Alliance Forged (36 page)

Able to sense injuries on the emotional plane, Rissa’s skill would prove invaluable as the boy was going to need her help after seeing his parents killed in front of him.

“I’ve some friends you should meet. They’re just over there….” She shared a conspiratorial smile with Johy. “They’re just like Varian, only our age. You ever played flutter-tag?”

And just like that, she led the child away to meet those who would see them settled into their new homes. Varian ran a hand through his hair and let out an unsteady breath, hoping some sense of normalcy would restore the child.

“He’ll be fine.” Candra’s soft comment drew his attention back to her. The healer’s dark gaze fixed on him. Her brows drew down and he knew she’d spotted the way his hands shook. Without contact with Johy, the symptoms had returned. “Now, I’m more worried about you. The flecks in your eyes are enlarged and they’re almost red.”

Varian rose from his crouch to avoid her outstretched hand. He didn’t think he could stand someone else touching him. “I’ll be all right. I’m just hungry.”

If it was possible, his voice sounded even more guttural. A figure broke away from the far group of people and came toward him. Lisella. Slung over one shoulder in a carry sling was a stoppered jug.

“Varian, don’t ignore what your body’s trying to tell you,” Candra said, her expression changing to one of deep concern. “You’re so restless I can feel the energy rippling off you. I don’t need to touch you.”

His stomach cramped, sudden and vicious. His skin felt hot, like he was burning with fever.
Mother of Mercy
, he was close to end-stage blood-fever. He pushed past Candra and headed straight for Lisella, knowing the flask would contain enough
geefan
blood to sate his immediate hunger, at least until he could get more from the kitchens.

“Varian!” Candra called. “Wait!”

He ignored her, wincing as everything went dark crimson. His head pounded and his hearing became hypersensitive. Conversations changed to garbled noise, like water rushing over a waterfall, every footstep sounded like a hammer, even the rattle of metal and rasping
slide of straps on fur as the stable hands unsaddled the war-beasts felt like splinters being driven into his brain.

“Varian?” Lisella’s scent reeked of uncertainty. “What’s wrong?”

“The jug…” The words felt thick in his mouth. He snatched the ceramic container from her, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t pull the stopper. A growl rumbled deep in his chest.

“Let me help….” She plucked the stopper free.

An rich iron odor filled his nostrils. He drained the jug in one go, hardly tasting the thick metallic-flavored liquid. The cramping eased but the itching beneath his skin and the red-hot sensation eating away at his insides returned, twice as bad. He groaned and doubled over, dropping the jug. Pottery smashed.

“Varian?” Lisella’s scent morphed to fear.

He bit back a cry as his other half surged from the darkness like a predator emerging from the shadows, strong, with lethal intent. “Get away from me!”

Her hand gripped his shoulder. Redness saturated his vision. Heat flamed inside him. With a growl, he turned. His hand seized the arm that touched him, the other closed around her throat.

And squeezed.

Lisella’s choked gasp fed the hunger inside him. The beast inside him savored the shocked expression on her face. Her fingers pried at his. The hoarse sound of every breath energized him. Her fear wound its way through him, nourished his satisfaction.

“Varian!” Her lips shaped his name but no sound came out.

“Varian, stop! You’re hurting her!” Someone yanked at his arm. “Jole!”

Someone tackled him from the side. The collision broke his grip around Lisella’s throat. He hit the ground hard. The impact drove the breath from his lungs and cracked his head back against the hard-packed dirt.

Head spinning, he blinked up at a bloodred sky that abruptly
changed to blue. A forearm pressed against his chest. Jole’s weather-tanned face stared down at him, his expression two parts steely resolve, one part concern.

Rasping gasps and coughing reached them. Varian turned toward the sound. Jole’s weight shifted and the edge of a dagger was placed against his throat.

“Easy,
Na’Chi
,” the Light Blade warned. Hypersensitive, Varian could feel the deadly hum of his Gift.

Collapsed on the ground, with Candra kneeling beside her, Lisella attempted to suck in deep breaths. Tears tracked down her cheeks. Around them the small crowd buzzed with whispers. Their bitter fear saturated the air. As the last few minutes crystallized in his mind, shock lanced through Varian.

“Merciful Mother…”
His voice, hoarse and gravelly, broke. “Lisella? What have I done?” A shudder tore through him. Red finger marks ringed her throat, a violent tattoo that shook him to the core. Nausea rolled, and his stomach dry heaved. “Let me up, Jole. Candra, is she all right?”

The warrior on top of him pressed harder with his dagger. The elderly healer glanced up, the lines creasing her face white with tension.

“It’s all right, Jole,” she said, her tone low. “The energy inside him, he has it under control.”

Controlled, a small mercy, but not banished. Jole slowly rose off him, sheathing his dagger. Varian pushed himself upright, every limb trembling, his heart tearing at the tears tracking down Lisella’s face.

“Oh,
Lady of Light
… I’m sorry….” He dropped his head into his hands as a groan welled from deep inside his chest. “I’m so sorry….”

What had he done?

“Varian…” Lisella’s harsh whisper lifted his head. Her gaze locked with his. With Candra’s help, she climbed to her feet and came
over to him. She reached out to touch him, hand shaking. “I’ll be all right. But you won’t… if you don’t get help….”

The painful rasp in her voice made him flinch. Throat tightening, he averted his gaze, no longer able to meet hers. He’d attacked her. If Candra and Jole hadn’t stopped him, he’d have killed her. The darkness inside him writhed, but guilt choked it back.

“Don’t let this beat you, Varian.” Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “We can’t lose you now.” She made him look at her. The flecks in her gaze were a deep, solid green.

Not yellow.

Fear
.

Or black.

Anger
.

Pure green.

Steely resolve.

It gave him the strength to push to his feet even though every muscle felt like one of Candra’s gelatinous salves. The pain eating away everything inside him hadn’t disappeared. If he ignored it, the beast would return, eventually, and he doubted any interference would stop him until he killed someone.

Varian trembled. The shadow staining his soul would consume him. He wasn’t supposed to hurt the ones he cared about. There’d never be any peace for him if he did that.

“Kymora…” he rasped. “Where’s Kymora?”

“You’re not going anywhere near—”

“He won’t hurt her, Jole.” Lisella pointed in the direction of the Temple. “Apartment… meditating…”

The gathered crowd backed away as he staggered in their direction. Varian grimaced at the heavy stench of fear rolling at him in waves but didn’t let it stop him. His breath shortened as everything around him began leeching of color again. Beautiful blues, greens, browns, and yellows altered to the faintest of crimson hues.

No, not again.

His heart pounded fast and sweat bloomed all over him by the time he reached the end of the Memorial Garden walkway. He leapt up the Temple steps, taking three at a time, his boots cracking against the stone.

Varian stumbled to a halt in the open Temple doorway, catching himself on the wooden supports. He stood there, shaking, as two young acolytes looked up from cleaning the floor. Neither commented as he headed along the covered walkway paralleling the Temple. It led to the dormitories and Kymora’s apartment.

Fear ate at him, hard and vivid, the closer he drew to her door. Her two Light Blade guards stood in the corridor, a short distance from her apartment. Lisella’s abused throat flashed in his mind. Instinct screamed that he was putting Kymora in danger. In just a heartbeat, he could very well turn on her, too. He’d come too close once already to hurting her, and now he stood poised on the edge of a very high cliff. It wouldn’t take much to make him tumble over.

Mother of Mercy
, how he wished he could exorcise his darker half. Banish it, bury it, cut it out. He’d give up his colored eyes, his body markings, his enhanced senses and strength, everything he liked about being
Na’Chi
, if he could just be rid of it. All it seemed to do was grow stronger and hurt those he cared about.

As he passed the Light Blades, he nodded a response to their greetings, unable to voice a reply. He halted in front of the apartment door. He placed his hand, then his forehead on the rough panels. The odor of wood and Keri-blossom incense, Kymora’s favorite scent, assailed his nostrils. It was wholesome, clean, much like her.

He breathed in deeply, trying to capture a little part of her for himself, trying to reconstruct the sense of peace he felt when with her. Just thinking about it sparked a craving as strong as the battle rush heating his veins.

His gut twisted. The truth was that peace would never be his.
Not permanently. Darkness held him. Now it almost controlled him. He feared himself and what he was capable of doing. How could he put Kymora at risk?

His heart constricted. He wanted her. It was that simple. She brought him happiness and light. She showered him with her smiles, addicted him to them like a blood-slave to his mistress’s blood. She saw him as a friend, a companion, and lover. Unscarred. Whole. Desirable on so many levels. She made him feel complete. Worthy of so much more than he deserved.

More truths.

But despite that mutual attraction, what right did it give him to endanger her? How did he deserve her when that thing lived inside him?

Varian shut his eyes. The sound forced from his throat was too unpleasant to be a laugh and too abrasive to be a gasp. He dropped his hand to his side.

It didn’t matter how much he wanted everything she offered him. He cared too much for her to take the risk. He’d rather die with Jole’s dagger planted in his chest than jeopardize Kymora’s life.

T
HE door to the apartment opened and Kymora stood there. Even dressed in her Temple robe, she took his breath away. Her expression was relaxed, calm, and the smallest of smiles curved her full lips. She smelled like a garden full of flowers, the floral fragrance light and sweet. Meditating. She’d been burning incense and meditating.

Varian frowned. Then how had she known someone was at her door? He fisted a hand, keeping his curse to himself. Had she sensed his emotions?
Lady
knew they had to be pouring off him. He was too rattled to care or feel frustrated by his lack of control.

“Varian?” Her soft, melodic voice sent a shudder through him. The warmth and welcome in it felt like a balm, soothing some of the rawness inside of him. “Come in.”

She stepped back, opening the door wider, and motioned him into her apartment. He remained on the threshold. Her common room was simply furnished, a table and chairs sanded but not painted, a braided rug spread on the floor, a padded chair near the fireplace,
a small prayer niche set into one wall. A stick of incense still burned there. Neat, full of textures and warmth. It suited her.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” The roughness in his tone should have been warning enough.

Her head cocked to one side, her expression contemplative half a heartbeat before she stepped toward him. He stiffened as her outstretched hand made contact with his side. Slender fingers skimmed his leather vest, then her arms slid under it and she embraced him.

His throat squeezed tight and he opened his mouth to warn her again, but all that came from him was a ragged gasp that quickly turned into a series of uneven, lung-shuddering breaths. He stood as she hugged him, not moving, fearing and waiting for the darkness to surge and take control.

But all he could feel was her. Her hold wasn’t tight, but every soft curve she possessed pressed against his torso. Her arms looped loosely around his waist and her palms were flat against his lower back. As he looked down at her, she placed her cheek against his collarbone, and the top of her dark-haired head brushed against his jaw.

“Do you know this is the first time you’ve sought me out after coming back from patrol?” she asked. “I’d really like it if you’d come inside and visit.”

With two simple sentences, a profound sense of comfort washed through him. Lightness and warmth. Until his body relaxed, he never even realized just how tense he was. He caught himself, one arm reaching out to lean against the door frame, the other wrapping around her.

Kymora tightened her hold on Varian as his body sagged, taking some of his weight even though he caught himself against the jam of the doorway. His every breath juddered in and out of his lungs, sounding like a winded war-beast, only she knew the force of his emotions drove him, not exhaustion. His muscles trembled and his whole body quaked with whatever was tearing him up inside.

The strength of them had alerted her to the fact he was outside her apartment to begin with. The raw blanket of pain that bled from him like hearts-blood, rich and thick and uncontrollable, covered a wealth of other emotions, ones so tangled and twisted she had no chance of sensing what they were. Not yet. He needed a little distance and time before dealing with what had brought him to her.

She was surprised to be able to identify any of what he was feeling. Was it because he’d come to her, needing her help? An active participant in a resolution session was easier to read than an uncooperative one. Whatever the case, this time she wouldn’t be going in blind.

Kymora lifted her head from his shoulder. “Come inside, please, Varian.”

With gentle coaxing, she brought him into her apartment, closed the door behind them, and headed straight for her bathing room. Nudging the arm she had wrapped around him, slung over his shoulder, was his travel pouch. Judging by the bulge, it had a change of clothes inside.