Van Laven Chronicles (4 page)

CHAPTER 6

Two more hours crawled by, but the rain continued intermittingly. Comron remained in a deep, restful sleep as Vaush paced the cabin. This time Ti-Laros had arrived in time to save Nethic, she thought. Three hundred years ago, Ti-Laros was devastated to discover that upon reaching Nethic, there was nothing left of their comrade’s world to defend. Without their staunch ally fighting at their side, Ti-Laros had no other choice but to accept the Emperor’s terms of surrender. What Nethic deemed as abject cowardice and betrayal, Ti-Laros called pragmatism and survival.

Growing restless, Vaush approached the ragged entrance and peered out. A dark figure moved between the trees. Her heart jumped and her hazel eyes widened as she tried to make out the shape in pouring rain. Was there another survivor out there in need of shelter? Could it be Laney? Why did they choose to remain outdoors?

“Hello,” Vaush called out. “Is anyone there?”

She could hear nothing over the driving rain and there was no further movement. After a moment, she began to wonder if she had seen anything at all.

She groaned. “Will this infernal rain ever stop?” She had to put as much distance between her and Comron as possible to conceal the truth about what she’d done.

Follow the water flow, the Van Laven had said. That was perfect, now she’d have to place her trust in a Nethicaen for her survival. If only she’d been quicker to help Laney with her harness. Dear fiercely devoted Laney…you were far more than the captain of my guard, you were my closest friend and confidante.

Before her grief could overtake her, Vaush retreated back into the dryer parts of the vessel. She nearly jumped out of her skin upon finding Comron standing on his feet, leaning against the bulkhead.

CHAPTER 7

“Ach, you're still here,” Comron said with a wary look.

The Prince’s bloody shirt hung open, the clean bandage indicating that his wound was healing well.

She gestured at the rain. “Perhaps you'd like to brave the monsoon now that you’re recovered.”

Just as the words left her mouth, a lightning bolt flashed and crackled loudly, sending her darting from the opening toward Comron.

“Just a frightened little girl in a storm, aren’t you?” Comron said with a throaty laugh as he walked over to a chair and lowered himself into it. “Not surprising considering your cowardly heritage.” Despite their truce, he would provoke a truthful response from her. “Poor Larrs. What a grave disappointment you must be to him.”

Vaush planted her hands on her hips. “I thought we’d agreed to stop with the insults.”

“Of course I agreed in my vulnerable state. But as you can see,” he cocked a dark brow, “I’m fully recovered.”

“I should have expected no less from you,” she said, turning away in a huff.

The sight of it pleased him.

“So where exactly did the old man go wrong with you?” He intended to pick at the mental scab until he discovered why Bastionli would save the life of a Van Laven if it weren’t for treachery. “Or did he simply choose not to waste his time educating an addle-minded female?”

Vaush wheeled around, her hazel eyes flashed angrily. “I knew you were a knuckle-dragging cretin when I found you lying there, but I thought saving your life might make you a more tolerable person. Obviously, I was wrong, you mouth-breathing ingrate.”

His grin spread devilishly. “Why that’s quite a mouth you have there.” He placed his hands on his firm thighs and slid his hands upward, guiding her gaze. “I can think of far better uses for such a pretty mouth.”

Outraged, Vaush gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. But then her gaze fell to his groin, she squinted conspicuously and then tossed her head back with laughter. “That might pass as adequate on Nethic,” she said, gesturing at it, “but we, Ti-Larosian women, prefer our men with a little more… well, just more.”

Forgetting his purpose, Comron’s smug grin fell away and the color rose in his face. He had half a mind to show her exactly what he had and what he could do to her.

With enormous effort, he remained in his chair, glaring at her. “I’d prove you wrong, wench.” He eyed her figure with a false look of disdain. “But you’re not worth my time.”

“Me…or women in general?” she smirked. “Guess the rumors were true, eh?”

Comron’s eyes flew wide with indignation and rage. He shot from his chair and briskly grabbed her by the arm. “How dare you suggest such vile perversity when—”

She belted him in the gut, doubling him over.

“Mother of bitches!” he growled, fearing his wound had been ruptured.

“Don’t ever put your hands on me!” Vaush shouted and hurried to gather her things.

Before he could recover from the pain, she dashed out into the downpour, vanishing from sight.

Astonished, Comron stood there holding his gut. Without Vaush he would have no leverage in the event that Larrs should make an appearance. And if Larrs never showed, it meant Vaush had acted on her own and now he would never discover the reason why.

Ignoring the gnawing pain, he started after her until he noticed the bright red stain on the white bandage. If he didn’t treat it now, the wound would become infected and fester under the hostile conditions. He gazed out into the downpour and wondered how far Vaush would go before reason prevailed and she returned to their shelter. Reluctantly, he withdrew into the transport to treat the wound and consider his next move.

CHAPTER 8

Vaush awakened with a start and lifted her head from the damp earth. She couldn’t remember how long she’d run in the pouring rain, or when she had collapsed from exhaustion; all she remembered was the fear that raced through her when the Van Laven grabbed her. She’d suspected what the violent and vulgar brute had in mind, and based upon what she had observed of him down below, contrary to her disparaging remark, she had every reason to be fearful.

Of all the passengers who could have survived, why did it have to be an arrogant, chauvinistic, virile pig – the very embodiment all things Nethicaen.

Testing her strength, Vaush slowly rose to her feet. Her head began to swim and she realized that in the day’s excitement, she had forgotten to eat a meal. She rummaged through her satchel until she found the food rations.

She sniffed the contents and frowned. According to the label, it was still edible. Left with no other choice she begrudgingly spooned a bite into her mouth.

“What is this?” she grimaced, forcing herself to swallow it down. She was just finishing when a twig snapped.

She rose and turned in the direction of the sound.

“Comron?” She waited, but no one entered the clearing. Could it be the same person she’d seen hunkering in the shadows while back at the transport?

“Who’s there?” With heart pounding, she remained rooted to her spot.

What if it wasn’t human at all? There had to be all sorts of feral creatures this deep in the wild.

As if in answer to her question, a low growl rumbled through the air. Vaush dropped the food container and took slow steps back. She fumbled at her pocket for the surgical knife, having no other means of protection against whatever lurked in the underbrush.

The bushes parted slightly, and a huge gold paw with razor sharp claws pushed its way through the tall grass and sank into the soft earth.

“Oh my God!” Vaush gasped. The golden panther emerged from the brush standing a meter and a half tall at the shoulder. Large orange eyes glared out from underneath heavily-hooded lids. With hackles raised, it let out another growl, revealing large saber teeth.

Vaush quickly scanned the area for shelter. Only trees and dangling vines surrounded her and she knew the panther would be adept at climbing those. She cautiously reached down with her free hand and picked up a fallen branch. She held it aloft, gripping it tightly.

The predator’s eyes locked with hers as it leaned back on its haunches. Vaush watched in disbelief, refusing to accept that her life would end this way, here on some backwater planet, in such an ignoble manner.

Vaush gritted her teeth and her pulse pounded at her neck. She checked that her grip was firm and stared at the cat without flinching. As the anger grew inside her, she determined that she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

With lightning speed, the panther leapt forward, snarling as it hurtled through the air toward her. Vaush put the full force of her rage into a single blow to the beast’s head, before it landed on her, jolting her backward under its weight. The beast rolled to the side, confused by the blow. The force of the impact struck the limb clean from Vaush’s hands. She scrambled wildly for it, clutching the knife in her other hand. Just as she reached the limb, the panther pounced on her back, flattening her to the ground.

“Nooo!!” she screamed. The panther’s large paws knocked her about like a rag doll, ripping at her flesh with sharp claws, drawing blood. Vaush squirmed around and drove the surgical knife down into the panther’s paw.

It drew back with a howl, then batted Vaush across the face. She lifted her arm to fend off the attack as it lurched forward and sank its sharp teeth down into her forearm. Her screams pierced the air as she fought desperately.

It finally released her arm. The great face of her attacker loomed before Vaush, bloody fangs slavering as it prepared for the fatal strike.

A loud bang cracked through the air, the panther threw up its head and gave a harrowing roar before leaping off of her. Vaush gasped for air and her whole body trembled, waiting for the next attack. She dared to lift her head and saw that the panther’s attention was drawn elsewhere.

Straining to turn over, she glimpsed Comron Van Laven a few meters away, his firearm trained on the panther.

Vaush watched helplessly as the dazed creature mustered its strength and charged Comron.

Stalwart, Comron stood his ground and unloaded three more rounds into the beast’s chest. With all its momentum and weight, the golden panther sprang forward, knocking him to the ground. But Comron quickly rolled out of the way of the panther’s flailing claws. It continued thrashing about, blood pouring faster with each movement, until it moved no longer.

Vaush shuddered, the weight of what just happened hitting her hard. Tears burned her eyes and rolled down the side of her face as she fell back to the ground. Only shock prevented her from feeling the full measure of her pain as she lay there, bleeding profusely.

Comron’s face moved into view, his expression decidedly grim. His eyes were such a brilliant green and so intense that they sent a jolt through her. All at once her body began to shut down, her eyes drifted shut.

Her head began to spin, as she felt her body being lifted off the ground. She wondered if she were dying and her spirit were leaving her body. But then she felt strong arms enclosing her, and her head being pressed gently against a warm chest. She opened her eyes to discover the truth, the Crown Prince of Nethic had rescued her and now cradled her in his arms, carrying her away to safety. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and forced back the tears.

This couldn’t be the same brute that had treated her so contemptuously earlier. These thoughts faded from her mind as the gentle rocking motion of his long, steady strides lulled her to sleep.

CHAPTER 9

Concerned that more predators would be drawn by the carcass, Prince Comron put considerable distance between it and them, finally coming to rest near a fresh water basin. Gently, he laid Vaush upon the ground next to it and removed the medical kit from his satchel.

Delicately, he loosened her bodice and pulled her bloodied arms from the torn sleeves of her waistcoat. He tore a few strips of material from his cloak, dipped them in the water to clean the blood from her wounds.

Vaush’s eyes flickered open. Instinctively, she tried to cover herself.

Comron held her arms still and spoke softly. “Hold still. I need to stop the bleeding.”

Her body went limp once more and he continued the delicate work on her torso and arms. Once satisfied, he utilized the same flesh mending apparatus Vaush had used earlier on him. Within minutes he sealed all of her wounds. All that was required now was some much needed rest and he admonished her to do so when she started to stir.

Having completed his work, he sat back and ran his fingers through the strands of his raven hair. And that’s when the hard reality hit him – I’ve just saved the life of Larrs Bastionli’s daughter.

He’d been making his way through the forest when he heard her screams. On impulse, he’d dashed toward the commotion and happened upon her just as the panther reared back to strike. In that horrific moment, the old hatred held no sway, only the compelling desire to protect her remained.

Even as he told himself he had only saved her to use as leverage against Larrs, he knew the attack was not part of Larrs’ plans and that, in fact, none of it might be.

As Comron watched the Ti-Larosian sleep, his eyes inevitably crept along her flat stomach and narrow waist, then up to the mounds of her breasts restrained under her satin-lace brassiere. Its light cream color contrasted exquisitely with her smooth complexion. She was a naturally-bronzed beauty if he had ever seen one, with silky, soft skin beckoning to be kissed, caressed and more.

Uncomfortable with feelings stirred by the enticing image, Comron covered her with his cloak and turned away. What would Crausin make of his actions? If discovered with her, he’d explain to Crausin that he thought it was best to keep her alive in case Larrs showed up. It didn’t matter that he no longer thought Vaush was in collusion with Larrs. For whatever reason, she’d overcome her hatred sufficiently to nurse him back to life, and now he wanted to remain with her to keep her safe.

She is Larrs Bastionli’s daughter!

The thought abruptly cooled the warm feelings growing inside.

Vaush stirred from her slumber, her eyes came to rest upon him. “Thank you for helping me back there,” she whispered, as if speaking any louder would break the spell he was under.

“I saw the opportunity to repay a debt and I took it,” he said curtly.

“Fair enough.” Her voice was sleepy, even so, she attempted to sit up, but never made it an inch off the ground.

“You're in shock,” Comron said gruffly. “You should remain as you are and rest.”

“I am very tired.” She yawned, squeezing her eyes shut. A second later those hazel eyes flew open. “What if another one of those creatures—”

“Nothing is going to harm you while I’m here.” He could hardly believe the words were coming out of his mouth. “Now sleep.”

Vaush’s eyes narrowed with skepticism, but Comron held her gaze until her eyes drifted closed and a light smile graced her soft lips.

***

When Vaush awakened a few hours later, the harsh reality of her circumstances set in. She was stranded in the middle of nowhere, Laney was gone, she had no means of signaling her whereabouts and she’d been brutally attacked by a wild animal. But then she remembered the most unexpected part…Comron Van Laven.

She turned her arms over, examining them and her torso. Apparently, he’d made expert use of the flesh mender. Only minimal signs of any of trauma remained and she felt no pain.

She spotted him a few meters away, surveying their surroundings as he consumed a can of rations. This Nethicaen had acted with more kindness and grace than she had ever imagined possible.

He glanced over at her. “Good, you’re awake. Do you feel ready to travel, or do you require sustenance?” he asked, pointing at the survival pack he’d carried.

“Thanks, but I’ve had enough of…whatever that is.” She slowly rose to her feet with his cloak wrapped around her. Locks of her dark curly hair fell into her face. She reached for one of the dried strips from Comron’s long cloak and fastened her hair back.

When she looked up at Comron, he was staring back with those mesmerizing green eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

“We’d better be on our way,” he said.

“We?” Vaush said hesitantly. “So our truce holds.”

He nodded. “Until we reach the coast, anyway.”

“I'd be a fool to refuse your company in light of my recent attack.” She looked back at the place where she’d been lying and saw her tunic and leggings hanging on a branch to dry. The bloodstains had been effectively rinsed out, leaving only the tears to testify to her attack.

“You washed my clothes,” Vaush said in surprise. “Thank you.”

“The scent of blood would have attracted more predators,” Comron replied quickly.

“Well, thank you just the same.”

As she dressed, Vaush peered out the corner of her eye to find Comron looking quite preoccupied. She chuckled to herself as she fastened her bodice. Seeing him out of context, out of his natural regal setting was rather revealing. For the first time, she looked upon the Nethicaen prince, not as the loathsome brute, but as a man of feeling and surprising kindness.

That Comron was one of the most handsome men she had ever laid eyes on only complicated matters.

He is still Van Laven, son of the vile Duke of Nethic, AND engaged to be married in four weeks.

That thought quickly tempered her burgeoning feelings. She snatched his cloak from the branch and advanced toward him.

“I'm ready to travel,” Vaush announced.

He stuffed his cloak into his satchel and briefly met her eyes.

“We still have a couple of hours of daylight left,” he said, as the color rose in his cheeks. “If we make haste we can still cover a good bit of territory.”

She waved her hand. “Lead on, Lord Comron.”

Neither took note of the dark figure lowering his sniper rifle as they moved off.