve it."

  Shaking her head, the guard forced herself to take a step back. She nearly screamed when the Amazeen Major appeared at her side and snatched the Triso and Sustenance from her grip.

  "He'll not forget you. He has your scent in his nostrils,” Kahmal told the guard. “I suggest you never get close enough to him for him to grab you, sergeant, else he'll tear you apart. You'd better warn the other guards to leave him the hell alone! Now get out of here while you still can."

  Not needing a second command, the guard fled, running as fast as she could back into Fleet Command.

  Those who had stopped to observe what was happening made no move to leave. They knew the cage would hold the Reaper and they were curious to see what he would do next. His scarlet-glowing eyes had shifted to Major Kahmal and held.

  Kahmal swallowed. She was staring into the eyes of a being that at that moment was more beast than man and she could sense the fury that was pumping through him. He had yet to draw in his claws, retract his fangs, and the carmine gleam in his glower unnerved her.