Burn With Me (Legend of the Sun Whisperers) (3 page)

Maddelyn touched her face, still warm from his hand. 
What just happened?

She concentrated on steadying her breathing. What kind of man could produce such heat from a mere touch? Maddelyn stared at his hand, which had fallen limply to his side. As if under its own power, her hand reached for his, and gently pried the fingers open.

The image of a burning sun adorned his palm, etched into his hand like a brand, the skin raised and puckered in a scar. Maddelyn’s heart lurched into her throat and she dropped his hand immediately.

It couldn
’t be…

She shook her head and forced the thought away.
No.
Such things were only stories.  Maddelyn dwelled in reality—the harsh life of darkness, death and loss. Not childish fairytales.

Maddelyn quelled the chaos in her mind with another deep breath. There were things that needed to be done, and she needed to concentrate.

Chapter Two

 
Blinding light, swirling, engulfing.  Flames danced, as they seared through the black sky like a burning comet, ripping the night into shreds of fire.  Then came the pain, shooting through his body like a shaft of hot lightning, right before—

Draco
’s eyes snapped open, his breath ragged from the fear that gripped him tightly in an iron fist. He blinked rapidly as his vision slowly blurred into focus, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings twisting his insides even tighter. 

Where am I?

With a deep breath, he drowsily sat up and allowed his gaze to roam around the small room. There wasn’t much to see. Wooden plank walls surrounded him. Light from the outside peaked shyly through the cracks between the warped boards and filled the space with heat. At the foot of the bed, a rickety chair stood guard, draped with what appeared to be clothing. More clothing hung on a hook in the far corner, over a short table containing other items neatly folded on the surface. Beside him, a stand with a basin of water that rested next to a half burned candle and a tiny wooden box.

Draco scrubbed a hand over his face to clear his mind from the images that had so violently spurred him awake, wiping off a fine sheen of sweat in the process. He glanced down, lifting the threadbare sheet that covered him and discovered his clothes were gone, which left him completely naked and immensely confused about how that came to be.

What the…?

Silently, Draco eased his aching body from the bed and crept to the chair. Upon inspection, he decided the clothing draped over the back would do. As he quietly pulled on the trousers, he noticed that the room he was in wasn
’t really a room at all. Only a thin curtain of gray cloth separated the space from the rest of the dwelling. Without a sound, he stepped over to the curtain and peered around the small space where the cloth met the wall.

“Maddie, when is he going to wake up? He’
s been asleep
forever
.” A small child spoke from her seat at a low wooden table that leaned slightly to the right. Her round face was surrounded by pale blond curls, and would have been angelic, were it not for the deep shadows that colored the space below her eyes.

“Keep your voice down, Serra,” the woman that the child Serra called Maddie whispered, her gaze flickering briefly to where he stood. Draco’
s breath caught in his throat and he took a small step backward, and slammed his calf into the rickety chair, almost going down in a heap.  He rubbed his leg and cursed silently at his clumsiness. His first impression need not be unfavorable, and he prayed he had not been seen or heard just yet. She moved her gaze back to the young girl, answering his silent prayer. “He’ll wake when he’s rested enough that he can tell us his story. Until then, it’s best that he remain out of sight.”

Draco closed his eyes and let his mind travel back to the night before, striving to make sense of the chaos in his pounding head. The memory of the fiery pain that flooded his body made him visibly flinch. But through the haze, he recalled a sweet voice that had whispered in his ear, and gentle hands that had cleaned his wounds.
And apparently removed my clothes…

His eyes opened and he stared at the owner of that sweet voice. Her light brown hair was pulled back from her face in a braid that reached past her shoulders. Her slender frame gave off an air of frailty in a belted ivory cotton shirt and brown trousers, though Draco knew that her strength belied that appearance, or she wouldn
’t have been able to practically carry him back to this small space she obviously called home. And as she gazed upon the little girl seated at the table, her brown eyes filled with love, and…worry?
And why did the child call her by name instead of “mother”?

The shirt Draco found on the chair slipped silently over his shoulders. A low buzzing in his head made concentrating difficult. Something was pushing at his mental boundaries, probably because he was weakened from his injuries. He managed to get one button secure before a loud banging made him jerk and drew his attention back to beyond the curtain once more. 

Draco’s savior held a delicate finger to her lips as she shot a firm glance at Serra, then moved to open the flimsy door that shook with each blow from the other side.

The light from the outside was much brighter, and she threw up a hand to shield her line of sight. Even Draco found himself squinting for a moment as the sun blazed through the door, outlining a bulky, black shadow that easily towered over the two females.

The shadow stepped forward, the light now glinting from the surface of the gray armor it wore, which molded to each impressive muscle. Bluish gray skin stretched tightly over its enormous bald head, mottled with purple veins. Deep set eyes glowed red as they fixed themselves onto the young woman, who took a small step backward.

Raknorg
. 

The word rang inside Draco
’s mind like a death knoll and chilled his blood, leaving him brimming with icy dread.

The Raknorg held his left arm across his chest as he pushed various buttons embedded in the armor on his sleeve.
“Security check for sector two-dash-four-one-three.  Designated worker camp Delta.” He stared down at her, his fingers hovering over the buttons. “An anomaly in the atmosphere of the planet was logged last night. We are searching for witnesses. Do you have anything to report?”

The young woman shook her head rapidly, her braid whipping back and forth. Draco could almost taste the fear in the air as he watched her chest heave in distress. Nothing good ever came from the Raknorg being around. The Raknorg race was primitive in mentality, and well known for bleeding planets dry in a constant quest for power through war. Most considered the race to be the bullies of the universe, more brawn than brains. In fact, their home planet of Rakkaar had been decimated from their endless quest to war, leaving them nomadic to an extent. No roots, just an insatiable thirst for victory at any cost. And to a world not as technologically advanced as they, that brawn was most often quite deadly.

Metallic blips sounded as the Raknorg soldier pushed more buttons on his black glove.  “This area clear. Proceed to sector two-dash-four-one-four.” The gruff soldier lowered his arm and studied the young woman again with those blood-red eyes. “Should you not be at the facility, in your assigned processing position?”

She took a deep breath and held her head up to meet the Raknorg
’s gaze full on. Draco couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. “I’m the only one left to care for the child, Serra. We work with the group that processes the rations.”

The soldier turned his eerie eyes to where the child, Serra, sat, her blue eyes wide. The little girl
’s breath was raspy, and she coughed violently into her tiny fist under the intense scrutiny of the alien soldier. The Raknorg returned his ruby gaze to the child’s guardian. “She has the sickness. There is not much time before she, too, will be dead. Notify the sector chief when that happens, and you will be assigned a space in the facility instead.” His face remained expressionless, speaking of the child’s impending death as if it held no worth at all. Such an emotionless, deadly race.
I hate these guys
.

The young woman blanched at the Raknorg
’s harsh words, then the muscles tensed in her slender neck as she steeled herself for a fight. Draco’s own body coiled tightly, a fierce need to protect the two women coming out of nowhere and hijacking his common sense. But instead, he merely watched as she took a deep breath and remained in control. “I will be sure to do that.”  The edge in her voice could have cut something with its sharpness.

The Raknorg turned back to the door and stepped through. The door shut behind him with a dull but deliberate thud. The young woman
’s body went limp as she collapsed wearily against it.

“That was close,” Serra’
s faint voice whispered.

“Yeah, it was,” the woman agreed, her chin sinking into her chest with apparent relief.

“I am sorry to have caused you such trouble.” With a deep breath, Draco stepped from his hiding place behind the filmy curtain. Both heads snapped in his direction in surprise.

“You’
re awake!” The pleasure in Serra’s voice was hard to ignore, and Draco couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. Hopefully, her companion shared in the delight.

“I am, and it appears that not only do I have you to thank for helping me, but for keeping me hidden from the Raknorg as well.” He spoke slowly and formed his words carefully. Though he was familiar with their language, it had been many years since he had spoken it.

Serra giggled, wrinkling her nose. “You talk kind of funny.”

“Serra!” The young woman whispered harshly in the little girl’
s direction.

Draco smiled and turned his attention back to where the brave woman still had her back pressed against the door.
“I am out of practice with your language. My people use…
other
means of communication.” That was definitely an understatement and a discussion that could wait for later.

He stared at her for a moment, noticing the small spark of awareness that lit her gaze before he continued.
“Your kindness has saved me in more ways than I could ever hope to repay.  I am called Draco Taralundar. Who is it that I am now indebted to?” Up close, her eyes were not merely brown.  Tiny specks of gold made the color seem more like a deep bronze, like warm honey touched by sunlight.

She stepped tentatively forward and held out her hand. Her slender fingers fit snugly within his grasp.
“I’m Maddelyn Sowers. This is Serra.” The warmth of her hand prickled up his arm as she tilted her head toward the child seated at the table. The buzzing in his head increased with her touch.

“Maddelyn. Serra. It appears that I owe you my life.” Draco reluctantly released Maddelyn’
s hand, and the buzz in his brain quieted. That need to protect them flared inside him again.  He was unused to these sudden bursts of emotion. And the distraction of sound in his brain. His injuries must still be extensive. Her dark eyes studied him intently, then widened.

“How can you…but you were…where are the…”  She looked him up and down, unable to complete a thought for some reason. “All of your wounds. You’
re almost completely healed.  How can that be?”

Draco peered down and realized he had not finished buttoning up the shirt he had slipped on. Faint traces of burns and scars dotted the expanse of his chest. Though he couldn
’t remember that clearly, he was sure from Maddelyn’s reaction that the wounds must have been far worse last night.

His fingers fumbled to close the rest of the buttons of the shirt, suddenly nervous. The last thing he wanted was to frighten them both, especially after they had risked their lives to help him. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair.
“I must have been badly injured when you found me.”

Maddelyn nodded, her eyes still brimming with disbelief, her mouth hanging open.

“I thought you were a goner, Mr. Draco. You didn’t look good
at all
.”  Serra’s voice trickled through the air.

Draco smiled again.
“I guess it is a good thing that I heal really quickly, then, small one.”  Serra’s pale blue eyes lit up with pleasure at his comment.

“Yes, a good thing…” Maddelyn’
s voice trailed off softly as she continued to stare at Draco.
So much for not frightening her.

Draco cleared his throat roughly.
“I guess I should also thank you for these clothes. I am sure mine were beyond repair.”

Maddelyn blinked her eyes rapidly at him as she seemed to return to the present.
“Yes, the clothes. They belonged to my brother. I’m glad they fit.” She hurried to a corner of the room and picked up a pair of boots, returning to hand them out to him. “I managed to save your boots, after a good cleaning and some repair.”

“Again, I must thank you, Maddelyn Sowers.” Draco bent and yanked on his boots, fully aware of the two gazes trained steadily on him. “And where is it that I find myself so well taken care of?” Draco’
s memory was still a tumble of blurry details.