Training the Warrior (27 page)

Lydia squeezed her mate’s hand as hard as
she could. She couldn’t help but like the offer. They could be together and she
wouldn’t have to leave the teacher clan. She would train teachers, not warriors.
She shot a glance at him and saw he frowned. His bright gold gaze shifted to
her face, taking in her hopeful expression. His scowl deepened farther as she
gave him an encouraging smile.

Without taking his attention away from her,
he spoke to the head mistress. “I believe Lydia will be safe on this world, but
I don’t like the idea of so many males surrounding my mate.”

“Speak with Rhoel. He’ll assure you of her
safety, Dharjen Taelor.”

“We’ll both be performing our duties to the
empire and our clans, my love. We won’t be separated.” Lydia could hardly
contain her excitement. However, her mate’s indecision put a damper on her
enthusiasm. “You could always train to be a handler.”

Taelor blinked, twice, rapidly. “No! I’ll
command the garrison.”

“Excellent! It’s official now. Pella has a commander.”
Mistress Breanne stood and tilted her head to Taelor in a formal bow of
acknowledgement. “Your new orders are on the table behind you, Taelor, ready to
be signed. There’s a change of duty request for Jarrok also. I’ve already
approved it, if he chooses to remain your partner.”

Lydia choked back a giggle. Her mate’s
expression was comical, a mixture of outrage and admiration directed at the head
mistress.

“You were so sure I’d agree?” He sputtered
out the question as he rose from the couch, hauling Lydia with him.

Breanne shrugged and gave him a knowing
smile. “Of course.” As Taelor stomped off, obviously intent on circling behind
the sofa, she hugged Lydia, and said, “Fortress will supply the handlers. We
have several in training right now. In a few days, when Taelor will allow you
to leave his side for a few hours, I’ll instruct you in your new duties as head
mistress of the sanctuary on Pella.”

 Taelor grumbled a string of incoherent
words behind them while he signed several pages of official documents.

 “Mistress, what of Takoora?”

“She has already volunteered to work with
you on Pella.”

Did the woman ever miss anything? Lydia
prayed she could do half as good a job as the head mistress of the sanctuary on
Fortress World. A new world awaited her. She would help train teachers and make
sure a generation of youthful warriors survived to serve their empire as fully
grown, fully trained young warriors.

* * * *

Her mate’s strong arms lifted her easily
and clutched her close to his chest as he carried her out of the head mistress’
quarters. Lydia threw her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek firmly
against his incredibly broad chest. His hot skin exuded a delicious scent.
Warmed to the bone, she sighed contentedly, looking forward to being alone with
him soon. She wanted to make love to him, to lick her way from his sexy lips
down over his chest and trail her tongue across every taut muscle of his six-pack
abs until she reached his cock. Her desire to take his hard length into her
mouth and bring him to orgasm just so she could taste his essence was
overwhelming. She wondered how much persuasion on her part it was going to take
to get him to allow her to give him a good old-fashioned, very human blowjob.
Taelor’s next words derailed her sensual daydreams. He’d come to a standstill
just outside Mistress Breanne’s closed door.

“I believe whoever is attacking the royals
is also aware of the increase in warrior births,” he whispered. Jarrok waited
for them at the far end of the hallway and wouldn’t be able to hear Taelor’s
words. “The warrior clan has enemies on the high council. They’ll react
violently to this situation. I don’t trust the scientific clans. And the merchant
clans have never supported us. This isn’t good, Lydia.”

She raised her head to gaze at her handsome
mate. He was definitely worried. His warrior scowl was firmly in place once
again.

“What will they do?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but some
geneticists have been searching for centuries to find a way to decrease our
numbers. Many of them seek to prevent all warrior births. They’ll panic when
they find out what’s happening. I think Mistress Breanne suspects there’s an
informant here on Fortress. She alone has access to the information she shared,
and I could scent her fear as she spoke to us. She was very relieved when we
agreed to help her.”

“Oh, Taelor. Will the Dark Times really come
back?” Lydia’s own fear rose now.

She’d read some of the histories of the
Dark Times. The tales recounted a century of fear, murder and famine all taking
place on ancient Taura Prime, the original home world of all Taurans. Despite
the training, warriors were depicted as single-minded, wild beasts who gathered
into packs to slaughter entire villages for sport. Only by destroying the warriors
at birth were the people able to keep their numbers in check. The last was the
only part of the history she believed.

The Tauran people at the time seemed to be
as barbaric and superstitious as the humans on Earth during the Dark Ages. A
few of the stories mentioned a curse that claimed many of the Tauran males,
turning them into demonic night beings who fed on the blood of their victims.
One of the manuscripts referred to these demons as Vorthans. Lydia had always
considered the tales to be nonsense, a result of the people’s need to broaden the
blame for their misfortune.

Humans made up stories of all kinds to
explain things they couldn’t fathom, like vampires and werewolves. Back on
Earth, her own cousins had tried to terrify her with tales about a strange
beast known as a chupacabra, which supposedly roamed the countryside sucking
the life blood out of livestock and mouthy little girls. Her cousins were
always a little strange. Lydia knew better than to believe in such nonsense.
Right?

“Calm, love. We’ll survive this. I know of
Pella. It’s a peaceful world, but I worry about the future of Fortress and the warrior
clan. If this problem doesn’t correct itself naturally and very soon, a genetic
plague could spread and infected Tauran males will transform, becoming Vorthan.
In less than fifty years, the empire might change drastically.”

“Taelor, what are Vorthans?”

Her mate was solemn, his expression deeply
troubled. Lydia’s lips trembled as she tried to form a tiny smile. He pressed
his forehead to hers and his chest rumbled from the power of a deep growl.

When he didn’t answer immediately, she
asked more forcefully. “Taelor! What are Vorthans?”

“They’re the forsaken. Our brothers,” he
whispered.

“But…” Her mate shook his head to stop her
from speaking.

“Not now.”

Lydia noticed his attention was locked on
Jarrok. Taelor’s partner hadn’t moved from his post, but his stance was wary
and he stared at them. Judging from his expression, Jarrok was bursting with
curiosity, but his body language indicated he wasn’t sure if he should retreat
or hold his position.

“Move out,” Taelor barked, solving his
partner’s dilemma.

Jarrok led the way as they headed to their
quarters.

Chapter Fifteen

Once they were back in the privacy of
Taelor’s bedroom, he immediately undressed her. In no time, the remnants of
what used to be her dress were scattered about on the floor. His loincloth,
restraints and boots quickly joined them seconds before he tossed her onto the
bed. Before he could trap her beneath him, Lydia rolled to her back and held up
her hands, bracing against his chest as she clamped her thighs together.

“Explanations first, my love,” she pleaded,
digging her nails against his skin.

Taelor easily spread her legs with one knee
while his upper body hovered above her. His expression wavered between lust and
frustration.

“My need is great,” he groaned, his voice
hoarse and filled with longing.

When she didn’t let up, he sighed heavily
and rolled to his back. Lydia turned toward him, snuggling closer against his
side. She couldn’t help but notice the evidence of his arousal. His erection
stood proud and tall, tempting her to forget about her questions.
No.
Answers first.

“In my studies I came across a reference to
the forsaken. You said they’re Vorthans.”

Taelor growled in defeat. “Yes.” As Lydia
remained silent, he glanced over at her and frowned. “You aren’t going to
forget about this, are you?”

Shaking her head, she smiled, and said, “No.
I’m human, remember? Tell me all about the Vorthans.”

He heaved an exasperated sigh. “I can only
tell you what I know. They’re Tauran males, all royal born, who continue to
grow and develop even after they reach maturity. It happens very rarely.” He
paused.

“And?”

At her prod, he snarled, obviously
reluctant to continue. “Warriors think of them as our brothers. Like us, they
have heightened senses and great strength. Instead of blades the Vorthans
develop fangs, but there are other differences. Their skin turns a paler shade
than the normal coloring of Taurans. It’s their weakness. They must avoid the
sunlight. Prolonged exposure sets off a chemical reaction in their bodies,
releasing a deadly toxin. On some of the backward rim worlds, when a Vorthan is
captured, he’s chained and staked out in the sun for execution. It isn’t an
easy death.”

“That’s horrible.” Lydia couldn’t believe
what she’d heard. How could the atrocities she’d read in the histories still be
happening on undeveloped worlds within the empire? “Why doesn’t the empire stop
them?”

Taelor looked at her in surprise. “We try
to prevent the executions. The empire issued an edict many centuries ago,
extending protection for warriors and Vorthans alike. Civilized or not, most
Taurans are afraid of the Vorthans.”

“Why?”

“Vorthans are blood drinkers. They feed on Taurans
and other beings, if the blood is compatible.”

“They’re vampires?” Lydia shrank away. “No
wonder,” she muttered.

Her mate’s snarl of anger shocked her out
of her stupor-like trance. “Vorthans don’t kill their Tauran brothers. It’s a
myth. They take only enough to survive and only from willing donors.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Taelor glanced away, obviously trying to
avoid the subject.

“On my world, we have tales of vampires who
drain the blood of a new victim every evening. They’re the monsters our parents
told us about to keep us from roaming around late at night. They aren’t real,
just stories.”

“Vorthans are real,” Taelor stated
matter-of-factly. “I know because I met one when I was a youngling. He was a
relative, an uncle is what I was told. His visit was short, but before he left,
I saw him drinking blood from a servant one evening.” He turned his head to
face her again. Lydia was surprise to see so much lust lurking in her mate’s
eyes. “They were in the garden, lying on the grass. He fed at her neck while he
pleasured her. She seemed to enjoy his attention very much. After they were
finished, they got up, straightened their clothing and walked away from each
other as if nothing had happened. I never told anyone what I saw, but she wasn’t
harmed. In fact, he seemed to take great care to not hurt her.” He heaved a
frustrated sigh, signaling an end to his story. “We don’t kill them, but we don’t
trust them.” He leaned up, trying to steal a kiss.

Pulling back, she barely avoided him. “Why
don’t you trust them?”

“Lydia,” he groaned, almost as if in pain. “More
questions?”

“I promise to reward you after you finish
answering.”

His handsome face lit up with a devastating
grin. “A reward from my mate?”

“A very satisfying reward,” she said with a
purr. Her mate’s response came in the form of a husky growl and a quick
explanation.

“Vorthans are said to have an ability no
other Tauran have. They can control thoughts in some manner, make a person
believe something different or force them to do things they wouldn’t
ordinarily.”

“They can compel others to do their
bidding?”

“Yes. They have that ability. We don’t like
the idea of someone having so much power over us.”

Considering how warriors were so suspicious
of everything, Lydia couldn’t blame them for not trusting the Vorthans. Who
would? And if the Vorthans were all royal by birth, then was it any wonder why
someone targeted the royals right when the warrior birth rate was on the rise?
By eliminating the mothers, generations of Tauran males who might transform
into Vorthans could be prevented. No wonder the head mistress was desperate.
And the information cleared up another point.

“If Vorthans are capable of mind control
then what I read in the histories makes more sense now,” she said while
shifting her position to straddle him. She settled her bottom on top his tight
abdomen, just out of reach of his eager erection. Ignoring his impatient snarl,
she added, “The passage gave instructions about what to do when a warrior’s rage
didn’t calm after blading. It said if one of the forsaken is unavailable, then
the female must try any other method to break the warrior’s concentration, even
by means of outrage.'“