DarkWind: 2nd Book, WindDemon Trilogy (9 page)

“His Bloodsire took a Terran female to mate,” said Nyndham quietly.

“Reapers should not mate.”

“You would have him alone his entire life, Iyan?”

McGregor stopped pacing. “He has me!” he flung at the First Officer.

“Aye, and when was the last time you satisfied his carnal needs, Milord?”

Iyan McGregor’s stony silence made Nyndham arch a thick black brow.

“Not a Terran,” McGregor finally spat and commenced pacing again.          

“I think he did not choose her, Iyan,” Dakin Hesar submitted. “I believe the Fates chose her for him.”

“So do I,” Sinjun Wynth, The Ravenwind’s navigator, decreed.

“Believe what you will,” McGregor decreed. “I would rather he mate with a Diabolusian warthoglet than take that Terran viper to his breast! She will be the death of...”

McGregor barely had time to move out of the way as the woman in question came running from sickbay. He slammed into the wall, staring after her as she fled. “What the hell did you do?” he shouted and spun around to enter the sickbay, shoving Wynth.

Cree was struggling to sit up, the bandages wrapped around his lower chest and belly restricting his movements. He flinched as Iyan hurried to him and grabbed his arm.

“What did the bitch do?” McGregor queried, his attention going over every visible inch of his friend.

The Reaper sighed. “Iyan, she did nothing.” He gasped as he slid off the bed and his bare feet-cut and burned as they were-touched the cold floor.

“You are in pain! Do not tell me she did nothing!” Without giving his friend a chance to reply, McGregor scooped him up and laid him down on the bed again.

“I was getting up,” Cree said.

“You are staying put!” Iyan insisted. He adjusted the pillow under Cree’s head then swiped a fallen lock of sable hair from the Reaper’s eyes. He laid his hand on Cree’s shoulder. “Give the parasite time to heal you, Khier.”

“Go after her,” Cree ordered. “Bring her back.”

“Khier...” Iyan groaned.

Cree reached up and covered Iyan’s hand with his own. “I have claimed her; she is mine. Go get her and bring her back to me. She has to be made to understand.”

“You are making a mistake.”

“My mistake to make.”

Minutes passed while the men regarded one another, then Iyan’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Is this is what you wish...”

“This is what I wish,” the Reaper said.

McGregor lifted his chin. “Then I will fetch her for you.”

“Make your peace with her, Iyan,” Khiershon Cree asked.

Iyan curled his right hand into a fist and placed it against his heart. “I will do as you ask.”

There were strange
men in control of the Orion, yet none of them spared Caitlin a single look as she walked past. The oddity of them not paying her any attention put a chill down her spine. She was reminded of an old video where a space station had been overrun with mindless automatons intent only on the task at hand. She shuddered and slapped her palm against the entry pad of her quarters.

“You are upset,” the Com-Link acknowledged as Caitlin rushed into the room. “There has been no harm done to the crew.”

“We have been taken over, Coni!” She threw herself on her bunk, drew her knees into the protection of her arms and sat there rocking back and forth in agitation. “And it’s my fault for having allowed that...that...man on board!”

“You are referring to Captain McGregor?”

“What have I done?” Caitlin breathed. “What have I set into motion?”

A delicate chime announced a visitor at her door and Caitlin snapped her head up. “No entry!” she yelled.

There was a soft thud: the sound of a security lock falling into place within the titanium structure of the door.

“Secured,” the Com-Link stated, “but you are being hailed, Sweeting.”

“Stop calling me that!” Caitlin shouted, grabbing a pillow to throw it at the offending wall panel in which the Com-Link was housed. “Don’t call me that again. Do you hear me?”

“Understood.” The Com-Link’s normally soothing voice took on a curt, cold, and machine-like quality. “But you are being hailed, Dr. Kelly.”

“No connection,” Caitlin barked. “Terminate!”

There was a click as the Com-Link was turned off.

Caitlin knew who was outside her door. She could feel him standing there, angry, annoyed, and seething with the desire to punish her for defying him. She sat huddled on the bed, her eyes glued to the door, waiting for him to respond to her defiance.

She didn’t have long to wait.

The blast peeled the door panel back on its pneumatic lock and the metal folded inward like a rose bud relaxing its petals. A carbon stain left a black ring around the opening and was still smoldering as Iyan McGregor stepped through.

Before she could scramble for the weapon in the drawer beside her bed, he was over her, pinning her to the bed, his chest pressing against her back, his long legs effectively weighing her own down.

“Do not fight me,” he said in a tired voice. “I will only have to endure another talking-to from Khiershon and I’ve had more than enough of those for one solar passing, Lady.”

“Get off me!” she hissed, hating his breath in her ear.

He pulled open the drawer, extracted the weapon then flipped off her and sprang to the floor.

“Look what you did to my door!”

“Had you not tried to keep me from entering, there would have been no harm done to your door.”

“Get out!” she screamed so loudly Iyan jumped, covering his ears to contain the ringing.

McGregor had no choice as he saw it. He did what he knew was right.

Without another word, he reached down, grabbed the Terran woman’s arm, jerked her toward him, hefted her over his shoulder and-with her kicking and screaming and pounding his back with her fists-climbed through the hole in her door.

“I am going to kill you!” she screeched, clawing at his thighs.

“No you aren’t,” he said grimly as he strode heavily down the corridor, “but you may well be the death of me!”

Helen, Lisa, Pat
, Barb, Marti, and Cathy sat quietly at one of the dining tables in the mess hall. Six silent, imposing warriors who barely looked at them had escorted them here. The women had no way of knowing the males had been ordered not to make eye contact or to show interest in the women in any way.

“I heard their First Officer telling one of the men that our crew is to be taken back to the planetoid where we found him,” Helen whispered.

“And left there?” Lisa gasped.

“Aye, but with food and provisions and a distress signal,” added Helen.

“Even so, that’ll go over big with Caitlin,” muttered Cathy.

“It was her idea,” said Barb.

Marti looked at Cathy. “Why? To protect them?”

“Probably,” Pat agreed.

“Well, who’s gonna protect us?” Lisa demanded. She nudged her chin toward the warriors at the far end of the mess hall. “Would any of you like to tangle with them?”

The women turned their heads in unison and stared at the hulking warriors.

“Not me,” Marti answered.

An enraged shriek that could have come from none other than Caitlin Kelly brought the women to their feet. They would have gone to investigate, but the warriors moved like lightning across the room, barring their departure.

“Lady, sit,” the tallest of the warriors ordered Helen, the highest-ranking woman among them.

“She is my friend!” Helen growled. “She is-”

“In no danger,” the warrior insisted. “He has chosen her and she will be safe.”

“Chosen her for what?” asked Marti only to have the other women turn knowing eyes to her.

Marti’s eyes widened. “Oh, lord!”

“That can’t be good,” said Lisa.

“Maybe it is,” Helen whispered. “You know what they say about leading a man around by his...”

“Lady, be quiet,” the warrior said, but his eyes flashed with humor.

“Hearing like a bat’s,” said Cathy.

“But possessed of the love organ of a bull,” the warrior returned.

Cathy arched a thick brow. “Oh, yeah?”

The warrior merely grinned. His gaze swept over Cathy with appreciation then settled somewhere over her head.

Pat shook her head. “This ought to be interesting.”

Khiershon hurt
so badly his teeth chattered, but he would not ask the silent woman sitting rigidly across the room to help him. He dug his fingernails into his palm, relishing the distraction of the pain gouging into his flesh and ignored the blood dripping onto the white sheet.

Iyan stared moodily at the computer screen before him, hissing now and then as something angered or annoyed him. There was a look on his face that boded ill for anyone foolish enough to interrupt him at his task.

Other than the occasional click of the computer keyboard as Iyan typed in his questions, the room was still. Khiershon’s groan-slight as it was-brought McGregor’s head up.

“Are you in need of something, Khier?” Iyan asked, his hands paused over the keyboard.

Cree shook his head and felt sweat running into his eyes. He put up a shaky hand to wipe away the sting.

“I think he needs more blood,” said Caitlin.

Iyan frowned. “Is that so, Khiershon?” He pushed back from the computer terminal and went to stand over his friend. “Do you need Sustenance?”

Cree knew it was too soon to take blood from the Terran woman. She would be made weak and ill if he were to drink from her at this time. His concern for her was such that he shook his head, denying that he was in need.

“What do you need then?” Iyan asked, his brow furrowed. He did not like the paleness of Cree’s flesh nor the heavy sweat dotting his friend’s face.

“He’s afraid he’ll do me harm if he takes any more blood from me,” Caitlin said and saw both men turn to look at her: one with annoyance, the other with surprise.

Iyan looked down at Cree. “Is this so? Are you concerned for her safety?”

“I am all right,” Cree forced out. He nudged his chin toward the computer “Go back to your learning, McGregor.”

“He’s lying.” Caitlin stood and walked to the gurney. “He’s not all right. I’ve been watching him act like a wounded dog.”

“Wolf,” McGregor corrected. “Dearg Duls are more wolf-”

“She doesn’t need to know that.” Cree tried to push himself up on the gurney, but the pain was too great and he had to clamp his teeth together to keep from crying out.

“Men are such stubborn creatures.” Caitlin reached for the cuff of her jumpsuit.

“No, milady.” Cree shook his head.

“You need it,” she said as she rolled her sleeve up.

“No, I do not!”      

“Let the woman serve you, Cree,” said Iyan. “That is why the gods created the worrisome creatures!”

“Go to hell,” hissed Caitlin. She would have put her wrist to Cree’s mouth, but he turned his head away.

“No!” he snarled.

“You are in pain.”

“As though such mattered to you,” scoffed Iyan. “It is because of your useless hide that he is hurting!”

Caitlin spun around; her hand connected viciously with McGregor’s cheek. “Shut up, you chauvinistic pig! I am a Healer! It is my job to ease pain, not cause it!”

Iyan, staggered by the blow, stumbled against the bulkhead. He hit the titanium wall, shook his head to clear it of the ringing, and roared like a bull as he shot toward her. He had every intention of beating her senseless-and would have-had Cree not bellowed his denial.

“Touch her ever and I will tear the flesh from your bones and suck out the marrow, McGregor!”

Iyan was brought up short by the enraged threat and skidded to a halt, his body so close to Caitlin’s he could feel her heat and smell the intoxicating scent of her womanhood. His eyes flared and he stepped back, real fear on his handsome face.

Caitlin shuddered as she heard the vow in those brutal words and saw the effect they had on a man who was considered the Reaper’s friend. In that moment, she understood there would be no turning back. She belonged to Khiershon Cree whether she liked it or not.

“Go,” Cree whispered, the pain so great he was trembling from it. “Leave me. You pose too much temptation.”

The Healer’s heart within Caitlin Kelly ached for her patient. He was not of her world-and if truth were told-not even human, but his suffering was not something she could watch without trying to help. With her heart racing in her chest, she reached out a trembling hand and laid it on his shoulder.

“Lady, don’t!”

“You have claimed me,” she said in a soft voice, “therefore I am yours.”

Iyan turned to stare at her, just as Cree did.

“If that is true,” she continued, watching the Reaper’s golden eyes flicker with intense agony, “then it is my right...” She shook her head. “No, it is my duty to do all I can to care for you.” She saw the denial forming on his lips and put her fingers across them to silence him. “Just as you would care for me if the need arose.” She turned her hand so the backs of her fingers smoothed over his mouth. “Am I wrong, Cree?”