Apparition (2 page)

The healing waters for some reason attacked most human
body hair as though it were dirt, leaving some of the facial hair, such as
eyebrows and eyelashes alone as well as hair on their heads. Doss was almost
hairless, but that was his heritage. Female
Tonans
and female
Castians
were also devoid of body hair. It
had something to do with their males’ armor. Doss had seen a nude
Tonan
female; he and his mother swam together when he was a
small boy. He had also seen a nude human female, one that did have hair on her
legs, underarms, and the female area his mother called pubic—a curious sight to
behold. This female was a real beauty. Better still she was neither a dirty
Castian
nor a filthy
Tonan
.

Nimbly, she jumped back onto the horse that had bent a
knee to aid her ascent. Otherwise there was no way she would have scaled a
mountainous stallion at least seventeen hands high or perhaps taller. Her bare
foot stood for a second on the bent knee before her slim leg settled across his
broad back. Her hair fell forward to cover her high breasts; ringlets rested on
creamy thighs. Her female opening was hidden from view in the horse’s mane. But
Doss had smelled her stunning aroma. It made his knees quiver and his heart
thump until his armor controlled the emotions. The scent brought memories to
mind. For an instant, Doss fought instinct to keep his shield up. Doss had
never lost the scent of females. Their unique female scent was an aphrodisiac.
When he came into must four hundred years prior, he had thought he would die
from need. He was spurned time and again.

No female wanted a hybrid; they looked at him with
loathing. Then the females died.
All of them.
Poisoned by the
Tonans
.
The
Tonans
had sentenced both their kinds to a life of
loneliness. They all knew how Doss felt then. But at least the
Castians
had male warrior mates as companions to ease the
blow. And
Tonans
were so self-centered they didn’t
need anyone else. It was how Doss had survived with no one. His shield, part
Tonan
, regulated his sadness for companionship. His
Castian
half battled the need for a warrior mate.

Now there were human females to fill the void and Doss
felt it was time he had one. They wouldn’t know what a hybrid was. An ache
began in his loins that grew hot. Doss wanted this female. So did the
Tonan
. The
Tonan
lunged for her.
The stallion reared and struck out with his sharp hooves, they glanced off the
Tonan
armor clanging with sparks shooting. Doss knew the
only way the
Tonan
would get the female was to kill
the animal. The female could be hurt. Doss attacked the
Tonan
in his first talon to talon combat.

Both armored beings sliced at one another. Their armor
was impenetrable, at least Doss’ was. His gray-white shield hugged his huge
body like a second skin, curving around all of his bulging muscles. Like the
Tonan
, Doss had claws and talons. From his mouth hung
two-inch long, vicious-looking, pure white razor-sharp fangs. Doss had never
had need to battle, he was avoided and he sensed he was feared. The experience
was new and yet not. Memories over thousands of years bombarded his emotions
and he remembered survival fighting instincts. The scent memories of
predecessors before him bubbled fast and furious to the surface. Astoundingly,
Doss wasn’t the only hybrid; though he knew of no other, he had their memories.
Doss could kill; he suddenly realized why he was feared.

Doss had one thing the
Tonans
and
Castians
did not. One of his talons curled into a
hook at the tip. The end was a different color and made of a substance a human
would call diamond. A defect all hybrids bore. So he had been told by his
mother. Now he had the memory for it. It shocked him.

Doss had never met another of his kind. As a rule
Castians
and
Tonans
hated one
another. Doss had been told his mother was so beautiful Doss’ father couldn’t
resist her. His father had come during a meeting between
Tonans
and
Castians
. The meeting hadn’t gone well. Both
sides couldn’t get past their distrust. His father and mother had met in
secret. His father had taken her during his first must. She was as young and
inexperienced at twenty-two, as his father had been at four hundred and two,
and she had repelled him too late. Doss was the result and no mating to bind
them had taken place. His mother was exiled when he was born; Doss was
considered a waste of a shield. That same shield had protected him and his
mother then or both she and Doss would have been killed. They had fled and hidden
in the cave Doss called home.
Castians
and
Tonans
were still at war. His father never came back for
them.

Viciously, the
Tonan
sliced
at Doss. Talons scraped across his armored chest. Between warriors it was
purely physical, there were no weapons—the dominant one would win. The stronger
of the two would prevail from simple agility and power and normally the loser
would back away to fight another day. The two moved so quickly they were a
blur. But because of Doss’ pale armor he was more of a blur. The faster he
moved the harder it was for his opponent to see him.

A tail slunk its way up Doss’ calf and he stomped down
on it, severing it. The talons of both warriors were pinwheels in action. Doss
had another advantage, he was bigger than the
Tonan
and his arm reach was longer. Doss could smell the
Tonan’s
rage and frustration. Doss gained a better sense of the battle the harder he
fought. It was exhilarating. The little female sat shocked upon the steed. It
was apparent she had never watched a battle between warriors. He smelled her
emotions, fear, excitement and a small flicker of hope mixed with apprehension.
After all, Doss was saving her, but for what purpose?

Deep-seated memories of defensive attack assaulted
Doss until one memory of frontal aggressive assault filled him. Doss managed to
hook that single curled talon into the
Tonans
armor
and slice down. The armor was slit open and before it could reclose Doss used
his lightning speed to rip into the
Tonan’s
guts and
across his exposed throat. The
Tonan
gurgled; he was
stunned, Doss scented it, as he was sliced almost in half. The human female
screamed in horror and stunned disbelief. The stallion pranced, recoiling from
the smell of blood as it slid down the
Tonan
like
small rivers undammed. It was too late for the
Tonan
,
Doss cut at him in too many different places for the armor to cover and heal.
The
Tonan
was bleeding out.

Doss supposed he could have let him live. If he walked
away the
Tonan
would have healed eventually. But he
had called him a hybrid. Hybrids were loathed by both
Tonan
and
Castian
. He had reminded Doss he would always be
alone thanks to both kinds. His lineage wasn’t Doss’ fault. He hadn’t chosen to
be born any more than anyone else. Doss never chose to be different. His
Castian
half made him feel hurt with rejection.
His
Tonan
half discouraged mercy.
Alone, Doss separated the two. It had been hard to learn but worth the effort
or he would have spent his life battling himself.

Doss knew the
Tonan
warrior
would never leave the female human alone, she would be captured eventually. The
stallion’s life would always be at risk; he would die for her. There really was
no other choice. Not that he cared for
Tonan
filth;
they were vile. Doss killed him. The
Tonan
lay in his
own blood. The armor fell away to lay in pieces on the ground. There was no
longer a host to take care of. The armor squeaked and squealed in confusion, it
didn’t know what to do, there were no vital signs to check and regulate. There
was no heart to keep a steady beat. There were no memories or emotional
commands, it was useless, it had never been useless and so it rusted into red
dust. The dust blew away on the wind.

The stallion wheeled around and took off. Doss followed
from a distance. He sensed the woman’s fear of him.
Her urgency
to get away.
There was a primitive wildness to her. She and the stallion
looked perfectly natural together. Once again, she was almost completely
covered by her hair and the stallion’s mane, bent over his thick neck. Only her
sweet behind and long legs were seen. Those pale legs quivered. The female was
tired.

The female wasn’t directing the beast, he was moving
with purpose on his own. At a small clearing, Doss stopped and studied the
female and the stallion. There were eight other horses: six mares, a filly and
a colt. Doss didn’t know much about horses, but the mares and their young
looked like they had been placed in this spot to await the return of their
stallion. He had hidden them.

They all greeted the stallion warmly, and he seemed to
assess them. Rearing and calling to them, the stallion led the herd away at a
fast gallop. Doss followed. He had no problem keeping up the fast pace. When
they stopped at a river, the female slipped from the stallion’s back.
She half-dove, half-fell into the water.
The other horses
drank deeply while the stallion guarded his herd. His ears were pricked forward
and Doss knew the stallion was aware of him.

When the female human climbed from the water she
looked exhausted. She stumbled. Her hair when wet hung past her behind. She
curled under a tree with the little filly, which lay her head in the female’s
lap. The mare and apparently head-female horse stood close to them. She also
seemed aware of Doss’ presence and
nickered
a small
sound of apprehension to the stallion.

The stallion, obviously tired but protective, charged
up the hill to where Doss hung upside down in a tree. He reared and snorted a
warning. Both front hooves stomped down in a crushing gesture. He tossed his
regal head and pranced a few steps in challenge. Doss remained quiet and
unmoving hoping to appear unthreatening.

“You have quite a harem,” Doss muttered under his
breath. The horses were beautiful. The little colt was as black as his sire;
the little filly was a palomino like her fair dam. Others were gray, brown, one
was a stunning white and one pinto. “I wonder how you acquired your little human
female.”

Doss was amazed but it was true. The stallion
considered the female to be his. Doss wondered how it was possible the stallion
had saved the female from the
Tonan
slave camp. He
had overheard from others that stallions could steal mares. But stealing human
females?
And from such a high-risk area?
Why this
female? Why when the stallion had his mares and foals? Something else must be a
factor.

Doss had his mind and thoughts in motion. The stallion
wasn’t the only one who could steal a human female. Doss had planned on getting
his own. This little female’s scent filled his mind and memories with mating
rituals he was eager to perform. Though Doss had never mated, he planned on it
now. No more loneliness. Come morning that female would be his. And Doss
planned on keeping her…forever.

The stallion turned and thundered back down the hill
bucking, ears flattened to his head. Doss chuckled when the little colt
imitated his sire. The mares were milling around the filly and the human
female, seeking the shade of the large tree. With their tight circle formed,
Doss could no longer see
his
female.
But a gust of wind brought her
scent
to him. She
smelled of need, hurt, weariness.
A protective instinct as
old as time flared.
The smell was compelling, he could give her safety;
he could give her everything she needed.

It had been four hundred years, but his must was
building. He had to have her.
Soon
.
Doss felt
the pounding of his heart like the horses’ hooves until his shield regulated
it. His nostrils flared wide hoping for another gust of her sweet scent. The
stallion had to sleep sometime; Doss wouldn’t harm the beast,
his
little female loved the creature.
Doss planned on grabbing the female and he planned on making certain the
stallion would have no idea where she went. A plan had already formed. By dawn
she would be his. Doss scaled to the top of the tree wanting to give the false
impression he had left.