15 Targeted (62 page)

“How do you dare to ask me that when you already know very well what wrongs this…this
inferior male
has committed?” the High Priestess demanded. “Must I list them all? Very well—firstly, having pledged his oath to the
Verrak,
he kills wantonly
.
Which means he has turned his back on the Goddess, to whom all life is sacred.”

“Tragar has his own code of ethics—he’s never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Emily said. “And besides, if he hadn’t been one of the
Verrak,
another assassin would have been sent to kill me and I’d be dead by now.”

The High Priestess nodded grudgingly. “I will grant you that. It must have been the will of the Goddess for the contract of death that was placed on your head to fall to one of your kinsmen who knew what you were becoming.”

“See?” Emily defended. “So it was the will of the Goddess that brought us together. You can’t argue with that.”

“I said it was the will of the Goddess for him to
find
you—not for you to take him as your chosen mate.” Mother Chundra gave her a steely glare and then turned to face the candidates. “For as soon as he found the
Khalla-to-be
, this male began to mistreat and malign her.”

“What?” Emily was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? You must have seen wrong—Tragar never hurt me. He
helped
me.”

“How—by
striking
you? For he did,” the High Priestess declared, looking at everyone assembled. “This male dared to strike a
Khalla-to-be.
First with his hand and then with his
belt.”

There was a gasp and a murmur of outrage from the assembled candidates. Several of them looked at Tragar as though they wanted to rip him limb from limb.

“Wait!” Emily begged. “You’re taking that out of context! He, uh, spanked me in order to put the
other
back in her box. Un—drive my
Kit’tara
back, I mean,” she tried to explain quickly.

“If I may explain, though I know it will do no good,” Tragar growled, rising to his feet. “Emily was going through her
Tenrah
too quickly. I feared she would go through all the stages before I could get her here to the Holy Mountains of Rageron. That was why I struck her.”

“And I
asked
him to,” Emily said earnestly. “I was scared the
other—
my
Kit’tara—
was going to take over!”

“Your
Kit’tara
will emerge in the fullness of time whether you wish it or not—it is blasphemy not to welcome her and long for her coming,” Mother Chundra said sternly. “But even
that
is not as bad as the other sin I saw in this male’s mind.” She glared at Emily. “Tell the truth,
Khalla-to-be,
did he or did he not imbibe freely of your nectar?”

“He…uh…” Emily could feel her cheeks getting hot but she had to defend the man she loved. “He did,” she said, raising her chin. There were more startled and angry murmurs from the other candidates but she tried to ignore them. “He
had
to,” she said loudly, even though she felt like she was going to die of embarrassment. “My, uh…my nectar wasn’t flowing. If Tragar hadn’t…” She could feel her cheeks burning but she forced herself to continue. “If he hadn’t sucked it out, I might be dead right now!”

“There is no excuse good enough to partake of a
Khalla’s
nectar,” the High Priestess declared.

“So I should have let her die?” Tragar growled. “I could not do that. Though I take life for a living, I could not allow the female I love to die when I could help her. I knew it was sacrilege to suck the nectar from her breasts, and I did it anyway. I would do it again if it was the only way to save her life.”

“How dare you speak such blasphemy before this assemblage!” The High Priestess glared at him and then turned to Emily. “You,
Khalla-to-be,
may be excused through ignorance of the enormity of your actions. But this male…” She turned a withering gaze on Tragar who simply stared back in stony silence. “This male had committed acts which are an abomination against the Goddess herself! That he even dares to show himself here is the worst kind of wickedness. I want him removed at once!”

“What? No!” Emily exclaimed as two burly temple guards suddenly appeared on either side of her man. “No, leave him alone! Didn’t you hear him? He only did it to
help
me.”

“The nectar of a
Khalla
must flow freely and none shall partake of it—not even her chosen mate on pain of death.” Mother Chundra sounded like she was quoting something—maybe a rule from the Kindred version of the Bible or some holy text. Whatever it was, Emily didn’t care. She rushed forward, trying to pry the guards’ hands off of Tragar’s arms.

“Emily, no,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “No, it cannot be between us. I warned you this might happen.”

“Why? Because you helped me? Because you saved my life?” she demanded, her voice breaking. “So what if you broke a rule to do it? It’s a
stupid
rule!”

There was another collective gasp from everyone assembled and Emily got the distinct impression she’d just spit all over these people’s religion. But she didn’t care—it didn’t seem to be a true or devout faith. As far as she could see, it was just a set of rules that were keeping her and Tragar apart and she wanted no part of it.

“
Khalla-to-be!”
The High Priestess exclaimed. “I know you are ignorant of our ways but this kind of talk is completely unacceptable. It is no better than blasphemy and—”

Turra stepped up and whispered in her ear, giving Emily a significant look.

“Ah—I see.” The look on the High Priestess’s face cleared for a moment and she nodded before turning back to Emily. “I am informed that you refused most of the Feast of Becoming and did not allow the
lisix
to finish cleansing you while bathing in the Juice of Refreshment. Is this so,
Khalla-to-be?”

“Yes, it’s so.” Emily lifted her chin higher as her
other
surged again, giving her courage. “I’m sorry about the feast—the food tasted strange to me. But as for the bath, I’m not apologizing for that. I was allowed to get into a tub with what amounted to a giant alien leech and nobody told me anything about it until it was climbing up my leg! I had a Hell of a time getting away from it and there was no way I was going back for seconds.”

Mother Chundra shook her head gravely.

“This is a bad business indeed,” she said, frowning. “A
Khalla-to-be
must be a blank slate—an open door that her
Kit’tara
may step through without any hindrance or reservation. How do you expect to form a good bond with your chosen candidate when you have not allowed yourself to be cleansed of all impurities?”

“Those
impurities
you’re talking about are my past! My thoughts and feelings and memories!” Emily exclaimed. “They’re what make me
me.
I’m not giving them up. Besides—Tragar already knows my past.” She pointed at the big Kindred who was still being held between the two Temple Guards. “He knows and it doesn’t bother him. And he’s the only one I want to be with—so it doesn’t matter.”

“It
does
matter.” The High Priestess’s face darkened. “For you will never be allowed to be with a blasphemer such as this! Choose another! That is, if any will have you.”

“No!” Emily glared at her defiantly. “Who are you to tell me who I can and can’t be with? You don’t even know me!”

“We can certainly remedy
that.”

Before Emily could reply, Mother Chundra’s cold fingertips were pressed to her temples. There was a sensation of someone rifling through her brain and digging out her most awful memories. Somehow Emily understood it was the High Priestess going through her mind like someone might dig through a filing cabinet. She wanted to move, wanted to tear herself away but she was caught— held as though in an invisible net that wouldn’t let her go no matter how hard she tried to struggle.

No!
she thought wildly as every embarrassing or awful incident in her life was taken out and examined with cold, dispassionate eyes.
No, you can’t look at that—it’s private!

She wanted to fight, wanted to struggle especially when the rape was revealed but the Priestess held her until absolutely every awful thing that had ever been done to her was completely looked over. Only then did she release Emily from her heartless grip.

“So…” She said drawing back and giving Emily a look that was half pity, half disgust. “This is why your
Tenrah
was so late in coming to you.”

“No…no, please—don’t say it,” Emily begged, her throat tight. Admitting what had been done to her to Tragar had been hard enough and he had been understanding and supportive. She didn’t want a whole roomful of strangers to know her pain and shame as well. It was too much—too awful!

“I am sorry,
Khalla-to-be,”
the High Priestess said loftily. “But I must inform the candidates of your past—they have a right to know you are damaged before choosing to tie themselves to you.” She sniffed. “You could have avoided all this if you had allowed the
lisix
to do its work. Now, I fear it is too late and you must suffer the consequences.”

“Please—” Emily began again but the High Priestess raised her voice and began speaking to the assembled candidates.

“Candidates, be aware that the
Khalla-to-be
has not undergone the required cleansing before the ceremony as she should have. There is pain and hurt in her past that might hinder bonding. She—”

“No!” Tragar roared angrily, glaring at Mother Chundra. Emily thought he would have jumped on her but he was still being held by the Temple Guards who were struggling to drag him out of the room. He wasn’t making it easy for them, however, and they still hadn’t managed to remove him.

“She was taken against her will and violated by an alien male the first time her
Tenrah
came upon her,” the High Priestess continued dispassionately. “This wrongful and premature breeding delayed her
Tenrah
for some years and it has left a scar upon her that cannot be healed. So…” She looked around at all the candidates, still standing in a semi-circle in front of her. “If you still wish to be considered to be the chosen mate to this
Khalla-to-be,
stay where you are. All others, take a step backwards.”

All but one of the males stepped backwards, most of them giving Emily side-long looks of pity, disgust, and horror.

Emily wished she could sink through the floor. God, to have her secret shame revealed to so many people at once was
awful.
And the looks on their faces said they didn’t want to have anything to do with her now that they knew.
Damaged Goods
might as well have been stamped on her forehead in blood-red ink.