Allegiance Sworn (24 page)

“I’ve seen and experienced things I never thought I would. You’re nothing like Savyr or Yur.” He grimaced, knowing that wouldn’t be enough. “You’ve made me question everything I’ve been brought up to believe.”

“Learning what you thought was the truth was actually a lie would be quite unsettling.” Her head canted to one side. “Change is frightening.”

A shiver rippled through him. That was a
Lady
-told truth.

“The morning after my family was murdered, I found myself standing on the wall looking over the fields, almost at the same spot where you found me the night of the feast. I stared out at the horizon praying for the strength to be my Clan’s new
Na
.”

How had she dealt with that, given she had to have been overwhelmed by grief?

“I couldn’t see myself filling my father’s boots. My older brother was supposed to have taken on that mantle. And while I helped my mother with some of her projects, I was so afraid of failing because her support and guidance were no longer there.” Her gaze turned inward and her mouth pulled down at the corners. “I can’t count the number of times I stood on that wall lamenting about how unfair it was, wanting to ignore my new responsibilities, hoping they’d all just vanish, and wishing that everything would go back to the way it had been.”

Arek’s heart thudded. How many times had he and Kalan skipped training sessions or the tutor’s history lessons to spend time hanging out at the dock with the street children because he couldn’t stand one more moment of living up to his parents’ reputations as Light Blade warriors? Or because he wanted to avoid another lecture from his grandfather, usually about the responsibility of avenging their deaths?

“I wasted far too much time avoiding the fact that I was the only one who could decide my fate, no matter how helpful friends were.” Imhara gave a sad smile. “While the
Lady’s
plan for me wasn’t clear, choice gave me some control over the path I took.”

Her journey, so like his own, hadn’t broken her as she’d been so afraid it would. Nor had the adversity thrust upon her by her own culture or the pressure of expectation. She’d found the fortitude to forge her own brand of leadership to continue her parents’ legacy.

In contrast, since the death of his parents, the path he’d followed hadn’t been truly his.

Arek’s chest tightened as shock tingled from head to toe.

No.

As a warrior he’d made choices. No one else had influenced him.

His Gift had always been his. His memories of being discovered during a search were clear even twenty years later. His grandfather had smiled with genuine warmth the day he’d been assigned to the Light Blade compound for training.

A long-ago memory of a tutoring session surfaced. Gifts manifested in different ways. He’d asked about his and how the searcher had known he was most suited to Light Blade training. She’d told him his ability and its strength depended on his personality and outside influences, and that it was different for every individual.

His circumstances had hardly been normal though, had they? How many friends’ childhood years had been disrupted by the machinations of a demon bent on vengeance? How many of them had grown up eating their breakfast with an equal serving of duty and descriptions of the horrors from the battlefield in the form of early-morning conversation?

Very few.

Arek frowned. What if his whole life had been twisted by that then molded to fit everyone else’s expectations?

His grandfather’s.

His instructors’.

Even his parents’, or at least their reputations, and their friends’ memories of them.

What if his parents hadn’t died? Would he have become a Light Blade warrior just like them? Or would he have followed another calling?

The longer he thought about it, and no matter how much he wanted to claim he was his own man, a warrior of his own making, Imhara’s story showed him that wasn’t quite true.

Had he followed the wrong path? Had he allowed others’ expectations to shape his life?

With Imhara’s boot still clutched in his hands, Arek sat back on his heels, his fingernails digging into the leather. His pulse thumped so hard he could hear the rush of blood in his head.

If he had let others dictate his life, where did that leave him now?

He wasn’t a coward but the answer emerging from the dark shadows in his mind terrified Arek more than anything else ever had.

A shudder racked him, inside and out.

He honestly didn’t know.

Chapter 28

I
MHARA
drew in another deep breath. The scents pouring off Arek were so intense and they fluctuated so wildly she could barely identify them. The base odor held a sharp bitterness, a strong combination of grief and resentment. In a second inhalation she detected the heavy piquant odor of anger overlaid with confusion. A third filled her nostrils with the pungent odor of something rotten.

Despair.

Something was very wrong.

“Arek, are you all right?” She leaned forward and laid a hand on his forearm. The muscle contracted so hard it felt like she was touching stone. She slid a finger to the underside of his wrist. Beneath her fingertip his pulse tripped shallow and thready.

His head lifted slowly, and she watched him blink, as if emerging from deep thought. The skin across his cheeks had pulled tight, and beneath his tan, his face was pale. His pupils were twice their normal size.

He looked shocked.

Lost.

“Arek?” She tightened her grip on his wrist.

He blinked again, glancing down at her hand then up. His expression twisted into a grimace. The cocktail of scents intensified; a sharp citrus odor spiked. His mouth pressed flat and he shook his head.

Imhara frowned. Was that a refusal to answer or an instinctive reaction to some thought in his head? When his gaze locked with hers, his eyes widening, shadowed by guilt, she knew.

Arek’s gaze veered away to search the room, like a man about to flee. Panic, not defiance, spurred his refusal. Whatever thoughts tormented him, he was a heartbeat away from losing control.

“Eyes down.” She wasn’t surprised when he jerked at her sharp order. “Do it. Now.”

His gaze slashed back to her, piercing, glittering.

“What happened to no second chances,
Na
Kaal?” he snarled. “Why not dismiss me as you threatened to do?”

He was fighting, not giving up. Relief pushed the breath from her lungs.

“Because I don’t understand what’s happened, that’s why. And until I do, all the provocation in the world won’t result in me releasing you from your oath.” She knocked the boot from his grip and placed her foot in his hands. “So don’t even think of getting out of this that way.”

His fingers tightened around her ankle and arch of her foot, tight enough to be uncomfortable yet she kept her expression cool and indifferent.

“I believe I gave you an order. Comply. Now.”

Wildness darkened his gaze. Hot metal and raw fury tainted his scent. He stared at her, five charged heartbeats. She knew he’d test her, expected it, considering his emotional turmoil.

So she waited, the stillness between them palpable. Hoping. Holding his gaze, daring him with her own, the only sound Arek’s uneven breathing as he struggled with whatever was going on inside him.

Then, finally, he lowered his gaze.

Imhara let out a silent breath. She didn’t care that he hadn’t bowed his head or that every line of his body radiated resistance. He’d done what she’d asked. It was all that mattered.

“I hope your fingers are nimble, slave.” She wiggled her toes. “It’s time to put those strong hands to good use.”

She lay back on the cushions, hands propped behind her head. Probably not the wisest position, given it left her vulnerable if Arek attacked, but it gave her a good angle from which to observe him.

The way his jaw flexed and tensed, his mind seemed more focused on his thoughts than the massage. His technique was jerky, uneven, not even remotely soothing. Anger still rode him, but it wasn’t tainted with quite the same darkness she’d encountered that first time in her bedroom, nor did it seem directed entirely at her.

“Whether you believe me or not, any question you answer will help keep you safe,” she commented.

Arek’s expression tightened and his gaze lifted, as she thought it would given the statement she’d made.

“Keep me safe?” he snorted. “From what?”

Their eyes met briefly, then his shifted away and down in grudging submission.

“Mostly from me. Relying only on scent to know what you’re feeling, especially when I’m likely to be distracted, would be a mistake.” It was probably better to keep his attention on something other than his own thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The foot rubbing faltered and his lips twisted. The heat in his scent escalated sharply.

“You already have.”

“What?” Imhara jerked herself upright. “How?”

Color flushed beneath his tan from his neck up. His expression shuttered. The curse he uttered was aimed at himself.

Imhara pulled her foot from his hands and scrambled to her knees. She caught his chin between her thumb and forefinger, issuing her own curse when he resisted her attempt to lift his head.

“Arek, you don’t get to shut me out. Your oath, remember.” She searched her memory of their recent conversation for anything that might have provoked his claim, and drew a blank. “How have I hurt you?”

“You just showed me a few unpleasant truths,
Na
Kaal.” His tone was brittle, mocking. A strangled laugh came from deep in his chest, harsh and ugly. “I underestimated you. Again.”

The raw scent of his pain was overwhelming. Imhara frowned, gentling her grip on his chin, letting him go so she could stroke the side of his face with the palm of her hand. He leaned into her touch, seeking comfort, the movement so subtle she doubted he was even aware that he’d done it.

His obvious need tugged at her and released the band of tension knotting her shoulders. This she could work with.

“What truths?” she asked, in her quietest, firmest tone. She stroked his temple, the lines at the corner of his eye with her fingers. “Help me understand.”

Beneath her hand his jaw flexed again; fire flashed in his twilight gaze.

So defiant. So defensive.

Imhara leaned closer to him, until their faces were only inches apart. “You’d prefer I guess?”

Burying her fingers in his hair, she ran them across his scalp to the back of his head. His hair was soft and she liked the silky feel of it sliding against her skin. Arek shifted his head, twisting to move away from her touch, yet he didn’t break contact. His body liked what she was doing even if his mind protested.

Good.

Twining a sun-bleached lock around her finger, she tugged, a gentle reminder to answer her, and watched his pupils dilate farther.

“I’d prefer not to talk about it at all.” A gruff reply.

Effort she rewarded with another run of her fingers through his hair, this time all the way to the back of his neck, where she kneaded muscles tight with tension. His warm breath brushed past her cheek on a sigh.

“You’ve made that very clear,” she murmured. “Guessing it is, then.”

No surprise her response made him tense up again. She smoothed her hand from his neck, over the thick muscle of his shoulder, and along the curved length of his pectoral, enjoying the smooth heat and steely strength of his flesh.

“I know you expected me to behave much like Savyr when I entered the room.” She reversed direction, taking her time to savor every contour and hollow, liking how his skin rippled as she skated her fingers across the broad expanse of his chest. “You thought I’d inspect you . . . touch you . . . like he did with Yrenna. I was tempted.”

Arek’s swift inhalation gave her a small sense of victory. Not because he responded to her touch but because he was focused on her words instead of the darkness inside his head.

“You have a beautiful chest,” she murmured, and spread her fingers wide, the heel of her hand brushing over his nipple. His flesh grew taut. “You train hard, but you’re lean. You do more than just practice with a blade.”

She moved her hand to the center of his chest, felt the heavy beat of his heart and bent her head close enough so she could feel the heat of his body against her cheek.

“Savyr and I are nothing alike.” She inhaled—the smallest hint of spice tickled her nostrils—and made a sound of deep appreciation in her throat. “Unlike him, I won’t treat you like an object. When I touch you, I want you to feel pleasure.”

She started when his hands seized her upper arms. He pushed her away and held her at arm’s length. The fierce expression on his face and hard grip couldn’t hide the way he trembled.

“Yrenna felt no pleasure with Savyr.” Arek’s voice vibrated with suppressed anger. “He hurt her.”

Not quite the comment she was expecting but certainly a chance to clear something up.

She nodded slowly. “Yes, he did, but you’re wrong about Yrenna.” He took a breath to protest. She held up a hand. “Hear me out. She volunteered for that role, Arek. She knew what she was getting into.”

“You handed her over to him without a second thought!”

His accusation stung. Surely he didn’t think her that callous and coldhearted?

“I knew there was the possibility that Savyr would hurt her. Bed her,” she acknowledged. “But Yrenna was prepared to handle whatever happened with him.”

“Handle?”

“Pain and rough sex are something she likes.”

“She was scared. She cried out.” That came from between clenched teeth and his frown deepened, as if he were questioning his memories. “She was . . . pretending?”

“Yrenna’s good at what she does. One of the best.”

His breath caught and she placed a hand on his arm.

“Arek, don’t judge her because you find her sexual preferences distasteful. Given we all know what Savyr is capable of, I disliked placing her in that situation, yet without her our roles would be a lot harder.”

Imhara watched him work through that. She could almost guess his thoughts as emotions flickered across his face.

Realization. Relief.

Horror. Guilt.

“Mother of Light!”
The curse exploded from his mouth.

She squeezed his arm.

“Don’t.” She placed a finger over his lips. “You didn’t know about Yrenna. I didn’t tell you. With what happened, we both share some of the blame. Second-guessing what you might have done if you had known is fruitless. She’s alive. She’ll heal.”

Shadows flickered through his gaze.

Smoothing her fingers over the lines bracketing his mouth, she tried to ease the tension away. She dragged her thumb over his mouth. She didn’t have to coax his lips apart.

“I know what you’re doing.” His fingers closed around her wrist as his teeth nipped the pad of her thumb, just hard enough to sting.

A warning and an enticement that sent a tingle through her body.

“Good,” she replied. “Then you may as well give in to the inevitable and stop resisting me.”

She stared pointedly at the hand shackling her. He released her, one finger at a time.

Defiant and unrepentant.

She hid her smile. “Are you ready to share your truths yet?”

His jaw clamped tight.

Apparently not.

Placing her hands against his chest, Imhara shoved hard and sent him backward onto the cushions, grinning at his startled curse. She straddled his hips, hooking her feet under the taut curves of his buttocks at the same time she leaned over him and placed her hands on the cushion on either side of his head, forestalling his attempt to rise.

“Imhara . . .”

She clucked her tongue at him. “
Na
Kaal.”

His eyes narrowed with the reminder. His whole body tensed and she shifted her weight lower, preparing for any movement to dislodge her. So it came as a complete surprise to feel him relax beneath her.

No, not relax.

He’d stilled, every muscle was still hard, coiled in readiness. His gaze was fixed on her, the light in his eyes watchful, almost predatory.

Anticipating her next move?

“I like your lips.” Her own twitched as the air around them filled with his spicy scent. “I already know you kiss well. But I want to know what else you like.” She leaned closer, watching the gleam in his eyes heat up. “Or will you let me discover that for myself?”