Dark Warriors: A Dark Lands Anthology (Darklands) (2 page)

“That’s because I never know what might be running around. Remember that two-foot-long centipede that chased me that time?” She shuddered. Even her short blond locks seemed to quiver.

Helvana grinned. That little breeding experiment couldn’t have gone better. Chasing her hyper roomie around had been a perk. “Millipede.”

“Whatever. This came for you today.” She took an envelope out of her backpack and handed it over.

It was from the recruitment department of Dagon Academy, Science Division.

Hands shaking, Helvana took a deep, calming breath. This was it; her one chance at greatness. With luck, all her years of study in a much-denigrated branch of science were about to be rewarded.

She tore open the envelope, scanned the contents, and squealed.

Alarmed, Kelsa straightened, ready for action. “What is it?”

“Yes! I did it!” She did a little victory dance and pumped her arm in the air. “Yes, yes, YES!”

As if afraid she’d lost a few screws, Kelsa sent her an odd look and quickly snatched the letter away. Her expression turned skeptical. “You’re not seriously thinking of going.”

Helvana shot an incredulous look at her for that stupid remark. “If you think I’m giving up a once in a lifetime chance to further my education while also paying it off, you’re sadly mistaken. They pay off my loans if I’m accepted. It’s like an army thing.”

A pen flipped rapidly between Kelsa’s fingers as she cocked her head. “I don’t know about those military types. They’re all a horny bunch. I say, ‘trust them with your hide, but not your virtue’.”

Vana’s mouth dropped open. “My what?”

Kelsa’s slashed a hand through the air. “I’m your all-knowing roommate, remember? You never date; it’s my job to keep creeps away from you.”

“Creeps like your friends? Might I remind you of Eric the Irritating? King of the Arm Pit Noises?” Vana batted her eyes rapidly in a way that said she was really something. “And you don’t have to worry. My virtue is perfectly safe. Besides, you’re just annoyed that you won’t be able to keep tabs on every little detail of my love life.”

“Maybe, but I still can’t picture you in army green. You hate to get up earlier than eight in the morning. How do you plan to stay awake when they get you up at five am to run?”

“I don’t see why you’re so worried, it’s not like you’ll be the one running around in combat boots with a gun.” She was concentrating on the academic part of the school to avoid thinking about the physical stuff. It was true that she sucked at gym.

Since she was determined to go, she chose to think positive. She could do anything she put her mind to.

It wasn’t as if it would be for the rest of her life.

“Oh no, oh no, aw…nuts!” Helvana whimpered in frustration and leaned her throbbing head against the steering wheel. It would figure that the only spur of the moment trip she’d ever taken would end with her car dying on a deserted back road in the middle of nowhere. It was late, though the Alaskan midnight sun didn’t know it. The prospect of sleeping in her car made her reach for her recycled water bottle and dig a painkiller out of her purse.

No phone, no money and no car. The phrase thrummed through her skull as if set to bass. She got out of the car, looked around and kicked her tire for good measure; not a 7-11 from in sight. What had possessed her to leave Anchorage?

The sound of a motorcycle downshifting brought her out of her reverie. She stared warily at the black helmeted man who pulled up like some dark knight sent to rescue her…or something worse. Where had he come from?

“Trouble?”

I don’t know, are you? She bit her lip, wondering about his smoky, rough accent. She’d never heard anything like it. “My car broke down. You wouldn’t happen to have a cell phone, would you?” she asked hopefully. It would end the dilemma of whether or not she would have to accept a ride from a complete stranger...if he offered.

He shook his head and removed his helmet. Helvana stared. Oh, he was trouble all right. From his short dark hair to his ice blue eyes, it was written all over his handsome face. A touch of five o’clock shadow tilted him into the dangerous category. Was that an earring?

Spank me, a naughty part of her whispered.

Shut up! Helvana hissed back. He could be a mass murderer for all we know.

She stepped back as he got off the bike. The black leather of his jacket creaked. My, he was tall. And built. She swallowed.

Although he wore a black leather jacket, she could tell by the fit of his jeans that the man worked out. And when he popped her hood and bent over…

She looked away and searched for something to say. “Um, do you think you can fix it?”

He looked at her in disbelief. “Who’s your mechanic?” He gestured to the guts of her car. “This looks like a kid threw it together out of scrap parts.”

A cool fall breeze kicked up and she hugged herself. Irritated at his attitude and the situation, she kicked a rock. “I bought it from a neighbor kid.” The kid had needed the money, and she’d liked the restored old vehicle. At the time it had been all she could afford.

The hood slammed shut. “Well, you can’t stay here.” He looked at her as if judging her caliber. “Are you going to stay here or take a chance with me?” A tilt of his head indicated the bike.

“I…” She let out a frustrated breath. It was either go with him or wait around for another stranger. “Okay. Thank you,” she said reluctantly. After all, he was being helpful. “Let me just get my back pack.” There was no point in grabbing her duffel bag, since it was loaded with more books and stuff than could ever fit on his bike, so she nabbed her pack with her essentials and locked her doors.

“Hop on.” He made room on the seat as she gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder and threw a leg over. He handed her the helmet. “Stick your hands in my pockets if they get cold,” he told her, and started the engine.

Helvana swallowed hard. Uh, no, she thought. She’d have to be mighty chilly to do such an intimate thing. It was hard enough to grasp his waist and not think about how close they were on the bike. Nothing like that had ever happened to her. Handsome men didn’t get close to her. Neither did anyone else.

The helmet was too big. Worse, it smelled like his aftershave. The intoxicating male scent teased her nose. Eyes closed, she inhaled the rich musk as the pavement whizzed by.

She just hoped she didn’t make an idiot of herself before the night was done.

Dagon couldn’t believe the woman. She drove out of the city with a light jacket in a rickety car and told a total stranger she had nobody near to help her. Had survival instincts been totally bred out of Earth women, or was she just that flustered?

Lucky for her, he’d been returning from a scouting mission and had seen her car, recognized her from her dossier. He would have helped any woman, and definitely one slated to become a warrior’s wife. Not his wife, though.

He’d hope for one with more survival instincts.

She was pretty. All of the applicants were attractive, or could be with a little help. Sleek brown hair waved down her back, stopping about midway. Grey-green eyes bright with interest had looked him over warily. Very well, perhaps she wasn’t unaware of the danger, just optimistic that he would help and not harm her.

He hadn’t missed the way she’d stared. The look had affected him, made him feel hopeful that he could attract a wife, though that could change when he washed the makeup off his scar. It had also roused in him the hunger that was never far below the surface.

She looked too good in jeans and her clingy knit top.

He shook his head sharply and gunned the throttle, making her hold tighter. Maybe the wind would wash away this feeling.

The hunger was what made the men of his generation so wild in battle. They’d had no women, no hope of finding a mate in their lifetimes. The hunger had grown, made them reckless, impossibly dangerous in combat. With no women to distract him, Dagon had spent many hours honing his fighting skills, hardening his body. Only the pain of constant, furious work had kept the despair and need at bay.

And now he had a living, breathing woman holding him in her arms…

The hunger stirred.

It only took half an hour to reach a tiny village with a bar and a hotel. Since everything else was closed, he parked the bike and led her into the bar. A few customers glanced their way as they entered the dim joint and went back to their beer and conversations. The smell of sizzling steaks made his stomach rumble with the promise of dinner. He fervently hoped the grill was still open as he escorted her past the pool tables to the pay phone. She dialed while he used the restroom.

She smiled nervously when he came out. “I called the academy and told them I’d be a little late. They sent a tow truck to get my car, and someone to pick me up, but he won’t be here until early tomorrow morning.” She glanced around the bar and tried not to look chagrined.

“The academy?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know who she was. “That wouldn’t be the Dagon Academy, would it?”

She blinked. “You’ve heard of it?”

With a wicked grin, he took her hand and kissed it. “Dagon T’Siantal. No relation to the founder,” he lied. “I’m one of the instructors. I’d be happy to escort you up.”

A little breathless, she drew her hand back. It was definitely not a good idea to spend too much time in this guy’s company. She was sure to trip over her tongue. “Um, as I said, they’re sending someone, but thank you.”

A devilish light still twinkled in his eyes when he looked at her. “I’ll keep an eye on you until he gets here.”

“Will you?”

He blinked at her slowly, like a cat.

There was something about that look. More than a little unsettled by the evening’s events, she turned her back on him, moved to the bar to study the billboard menu. No way she could order a steak. She maybe had enough money to pay for a glass of water.

Dagon claimed the stool next to her. “Order whatever you like,” he said. “My treat.”

“I really shouldn’t,” she started to protest, chagrined. She’d have felt even worse if he’d known just how little money she had. It had been one reason she’d leaped at the chance the academy offered. She’d worked hard in college, held two jobs so she wouldn’t have a loan to repay. Until the day she’d collapsed at her night job with a bad case of pneumonia and exhaustion, she’d been doing fine. Unfortunately, that incident had seriously drained her reserves, both of time and health. She’d been about two days from being evicted when the academy had accepted her.

When she hesitated, he flashed the waitress a smile and said, “Hi. She’d like the steak, potato and slaw, please. The same for me.” He tossed some bills on the counter.

“Anything for you, sugar,” the waitress said, giving him the once-over. Her hips wiggled as she walked away.

Vana rolled her eyes at the waitress’s antics, but said, “Thank you,” to Dagon. Accepting his generosity made her feel shy, so she lowered her eyes, traced the grain in bar to avoid his gaze.

Dagon knew every detail of her recent history, for they’d researched the “applicants” carefully. He could guess what emotions kept her eyes nailed to the bar. It displeased him that a woman could be left alone the way she had been. With no family or friends who would help, she’d been forced to care for herself since the death of her mother at seventeen. The father had left a long time before that.

The knowledge burned him. She and the others like her would be much better off with men of his world.

He finished eating first and left to speak to the barkeeper about a room. He was frowning when he returned. “They’ve only got one room and the hotel is full up. I checked.”

Vana narrowed her eyes at him.

The waitress perked up. “If that’s a problem I know of a free bed.” She looked straight at Dagon as she purred it, completely ignoring Vana. If she’d bent over the bar any farther, she might have fallen out of her low-cut shirt. Her red nails traced a lazy, suggestive circle on the bar.

“I don’t mind,” Vana said sardonically. No one was listening.

A single, hard glance from Dagon sent the woman scurrying off. “I’ll sleep outside the door,” he said to Vana. His look brooked no argument.

At once she felt guilty, but not guilty enough to take a chance on letting him in her room—that was, if she had been about to accept one. Unfortunately… “I can’t afford a room tonight. I’d expected to be at the Academy already.”

“The bar closes at one,” he said with implacable logic. “Nothing else is open tonight, which would leave you wandering around in the cold until dawn. Do you really think I’m going to allow you to do that?”

She’d been too tired to consider those obstacles and ought to have been grateful for his thoughtfulness. Instead he got a grumpy nod of acknowledgement. Too weary to ponder it further, she said, “Fine,” and followed him up the rickety stairs.

The room wasn’t much to see. It had a bed, tiny bathroom and a battered dresser. One streaked window looked out at the motel sign. Vana eyed the full size bed and the floor doubtfully. There was barely room to swing the door open. If she had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night she’d step on him. It was just as well that he was sleeping outside.