Geared for Pleasure (40 page)

Phina’s stomach knotted. “He does
not
have to fight for me.
No one
is going to fight over me.”

Cyrus stood up and took her hand in his, squeezing until she looked in his direction. His gaze was almost tender. And utterly determined. “Yes, Seraphina. I am.”

Cyrus felt like he’d walked into the queen’s painting of the Peacemaker. That was what she’d called it. When he heard Stet mention that moniker, he’d known. Somehow this place was connected with the dagger. Connected with his mission, the commander… and now Phina as well.

He felt his muscles ripple, already eager to pummel Stet into the rich soil beneath his boots. He had been drugged, chained, beaten, and poisoned. He had watched his lover slay enemies he should have protected her from, and his companion guard who he’d been bound to protect shield him instead. He had wanted to tell Seraphina how he felt, but this was better.

He needed this. Needed to fight to find his strength again, to prove to by his actions Phina how completely he could protect and defend her. Could satisfy all her needs and desires. Be her mate. Her match. Whether she wanted him to or not.

He was Wode. He was the Sword. The preening male Felidae would know to whom Seraphina belonged before the day was done.

“Stet,” he called out before Seraphina could stay him. “When you are done claiming victory before the battle has begun, I am here.”

An older woman’s gentle voice parted and silenced the crowd with surprising ease. “Wode are ever eager to fight, regardless of the reason. It is how they are made, I understand. Put into their inheritance long ago. The Felidae inheritance is one of peace. Only when one is compelled enough, by belief or emotion, is action taken. Stet, what compels you to accept this challenge?”

Stet bowed his head respectfully. “I am a Guardian. One of the best Gliders of the Felidae, sought after for my distinctive coloring and prowess by every female still unclaimed. Seraphina is not from our people, but she is
of
our people. Her scent compels me. Her strength compels me. She is worthy of me and I am compelled to claim her.”

The old woman came closer and Cyrus noticed the flowers woven through hair of red streaked with silver. Her robe was closed, covering her markings, but she was still a stunning presence.

She was also not the same Felidae Queen Idony had painted. This was a different Peacemaker. He glanced down at her robe’s neckline. She wore a similarly designed stone around her neck, but it wasn’t moonfire. That stone was inside the dagger.

She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows in silence. Cyrus glanced over his shoulder at Commander Iacchus, who smiled supportively and gestured for him to speak. He assumed he was to say what had compelled him.

He shifted, wishing to fight. To show them how he felt with his fists, not his words. He was not good with words. He met the woman’s gray-green eyes, their exotic tilt no distraction from their kindness.

“I am compelled,” he started loudly, stopping to lower his voice when he noticed the old woman’s ears twitch. “I am Cyrus Arendal, the Queen’s Sword. I am not Felidae, I am Wode. Born in the Faro Outpost.” He heard the murmurings that let him know they knew that name. Knew that it was the outpost that guarded the island settlement of Felidae.

He shifted so he could speak to the elder while catching Phina’s gaze as well. “Since being in Seraphina’s company I have been in danger more often than not. I have leapt from ships and dangled from trees. I have been accosted and aided by automatons and injured more than I have been since I first started training to be Wode.”

Her tail was swishing back and forth and her arms were crossed. He would think her angry but for the vulnerability, the hurt in her emerald eyes.

His lips lifted helplessly. “I am compelled because I have never been more alive than when I am with her. Never been able to be more myself. The man behind my duty and title. Never worked harder to be better than my inheritance. To earn her loyalty. Because I have seen that when Seraphina gives you her loyalty, her trust, you never need doubt it. I am compelled to be worthy of
her
.”

As he spoke he realized it was all true. Every word. He saw the stunned expressions around him and his smile grew. Old gray-green eyes that were decidedly moist caught his and he shrugged. “Now we fight?”

The old woman laughed, surprising herself before catching Commander Iacchus’s eye. “Yes. Now you fight.” She lifted her voice and to Cyrus it was like music rustling the leaves. “No claws and no sword, but whatever else nature provides are yours to fight with. Until you cry halt or one of you stands alone. Wode?” She studied him closely. “Should you win, you must claim her immediately, or face another challenger. She will need you. It is our way. Do you understand?”

Cyrus wasn’t sure he did, but he nodded. Whatever was needed to ensure this libidinous Felidae did not get a chance to touch his woman, he would do.
His woman
. Why did those words bring him ease?

The small community of Felidae backed away, gathering baskets of food and woven blankets, creating an impromptu arena.

Cyrus watched Stet’s friends pound his back for luck, to energize him and prepare him for what was to come. He nodded, smiling and strutting.

Cyrus did not need reinforcements. He had his memories. At last he had a focus. The shot of excitement and adrenaline his Wode
inheritance had given him when he killed his guard in the desert, the one who had beaten him one too many times, was nothing compared to this. Then he was fighting for survival. Weakened by the vayun.

He was no longer weak.

He watched Stet walk a wide, wary circle as he unwrapped his bandaged hand. He flexed his fingers and reached for his sword belt, unbuckling it and letting it drop where he stood.

Cyrus stepped into the circle of soil beneath the canopy of trees, shafts of sunlight breaking through the foliage, lighting his way. He knew they were all watching him. She was watching him.

He was watching Stet, his rage giving him focus. The gift of the Wode.

Stet showed his claws before retracting them, playing for the crowd as they cheered him. He was lean and young and Felidae. The commander was right; he would be fast. And Cyrus would have to bide his time. To wait for the weakness he knew Felidae were prone to possess: impatience.

Stet was keeping his distance, and Cyrus sighed loudly. “Whatever nature provides, she said. Is this your nature, Stet the Glider? Without wings do you merely lurk and wait for your prey to tire and fall asleep?”

Stet’s skin flushed as soft laughter lingered on the breeze but he merely sneered, unwilling to take the bait. “You have an odor, Queen’s Sword. Did Seraphina never tell you? It is foul and filthy and human. I prefer to keep my distance.”

Cyrus just nodded mockingly, as if in understanding. “I see. You disapprove of my scent. You should just call this off then. Cry halt. Or better yet, come closer and I will fix it so you never smell anything the same again.”

As they moved, Cyrus kept his back to the circle of trees and Felidae that framed them. He saw Phina kneeling near Commander
Iacchus, his mentor’s hand on her shoulder as he spoke words of comfort. Was she shaking? Did she doubt his abilities?

“Do not look at her!”
Stet growled. Good. He would attack soon.

He said the words that would guarantee it. “Why shouldn’t I? She is already mine. You say you smell me. Can you not smell her on me?”

He saw the telltale bunching of Stet’s powerful Felidae leg muscles before he launched himself across the small space, arms outstretched, toward Cyrus.

A twist of his body away from the move made it a glancing blow, but a strong one. Still, Stet was close now. Cyrus grabbed his shoulders as his feet touched the ground and turned, ramming his knee into Stet’s stomach.

As the Felidae doubled over and rolled away, his strong, dexterous tail wrapped around Cyrus’s ankle and tugged him off his feet and into the dirt.

Stet let out a shout of triumph and dived for his prone body, but Cyrus rolled away, leaving Stet with a face full of dirt.

The look in his nearly red eyes when he lifted his head was one Cyrus recognized. Stet had forgotten the reason for the fight. He only knew he wanted to cause pain. To kill.

Cyrus got to his feet in time to meet his attacker. Stet was keeping his claws retracted but his fists were powerful enough. He felt the blows to his jaw, his ribs, the center of his chest knocking the wind out of him before he could lift his arms.

Cyrus gripped Stet around his middle, squeezing until Stet yowled as he lifted the Felidae high in the air and tossed him against the rough bark of the nearest tree.

He brought a hand up to wipe the blood off his mouth as Stet got to his feet, shaking his head, momentarily stunned. Or so he wanted Cyrus to believe.

The Felidae’s tail whipped up and he kicked out high behind him, catching Cyrus in the throat with his foot. For a moment, it was
impossible to breathe, and he instinctively reached for his throat as he fell to his knees.

Stet pounced on him, gripping his hair and bringing his knee up into Cyrus’s face, breaking and bloodying his nose. He raised his arms and a small group of his friends cheered Stet on, praising him.

There it was. Impatience. Bastard believed he’d already won.

Cyrus grabbed for one of Stet’s upraised arms and his tail and pressed him down onto the ground. The arm he twisted down and behind Stet’s back until Cyrus heard the crack of bone. “This is what we do to people who try to take what doesn’t belong to them.” The tail he yanked hard in a bruising grip, knowing it was more humiliating than painful. “This is what
I
do to Felidae who cheat with their extra appendage.”

Stet shouted in pain and surprise. “Halt! Halt!”

A gasp of surprise washed over the gathered Felidae. Cyrus, too, had not thought he would capitulate so easily. A broken arm was a child’s injury, and easily mended. As was his pride, since he had gotten his own decent jabs in during the short fight.

He got up, stepping away from Stet, indicating the Felidae was free to go. He put a hand to his nose and took a few steps forward. “I assume this means I have claim?”

He heard a hiss and turned back in time to see Stet leap from his previously prone position into the air, his feet aiming for Cyrus’s collarbone. He could not have moved fast enough; he knew that before the foot made contact. The force threw him backward into a nearby uninhabited tree. The power of it stunned him for a moment, the pain making him look down.

He was held less than an inch off the ground by a low, thick branch. It had pushed through his flesh from back to front, growing out of his shoulder like an extra arm, and coated in his blood.

No one made a sound or moved as Stet stalked closer. “The Queen’s Sword impaled by Stet the Guardian. It is a story my people
will tell. That I was the one to destroy our lord’s enemies. I was the one who helped him bring my people back to their rightful place. Back to power.” He leaned in until his face was inches from Cyrus’s wound, his grin pained as he cradled his arm. “Your arm for mine. Your woman will be mine as well. Seraphina will be at my side. She will give me sons or die trying beneath me.”

Cyrus took slow deep breaths, stretching his legs until his feet touched the ground despite the tearing flesh, and pushed his body forward. He grit his teeth with a feral snarl, the blindness of his rage making it easy for him to slide off the branch. To turn and rip it, crackling and snapping, from the tree and aim it at Stet, heedless of the pain streaking through his body. Pain was temporary. It made him stronger.

He was Wode.

The cocky prick was too filled with disbelief to move, which suited Cyrus well. He knocked Stet to the ground with the first blow, breaking several ribs and rendering Stet unconscious with the next. He raised his arm to land the third and final blow but was stopped by the one voice he would listen to.

Seraphina.

“Cyrus!”

At the sound of his name, he dropped the heavy branch and walked around Stet’s prone body, adrenaline racing through his veins as he kept his eyes fixed on her.

His. She was his. It was time to claim her.

The two Felidae females who had held Phina back when Stet sent Cyrus slamming into the tree released her, taking several cautious steps back. No one came near her. None of them wanted to be in the path of the tall, blue-haired Wode who was covered in blood.

Coming to claim his mate.

She was not sure what was happening to her. What had been happening since he declared himself and Stet began to stalk him.

He’d fought for her. Had any male in her lifetime done the same? She had been wanted and desired. She had been hated. Chased down as a thief and coveted as a mistress.

Cyrus had claimed her for all to hear with his words. Claimed her long before he landed the first blow. But seeing him fight had lit something inside her. Ignited something that grew hotter, more powerful, with each passing moment.

The Felidae he passed reacted to him as well, the men lowering their tails in respect, the women subtly panting. She understood their reactions.

Phina felt like she could shatter apart at any moment. Sharp,
burning shards of sensation that aroused her with their sting. The smell of his blood only increased her desire, made her ache to taste him. To feel that strength, that power, inside her. He was hers.

She shook her head and took several steps back, scared of her own thoughts. She jumped, startled when the elder Peacemaker came to her side. She knew it was her from the soothing scent and soft voice, though her attention could not be removed from the oncoming Cyrus.

“This is as it should be, Seraphina.” Her voice was soft. “It’s instinct. You belong to him now, and everything inside you is showing him. Your scent is in the air, calling to him. You have chosen and he will ease your fire.”

Her scent…

Phina tore her gaze away from Cyrus and looked around at the male Felidae closest to her. Their lips were stretched over their teeth, curled in snarls of need as they took in the scent of her heightened arousal. They respected Cyrus for the moment, but she knew they would challenge him if they saw him stagger. If they saw weakness.