Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End (30 page)

I try to slip away at the side, shocked by the brutality of his words, but he boxes me in, placing both arms against the downcore.

“Move!” I’m breathing heavy and yet very little oxygen appears to be reaching my head.

He’s oozing energy. And heat. Lots of it. He waits. His prey’s right where he wants it. Trapped.

I look up into his eyes.

He seems exasperated, unusual for him.

“I do not know how I could possible be so attracted to someone who is so pathetic.”

I gasp, his words striking with the power of a fist.

“I have watched you over this time. I have been inside your mind. You do nothing but lie to yourself. All humans exist in this condition but you are a special case.” He shakes his head. “You live a half-life, in a constant state of denial over who you are. Over your ability to sift, your strength, your desires, your beauty,” he trails off.

“Wake up,” he whispers in my ear. “This is real. This is your life now. Here. With me.”

I concentrate on my breaths, shallow as they are. I don’t dare look up at him. Instead, I stare at his chest, my mind whirring. I should be red in the head right about now. But, but pride’s weaker than truth because what he says resonates somewhere deep down.

I have spent most of my life ashamed, confused, lost, not knowing what I am. No, not knowing who I am. Not being honest with myself.

I’ve built up walls to protect myself for fear of not knowing, for fear of letting others down, for fear of letting myself down. And yet, I spend every waking hour always desperate to be something, to be somebody, to be validated. Then, when I finally gain some understanding, some insight, what do I do? I hide from it, like the chicken heart that I am.

Tears of frustration brim in my eyes.

Torn, I fight the urge to run and hide, mentally and physically, with every fiber of my being. To prove him wrong.

And somehow, I manage to stand still.

The last thing I expect from him right now is tenderness. But that’s what he offers, acceptance in a simple brush stroke of my cheek. His other hand touches my shoulder. I remain motionless, staring at his chest.

One, two, three, tears spill over.

He brushes them away.

Who is this man? What is doing to me?
I look up at him, confused, pleading for . . . what?

Here’s a man who knows exactly who he is. A man who never hesitates, who has not one nano-molecule of self-doubt, who lives his life with purpose, determination, grit, and passion, who always knows exactly what he wants because he knows exactly who he is.

His mouth grabs my mouth, hard. His tongue delves against mine, claiming what is his.

And I let him.

How can my body betray me like this?

He effortlessly hoists me up onto the downcore, no protest here, and presses between my spread legs, his hands twining in my hair, holding me against him, exploring my mouth, kissing my face, my neck. I’m feverish with a weird mix of excitement and desire.

Where’s my reason?
My lower half answers,
Because he’s your lust-trap. Everyone has one. Now use him.

No.

Why not?

Because he’ll use you first.

Where did that come from?

Then his words ring in my head. To make his sift happy. He doesn’t want
you.

This dawning gets stuck somewhere up in my throat, as the rest of my body’s softly acquiescing to his every move.

Or’ic leans back, inhaling sharply. His hands gently tilt my head up so I’m staring into his eyes. He wears his assuming smile.

“Maybe I would teach you how to be human.”

A second passes, and then another, before I realize what’s happened. My heart sees reason and rebels.
Finally!

I may not know who I am, yet, but I know who I am not.

I’m not the kind woman who heels to a touch of a super attractive, ridiculously arrogant man, though I may be temporarily beckoned by it since I am only human. I’m not some halfpenny Thell’eon sifter. And, even if I have a propensity toward denial, I make my own decisions.

Maybe he reads this on my face, maybe he doesn’t, but I focus on my lust for him regardless, licking my lips and leaning up for another kiss.

Our last kiss.

I press my breasts into him and am surprised by the amplified pleasure of such a simple movement. I lean back, inhaling sharply.

Oh.
He just shared a tiny taste of his pleasure.

He’s slipped into my mind using symbiosis! The sensation’s powerful. His eyes beg me to let him stay in my mind while we . . .

Yes, yes, are you crazy?, YES! Let him stay in your mind!

No. Stop it! You can’t!

I flash back to the field of feather reeds, when I straddled him in symbiosis, the pinnacle of passion and his yearning to reciprocate my expression of memory-evoked love. It’s in his eyes again now. I imagine that combined with real touch. That would be . . .

He thinks I’ve agreed.

No. He doesn’t care. He thinks he’ll show me how resistance is impractical, because it would be magnificent.

Oh, no. He’s here.

You’ve left yourself no way out!

I watch his brow knit, hear his words in my mind,

What do you mean, no way ou
—

I jab the dart into his ribcage, hard, ending the symbiosis. But not before he understands everything, including my plan to escape.

Recognition flashes across his face, and then violence. I brace myself, preparing for the drug not to work. But he glaciates, and all 290 pounds or so of muscle collapses onto me.

Just let him drop to the floor
. But I can’t.

Instead, stupefied that I’m stupefied by the consequences of my actions,
What did I expect?
, I lean back, hauling his upper body onto me as I kind of rotate sideways and out from under him. This takes some doing. He’s heavy and for one awkward moment, I maneuver him right on top of me. His helplessness frightens me.

What have I done?

The right thing. The only thing you could.

A violent storm of emotions saps my strength. But I manage the task, grunting somewhat, breaking into a light sweat, finally standing up holding him half on the downcore with my body weight while wrestling his legs up.

There.

He’s lying on his stomach, with his face to the side. I check that he’s breathing. His eyes are open, and I’m in his line of vision. I assume he’s awake, like Lor was when I tested the endospray on him. Well, at least I know my darts work on Thell’eons.

I try to shake off the desire still coursing through me and rub my face. The shock recedes somewhat. There’s no turning back.

Wait, my blowgun’s gone!

Must have popped out. I slide my hand under him, fishing for it. When I get it out, I feel the need to show him, since he may think I was feeling around for something else.

“Wouldn’t want to forget this,” I say nervously. Then I add, “Don’t worry, the drug will wear off.”

What’s wrong with you? Just leave!

I glance over at the entrance as I tuck my blowgun back in. Those guards Or’ic sent away could come back at any time, though I suspect not, not since he wanted to give us privacy tonight.

I glance back at him. His eyes are screaming at me. They are saying one thing.
Don’t.

I don’t know how I know this, but I do. Oh, wait! He’s trying to enter my mind.

“No chance . . . My Prime,” I whisper as I put up my mental barrier.

He keeps trying, prodding and probing, but I think I’ve learned how to keep him out or the drug has greatly weakened his ability, probably the latter.

Still, I stand here, always on a precipice.

A pang of what . . .
What is that?
. . . reverberates somewhere in my chest. I hate it.

I step up and lean down closely. I put my hand on his cheek. I’m not being melodramatic. I really feel the need to say goodbye, to touch him one last time.

I kiss him quickly, lightly. I inhale his scent.

“I’m sorry.”

Why did I say that? What am I sorry for? Are my eyes watering?

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” I whisper.

I take two steps back, his eyes still on me. Then I turn and run.

Chapter 28

I press my back flat up against a corridor wall corner, the nearest one to sickbay. I can’t believe I made it all the way here from my room without detection! I’m nearly hyperventilating with the idea of freedom, which I can now taste (it’s got the texture of prime rib actually), being stolen from me at any minute.

I did almost run smack into a dozen Kirs, moving quickly as a group through a corridor part way here, but I heard them in time and was able to duck into another room. I think I recognize them from our Candidacy contingent, which means that they’re starting to arrive back (confirming they’re quick draws indeed).

I glance again at the entrance to sickbay.
Okay
. Good news, Lor has to be in sickbay, because there are three guards at the entrance.

Bad news
.

There are three guards at the entrance.

How do you get past them?
At this distance I can blow a dart and reload the gun in time to get another one, but it will be close.
You’ll have to take the third one yourself.

Really? I mean, come on.

Well, what choice do you have?
You probably couldn’t get all the way to hangar bay without Lor’s help. And you wouldn’t leave him behind anyway
.

You could stop now. Yeah, but then what?
Or’ic will come out of the drug eventually? I press the back of my head against the wall, attempting to control my erratic pulse.
How long could you hide from him on his warship? A few hours? And after he punishes you, what kind of life would you live? Because he would punish you. Because he thinks he owns you.

Because he almost did own you, with just the promise of pleasure.

I think of how close I am to ESE now, my home, and being in it with Daz, safe. Home, where I’m free to find out who I am, alongside a man who doesn’t think I’m pathetic.

STOP THINKING. Just do it.

I pop around, aim at the first one, blow and . . . miss!

Holy fucking stars!

The dart kind of pings against the wall, just near the one guard I’m aiming at.

I think one of them saw it, too! He stood up before I spun back around the corner.

Is he coming here?
You can never hear the fuckers!

I load another dart, hands shaking, just in time. I blow the minute his form appears. The tip lands right in his chest between two belts of weapons.

Our eyes meet at the same time and I can tell we share the same thought,
Lucky hit.

He tenses, then collapses.

Okay, just lie in wait and snare them this way!

I ready another dart, willing my hands to steady.
Calm down. I wait and wait and wait. Why are they not coming? Maybe they are on to me. Or, maybe they are doubling back and will come at me from the other way.

I decide I have to check rather than wait. It’s better to make the first move, right? And the longer I leave them, the more likely they will alert others that something is up.

I step out, leaping over the body on the floor, but give myself a wide birth, which is wise as it turns out. One of them was waiting behind the wall for me to make the first move.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

His arm swoops out to snatch me but just misses. His confusion,
Why is his sift on the attack?
, buys me the time I need to raise my blowgun and
phloot!,
the dart lands right in his throat. He can’t reach it before he falls forward face first.

I’m feet from the entrance to sickbay. Lor’s tied down on the downcore. Beaten up bad.

But he’s watching me.
So he’s alert.

Surely he gets that this is it, our escape.

I don’t have time to worry about his condition, as the third and last guard awaits my move in a semi-crouched stance having just witnessed me knock out his sidekick with my blowgun. He doesn’t know it isn’t loaded.

“Move,” I say, holding the gun near my mouth. “Or I will blow.”

He pauses momentarily, and then moves backward into the room. Not where I wanted him to go, but whatever. He’s confused silly by why his sift is acting in this manner, and torn about what to do, or so I assume. It’s the only explanation for why I’m still standing. I keep my eyes on him, and we end up moving in tandem in a wide circle until I reach Lor’s downcore.

Seth’s hunched over the monitor, staring at me wide-eyed. No other staff are present.

“How bad are you?” I ask Lor, without taking my eyes off of the third guard, poised, just feet away. “Can you move?”

“Yes. Bindings!” he growls, wrenching against the metal bracelets with this arm.

“Seth, unlock him. Now!”

I don’t see Seth moving in my peripheral vision.

“Seth, they will kill him if I don’t help,” I plead. “You only heal him so they can harm him again. Now’s your chance to do the right thing. You’re a doctor! A healer! You have a duty to release him!”

Still he doesn’t move.

“Please!” I beg.

Finally, I hear him shift and count on him, rather hopelessly, to unlock the bracelets from his monitor.

But the third guard leaps toward me using his powerful legs and tackles me right on top of Lor and then over the downcore. He lands on me, but, oddly, protects my head by holding it away from the ground.

With his weight directly on me, my position’s almost impossible to wrestle out of and hope’s sucked right of me.

No. Elations! Just like that he’s hauled off of me by newly freed Lor!

I’m about to get up when I witness the strangest thing. Lor snaps the guard’s neck in a simple head hold and tosses him aside like he’s a used chicken bone.

Did he . . . just . . .
kill him
?

I shout, “No!” but it ends up coming out in a barely audible peep.

Lor’s not stopping! He grabs a tomahawk-like knife off of the dead guard, then cuts his hand off in one clean swipe. That’s when it sinks in. He’s killed that guard.
No, you’re not imagining it. This is really happening.

I glance at blood slowly ooze out of the stump.

What is he . . .?
He’s yanking me off the ground but my eyes focus on what’s in his free hand. He’s using the dead Thell’eon’s severed hand to hold, and therefore, operate one of their guns.

I know what he plans next.

I can’t let him.

I stand in front of the raised gun just in time. The deadly weapon’s pointed at Seth.

“No!” I say, shaking all over, my hand up in front of the gun. “He set you free! You-you can’t! Please.”

He motions with the gun for me to move out of the way. I want to. Realization dawns that I know nothing of this alien Ire I just freed.

What have I done?

Nothing’s more harrowing than staring down the barrel of a device that fires gamma. But I hold my ground.

I watch him wrestle with my obstinacy. Maybe he would kill me. But, no, his deep sympathy for me earlier showed me he has some kind of sense of humanity.

“No more killing, please,” I add.

Why do I care?

Because it’s wrong. They don’t deserve to die.

Then I hit upon something that might work. “I will stay. Here. If you kill anyone else.” I think I mean it, too. Let’s hope he cares.

His arched eyebrows bend into sharp triangles. His bruises and swelling aren’t that bad now that he’s standing and he clearly isn’t damaged otherwise. In the very moment when I think he will shoot me, he exhales in frustration but switches something on the gun before motioning for me to move again.

When I still don’t move, he says, clearly frustrated, “Stun. Hurry. No time.”

Can I trust him?

Do I have a choice?

I move and say “Sorry, Seth” under my breath but Lor has already fired. I rush over. Yes, he’s still breathing. Behind me I hear Lor messing around with taking weapons off of the Thell’eon.

Well, that’s what you need him for, right?

Way to go, Cassiel. A man’s dead now. Because of you.

What will my Kirs think? What will Or’ic think?

“We go,” orders Lor, who’s right behind me garbed in newly stolen weapons. He moves just as silently, if not more so, than the Thell’eons. I think I know why they kept him. He really is their superior. They were using him to make them better fighters.

Oh, what I have done?

He grabs me from behind and hauls me up, searching my face in confusion. “We go!”

I am . . . I don’t know what.

“No more killing. I kill no more,” he says gruffly, shaking me. “But we go home. NOW!” He smacks my cheek lightly.

Home
. I inhale. Deeply.
Okay.
I nod.

There’s nowhere for me to go now but forward.

I move in slow motion at first, and then step-by-step gain my senses and momentum. Before I reach the sickbay exit, he hauls me back behind him.

“I first. You show,” he says, holding me against the wall with his arm.

Absently, I point to the torn nuts lining the hall. At first he doesn’t understand. “Follow those,” I say.

Then he squints.

A look of surprise and then appreciation springs onto his face. He chuckles. I’m surprised how human that sound is, how refreshingly human.

It’s going to be okay. We can do this.
He was angry at the Thell’eons. They treated him horribly. He acted on rage. But he said he won’t kill again. He promised.
I fumble for my blowgun and try to load it but it’s ripped out of my hand and tossed far away.

“No,” says Lor, pointing at his gun. Then he takes off.

Fuck!
That was my only defense.
Why would he do that?

Is he making sure I don’t leave him behind?

No time to think.

I follow as best as I can, shadowing his exact movements but I know I’m making more noise than him. He’s forced to stun four Thell’eons on the way to the loading bay and knocks out a fifth with the end of the gun after getting into a hand-to-hand skirmish. I watch, helpless without my blowgun.

I’m in a mild state of shock, no doubt about it. That’s why it takes me a second or two before I realize we’re just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the hangar bay entrance.

Without thinking, I dart over without Lor and walk straight into a batch of Thell’eons fresh back from the Candidacy. They are laughing and play fighting, so what they see doesn’t register right away.

Why would their sift be standing in front of them, alone, unguarded, scared stiff?

My heart drops.

Then stops.

Kell’an.

He’s behind the six Thell’eons he’s returned with. And he knows something isn’t right.

Lor.

Kell’an.

Together.

I hope Lor’s hiding behind the entrance.

I back up a few steps. Kell’an pushes through the group to the front. None of them have any weapons except Kell’an, who is reaching for his gun still not quite sure what’s going on, but slowly catching on.

I step back until I’m in the entrance, and a strong arm grabs me from behind in a chokehold, and walks us both back into the hangar. A gun’s pointed at my head, and a fleeting moment of terror blinds me until I remember it’s Lor, and that we’re on the same side.

We are, right?
Then I try to channel it back so I really do appear scared. Kell’an’s aiming at us. The other Kirs reach for weapons and are at loss since they don’t have any.

“She will die,” Lor states.

I’ve never seen Kell’an look so deranged.

He shakes his head, as though to gather his wits, I think. Desperation seems to overcome him. He slumps. It’s horrible to watch. Maybe, maybe Lor would kill me to get away. I tense back up in his grip. Kell’an certainly thinks so.

He turns his flickering green eyes on me, and there’s something in them I never expected. Who does he see? It can’t be me. It must be her, that other human woman.

He looks back at Lor with hatred so pure it could destroy a universe.

“No. You will die, Ire.” He tosses his gun over to the side.

I sort of let Lor back us up,
stick with the plan
, still holding the gun at my head. I realize all at once he doesn’t know which ship to go to.
Shit
. Glancing quickly over my shoulder, I steer him to a compact ship with its door still open.

Now the jig is up. Kell’an realizes he’s been tricked and dives for his gun but not before Lor opens fire on the lot of them.

Kell’an’s focus is on me just as the fire hits him, and the emotion’s utterly and totally clear.

Betrayal, in those green eyes—he must still see
her
—just before their stunned cold.

Numbly, I climb into the ship, with Lor in tow.

“I-I need the hand. Over there!” I point to the wall unit. As I get into the seat, I abstractly consider the possibility that the interface they implanted for the Candidacy contest won’t somehow work.

I should care more.
What’s wrong with me?

But the ship starts up, no problem. I’m connected. Everything’s in order.

No relief. No sense of triumph.

Lor presses the dismembered appendage against the hand lock.

The hangar doors open.

Freedom’s almost ours.

I tell Lor to get into one of the holds, since he doesn’t have a neural interface chip. I search for a way to keep him pinned in the controls, and find it. He’s the right size, and the unit grips around him.

I figure we’ve got four hours tops before the stunned Thell’eons gain consciousness. By then I’ll be long, long gone.

Radar up.
I grab hold of the control with my mind’s own engine and think, “How do you like me now?”