Chosen (2 page)

“That was the general plan.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen.”

They were silent for a moment. A gray hue tinged his skin, and a fine tremor ran through his hand as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It appeared that whatever had happened had more effect on him than her.

His gaze returned to her, dropping from her face, and Shayla glanced down. Her cloak was open, her body clearly visible beneath the transparent material of her shift. “I was having a wash,” she said, and instantly regretted the remark. Why should she justify herself to him?

“I saw. You were using magic to heat the water.”

“So? Is that a crime?” She knew her words were foolish, even as they left her mouth. Everyone on Arroway knew that to perform magic was against the Laws of The Order. It had been that way since the Witch, Casterix, had nearly destroyed their world over a thousand years ago. Now, all Witches were seen as potential destroyers, and the moon magic was banned.

“Actually, yes,” Tallon replied. “In fact, your very existence is a crime against The Law: ‘Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live.’”

A bolt of raw fury crashed through her as he quoted the First Law. How dare he? That stupid law had haunted her all her life. What right did The Order have to decide who lived and who died?

She scrambled to her feet and walked away from him, fists clenched at her sides. If she’d stayed, she would have punched him. She made herself breathe slow and deep. Her temper had always been a problem, had gotten her into trouble many times before. Now, peering around at her strange surroundings, she was pretty sure it had gotten her into trouble again.

Then a thought occurred to her. If she hadn’t done whatever it was she’d done, then in all likelihood, she would now be dead and burned to ashes. The idea made her queasy. Oh, she had gotten in that one kick and she was a good fighter, but she had no illusions she would last long against Tallon. He was over a foot taller than her and must weigh twice as much. And while she was happy to fight dirty, she would bet on the Goddess that he could fight dirtier.

Would he try again? Maybe she should take him down now, while he was still weak. She glanced across to where he sat. He was watching her. Her eyes met his, and she knew it wasn’t an option—she would never be able to harm Tallon—not in cold blood, anyway. She would just have to hope that she could persuade him to put off trying to finish his job until they were home. After that...

Wrapping her cloak around herself, she walked back to him. He rose to his feet as she approached. Shayla came to a halt in front of him and, not for the first time, wished she were taller. She only reached his chest and had to tilt her head to look him in the face.

“Can you get us back?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t that be my question? You brought us here.”

“I told you, it was an accident.”

“You mean you don’t
know
how to get us back?” His tone was incredulous.

“That’s what I mean.” She scowled. “What do you think I’m planning to do—take myself home and leave you here? Believe me, if I could, I would. But I can’t.”

She didn’t know if he believed her or not, but he turned away, his gaze roaming the clearing, searching for something. His staff lay in the grass not far from where they stood. He took a step towards it and swayed on his feet. Shayla reached out instinctively to catch him, but snatched her fingers away as he swung around to stare at her in amazement. He lurched towards his staff, reached down, and picked it up.

As soon as it was in his hands, he appeared different—stronger, bigger, more intimidating. Shayla could sense the power pulsating from him. She dug her teeth into her lower lip, waiting for him to make a move.

Would he try to kill her again? Could she stop him if he did? It was unlikely. She held her body tense, ready to jump—to run for her life.

He lowered the staff and she let out a breath, her body slumping as the tension drained from her limbs.

“Come here,” he said.

“I don’t think so.”

He reached for her with a speed she hadn’t expected in one so big. His long fingers clasped around her wrist, and he dragged her towards him. She struggled, but she was no match for his strength. He wrenched her arm behind her back, and she gasped.

“I suggest you do what I say, when I say it.”

His tone was grim, his grasp fierce, and Shayla gritted her teeth against the pain. “In your dreams,” she muttered.

His fingers tightened, digging into her fragile bones.

“Okay, okay. Let me go.”

He didn’t release her, but he loosened his grip. Reaching inside his jacket, he brought out a length of rope, winding one end around her wrist and the other around his own, so they were tethered with only a few inches between them.

She rubbed at her shoulder where he had twisted her arm. She knew he was considered ruthless; the things he had done in his position as Enforcer were legendary. Bad people cringed at the sound of his name. But Shayla had always believed he wasn’t really like that. How deluded could she be?

“Bastard,” she said.

He smiled grimly in response and took a step away. Shayla refused to budge. She tugged on the rope, and he let out an exaggerated sigh. “What now?”

“Where are we going?”

“How the Goddess should I know? But we’re getting off this hill.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to stay here? Isn’t it more likely we’ll find a way back where we came through?”

“It’s too exposed.”

She glanced around them. It was true. They were on a hilltop, but surrounded by tall stones that provided some cover. “Too exposed for what?”

His jaw clenched. “Are you always this argumentative, Witch?”

Shayla nodded. “And my name’s not Witch—it’s Shayla.”

His brow furrowed, then he spun away and headed down the hill. Shayla dug her heels in. She didn’t know how to get home but she was sure the way was somehow tied to this circle of stones. There was magic here.

At that moment, she became aware of a noise. A deep drone. It sounded distant, but was getting closer and appeared to be coming from the air. She tugged again at the rope, and Tallon glanced at her, frowning.

“There’s something coming,” she said.

He stopped and raised his head, listening.

“There,” she said, pointing. She could just make out an object, high in the sky. At first, she thought it must be a bird, but as it flew closer, she could see it wasn’t anything natural. Huge, like some sort of giant bubble propelled by whirling blades. The noise was deafening. They stood transfixed as it swooped lower, plunging straight towards them.

Shayla whirled and screamed. The sound was lost in the noise. Tallon didn’t move. Instead, he stood, staff in hand, as though he could fight this monster from another world. The thing was almost on them, and she shoved him hard. He fell, pulling her with him. They rolled a short way before coming to rest with Tallon once again on top of her. This time she didn’t try to move him, just gripped on to him with all her strength, eyes shut tight, as she waited for the bite of those wicked, flashing blades.

Instead, the sound faded away, until it was once again a mere drone, and finally silent.

Loosening her grip, Shayla lay still, as tremors of residual fear rippled through her. She waited for Tallon to move. When he didn’t, she opened her eyes and stared straight up into his. He was gazing down at her, something unrecognizable in his expression. She wriggled, but his broad chest held her pinned to the ground. Her cloak was open, and the heat of his body burned through the thin material of her shift. Her limbs felt weak, partly from shock but also from Tallon’s closeness.

Oh, Goddess, she was in trouble.

She had to get him off her, before she made a complete fool of herself.

The problem was—he wasn’t budging.

“I can’t breathe,” she muttered.

He didn’t get off her, but he did raise himself slightly on his elbows, and she took a deep breath. He looked down at her, his dark brows furrowed. “What was that thing?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, “but I think we should get off this hill—it’s too exposed.”

Tallon still didn’t move. She wriggled again. “Are you going to get off me?”

“Not just yet.”

The softness of her flesh pressed against the hardness of his own. Tallon pushed his hips against her, and his cock swelled inside his pants. Her eyes widened as if she felt the movement, and her small pink tongue flicked out and licked her lips.

She was right; they needed to get away from this place. And he needed to stop this right now, but his body didn’t agree. Long starved for the touch of a woman, it didn’t want to be denied.

He shifted her beneath him, so he lay with his growing erection snug against the juncture of her thighs. He flexed his hips and pleasure shot from his cock and balls up his spine, through his whole body.

“What are you doing?”

She sounded breathless, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin material. They were beautiful, full, tipped with dark red nipples that pressed against her shift. Without conscious thought, he slid down her body, lowered his head, and licked one taut peak. He heard her gasp but she didn’t try to get away. Instead, she went motionless beneath him, holding her breath.

The damp material was completely transparent now, molded to her breasts and the tight little peaks. He licked again, drawing one taut bud into his mouth and suckling hard. She whimpered, and he released her. Had he been too rough? Caused her pain? He studied her face; she appeared bemused, shaken.

“Tallon—” Her voice was husky with need. She was as turned-on by this as he was, and a wave of satisfaction washed through him.

He reached a hand between them, took hold of the neckline of her shift, and ripped the fragile barrier down the middle. It tore easily, baring her body to his hot, hungry gaze. She was beautiful. Cupping one satin soft mound in his palm, he teased the nipple with his fingers. She pushed against him, and he increased the pressure, watching her dazed expression as he tugged and pulled at the swollen peak.

“Kiss me, Tallon,” she whispered.

He went still at her words. What the hell was he doing? He’d wanted women before but had always managed to maintain his vows. When he was younger, he’d gone to the pleasure slaves when the need grew hard to control, but it was a long time since he’d been able to reconcile himself to that. The alternative—a relationship with one of his brothers—had always been abhorrent to him. Now all the concentrated hungers of years of abstinence were pressing on him. Urging him to yield. They were no longer on Arroway. Perhaps they would never find a way home. Did his vows even have any meaning here?

At that moment, she shifted restlessly, thrusting her hips against him.

“Tallon? What’s wrong?”

He decided to tell her the truth. “I’ve never kissed a woman.”

Pure astonishment flashed across her features. “What?”

“You must know of our vows.”

“Yes, but you have the pleasure slaves.”

“We don’t kiss them.”

Her eyes widened. “You don’t?”

“No.”

She raised a hand—the one tied to him—and stroked a finger down the line of his jaw, leaving a trail of fire. She ran her thumb over his lower lip, and Tallon held himself still, allowing her to do as she would. Finally, after moments of torment, she looked into his face.

“Do you want to?”

He imagined putting his lips to hers, tasting her, devouring her. She must have read the answer in his expression, because she slipped her hand into his hair, around the back of his neck and tugged him to her. Her lips were incredibly soft against his. They opened beneath him, and shock hit him hard as her moist tongue slipped into his mouth, and he felt its velvet caress against his own. She tasted hot and sweet.

His body burst into flames under her touch. He raised his hand to cup her face, stroked down her throat, gripped her shoulder, and pressed her to the ground. Then he was over her, kissing her, his tongue plunging into her hot sweet mouth, as his cock thrust against the soft welcoming flesh of her belly.

She pushed at him, her hands splayed across his chest beneath his jacket, so he could feel the heat through the thin silk of his shirt. He didn’t want to stop, but she nipped his lip with her sharp little teeth, clamped her mouth closed, all the while shoving at his shoulders. He frowned but lifted himself slightly from her.

“Tallon,” she said, “we’re not alone.”

“Don’t move.”

A harsh voice spoke from behind and above him. A woman’s voice, but strong and commanding. Tallon rolled off Shayla and rose to his feet in one fluid move, pulling her up and pushing her behind him. There were five women standing only a couple of meters away. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard their approach.

“I said, ‘Don’t move’, Warlock.”

She was tall, with short dark hair, and dressed like a man. She held something small and dark in her hand, aimed straight at Tallon. He stared at it suspiciously, sensing a weapon of sorts. But it didn’t appear dangerous. He searched for his staff, and spotted it lying on the grass beside him.

The woman followed his gaze. “Don’t even think about it,” she murmured.

“Tallon?” Shayla spoke softly. She’d edged around to stand beside him and was staring at his chest. Peering down, he saw a small red dot glowing against the darkness of his shirt—right over his heart. He frowned. Was it a threat? But no way could the woman reach him before he got to his staff. His body tensed, ready to dive.

He had a brief impression of the woman smiling, then something shot out from the thing in her hand. A jolt punched him hard in the side. He glanced down to see two strings attached to his chest, piercing his shirt and embedding in his flesh. Pain erupted inside him, wiping all coherent thought from his mind. Red-hot agony radiated outwards, contracting his muscles to steel until his whole body turned rigid. His head was about to explode when she lowered the weapon and the pain vanished. He collapsed to his knees. For a moment, he glared at her smiling face then folded to the ground.

Shayla was dragged down by the force of his fall. Tallon lay as still as death and fear swamped her. Reaching out a trembling hand, she checked the rapid rise and fall of his chest, heard his breath rattling as he took sharp intakes of air. At least he was alive.

She scrambled to her knees and looked around. The circle of women surrounded them, staring down at Tallon where he lay on the ground, with expressions varying from distrust to intense hostility. Only their leader appeared impassive. She strolled towards them and nudged Tallon with the toe of her boot. He groaned.

“What have you done to him?” Shayla asked.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Do you care?”

Tallon pushed himself up on one elbow and reached for his staff.

“Some people never learn.” She leaned down and touched the object in her hand to Tallon’s side. His jaw clenched, and his whole body convulsed before collapsing onto the grass. Shayla was nearly dragged down with him a second time. The woman moved back a pace. Shoving the weapon into a holster at her waist, she drew a knife and stepped towards Shayla, gesturing to the hand that was still tied to Tallon. Shayla held out her arm and the rope was cut. She stumbled to her feet, legs trembling, and rubbed at her wrist where the tether had chafed her skin.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Cassandra. I’ll introduce the others later, but we’re Witches, from Arroway, like you.”

A prickle of awareness ran over Shayla, followed by a surge of excitement—she’d never met another Witch before. On Arroway, they were either dead or in hiding. She looked around the circle, searching their faces for some sense of kinship or familiarity. Then something occurred to her. “How did you know?”

A smile flickered across Cassandra’s face.”You’re hard to miss.” Reaching out, she grazed one fingertip over the mark high on Shayla’s cheekbone. “Besides, we’ve been expecting you, just not quite so soon and certainly not without our help.”

Shayla’s skin tingled, and she took an instinctive step back. “Expecting me, how? I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain later. Now we need to get out of here and get the Warlock safely secured.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “What the hell is he doing here, anyway?”

“He was sent to kill me. I said something, some spell to stop him. I don’t know what, and then we were here.”

“Perhaps we should just finish him off.”

One of the other women spoke, loathing clear in her voice, and Shayla found herself edging closer to Tallon, putting herself between him and the Witch. But what could she do to stop them if they decided to kill him? And wasn’t she forgetting something? Tallon had tried to assassinate her. Would probably try again as far as she knew, despite the way he had kissed her, touched her. Still, she couldn’t help her instinctive move.

Cassandra shook her head. “Not yet.”

“But—”

“Leave it, Rachel,” Cassandra snapped. “We may find a use for him. Here, take this.” She picked up Tallon’s staff and handed it to her. “Keep it safe.”

Crouching down beside Tallon, she grasped his wrists, binding them behind his back with the rope she had cut. Once secured, she drew the sword from the sheath and the knife from his waist and handed them to another of the women. She straightened. “Get up, Warlock.”

Tallon lay still, and she raised her foot and kicked him hard in the side. He groaned but dragged himself up onto his knees. He glowered at Cassandra. “What have you done to me?”

“Tasered you. And I’ll do it again if you don’t do exactly what I say, and that includes keeping quiet. Now, on your feet.”

He stood, swaying slightly, his face ashen, his eyes black and unfocused. Shayla moved in to help, but noticed Cassandra watching her, one eyebrow raised, and she inched back.

Cassandra nudged Tallon, and he staggered after the other women down the hill. Shayla didn’t want to leave; this place was her only contact with Arroway, but neither could she let Tallon be taken away without her. She had no choice but to follow.