Rise of the Shadow Warriors (5 page)

Her parents had cherished her and one another. Shaina wouldn’t have the luxury. Ivak’s maneuvering left her little time. She’d select her own husband and not regret the choice.

Heading into her bedroom, Shaina went straight to her wardrobe closet. She changed her formal clothes and pulled on black leather pants, her favorite flat soled boots and then a sleeveless, black vest. The comfortable clothes didn’t restrict her ease of movement in case of a fight. She belted the black scabbard around her waist and relaxed further at the weight of her swords against her thighs.

Before leaving, she ran her finger over the only small likeness she had of Ela and Pial C’Err. Her father smiled down at her mother’s upturned face and love blazed from their silver eyes. He’d once told Shaina that he’d cease to go on if something ever happened to his sweet Ela. And he had. When the Gornan attacked her mother and a small hunting party, Pial had sought vengeance and died from his wounds next to the fifteen Gornan he’d managed to slay on her behalf.

Shaina had to force air through the knot in her throat and resisted the burn in her eyes. Tears wouldn’t solve her current problem but she hoped Warlord Argan could. The Kabanian warrior was a fighter. She’d known that watching him battle Maso.

With a relaxed exhale, Shaina closed her eyes and immediately pictured the warrior foremost in her thoughts. Tall, muscled and dark haired. Eyes of deepest midnight and smooth lips that were meant to smile. Argan.

Dark curls of shadows swirled around Shaina’s ankles. Each tendril a loving caress as they slid up her thighs and hips.

More
, Shaina called.
Come to me.

Wispy shadows thickened into a dark funnel, engulfing her form at the middle of the smoking spirals. Energy flowed through her veins, filling her with its potent elixir. Joy danced through her heart at the power that responded so readily to her call. As Olak’din the shadows were hers to command. She could travel from place to place, darken an entire room to hide from her enemies and manipulate the dark strands as weapons stronger than any other.

Using just the thought of the Kabanian Warlord she wished to see, Shaina gave herself over to the power of the shadows and allowed the pull to fade out her physical form until she was one with the controlled mass.

Chapter 8

Shaina landed with a hard thud, knees bent. Blinking her eyes, she took a moment to confirm her location. The sharp edge of the blade at her throat kept her from moving.

“What are you doing here?”

Straightening to her full height carefully, Shaina eased her neck around and came face to face with the exact man she wished to see. He pulled the sword back and stepped away. Shaina stared unable to answer his question as her gaze wandered over the towering frame of muscles on display.

Six plus feet of naked warrior glared at her. The deadly weapon gripped tightly in his right hand pointed in her direction. Long, black hair hung in a tangle about broad shoulders which stretched down to thick forearms that flexed beneath her stare.

Longing battled with months of loneliness. There was a difference between the friendships she had among her people and the companionship of a man. This warrior had called to her from the moment she’d seen him and Shaina was greedy for the right to touch him. Claim him. Restrained power rippled beneath her skin as she resisted the urge. Without a stitch of clothing, his body was a meal to feast upon.

Shaina ached to touch his tanned torso, run her hands over the ripples of his lower belly to see if it felt as hard as it looked. Beneath her gaze, his manhood twitched. She inhaled sharply, and the length stretched until his full erection slanted to the left of his thigh in full arousal.

“You should not be here.” The tip of his sword dipped toward the floor. His words of caution accompanied another step back.

“I wanted to speak with you.” Shaina glimpsed the messy bed beyond him. A very large bed with dark sheets in a jumble on the floor, leaving her to assume he’d been sleeping when she arrived.

Despite the darkness of night, Shaina noted when Argan tossed his sword in the direction of the bed and strode toward her until they were once more within inches of one another. Inches that separated her rising chest from all of his touchable masculinity.

“Speak, woman,” he ordered. Then at odds with his rough tone, he gently fingered a strand of her loosened hair.

“You should dress.” Shaina whispered the words for fear of dispelling this odd connection growing between them. He should have appeared vulnerable in his nudity but instead danger pulsed on the current blazing from him to her. The sensation sizzled along her nerve endings. Breathless, Shaina waited to see what he would do next.

Ignoring her direction, Argan moved back, his hand falling to his side, the fascination on his face wiped clean. “The Overlord does not handle uninvited guests well. You risk much in being here. Vaan is cautious of those allowed within distance of his family. Being here makes you subject to Kabanian justice.”

Although, she guessed the answer, Shaina still asked, “What’s the penalty for such an action?”

“Death.”

His words were no more than she expected. Shaina cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. The penetrating burn of his stare warmed her middle. There was no denying her draw to this warrior. Arousal beat like a slow drum simmering beneath her skin. “Your Overlord and his family are safe from me.”

Argan’s lips curled in a snarl. Midnight eyes slowly traveled over her body from chest to feet. Shaina loved her every day wear. The fitted, sleeveless vest of black leather was held together with lacing down her middle, leaving a narrow strip of tanned bare flesh. Her black leather pants skimmed her long legs and ended with her soft-skinned boots. His appreciation gave her more reason to love her clothing. When he at last raised those eyes back to hers, they glinted with a challenge she wanted to accept.

“I would claim my debt.” She needed to stay focused on her reason for being here and not the sculpted beauty of his nude body.

Argan inclined his head. “You will first explain how you got in here. The room is secure and no one can breach our defenses.”

Shaina debated the wisdom of revealing the secret of her people. What she did next would firmly place her against Ivak and set the course of her actions in stone. Telling Argan her origins would end decades of whispers and create problems she’d be forced to deal with as they presented themselves.

But this was what she planned. What needed to happen if her race was to survive. “I’m Olak’din.”

“Not possible,” he returned instantly and folded his arms across his massive chest.

Shaina maintained eye contact, fighting the compulsion to let her gaze drop and take in the sight of his bobbing manhood. Not once did he look at all discomfited by his lack of clothing. Could he really be that unaware?

She licked her lips and ignored her hardening nipples. “It’s very possible. I am Olak’din.” Her declaration had an added snap to it as she fought her body’s continued awareness of the delectable man before her.

“The Shadow Warriors are a myth.”

“Fine.” Mimicking his pose, she crossed her arms over her chest. He made no effort to observe the courtesy she’d afforded him. Black pools of desire lowered. Air trapped in her throat when he didn’t immediately look away from her plumped breasts.

As his gaze traveled over her body from head to toe once more, awareness tingled in their wake. Lips parted and breath huffing, Shaina waited until he deigned to make eye contact again. Hot want and heat blasted from his gaze. Her gasp did not go unnoticed and his nostrils flared. The attraction between them went both ways.

Pleasure heightened her senses. Wetness gathered between her tightly pressed thighs.

“Then you admit you lie?”

For a moment Shaina almost didn’t understand his husky murmur. Lie? She shook her head to dispel the eerie spell he wove.

“I don’t have to lie, Warlord Argan. I’m a Shadow Warrior.” Using only a portion of the gift she’d been born with, Shaina pulled forth the shadows in the room and allowed them to mist around her in a dark cloud. With a slight puff of air, she directed the swirling energy in his direction.

***

Black, streaming trails reached his face. Argan stilled. Wisps glided across his cheek and down his shoulder before misting over his chest in a soft caress.

His toqa already ached. The touch of the shadows on his bare skin only fanned the fires of his arousal. “Cease your games.” He had wanted his tone to be firm. Resolute. Instead it came out in a deep whisper. What magic was this?

Argan inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to clear his head. His heart thumped hard against his chest. The heady scent of flowers filled his nostrils. Her scent. Her smell.

This was the woman who haunted his evenings. When his head hit the pillow at night, he dreamed of her. Nothing he did from consuming deep drink, eyeing other females and stroking himself to pleasure in bed would rid him of the image of gleaming red hair and glowing eyes. It made no sense that her face teased him so. Argan barely recalled the day he’d suffered from Maso. But he remembered her. And he remembered the sticky sweet scent of some unknown fragrance she used.

It should not be possible for one woman to claim so much of his thoughts. And yet here he stood, completely in awe of her. He wanted her. With a fierceness he’d not felt before. She set a fire in his blood that no other woman ever had. Forcing his gaze away from the tantalizing globes on display took effort. He wanted to be angry that she’d reveal so much of her body in front of others, yet to deny the pleasure he received from the sight was foolish.

The silky touch of shadows continued to glide over his chest and down his torso. He wanted this woman, of that he had no doubt but her strange manner of arrival and the shadows moving over his body warned of the trouble she could potentially cause.

Argan took a deliberate step back from temptation. “Cease, woman,” he ordered and this time his voice carried the firmness of his intent.

She didn’t jump from the barked command as he expected but the shadows disappeared. He had a moment to regret the loss. For a brief beat in time the dark tendrils had reminded him of a woman’s caressing hands and he could pretend they belonged to Shaina.

Her silver eyes shot fire. For some reason, the look only increased Argan’s desire. He resisted the urge to fist his toqa this very minute. Instead he clenched his hands and let his arms fall to his sides.

“My name is Shaina C’Err, Queen of the Olak’din.” She emphasized her name and title.

“You would have me believe you are of the lost people?” Argan posed the question though a part of him already accepted her words as truth. Somehow she belonged to the race known as Shadow Warriors. A people long thought dead. And if her claim was to be believed, she was their Queen.

“How else did I get through your guards and fellow warriors? The shadows don’t deny me. Whether you believe is your choice to make but I come here to claim your debt unless you choose not to honor it.”

Argan stiffened. Being aroused by her presence did not mean he had to ignore the slight. “Do not question my honor. Ever. I would challenge a warrior for less.”

Berry red lips tightened, drawing his stare. How would it feel to press his lips to hers? Would she enjoy the affection known as kisses?

“Your honor isn’t in doubt.”

Her tone carried the snip of feminine outrage. Oddly enough, Argan wanted to smile. She was even more beautiful in her pique. His head tipped to the side as he studied her. Accepting her claim led him to his next question of why one of the ancient Shadow Warriors would leave the darkness they supposedly craved.

“What do you ask in return for the gift of my life?” He prepared for an outlandish demand. Some favor from Vaan or perhaps a handsome reward from the obvious wealth of the Raasa.

“I need you.”

Argan inhaled and his toqa twitched and throbbed. Moisture gathered on the head. Putting on his pants would have been wise but he’d responded instinctively when he’d sensed a presence in his room. To do so now would have him appear weak before her. “Repeat your words, woman.”

He had to have misheard her. She could not have meant what he thought. Other than Vaan no one
needed
him. He served a purpose. He was a trained warrior. One of Vaan’s valued Warlords. But he wasn’t
needed
.

She ran her hand through her hair, her sigh loud in the silence of his bedroom. “I need you, Warlord Argan. That is the debt I call forth.”

Her words inflamed him. Rigid control kept his hands where they were though his chest expanded with every breath. She had no idea what saying those words did to him. Before Argan could question her further, the floor outside his door creaked. They both turned at the same time. She gripped the hilts of her swords in each hand, legs braced apart. A loud thump pounded on the wood.

“Argan, you are wanted below. There is a dispute among the visiting warriors.”

Frustration ate at him. He had to address the matter with the warriors. “I will attend them shortly,” he called out.

They both waited until the footsteps walked away. She moved, placing herself in the darkest section of his room where no light pierced the shadows. “I should leave. Now is not the best time to discuss this.”

Argan’s lips firmed. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to grab her in his arms and slam into the warmth of her toque. Imagining the feel of her proved too much and Argan groaned feeling the tip of his toqa leak. Her gaze dropped and while he did not think it possible to see him with the poor lighting, her silver eyes widened at the evidence of his desire.

She licked her lips and Argan would swear she moaned. “We will speak of this again.” When her back aligned with the wall of his room, the shadows rose from the floor to conceal and in seconds she was gone from his view.

Hettel! He cursed, crossing the room to get dressed. Argan needed to figure out what game she played for he did not trust easily.