Beyond the Shadows (23 page)

Too many questions. They tormented her.

She just wanted to enjoy the peace of feeling like she belonged with him, even if it was only for a moment.

Yara continued to stroke his hand, then touched the edge of his bracers. He hadn’t taken them off. The knives they held seemed so much a part of him.

She wished he would find peace in his life, a time when he wouldn’t need weapons.

She drew her fingertips over one of the hilts when her attention fixed on the edge of the bracer.

What was on his skin?

She looked closer, black and red surrounded his wrist just beneath the edge of the leather. Did he have a tattoo?

Glancing at the falcons circling her own wrist, she felt a heavy weight on her chest. His eyes, they didn’t look like Earthlen eyes. His balance was too good.

All the little details she had been ignoring cut through her mind like the knives in his bracers. His mental abilities, his gift with languages, his long toes.

Her heart raced with fear.

She turned the hooks locking the bracer on his forearm. He stirred, turning his face away from hers. Her fingers paused on the hook. She had to wait for the right moment to slide it out of the circle of metal that held it. It wouldn’t be long before he woke up.

His breathing hitched.

Yara bit her lip and unfastened the three hooks in quick succession and pulled the bracer away from his arm.

She couldn’t breathe as she stared in shock at the pale blue-tinged skin of his forearm. Around his wrist and elbow, the red and black snakes of Cyrila the Rebel peered up at her, their mouths agape baring their deadly fangs.

Searing pain tore at her heart. No one bore the mark of the Rebel. Only one man in the entire universe would have the guts to mark himself with the snakes.

He clenched her hand as he woke.

Yara’s heart pounded out of her chest as she brought her gaze up to his Azralen eyes.

“You’re Cyn.”

YARA’S AGONY GRIPPED HER. IT COULDN’T BE TRUE. THE PROOF LAY RIGHT there before her, angry serpents on his wrists. He was Cyn? How did he escape the shadows? It didn’t make any sense. She couldn’t breathe as she stared at him. She had been tricked, manipulated. Her heart faltered.

He’d lied to her.

And she had fallen for it. He had pushed her, challenged her, teased her, played with her, bled for her, healed her, rescued her, and sacrificed for her. With him, she had become more than a thing, more than just an Elite warrior. For the first time in her life, she felt like a whole person. He’d given that to her and in an instant ripped it away.

Her pain sliced at her head. Why? If he was out of the ground shadows, why would he seek her out? It would have taken a lifetime to find him if he had just disappeared into the vastness of the galaxy. Did he think if he seduced her she wouldn’t bring him back to the Grand Sister? He’d broken her down and made her feel. Then he manipulated those new emotions so he could save his own hide.

Was it all just a twisted game?

“Yara?” His musical voice sounded low, uncertain.

She could barely hear it through the cacophony of noise in her head. Fear, uncertainty, confusion gave way as her body ignited. The disarray of her thoughts found their focus in clear, burning rage. The pain still gripping her chest fueled the fire as her thoughts homed in on one thing.

She gripped the hilt of the dagger from the bracer, and in one smooth motion she rolled on top of him and pushed the blade against his throat.

His Azralen eyes went wide with shock as she felt his breathing hitch beneath her bare thighs. He pulled his hands up near his sex-tousled hair and left his palms open in surrender.

She tried to breathe. Her hand shook as she watched a slow drop of blood slide down his neck from the nick of the blade. It wouldn’t take much, and he’d be gone, one less festering rat. Her stomach twisted again as she looked at the face of the man she’d trusted. He’d fought beside her, bled with her.

Now she bled him.

A new pain stabbed her in the gut.

By Fima, she wished she could just kill him.

She gripped the blade tighter but couldn’t move. Her arm seized even as the rest of her exposed body shook. Through the haze of her tears, she looked down at his naked body lying still beneath her.

By the Creator
.

What was she thinking? She couldn’t kill him. She felt like she had the knife pressed to her own throat.

Hot tears slid over her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them as they flowed out of her. They couldn’t release the pain. It constricted her chest. She tried to draw a breath, but it entered her as a choked sob.

Her hand shook on the cold hilt of the knife, even as she watched her tears fall on the scar over his heart. Through bleary eyes, she tried to look at him.

He remained still, braced for her decision. His life was in her hands.

The initial shock in his expression softened to deep sadness.

No
.

Her soul screamed, over and over. She couldn’t think through the pain. She couldn’t kill him, but she couldn’t let him go either.

“Yara,” he croaked. “Listen to me.”

With her hand shaking, she eased the knife away from his throat.

“Drop it, Yara,” Xan’s deep voice rumbled from right behind her.

“Fall to filth, Xan,” she shouted. The searing pain of a sono blast burned through her back.

She cried out in agony and shock just before her strength fled from her muscles and spots of white light overcame her vision. She couldn’t hold on to consciousness any longer.

 

 

 

Cyn launched himself forward, wrapping her in his arms as his hand cradled her head. Her soft hair tickled his palm as he pressed his face to her shoulder.

God, he was sorry. He was so sorry. What was he going to do now? The knife fell limp on the bed. He eased her down onto the pillow, then grabbed the hilt and flung it back at Xan.

The knife knocked the sono out of his hand and both weapons skidded to the far side of the room. “You didn’t have to shoot her!” he roared.

“She was about to kill you.”

He pressed the back of his hand to the cut, but the bleeding had already lessened. “I’ve bled more playing ralok with you.” He checked her pulse and pressed his lips to her forehead, then brushed a lingering tear away from her swollen red cheek. She looked so damn human, so terribly heartbroken. Even unconscious, her pain was etched into her fine brow. He stroked the tip of his finger over her temple. He loved her smile, and he feared he’d never see it again. He didn’t have time to wallow in his guilt. A sono blast wouldn’t keep her out for long. What would he do when she came around?

“Now what?” Xan tossed him his jeans, then took up a guarding position at the door.

“I don’t know. I have to keep her someplace where she won’t kill me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Xan offered.

“
Shakt
.” He wrapped her carefully in the blanket, and slipped on his jeans before picking her up in his arms, the way he had when he’d freed her. Damn it. They’d been so close. She trusted him. She might have even fallen in love with him.

He didn’t want to think about that.

She was so much more than he had ever expected. She was so strong, had so much heart. The depth of her dedication and her conviction could be powerful enough to save them all if he could have convinced her to join him. Now it would never happen.

He ruined it. If he could’ve just gotten through and shown her the real Azra, they would have changed the world together. Not now. She’d never trust him again. Now she was his enemy, and she would destroy him. Or he’d destroy her.

“This was not supposed to happen this way,” he whispered as he pressed his cheek to her soft hair. Somehow he had to make her understand. His heart pounded with his surging adrenaline. He was familiar with fear. The stark terror that gripped him was a hundred times more powerful than any he had ever felt before. She had to understand.

God. What was he supposed to do? He had to think of something. He couldn’t focus, all he could think about was the heart-wrenching betrayal he saw in her beautiful eyes.

He never meant to hurt her.

He knew one thing for sure, he had to get her out of the Sanctuary before anyone came looking for them, especially Tola.

“Come on,” he urged. Tuz jumped up on the windowsill, his paws damp from whatever he had been doing outside. The war cat pushed his ears flat on his head and hissed.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Cyn stated.
Yeah right.
He was going to hurt her and he knew it. He already had. The cat growled at him and bared his fangs. So much for the brief truce.

Cyn kissed the top of her head and carried her out of the Sanctuary.

Xan had his back as they ran through the empty marketplace. The young light of early dawn barely broke the horizon. An idle vendor put out ragtag wares as a fisherman or two walked toward the end piers. Other than that, the city still slept. The air around Xan’s ship curled with heat from the trip here.

As soon as they reached Azra, the revolution would begin.

He felt sick to his stomach as he held Yara closer.

He didn’t want to spill the blood of Azra; he just wanted change. Azra needed to change.

He marched up the crew ramp into the ship. Tuz had caught up with him and was taking nasty swipes at his bare ankles with his sharp claws. Venet raised a hand in greeting, then quickly let it fall. Ishan stood next to her, his eyes covered in bandages. She took the boy by the shoulders and led him away.

Cyn hoped she could keep him out of the way. He didn’t want to betray the kid, too.

Bug rocketed into the ramp platform, chirping wildly. Cyn shrugged him off.

He pushed past curious crew as he entered the secondary cargo bay that also served as the brig. Deep in the belly of Xan’s ship within the smaller of the two bays, a lonely pair of prisoner cells pressed against a thick bulkhead. The crates of weapons he’d smuggled loomed in the cramped cargo bay, dark sentinels of a darker purpose.

Cyn felt his heart shred as he placed Yara on the cold metal shelf attached to the bulkhead that served as a prisoner bed. He tucked the blanket around her and bunched it under her head. Tuz leapt on her and hissed at him, baring his sharp fangs. He had to let her go.

Cyn stepped back and activated the force shield, locking Yara in.

He paced in front of the cell, trying to alleviate the wrenching pain, but nothing he said to himself could ease his terrible guilt.

He kicked a crate, then pulled it forward and sat on the edge, letting his face fall into his hands. Beaten and raw, he felt like his scar had ripped open and his heart lay bare in his chest for the world to see.

He had intended a lot of things when he had manipulated her into boarding his ship. He did not intend this.

 

 

YARA GROANED AS SHE WOKE. HER HEAD POUNDED AND HER HEART ACHED. She felt Tuz’s hard skull press against her shoulder, and she opened her eyes. By Fima, she hurt. Her heart
hurt.
She had heard about heartache, but she had never believed it was an actual physical pain strong enough to double her over and make her feel sick.

Her eyes stung with raw tears as she stubbornly blinked to try to clear them.

The light from the edge of a clear prison energy shield illuminated the small brig cell and the rest of a crowded, but neatly organized, cargo bay. Tuz batted at the shield, his paws leaving energy trails as he furiously worked at the invisible wall. It was a standard Union brig lock. People could pass things in from the outside, but she couldn’t get out. There was no use trying.

At least it was clean. A chill seeped through her, intensifying the painful ache in her chest. The air even smelled cold.

Her gaze drifted over the stacks and stacks of projectile weapons, an ominous reminder of the threat to her planet.
He
sat on the edge of a crate, twisting a knife so it slowly bored a small hole. She clutched the blanket around her body. Only hours earlier it had embraced them as they made love. Now it weighed on her.

“There are some clothes in the corner,” he said, his voice cool and emotionless. How could he not feel anything? Had that all been an act, too? He stood and turned his back to her. She glanced at the clothes, then tested her strength as she stood and slowly pulled the black shirt and pants over her naked skin. She sat again as she put on the boots and leaned back against the hard bulkhead.

Her fear and rage blossomed, spreading through her blood and blocking out all other thoughts.

He turned back around and crossed his bare arms. The blue tinge of the skin on his forearms tormented her. How could she have been so stupid? Not only was he Azralen, he was probably catgar, too. She had noticed it from the beginning, his flawless memory, that machinelike mind. Why didn’t she see through it?

“Look, Yara,” he began.

“At what?” Yara glanced around the dark bay. All she could see were the crates of weapons that had been hidden on Cyrus—no, Cyn’s—ship. “At these?” She pointed to the crates.

“These are for Azra, aren’t they?” she stated, recalling his admission that the projectiles were for a revolution. No wonder the Grand Sister had urged her to find him quickly. She must have known that the mudrats in the shadows were about to stage a revolt. She had wanted Yara to stop it by capturing Cyn. Instead, Yara had complained that the bloodhunt was beneath her, fell into the traitor’s snare, then slept with him. “You are Cyn, aren’t you?” she demanded.