DarkWind: 2nd Book, WindDemon Trilogy (36 page)

Khiershon clenched his jaw. “You are making a fool of yourself. Get up!”

She flung herself at his legs, grabbing one booted foot and wrapping her arms around it. “I am yours, heart and soul,” she wailed. “Body and spirit. You are everything to me! Without you, I do not want to live!”

His face tight with anger, he bent down, gripped her upper arms and yanked her to her feet. He shook her roughly. “Do you hear what you are saying?” he shouted, shaking her again so violently her teeth clicked together and a thin trail of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth.

“I love you! I have always loved you.” She tried to throw her arms around him, but he pushed her away.

“It is over, Raphaella,” he said, slapping his hand against the door control.

“If you leave me, I will take my life!”

He stepped out into the corridor and stood there staring at her. “Melodramatic tantrums do not become the royal daughter of the House of Amazeen,” he told her. “And threats only serve to make you look more foolish.”

Raphaella swiped at the tears cascading down her face and lifted her chin. “I am making no idle threats, Reaper. If that portal closes between you and me, the next time you see my face, it will be still in death.”

The door started to slide shut and he reached out to keep it from closing; the portal slid back into its housing sleeve. His gaze was locked with hers and when he saw triumph beginning to glint in her emerald green depths, when he saw the victorious smile tugging at her lips, he pulled his hand away.

“Good-bye, Raphaella.”

The smile died on the Amazeen princess’ face. The triumphant gleam turned dull.

She held his gaze, knowing he would never falter from the path he had set for himself. There would be no detours on his road of life and no pleasant excursions to destinations to which he could not take his mate. For the Reaper, his course had been charted and his lone passenger ticketed.

“Go back to your Terran whore,” she said, her eyes flashing green fire. “I am well rid of you, you heartless beast!”

The door slid shut, separating the two of them.

“Have you seen
her at all since that first day?” Iyan asked as he and Cree walked along one of the subterranean corridors.

“No,” Cree replied. “I hear she keeps to her quarters and intends to remain there until after we’ve gone. I’ve had her women checking on her.”

“Why?”

Cree frowned. “Raphaella won’t take her own life, but she may well find a way to take my lady’s.”

“You have someone watching Caitlin?”

“You know I do.”

“You need to keep those two as far away from one another as possible.”

“So I’ve been reminded.”

“Your lady said as much?”

Cree nodded. “In no uncertain terms.” He cast his life-long friend a wondering look. “Did you see her that day on the docking bay?”

“I saw what Barb says is a Celtic berserker that day, my friend.” Iyan chuckled. “I count myself lucky it wasn’t me she went after with that Diabolusian blade!”

Cree frowned. “Where the gods-be-damned hell did she get that warthog sticker?”

Iyan shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but it’s good she did. That blade settled matters well enough between those two.”

“Nothing has been settled, Iyan. Given the chance, they’ll go after one another again.”

“Even with the pact made? Not even Raphie would dare break such a promise.”

“The bitch threatened to take her own life. Do you think she would honor a pact made with Caitlin?”

“Then you’d best keep your woman under tight watch.”

“I’ll keep her under me,” Cree grinned.

Iyan rolled his eyes. “You are disgusting, Reaper.”

“How goes it with you and Barb?”

“We are friendly enough.”

Cree put out a hand to halt his friend. He locked eyes with the Serenian. “You think I don’t know how you feel, Iyan?” he asked, searching the other man’s face. “I know. I knew before we shared blood.”
      Iyan’s face paled. “I don’t know what you are inferring.”

“I’ll tell you what I told Raphie. Let it go. Let me go.”

McGregor’s mouth dropped open, he stared at his friend then snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. He narrowed his eyes. “By the gods you think highly of your attraction to others, don’t you, Reaper?”

Cree grinned. “Get over it.”

“You are a conceited buffoon, Khiershon Cree.” He looked down at the Reaper’s restraining hand and  shrugged away the restraint. “You have entirely too high an opinion of yourself.”

“Barb is a nice woman.” Cree started walking. “You could do worse, you know.”

“You could do worse, you know,” Iyan mimicked as he fell into step beside the Reaper.

“She would make a fine companion. You need someone to bunk with now that I’m no longer available.”

Iyan cast his friend a curious glance. “You know gods-be-damned well how it is with me and yet you make light of it.”

“I am not making light of it, Iyan. I am merely telling you to get over it.” Cree shot his companion a stern look. “And we won’t mention your feelings again.”

A blush settled over McGregor’s handsome face. “You aren’t angry?”

“On the contrary, I am complimented that you feel you can not live without me.”

“What?” Iyan shouted, grabbing Cree’s arm and spinning him around. “What?”

Cree’s smile was brutal. “Get over it,” he said again and snaked out his arm to wrap Iyan’s neck in a tight hold. He put his lips to his friend’s ear. “Get over me,” he whispered.

Iyan realized the Reaper was allowing him to save face; he shoved away his friend. “Ry-Chalean dog.”

“Serenian windworm.”

The two men glared at one another then burst into laughter at the same time.

“She’s been good for you,” Iyan reluctantly admitted.

“As Barb has been good for you.”

Iyan nodded. “Aye, that she has. We are becoming close.”

“Keep her at your side, McGregor. The two of you must have been cast from the same clay.”

Iyan smiled, but did not comment. He said little as they inspected the progress the Serenian engineers were making on the new StarRaider being built in the bowels of the Corinthian mountains. He listened to Cree’s questions, added a comment or two of his own, but spent most of that morning watching Cree’s easy camaraderie with the workers and the way the Reaper’s body language told of his happiness.

“He’s easier on the ears since his return,” said one of the older Serenian workers. “The Amazeen must have torn the Black Ascendency right out of him when they had him in their evil clutches.”

“It wasn’t the Amazeen, Tarnes. It is a certain Terran warrioress who’s tamed our Reaper.”

Tarnes sniffed. “I wouldn’t say tamed is the right word, Cap’n McGregor. Calmed is a better word.”

“Calmed,” Iyan repeated. “Aye, that is a good word for it.”

“And as happy as a Diabolusian warthog in a trough of slop.” Tarnes chuckled.

“He is, isn’t he?”

“If any of us deserve happiness, it is that boy. Just thinking on what was done to his bloodkin and what might be done to what’s left of his kin if we don’t get to them in time, sends chillbumps popping up on my arms.” The old man rubbed his leathery flesh. “I’ve no desire to see any man, Reaper or not, burned in that godawful cage.”

“Neither do I, Tarnes,”

“Then I’ll be back to work. The sooner the retrofit is done, the sooner you men can be about the business of saving those men on Rysalia Prime.”

Iyan slapped the old man on his scrawny back and turned back to watching Khiershon speaking with the Chief Engineer.

Caitlin looked up
as her husband entered their quarters. She had been bored most of the day, unable to find anything with which to occupy her time.

“How was your day?” Cree asked as he pulled his shirttail from his pants.

“Shitty. If I had something to do, my answer would have been fine. I’ve spent most of the day sitting in here looking at the four walls.”

Cree stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “What is it you’d like to do?”

“Don’t you have a medical facility here?”

He nodded.

“Then tell me where it is and I’ll see if I can’t be of some help.”

He put his hands on his hips and looked at her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Cait,”  he said. “Raphaella helps out down there.”

She couldn’t stop looking at his bare chest framed by the unbuttoned sides of his black shirt. For some reason, her eyes refused to leave the thick patch of hair between his paps.

Cree looked down to see what she found so fascinating and when he looked up, he caught his wife licking her lips. “Slut.” He chuckled and moved his hands to the buckle of his belt.

“You weren’t complaining last night, Reaper.”

“No, but I could barely walk this morning.”

She grinned at his exaggeration and leaned back on the sofa, crooking her finger at him.

“You are evil.” He grunted and started toward her, but the computer clicked on

“Commander Cree, your A.I.U. has arrived.”

Caitlin looked toward the door. “A.I.U.?”

“Artificial Intelligence Unit.” He the computer to admit the cybot.

Caitlin sat up and smiled as the gangly A.I.U. waddled into the room. It was a little over five feet tall with a rubbery-looking face that had a smile plastered there that she could only describe as goofy. It bowed to her, bowed to the Reaper, then came closer.

“His name is Raven. I programmed him myself.”

“Does it speak?”

“Raven,” Cree said. “You may greet my lady.”

“‘I saw thee on thou bridal day when a burning blush came o’er thee,’”  the cybot said.

Caitlin turned to her husband. “Raven?” she asked, one brow arched.

“‘That blush, perhaps was maiden shame,’”  Raven added.

“That’s enough, Raven.”

“‘Nevermore.’”

“Dear God!” Caitlin chuckled. “Poe, Reaper? Edgar Allan Poe?”

“About a year ago, I found an old Terran book of poetry and rather liked the words,” Cree replied with a careless shrug. “I needed a voice for my ‘bot so that’s what I chose.”

“‘Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December...’”

“I said that’s enough, Raven.”

“‘Nevermore.’”

Laughing, Caitlin thought the cybot adorable...until the next morning she woke to find it bending over her bed.

“‘The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, which is enduring, so be deep!’” Raven chanted as he poked a finger at her bare arm.

“Get out of here!” Caitlin screeched, drawing the covers over her naked breasts.

“‘The lily rolls upon the wave; wrapping the fog about its breast.’”

“Out!”

“‘Nevermore.’”

“What’s going on?” Cree asked as he came in from a trip to the sonic shower.

“Keep that piece of plastiform out of our bedroom, Reaper!” Caitlin demanded, pointing at the A.I.U.

“Raven, were you on last eve?” Cree asked suspiciously. “I thought I deactivated you.”

“‘The moaning and groaning, the sighing and sobbing are quieted now, with that horrible throbbing...’”  Raven quipped with a giggle.

“Cree!”

The Reaper’s lips twitched. “Leave us, Raven, and don’t lurk about like that again. Understood?”

“‘Be that word our sign of parting.’” Raven bowed deeply and waddled from the room.

“I won’t have that thing spying on us, Khiershon.”

“I’ll make sure he’s deactivated in the evenings.”

“You’d damned well better!”

The next morning, Caitlin found Raven trundling along behind her as she left her quarters and turned to confront the A.I.U. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“‘From the torrent, or the fountain, from the red cliff of the mountain, from the sun that...’”

“Cree!” Caitlin complained, storming back into her quarters. “That piece of plastic...”

“Is there to protect you.”

“‘Wreathed in myrtle, my sword I’ll conceal like those champions devoted and brave.’”

“Enough, Raven.”

“‘Nevermore.’” Raven grinned.

“I don’t need protection,” Caitlin protested.

“If you intend to work down at the med barracks, he stays with you.” From the look on his handsome face, it was obvious there would be no discussion of the matter.

“Fine!” Caitlin pushed past the cybot and stomped down the corridor. “Keep out of my way, you goober!”

“Watch her closely, Raven,” Cree instructed. “If you need to kill to protect her, you have my permission.”

Raven’s elastic smile hardened. “‘And, in parting from you now, thus much let me avow .’”

“And keep out of her sight as much as possible.”