“Hurt me,” she whispered, her voice
aching. “Hurt me as I’ve been hurt. As I hurt you.”
He ran his hands down her arms, pinning
her against the stone. She shifted her legs apart, grinding her hips against
his erection. Vulkar help him, he wanted her so badly. “Who am I?”
A flash of light blinded him. She
twisted and curled in his hands, flesh melting into glossy hard scales. The
White Dragon turned, tail lashing, her jaws gaping wide to threaten him with
teeth as long as his
rahke
.
He opened his mouth, but a whinny tore
out of his throat. He jerked his gaze down to his body. Coat as blood-red as
Sal’s hair, he wore the shape of a
na’kindre
,
a very small
na’kindre
compared to
the beast towering over him. A look flickered in her slitted eyes that
tightened his stomach with dread, yet he didn’t turn away. He’d never turn away
from her.
She snapped those mighty jaws shut on
his spine and he screamed, broken, unable to fight or flee.
:Is
this what you want?:
She roared in his mind, shaking him
side to side, tearing through his hide and breaking his bones.
:Is this what you drive me to do?:
:All
I want you to do is love me.:
With a howl, she tossed him into
darkness.
“Impressive,” a male said. “Does she
know you walk in her Dreams?”
Trembling, Dharman pushed himself up.
His human body had returned and he didn’t feel pain any longer, but her Dream
had shaken him more than he cared to admit, especially to a stranger. Tensing,
he dropped his hand to his
rahke
and
cast out his senses, searching for the source of the threat. “Who are you?”
A man stepped out of the darkness.
Although he was swathed head to toe in black cloth, he didn’t radiate evil. The
man’s skin was leathery and dark, as though burned and peeled and burned again
in impossible heat. Strange markings dotted his cheeks beneath each eye. The
man’s pale eyes seemed horribly out of place. A man of such dark coloring would
surely have dark eyes.
“I’m here because she Called me, though
she knows not what she does.”
The man smiled, and Dharman tightened
his fingers on his
rahke
. His skin
prickled, his heart pounding like stampeding
na’kindren
, even though the man was trying very hard not to appear
dangerous. It was the very lack of threat that alarmed him. This wasn’t Gregar
or Rhaekhar, and the only other man who’d appeared in her Dreams was Shadow
wrapped in dragon hide.
“Would you deny her?”
“I would give her anything,” Dharman
replied stiffly. “My blood is hers.”
“Would you give her your life?”
“Aye,” he retorted, unsheathing his
rahke
. “Would you?”
The man chuckled, pacing a slow circle
about him. “We shall see very soon, very soon indeed. She aches so very badly
to lie in her horse king’s and shadow killer’s arms once more. Do you
understand why she’s barred from entering that sacred place where they wait?”
“How do you know them?” Dharman shifted
his weight on the balls of his feet to better attack. “How could you know her?”
“I always know her, and she always knows
me.” The man shrugged, unconcerned. A long slivered moon of a blade hung on his
hip, but he made no move to touch it. “Yet this, I do not understand. If she
wants to enter so badly, why doesn’t she? It’s her Dream. She can do anything
she wants, even Call me forth from those burning sands.”
Despite his concern, Dharman considered
the man’s words. The same thing troubled him.
Kae’Shaman
had told her the twins and her mates would wait for her
in the Tenth Camp, yet she hadn’t been able to visit them.
She didn’t cry as much. She’d managed a
smile or two for Sal, and she’d even let Dharman touch her the one time. She
slept with them every night and wrestled her dreams, fighting and mumbling,
only to wake weary.
When the truth dawned on him, the breath
exploded out of his lungs. His knees sagged until he fell, barely catching
himself before he planted his face on the stone. “She refuses her heart. She
refuses to love. She refuses…me.”
“
Iyeh
.”
The man’s voice echoed with compassion and he slapped Dharman on the back. He
couldn’t even gather enough strength to stab the bastard in his black heart.
“She can’t shine with love. She can’t be brightheart. She can only be darkness
and shadow, and that, my young friend, is
my
domain.”
“Keep your filthy hands off her.”
The man laughed, and his genteel, amused
tone grated steel claws down Dharman’s spine. “Oh, this is priceless. I’ve
never had her before you, but this time, my young friend, I may very well take
her before she’s ever even yours.”
He leaned down and lightly touched the
old scar on Dharman’s chest directly over his heart. The day she’d brought down
the Shining Walls with his blood seemed like an eternity, a lifetime ago.
“This time, my teeth will brand her
flesh before yours.”
With a roar, Dharman surged to his feet
and thrust the
rahke
as hard as he
could. His blade sank to the hilt, grinding on the man’s ribs.
Laughing, he grabbed Dharman’s shoulder
and pulled his body harder onto the blade, writhing on steel with a low sound
of pleasure.
Appalled, Dharman jerked back, his hand
burning with the man’s blood.
“It will feel ever so much better when
she
does it.” The man melted away, but
his voice lingered. “Your blood may be hers, but soon, her blood will be mine,
all mine.”
Dharman flung himself out of the Dream
so hard he slid off the edge of the bed and slammed his skull onto the stone
floor.
Sal yelled, “ALARM!”
Steel pricked Dharman’s flesh in at
least five key spots, along with hard knees to pin him to the floor. Panting,
he didn’t move. “Is she awake?”
“Yes, I am,” she answered, her voice
muffled. “Get off me, Sal. I want to see what’s wrong. Dharman? Are you all
right?”
Her voice rose with concern, which
shouldn’t have made him feel so good. The knees and
rahkes
left him, but even with his eyes closed, he knew the other
Blood hovered close, ready to eliminate him if he proved Shadowed in any way.
He’d taught them well. “I’m well,
na’lanna
Qwen.
Give me a moment to catch my breath.”
“Let me up.” Sal must have complied, for
her palm settled on Dharman’s cheek. “What happened?”
“I have a confession to make.” He opened
his eyes but didn’t try to get up yet. Once she found out he’d been spying on
her, she might put him back on the floor. “I’ve been guarding your Dreams.”
She didn’t say anything, but he could
see the thoughts whirling in her mind. He knew the moment she made the
connection, remembering what she’d done just a few moments ago. Her cheeks
flushed and then drained of all color. “I ate you.”
Squatting down beside her, Sal laughed,
cutting it off to a muffled clearing of his throat at the look she shot him.
Her fingers trembled on Dharman’s face and water flooded their bond, so cold he
gasped and shivered.
“I tore you apart, like I hurt Gregar.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears. “You disappeared. Lady above,
I could have killed you!”
“I’m well, truly, just bruised, and not
from anything you did.” If he didn’t ache from head to toe, he would have sat
up and pulled her into his arms. He did manage to lift his hand toward her. “It
was only a Dream.”
Sal sucked in a sharp breath. “Then why
is there blood on your hand?”
She breathed deeply and went rigid. “You
smell like…” Reaching out to grip his forearm, she sniffed along his arm to his
right hand still coated in blood. “Desert sands,” she whispered. “Sandalwood,
smoked and roasted in the miserable sun. Dragon musk, faint, but unmistakable.”
He felt the uncurling of desire in her
stomach at the memory of the frenzy that had taken her and Rhaekhar when they’d
used the strange oil. Her lips parted, her breathing quickened, and Vulkar help
him, Dharman felt the surge of heat rushing through her body. She bent closer,
hunger demanding she taste that blood still faintly warm on his skin.
Jealousy galloped through him as
viciously as the Great Wind Stallion’s fury. Even flat on his back and sore he
wanted to draw his
rahke
and
challenge that smooth-talking, light-eyed desert savage, even if he wasn’t the
Black Dragon.
“Nay!” He jerked his hand away and
lurched upright, wincing at the stabbing pain in his head. Gingerly, he felt
the back of his skull to make sure he hadn’t cracked it open. “Don’t give that
blackheart another hold on you!”
Her eyes flared wide and her face
drained of color. Cold flooded him, brutal and alpine, but when she passed,
every single one of his pains was gone.
She averted her face. “Sal, carry him
into the bath and wash the blood off him.”
Dharman took a deep breath, held it, and
then exhaled slowly, forcing his muscles to unclench from warrior on the
rampage. “Forgive me,
na’lanna Qwen
.
I shall never deny you anything you want. If you truly…” he swallowed hard,
forcing the words out, “want
his
blood…”
Standing, she moved away, as though she
couldn’t bear to even look upon him. “Do as I said, Sal.”
The red-haired Blood flashed a command
to Lew and Jahne. Each took one of Dharman’s arms and dragged him upright
toward the bath, but not before he saw her bury her face against Sal’s chest.
Jorah wrapped around her back.
His
position.
Vulkar help him, what had he done? Would
he save her from Shadow only to lose her heart forever?
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
SHANNARI
LAY IN BED WITH SAL’S WARM WEIGHT AT HER BACK, BUT SHE COULDN’T STOP THE TEARS.
She gripped his arms tighter, until she could barely breathe. Lady above, she
could have killed Dharman. She’d hurt him, attacked him, and then tossed him
away like rubbish. She’d seen the blood, and although it wasn’t his, it very
easily could have been. It certainly proved that her Dreams were a dangerous
place for a living person to walk.
The guiltier she felt at what she’d done
to him, the more anger churned in her stomach. He shouldn’t have been guarding
her Dreams. What if she’d managed to get inside the Tenth Camp? If she’d fallen
weeping and kissing upon her two warriors to make love beneath the
kae’sangral
tree?
“I can’t enter the Tenth Camp.” Dharman
stood at the edge of the bed. “There, you’re Gregar’s, and I’ve never been able
to enter.”
By the harsh look on his face, he’d
honestly expected to find Jorah in bed with her when he returned. Bitterness
sharpened her voice. “So you think you’re all interchangeable? That what I feel
for you and Sal could just as easily transfer to Jorah? Or Lew? How about some
stranger as long as he swears a blood oath to me?”
“How do you feel for me?” Dharman's
voice tightened, his hands closed fists at his sides. “If you care so very
much, why deny us? Why refuse us?”
“You know how I feel.”
“Do I?” His face darkened. “Then I
should stand guard and leave you to your sleep.”
“Come here,” she retorted.
He hesitated. He actually hesitated.
Blizzard snows began to blow within her,
but not from grief this time. “Your blood is mine and I want you here, in my
bed, this very minute.”
If a warrior could slam himself into a
fluffy soft mattress, Dharman did. He lay on his back and glared up at the
ceiling, his bond as hard as red-forged steel in her mind.
He’d closed himself off, she realized
with a start. She could feel his bond, but his thoughts and emotions weren’t
leaking through. He’d managed to seal the link between them and had locked her
out.
As
I’ve done so many times since he became my Blood.
Tears burned but she refused to soften.
She touched his bond, seeking the red thread in her mind. Breathing hard, he
stiffened beside her but the bond hardened, forged with his determination. He
was First Blood, but he wanted to be more, so much more.
He wanted to be
First
, the first she looked to for protection, comfort, and
affection. He wanted to be First in her heart.
He expected her to rage and tear at his
bond until he broke down and let her in. In fact, that’s exactly what he
wanted. He hoped to prove how much she would miss him if his bond was gone, and
he thought he could force her hand.
In
some ways, he doesn’t know me at all.
Rhaekhar had known to surrender such a
kae’don
before it ever started.
Irritated more than she cared to admit,
she simply arched a brow at him. “If you’re tired of serving as Blood, I’ll let
you go.”
Her brief satisfaction at the well-aimed
barb dissolved beneath the raging panic that filled his eyes. “Nay,” he
breathed, his voice broken. “You wouldn’t.”