Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars Page 8

  Zillah trembled with fury as he stood before his peers. Synestryn lords lined the cave, each seated upon a throne carved from the surrounding stone. Tiny crystals twinkled along the walls of the cavern, and in the center of the space was a large fire, casting flickering shadows over everything.

  He’d been summoned. Like a dog. And like a dog, he knew better than to ignore the call. He was powerful, controlling a vast swath of land, but no one was powerful enough to ignore the might of several of the other Synestryn lords combined.

  “Why was I interrupted and forced to come here?” he asked.

  Raygh—one of the other Synestryn lords present—had apparently been instrumental in the summons, for he was the first to answer. He was tall and skeletal, his bluish skin hanging on his bones, so loose, it looked like it might simply slough off at any moment. His nostrils were flat holes in the center of his face, each one leaking mucus onto his lips. He hunched over like an old human man, but there was nothing frail about him. His slit eyes glowed with power. “We question your ability to protect your holdings. And your loyalty.”

  Fury blasted through Zillah, and he gripped the hilt of the stolen sword at his side. “How dare you question me?” he demanded.

  “We granted you land and all the humans on it. You were to cultivate them, separate the meat from those with power, and find breeders. And instead, you allowed the breeders to escape. At least two of them carry our young, and they are now in Sentinel hands. You failed. Even worse, you allowed the Sentinels to learn of our plans too soon. Your failure has ruined what we have spent years creating. Because of that, your lands are revoked. The question we’re here to settle is one of loyalty—whether or not we should spare your life.”

  He was too shocked to speak for a long moment. Yes, the Sentinels had invaded his territory and stolen his breeding stock, but that didn’t give the lords gathered here the right to take away what was his. Those lands had been his for years. He’d earned them, working his way up in power until he was strong enough to kill the Synestryn lord who’d held them previously.

  “You can’t do that,” growled Zillah.

  “The decision is made,” said Raygh. “We will hear your defense if you have one.”

  “I don’t have to defend myself to any of you. You are my equals.”

  Another Synestryn lord behind him snorted in derision.

  Zillah whirled around to face him. His head was too large for his body, fleshy and bulbous, with protruding bug eyes and thick, scaly lips. He looked less human than the others gathered here, covered in fur, with talons instead of fingers. When he spoke, the words were barely understandable. “You are weak. Too human. Food.”

  “I’ll show you weak,” promised Zillah as he drew his sword. An instant later, he became immobile, his body frozen.

  “That answers the question of loyalty,” said Raygh, spinning Zillah around with a wave of his hand. “You will be put to death for your crimes.”

  Fear swelled in Zillah’s mind, leaving room for nothing else. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t defend himself.

  “No. I have a better idea,” said a man from the shadows. Zillah thought he recognized the voice, but couldn’t place it exactly. “He may yet be of use if he can learn some humility.”

  “What do you suggest, son?” asked Raygh.

  “Lock him up. Use him for blood, rather than meat.”

  Zillah’s muscles clenched as he tried to fight his way free. He couldn’t allow himself to be treated like a human.

  High, strained sounds vibrated from his chest, but his mouth would not move.

  “What say you?” Raygh asked the gathering. “Meat or blood.”

  “Blood,” said the lord on Raygh’s left.

  “Blood,” said the next.

  “Blood.”

  On it went, around the room, until the last voice echoed out, “Blood,” sealing Zillah’s fate.

  Chapter 7

  It had felt so good. So right.

  Jackie had been sucked in by whatever magic Iain had. She’d fallen for it. She hadn’t meant to, but when he’d pulled her up against his hard body and wrapped her up in bubbling warmth, she’d been powerless to resist.

  In that moment, she’d given in to his need and let it wash over her, giving her purpose. No one was around to see her weakness, and it had been so long since she’d been held like that.

  Not that she’d ever been held quite like that.

  There was no comparison between Iain’s powerful body and those of the men she’d been with before. They were like scrawny preteens next to a professional athlete. At first it had been a shock, but then her body had a mind of its own and began to relax into his embrace, enjoying it.

  The pleasure trickling through her had grown with each passing second, until she was sure that she couldn’t hold any more. He’d made her want things she’d thought she’d never want again. He’d almost made her believe that maybe her life wasn’t beyond repair.

  She could picture the two of them, together. Touching. Even kissing.

  The thought made her toes curl in her shoes and her fingers dig into his skin. She was driven to try it. Just once. She needed to feel his lips on hers and see if the crazy desire was real or imagined.

  She’d lifted her head in search of his mouth. That’s when she’d seen his face.

  She’d thought he was different, but that had been a lie. That look of hope she’d seen in all the men was there, on Iain’s face, mocking her.

  She’d panicked and pushed hard enough to break his grip, but it had been a mistake. She’d hurt him.

  Iain fell to the ground, gurgling and shaking, like he was having some kind of seizure. And then he went still.

  Jackie panicked. She didn’t know what to do or how to help. All she knew was that she was afraid to touch him again, even to see if he was breathing. Her touch had done this. She didn’t know how, but it had.

  Hating what she knew she had to do, she rushed to her purse, fumbled for her phone, and called Helen. In a voice that sounded panicked even to her own ears, she told her sister what had happened.

  “It’s okay,” said Helen, her tone steady. “You can fix it. Just put your hand on his skin.”

  “No. That’s what made this happen.”

  “No, it didn’t. That only happens if you pull away suddenly. He’s strong. He’ll be fine. Just do what I say. Trust me. I’ve been right where you are.”

  Jackie held her breath and took Iain’s hand in hers. His thick fingers were limp in her grasp. “It’s not working,” she told Helen.

  “Give it a minute.”

  Maybe she wasn’t touching him enough. She set the phone down, scooted close, kneeling over him, and then put her other hand on his face. His skin was smooth from his recent shave. He was warm, and now that she was closer, she could see his pulse, strong and steady, in his neck.

  Iain’s eyes opened. His fingers twined through hers and he covered the hand on his face with his, holding it in place.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  His powerful chest heaved with each rapid breath. Sweat dotted his forehead. His dark gaze slid over her face, then to where their hands joined, their fingers threaded together.

  He was so warm, sinking into her skin and spreading out to drive away even the memory of a chill. His silence stretched on, making her wonder if he’d heard and understood her question.

  What if he was still in too much pain?

  “Iain? Are you okay?”

  He hadn’t moved, and she didn’t dare try to get away again for fear of what it might do to him a second time.

  Her hands broke out in a nervous sweat, and her gaze moved down to the broad plane of his chest. She couldn’t look him in the eye right now. She was too far out of her element, too off-balance. If she got another glimpse of the hope she’d seen shining in him, she knew she’d freak out.

  He sat up, bringing his head close to hers. Their mouths were only inches apart, making hers w
ater. She hadn’t even thought about kissing a man for years, and yet she was doing so now. In fact, she could think of little else but how his lips would feel against hers, how he’d taste. His fingers slid across the back of her hand. Spirals of heat wove their way into her skin and up her arm, expanding inside her chest until they reached every part of her. A shiver shook her spine.

  Dark, compelling need gathered low in her belly, conjuring images of things she knew she shouldn’t want. Her skin heated, and the vibrations coming from his hands seemed to engulf her entire body. All she had to do was let go, and she knew that he’d take care of her. Give her the kind of pleasure she’d been denied for far too long.

  Having a lover was normal. She could let herself do that. Here. Now.

  His gaze moved to her mouth, and he swallowed. A dark look of need filled his eyes. “I want you,” he said, as if it surprised him.

  A thrill of victory shot along her spine. Yes. That was what she wanted. She knew she shouldn’t want it, but logic was not getting a vote. Not this time.

  “Jackie?” came Helen’s voice from what seemed like a long way away.

  Suddenly, Jackie became acutely aware of the cell phone lying only a foot away from them.

  She tugged on her hand so she could deal with the phone, but Iain didn’t let go.

  She raised her voice and spoke so Helen could hear. “Iain’s fine now, Helen. Thanks for your help.”

  “Okay. Bye,” she heard Helen say, a bit too cheerfully. Then the phone’s screen displayed the length of the terminated call.

  Iain captured her hand from his face and leaned forward, burying his nose against her neck. He nudged the high collar of her shirt, trying to move it out of his way.

  Panic gripped her before she could catch herself. He wasn’t a demon. He didn’t want her blood. Still, she didn’t want him to see the scars there—the rough patches of skin left behind from the constant feedings she’d endured. They were ugly reminders of her captivity. Even she could barely stand to look at them.

  She managed to pull one hand free and hold her collar in place. “Don’t.” Her voice was cold, final.

  He stopped, lifting his head. His black eyes studied her face. A slight frown creased his brow. She couldn’t tell if he was upset, confused, or both. And then all emotions vanished from his face as if they’d never been there. It was as if he’d flipped a switch and simply turned them off. “I need to take you back to Dabyr.”

  “No.”

  “This isn’t right. If I stay with you, I’m going to forget that.”

  “What if I don’t care?”

  “You will. When it’s over. You’d care. I can’t do anything to knowingly hurt you. I have to retain my honor.”

  His honor? That’s what this was about? “Sleeping with me isn’t honorable?”

  He looked at her mouth again and she saw dark need flicker in his eyes. “Not if I know it’s not what you really want.”

  The heat inside of her began to dissipate, allowing her to think clearly. He was right. They couldn’t do this. As much as she’d enjoy a few fleeting moments of pleasure, she had to live with herself once this was over. This was her chance to make a break from these people, not tie herself to one of them. “You should leave me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  His nostrils flared in anger and his grip on her hand tightened. “I won’t let you die, which is what would happen if I leave you alone. We’re going back. You can pick someone else to escort you.”

  “Someone else who won’t do exactly what you’re doing right now?” she asked. “Is there a man there who will let me live my life in peace? Because if there is, just name him, and I’ll happily go be with him.”

  His lips flattened, and she swore she saw a flash of something dangerous lurking in his eyes. She knew he wasn’t human, but what she saw reminded her just how far away from human he really was.

  “I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” he told her. “But you can’t save me. When I touch you, it’s hard to remember that.”

  “Then don’t touch me.” Even as she said the words, she hoped he would ignore them. As much as she didn’t want to be part of his world, she didn’t want to lose the way she felt now, with those warm strings of bubbles bursting inside of her. Feeling want, desire. She’d felt so horrible and cold for so long, and he made even the memory of that frigid terror fade.

  He gave her a resigned look. “Hold still,” he ordered. “I’m going to move away. Slowly.”

  She nodded her understanding and let her fingers loosen in his grip. He leaned back, then scooted his hips away, and then slowly, painfully, he disengaged their fingers until he made contact with only the tip of her index finger.

  He pulled away and instantly went pale. A low, pained moan erupted from his chest, and his brow beaded up with sweat.

  Jackie sat utterly still, biting the inside of her lip to keep from reaching for him. A metallic hint of blood hit her tongue. Her gut twisted with worry, while the warmth inside of her fizzed away until it was all gone. She hated seeing any living thing in pain, and despite her desire to have nothing to do with him, that didn’t mean she wanted him to suffer.

  He clutched his stomach and panted. His eyes were scrunched closed, and his powerful body trembled like he was freezing.

  She gathered a blanket from the bed and tossed it over him, making sure she didn’t touch even his clothing.

  He looked up. His eyes were red and his skin was pale. Dark bruises hung beneath his eyes, marking his exhaustion. “I need to meditate. Recover. When I’m done, we’ll go back.”

  “But I—”

  “Do not argue with me right now. I’m warning you.”

  She’d hurt him. She hadn’t meant to, but his agony was obvious. The least she could do was let him suffer in peace. She wished like hell someone would offer her the same courtesy.

  Jackie nodded, picked up her phone, and shoved it into her pants pocket. The golden locket gleamed on the dingy carpet. She picked that up, too, and tucked it back into his bag. “I’ll be ready to go when you are.”

  Iain knelt, drew his sword, and laid it in front of him. The blade gleamed. Delicate vines made of metal wove their way around the hilt and over the cross guard, coming up to cradle the blade and hold it in place. Those vines had been worn from use, nearly gone in the places where his hands gripped the weapon. She wondered how long he’d been fighting with the sword to make that happen.

  He yanked the blanket from his shoulders and tossed it onto the bed. One thick arm reached over his head and grabbed his T-shirt. He pulled it off and laid it beside him. He didn’t look her way. He stayed facing away from her, but she had a nice view of his splendid back, reminding her of exactly what she was missing.

  A deep groove ran down his spine, the muscles on either side of it corded and tight. His wide shoulders tapered to a slim waist, and all the muscles in between were covered in smooth, tan skin. A few bare branches of his lifemark reached over his left shoulder, and as he breathed, they seemed to sway.

  His body was even more powerful than she’d imagined. He seemed to fill the room with his presence, dwarfing everything else. That warmth that he’d given her with his touch came back all on its own, lighting her up inside. A slow, liquid heat coalesced between her thighs, making her tremble.

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, but that had already caused enough problems for one night. Instead, she dragged her gaze away and forced herself to think about what she needed to do next.

  Her journey to find a normal life hadn’t gotten her very far, but she could hardly ask Iain to do more for her. As it was, he looked like he was barely hanging on, struggling to deal with the pain she’d inadvertently caused him.

  They were only a few hours away from Dabyr. She would let him take her back and find someone else—someone she would not touch. Ever.

  Jackie rummaged in her suitcase for a pair of gloves and a scarf. It wasn’t nearly cold enough to need them, but as soon as Iain was ready
, she’d wrap herself up tight so there were no more accidents.

  Once she had them ready to go, she settled down at the table by the window and opened her laptop. Joseph hadn’t even hesitated when she’d asked for one. He’d had it delivered within an hour of her request. Of course he hadn’t known then that she’d intended to use it to find herself a new place to live and a job.

  She pulled up her résumé to work on it while she waited for Iain to finish meditating. The two-year gap in her work history was painfully obvious, glaring at her from the screen. She didn’t know how she was going to explain her disappearance without sounding like a lunatic.

  Her only option was to lie, which she hated doing. She’d have to invent an aunt and say that she’d left work to care for her during a prolonged illness. If anyone checked into her story, she’d be found out, but she didn’t know what other choice she had. She wasn’t about to claim she’d been in rehab or sick herself, for fear of not getting hired, and there was no way she could say she’d been abducted by demons and kept alive for her blood.

  With a sigh of frustration, she closed the laptop and laid her head down on her folded arms.

  She hadn’t really thought through all the details yet, but the more she did, the more problems she ran into. Her foreclosed house was a huge black spot on her credit. What if she couldn’t even find a place to live? And if she did find a home, how was she going to protect herself from monsters every time she got a paper cut?

  A faint sound made her lift her head. She looked at Iain, but he was motionless except for the slow expansion of his ribs as he breathed.

  She heard it again—a soft scratching sound. Coming from outside.

  Fear made her freeze in place. The last time she’d left Dabyr, she’d been attacked by clawed monsters who’d tried to scratch through a car to get to her. If it hadn’t been for a magical barrier Andra had erected to keep them out, she would have died that night.

  The sound came again, louder this time. “Iain,” she said, but it came out as little more than a shaky whisper of sound.