Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn (24 page)

“Cair is here?” she asked, her heart jumping.

“His ship docked while you were deep in conversation with the djinn,” The Burgon snapped. “Did you not notice Drae speaking to me or were you too deeply involved in making plans to free that monster?”

“He is not a monster,” she said.

Ryden waved a hand. “I know that!”

“Then don’t call him one!” she threw back at him.

The Burgon turned and stalked to the table. He leaned over her. “Woman, stop irritating me like that or I swear, I will turn your shapely ass over my knee and wallop you until your ass is as red as Tariq’s eyes!”

“You try it if you think you can,” she warned, “but I’ll fight you every inch of the way!”

They glared at one another—pale green eyes snapping fire and blue eyes blazing with fury.

“One condition to peace I will demand of Cair Ghrian is that he chastise you for your lack of respect for those above you, wench,” Ryden growled. “And I will demand he allow me to be there when he punishes you!”

Before Davan could respond to The Burgon’s heated words, there was a knock at the door.

“What?” Ryden yelled.

Drae opened the door. “His Grace Prince Cair, Your Excellency,” he announced and stepped aside.

Davan shot up from the table, her chair crashing to the floor as she spun around. She broke into a wide grin as soon as she saw her husband coming through the door and ran to him, pressing tightly into his arms.

Cair enclosed his lady in a strong embrace then pushed her away from him, sweeping his eyes over her quickly. “Are you all right?” he asked, his face worried.

“One more minute of delay on your part in getting here and she wouldn’t have been,” The Burgon complained.

“Don’t listen to him,” Davan said. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

Cair’s eyes snapped to The Burgon. Such talk was dangerous and the insult was one that could cost Davan a lifetime spent in prison at the very least.

“Forgive her, Your Excellency,” he said. “It is only her fear that makes her forget herself.”

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The Burgon snorted. “Fear my rosy red ass,” he complained. “If that woman knows fear, it is only for your safety, Ghrian. You’d do well to get her in hand before she causes you real trouble one day.”

Cair looked down at Davan. “What did you do?” he whispered.

“Drae!” The Burgon called out. “Take the Princess Davan back to her room while the prince and I talk. And don’t let her anywhere near a med-tray!”

Davan pulled out of Cair’s arms, content he was all in one piece, and stomped over to The Burgon. “You are not going to leave that man in that condition! I demand you—”

“Davan!” Cair gasped.

“You go to your room and your husband and I will discuss the prisoner,” Ryden growled, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. “Leave the negotiations to the men!”

“And I want to see my brothers!” she threw at him. “You said I could and I am holding you to it!” She took a step closer to him and lowered her voice so her husband could not hear. “And I want to see Liam Ghrian, as well!”

“Get out!” The Burgon ordered, pointing a finger at the door.

“Davan, please,” Cair said, terrified his wife would suffer for her temper. “Let me handle this.” He took her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the door and the laughing man who stood there.

“She’s a handful, Your Grace,” Drae said, snagging her arm and pulling her out into the corridor.

“Make him let you see Tariq!” Davan yelled as the door began to close. “Don’t agree to anything until you do!”

“Tariq?” Cair questioned. He craned his neck to see around the edge of the door as it closed. “Who is Tariq?”

“You’d best get that woman under control,” Ryden grumbled. “You’ll not have a peaceful day ever again if you don’t lay the law down to her at the start.”

Cair turned to face The Burgon. “That is assuming I will have a future with her,” he said.

“You are not a prisoner here, Ghrian, and neither is your woman. When you leave—” He stopped. “What kind of ship did you arrive in?”

Cair blinked. “My personal craft. A dragon-class—”

“Won’t do,” Ryden stated. “I’ll have to send your ass home in one of my ships. I want the lot of you gone before I leave for Aduaidh Prime.”

“The lot of us?” Cair questioned. “How many are you talking about?”

The Burgon sighed. “There are fifty-nine prisoners here along with you and your lady. I want all of you gone. Where you take them is your affair.” He pointed to the chair Davan had overturned. “Sit down and we’ll discuss it.”

Cair righted the chair and sat down. “You are closing the facilities here?”

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“If you and I can come to an understanding regarding the peace negotiations,”

Ryden replied.

Stunned, Cair flopped back in the chair. “I wasn’t aware that was why I was brought here.”

Sighing heavily, The Burgon dragged his hand through his hair. “I had no hand in the abduction of your lady,” he said. “The skink did that and he will pay for it either by my sword or yours. Take your choice.”

“I demand the satisfaction,” Cair said through clenched teeth. Ryden waved a hand. “Be my guest. He’s been nothing but trouble since the day my uncle commissioned his scaly prick.” He took a seat at the head of the table. “He is the reason your mistress has crossed over to the Other Side.”

Cair winced but he had suspected Amethyst would die at the hands of the Saurian. He had feared Davan would meet the same fate but reason had told him The Burgon would have a hand in seeing that did not happen.

“Thank you for keeping her safe for me,” Cair said.

“Not sure I did you a good turn,” Ryden said then laughed. “She’s a handful I’m glad it isn’t my responsibility to handle.”

A wavering smile pulled at Cair’s lips. “Never put raw eggs in front of her door,”

he said.

The Burgon gave his guest an odd look. “I was going to ask what that meant but I don’t think I want to know,” he said.

“Who is this Tariq?” Cair said.

“Perhaps you should see for yourself and then we’ll get down to the business of trying to put an end to this hellish war,” Ryden suggested. 137

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Chapter Sixteen

B’reith Avatás pulled the dagger from the back of the guard and let the dead man slip quietly to the floor. He took his hand from the man’s mouth then dragged him into a closet to hide his body. Swiping his forked tongue over his lips, he took the handheld Vid-Com from the dead man and entered a private code that would open a channel to his second-in-command on board the
Kady
.

Lieutenant Abdul-Aziz answered right away. “You are free, my Captain?”

Avatás hissed at the ridiculous question. “Where is the woman?”

“She has been escorted to her room,” the lieutenant replied. “The prince has arrived and is in with The Burgon.”

“Must I drag every iota of information from your feeble brain?” Avatás sneered.

“Where is her room?”

“Two levels up from where you were being held, my Captain. Hers is the third door to your left.”

“Guards?”

“She is alone though locked in. Do you wish for me to override the locking mechanism?”

“If that isn’t too much trouble for you,” Avatás ground out.

“No trouble, my Captain. Once you are inside, I will lock on to the two of you and—”

“Only I will be leaving this disgusting place,” the Saurian snapped then ended the communication and pocketed the handheld. He was cautious as he made his way down the corridor, the dagger clutched tightly in his hand.

Taking the elevator to Davan’s floor, he stared at the floor for he did not want the security cameras to record his face. The dagger, he kept hidden behind his back, refusing to relinquish his grip on the weapon. When the cage settled and the doors opened, he stepped out, carefully observing the corridor in both directions before turning and heading toward Davan’s door.

* * * * *

Cair stared into the eyes of the prisoner in Cell Two and felt as though he was falling beneath layer upon layer of unreality. Although Deathwielders could work 138

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magic, shape shifting was not one of their abilities. To actually see a man who could change his shape at will made him uneasy.

“Those who brought him back had no idea just what they had,” The Burgon explained. “All they knew was that they had hammered him with a pulse rifle and he got back up and charged them again. They thought our scientists would want to study a specimen such as this one.”

“In order to make indestructible warriors,” Cair said, grasping the implications immediately. “How many like him did they capture?”

“Just him. He was with his mate when they took him. She managed to escape else they would have taken her, as well.”

The red eyes fused with his lost a bit of their steadiness at the mention of a female. Cair watched deep sorrow enter the crimson globes.

Within the space of a few seconds, images flowed swiftly through Cair’s mind and he stood mesmerized—time stilled. He knew he was watching the scene unfold through the eyes of the man behind the plexigon shield…

She was lovely with long silvery gray hair that swept the ground as she ran. She was laughing, looking back at Tariq, her bright red lips slick and shiny, and her stark white teeth gleaming behind those blood-red lips. Completely naked, her lush breasts jiggled as she ran. Long, shapely legs bunched with sleek muscles as she moved and her bare feet looked strong as she carefully picked her way over rock and fallen tree limbs.

“Can you not run any faster, Tariq?” she challenged the one chasing her. A huge tree loomed ahead and she darted around it, her hands pressed against the bark as she kept it between her and the one intent on capturing her. She scurried from side to side around the wide trunk, bending away from the hand thrusting out to grab her and laughing harder with each attempt that failed. The sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet seemed to add to the playfulness of the scene.

“Some warrior you are, Tariq!” she taunted then took off running again, her long hair streaming behind her, giggles floating in her wake.

She ran on ahead, disappearing down a slight embankment, her arms lifted high as she tried to keep her balance, and the viewer turned, skirting the trees ahead of him in what must be a shortcut.

A powerfully muscled arm snaked out and caught the woman around her small waist as she darted by. Her laughter was infectious as she squirmed in an attempt to break free. She was turned around and brought up solidly against a chest thickly pelted with hair, her glorious breasts flattening as her captor held her closed.

“For shame, Tariq,” she complained.

There was a low, throaty growl but the woman remained close to the viewer. 139

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One moment the beautiful woman was standing and the next she was stretched out on the leaf-laden ground, her arms pinned beside her head, her lustrous hair billowing around her.

She had a remarkably lovely face with high cheekbones and a pert little nose that was too sassy by far. Obsidian eyes, pearly teeth, a complexion like sun-kissed ivory, lips stained with a bright red glossiness, which drew the eye and the mouth of the viewer.

Looking through the eyes of the man whose hands moved down slender arms to mold themselves around sweet, high breasts that completely filled the palms to overflowing, the woman’s complexion was flawless, her beauty breathtaking. Her hair smelled of lemons and her flesh of jasmine as her captor nuzzled her neck and moved down to catch one dark nipple in his teeth.

“You should be attending the council, you pervert,” she whispered, her hands free to bury them in thick dark hair.

Her body was a paradise of warmth and tight velvety sheathing as she was taken there on the ground. Long legs wrapped around her captor’s hips and she arched up into his thrusts with force of her own.

The sound of their lovemaking was sensuality in its own right for her moans of pleasure matched his grunts of possession and harmonized finally into groans of satiation that silenced the forest creatures around them.

“I love you,” her captor vowed. “With all my being.”

“You are my life,” she replied. “There will never be another.”

Abruptly the scene changed and the sound of curses and scuffling and wild howls of desperation rent the air. The scene shifted back and forth, back and forth as the viewer struggled to break free of those who held him.

Then there was darkness. A darkness so complete, so cold and devoid of hope it felt as though a million tons of granite had been piled upon the viewer’s shoulder. The agonized howl that came from his throat was inhuman.

Cair felt the sorrow that dwelled in the prisoner and though the scenes he’d been shown had lasted only a few seconds, he could sense the lifetime of grief that had built up to scar the man in Cell Two.

“We need to take this man back to his world,” Cair stated.

“What world is that?” The Burgon asked. “And exactly where is it located? The ship crashed and the flight recorder was never found. We have no idea where the
Hespra
went. All we are certain of is that the ship came from the Green Sector of the Aduaidh Quadrant but that covers a lot of territory. If he knows where his home world is—and how to get there—he hasn’t said.”

“He may think you would send men to capture more of his race,” Cair suggested.

“He believes he is protecting his kind.”

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“One of his kind is one too many,” The Burgon mumbled. “From him, from what is inside him, we have made nearly sixty warriors. Sixty such warriors are akin to having six hundred warriors like you and I.”

Cair reached out to press his palm against the shield as his lady had. He was not surprised with the prisoner placed his hand to the plexigon, as well.

“I will do all I can to reunite you with your lady,” the Amhantarean prince vowed.

“This I swear, Tariq.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” The Burgon advised.