DarkWind: 2nd Book, WindDemon Trilogy (35 page)

“She has made an enemy for life,” Iyan warned.

“So has Raphaella,” Barb countered.

“Are you going to sit there all day, Reaper?” asked Caitlin.

Cree stared up at his wife. He was reclining on the deck, one wrist crooked over his raised knee as he contemplated his lady. He shook his head then got up. “Woman, you certainly are more than I bargained for.”

“More than you can handle?” she threw at him with a saucy wink.
      “No,” he drawled. “Just more than I bargained for.”

“Disappointed?”

He grabbed her, pressed her against the stanchion of the docking harness and slanted his mouth across hers. Ignoring the shocked silence his action brought to those watching, he pressed his body against his wife’s and thrust his tongue deeply into the warm recesses of her mouth. Her small groan of desire brought his knee up between her legs so she was riding his thigh as he pressed into her. His hands went to her breasts, molding the firm mounds so expertly, his lady-wife was barely able to breathe for the passion running rampant through her trembling body.

“For the love of Alel, take it to your quarters, Reaper!” Iyan chuckled, surprised at himself for being amused by the situation.

As those on the docking bay watched, Khiershon Cree swept his lady into his powerful arms, hefted her high against his chest and carried her down the rampway to vigorous applause and laughter.

“Show off,” accused Caitlin.

Khiershon Cree smiled.

In her quarters
, Raphaella locked the corrugated steel door and demolished every breakable item she could get her hands on. Pottery was smashed against the stone walls; paper, cloth, and bedding were pulled apart and shredded; and food was strewn about the carpeted floor and ground into the fibers.

“The gods punish you, Kherishon Cree!” she shrieked as she peeled art from the walls and put her fists through the canvases, snapped the frames in twain. “You will regret casting me aside!”

Oblivious to the cuts and splinters on her hands and arms, she took her broadsword from its stand and struck out at everything she had not destroyed with her bare hands. Feathers and cloth fibers drifted on the wild currents fanned by her maniacal destruction and the stench of fruit and vegetable pulp saturated the walls.

“Damn you, Reaper!” She swung the broadsword into the back of an overstuffed chair and split the piece of furniture in half.

When at last her moment of insane rage passed, she sank her weapon onto the floor and knelt beside it, her head on the wobbling hilt.

“Why, Khiershon?” she sobbed, her beautiful face screwed into a mask of grief. “Why?”

From the moment she had first seen the Reaper cadet many years before, she had fallen in love with the handsome Ry-Chalean warrior. Her nightly dreams were filled with his virile young body and her days spent staring at him every chance she got. She had plotted his freedom, thinking he would give his heart to her if she could but gain his release.

Such had not been the case.

Though she had been able to set him free of his captors and he had taken her with him when he fled, he had shown her nothing more than brotherly affection and none of the overpowering passion she knew him capable of exhibiting.

Had she not had the same wicked dreams her sister Amazeens had experienced when still he was captive? Had she not felt the heat of his passionate gaze when he looked at her? And had not the few times he had taken her to his cot not been among the most wondrous of hours for her?

He had been her first, his sword piercing the flesh of her body with such authority and expertise she had barely felt the pain. If anything, she had to admit, she had rejoiced in the slight sting that had branded her his woman. She had exalted at the feel of his magnificent body and the power of his desire turning her to a quivering mass of surrender. She had given him her body and had allowed him to have her heart and soul as well. He had claimed her, marked her with his seed, and she had reveled in the knowledge that she, alone, had tamed the Reaper Cree.

Thus, she thought as she knelt there on the floor, her sorrow manifesting itself in scalding tears of self-pity and betrayal, she had thought of herself as Khiershon Cree’s life-mate. But now?

Now, the dreams of a future with the Reaper on some distant world where both of them would be safe from Rysalian and Amazeen retaliation and punishment were shattered beyond fixing.

She looked about her. Everything in her quarters could be replaced, repaired, or returned to order. Not so her life. Her life was in shambles and nothing-not even the death of the Terran usurper-could put it to rights ever again. Though the demise of the Terran bitch would bring Raphaella great pleasure, she knew it would change nothing. Khiershon had mated for life and for him there would never be another. Dwelling on that, the Amazeen princess realized another of her dreams had been shattered and her tears flowed hotter still.

Her romantic notions of her own glorified death on the field of battle, sword in hand as she protected a wounded Cree from his enemies, might yet occur; but the fantasy of him mourning her until he drew his last breath was as dead as the hopes she had of bearing him a son. And with her broken dreams, her vision of a life beside the man she loved more than life itself.

She let go of the hilt of her broadsword and slid her palms down the two-sided blade. The tempered steel sliced easily through the flesh of her palms, all the way to the bone, but she barely winced. She welcomed the pain for it meant she was still living though she knew her soul was withering and her heart dying in her breast. Her life’s blood slithered down the blade and spread like a scarlet cloak around her and she looked at it, mesmerized as the red stain soaked into the carpet.

Raphaella sat back on her heels and laid her injured hands in her lap, bloody palms turned upward in supplication to any dark god who might take pity on her. She stared unseeingly across the room at a blank spot where once a painting of Amazeen’s five moons had hung. Dimly, she heard the pounding on her door, but ignored the sound. Not even the blast of the weapon cutting through the tempered steel penetrated her lethargy.

It was not until he knelt beside her and ripped off his black shirt, tore it into bandages to wrap around her bleeding hands that she lifted her gaze to his.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes dry now but as red as the sands of Diabolusia.

He did not answer, but slid his hands under her legs and around her back and lifted her gently. He carried her to the bed, placed her on the damaged mattress and sat down beside her.

“These will take a long time to heal, Raphie,” he said softly as he checked the bandages. “You need laser stitching.”

“I need you,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You need the thought of needing me.” His amber eyes locked on her pale face. “You knew nothing could ever come of a union between us. I told you that long ago.”

“If the Terran woman...”

He placed a finger across her trembling lips. “The gods sent her to me, Raphaella. I was a breath away from death when she found me. I owe my very existence to her and if you love me as you say you do...”

“I do,” she sobbed, tears brightening her eyes.

“Then you should be grateful to her for saving my life.”

She turned away, unable to look at his face.

“Make your peace with her, Raphaella. She is my mate and as such she should be shown the respect she is due,” he said in a voice that held a warning.

“Keep her away from me, Khiershon, and there will be no problems between us.”

Cree grabbed a chair, brought it to where she sat, swung it around, and straddled it. He braced his arms along the tall back. “I need to talk to you about the Titaness.”

Surprise widened Raphaella’s eyes. “You aren’t going to take me with you, are you?”

“No,” he answered. “It would be too dangerous for you, Raphaella. Your mother and all the members of the High Council will be there for the Feast. If we are caught, you will be given no quarter as a princess of the royal house. You will die alongside us. An Amazeen who aids a Reaper is burned at the stake. I would not have you suffer that fate, Raphaella.”

“I would rather die at your side than live without you,” she vowed.

Cree sighed deeply. “Raphie, listen to me. You helped me to escape Amazeen and for that I will be forever in your debt. We are friends.”

“We are lovers.”

“We were lovers for a short while a long time ago. It meant nothing.”

“It meant nothing to you, but it meant everything to me,” she said, angry at the tear sliding down her cheek. She batted it away.

“Let it go, Raphaella. Let me go. My honor is pledged to Caitlin Cree and my heart, my body, my very soul, belong to her.”

Raphaella snorted. “I will say a prayer for your safety, Khiershon.”

Cree stared into her eyes for a long moment then relaxed. “It was never our destinies to be joined, Raphie,” he said in a not-unkind tone of voice.

She cocked one shoulder in dismissal of his words, but did not reply.

“Listen to me, Raphaella,” he insisted. “I have never been anything but truthful with you and I do not intend to be otherwise now. You can not look me in the eye and tell me that I made any kind of promise to you about us having a future together. From the very beginning, I made it clear that if and when I was able to free my bloodkin from Rysalia, I would leave for Terra to find my Bloodsire.”

“And you said you would take me with you!”

Cree drew in a long breath then exhaled slowly. “Aye, I told you that and if you still wish to go to Terra, you may do so. I know how dangerous it would be for you to stay here and I want to see you safe. I am grateful for all you have done for me.”

“What I have done for you, I have done because I love you, Khiershon! I risked my life, I threw away my legacy to be at your side and this is how you repay me?” She jerked her hand from his grip. “To make me a laughingstock before the entire colony?”

A muscle worked in Cree’s lean jaw. “Who told these people we were betrothed, Raphaella?” he demanded. His gaze bore into hers. “It was not I who said it. It was not I who hinted of a relationship between the two of us that has never existed.”

“You did not deny it!” she shouted, her eyes flashing viridian fire.

Cree’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly together, a habit he exhibited when trying to keep from exploding with anger. He took in another long, tired breath then blew the air from his lungs. Opening his eyes, the look he sent her was hard and unyielding.

“I did not deny it because it suited my purpose to have people think you belonged to me.”

“Oh, really?” she crooned. “To enhance the Reaper’s reputation as a swordsman, Cree?”

“To keep your ass safe! By letting them know we were lovers, they would think twice before harming you, Raphaella. You were a Reaper’s mistress.”

“I was never your mistress!” She picked up a statue of the goddess Alluvia to throw at him.

Cree ducked the heavy stone statue and nearly tumbled from the chair. He got hastily to his feet and had to step out of the way of another object she flung his way. Before she could reach for anything else, he was on her, capturing her in his powerful arms and pinning her between him and the wall behind her.

“Stop it!” he growled, tightening his grip when she tried to break free.

“Get out, betrayer!” She spat in his face.

Raphaella watched the Reaper’s amber eyes widen with disbelief and sucked in a horrified breath at what she had done. The fury gathering in Cree’s golden orbs set her to trembling and made her knees go weak with dread.

“I’m sorry!” she whispered, her own eyes wide with terror as she watched her spittle running down his cheek. “Khiershon, I am sorry!”

He released her and put a hand to the slickness on his face. He looked at the glistening moisture on his fingertips then  raised his eyes to hers.

“I should not have done that,” she said,  her lips quivering.

“No,” he replied. “You should not have.” He stepped back.

Raphaella put a hand out to him. “Forgive me, Khier. Please!”

The Reaper wiped the offending wetness on his pant leg. “If you want to accompany us to Terra when the time comes, you will still be welcome to do so, but until that time, stay out of my sight, Raphaella. If you don’t, I won’t be held responsible for what I might do if you cause any trouble for me or my lady.”

She took a step toward him but he held his hand up to stay her advance. He turned to go.

“You said you had questions about the Titaness,” she said, latching on to the only thing she thought might keep him from leaving.

“There are others I can ask.”

“But I have been there many times. I know the prison like the back of my hand. You will need to know where to go and how to get inside the compound.” She reached for him.

“No,” he denied, his eyes hard.

“I love you!” she said, tears gathering.

He nodded, his gaze softening. “I know you do.”

Raphaella dropped to her knees before him. “I will do anything you want!” she sobbed. “Anything! Only don’t turn away, Khiershon. Please don’t turn away from me!”