Reaper's Revenge (17 page)

“He is a very nervous man,” Otaktay said, turning to direct his words to Aingeal. 91

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Aingeal pretended to rouse herself and looked around at the man who claimed to be her husband. “What did you say, beloved?” she asked, forcing herself to gaze at the brave with gentle eyes. “I was not listening.”

Otaktay held his hand out to her. “Come, sit with me. I grow lonely without you.”

Knowing it would best to keep up the pretense of being a loving wife, Aingeal got up obediently and went to squat down beside the red man. She willed herself not to flinch when he put a hand to her hair and stroked her gently.

“When I have avenged you,” Otaktay said, “we will return to my People. I am sure my father will be pleased.”

Delving lightly into the brave’s mind, Aingeal pilfered the name Akecheta from Otaktay’s memory and knew this must be the man’s father, a great chief of his tribe, a man to be respected and feared.

Something moved along Aingeal’s back beneath the skin. Closing her eyes as Otaktay continued to smooth her hair, Aingeal moved into herself and sought out the creature. If she could hear Otaktay’s thoughts, surely she could communicate with the creature inside her. Her eyes flew open when she felt the great sorrow that came from the entity within her.

“What is it, beloved?” Otaktay asked.

Becoming accustomed to hiding her inner feelings from the brave, Aingeal nuzzled her face into his palm. “I am hungry, nothing more.”

“Then I will feed you,” Otaktay said, and brought his wrist to his mouth and tore at the flesh. He pressed it to Aingeal’s mouth.

As loath as she was to take the proffered Sustenance, Aingeal realized she needed it. If she were to aid the Reaper in his fight with Otaktay and Jaborn, she would need to be at full strength. The brave’s blood tasted bitter and had a sting to it, but it seemed to feed the ache in her belly and calm the grief of the creature. When she was finished, she wiped her lips upon the sleeve of her cotton blouse.

“When we return to our People,” Otaktay said, “I will provide for you a soft dress of the finest leather. A dress deserving of your beauty.”

Otaktay got to his feet and reached a hand down to her. “Come,” he said. “There is something I must show you.”

Aingeal hated to touch him but she slipped her hand in his, striving hard not to let the revulsion show on her face.

Taking along a fiery brand, he led her deeper into the cave, around several sharp bends, until they came to what appeared to be a dead end.

Otaktay let go of her hand, wedged the brand in a crack in the stone then put his hands upon a large boulder, pushing upon it until it began to roll.

“What is this place?” Aingeal asked, not liking the feeling of the air coming from behind a hole revealed by the moving of the boulder.

“It is a hiding place for when the time comes,” he replied. 92

Reaper’s Revenge

The boulder now stood to one side of a natural arch in the cave wall. Otaktay took up the brand and thrust it into the archway, lighting up a small area roughly six feet by eight feet in area. High above the room was a single small slit—not big enough for a child to slip through but enough to provide air for the space.

“When the time comes,” Otaktay said, “you will come here. I will keep you safe.”

Aingeal knew there was no way in hell she’d voluntarily enter the room. She could read Otaktay’s mind and knew his intention was to lock her in the space, rolling the heavy boulder into place to keep her in. Whatever his reason, she would not comply, though she gave him no indication of her rebellious thoughts.

“Let us go back now,” Otaktay stated, and took her hand to lead her back to their camp by the underground pool. Once more at the camp, he urged her to sit down beside him.

Aingeal did not like looking at the Jakotai although she knew most women would consider him exceedingly handsome. She, however, did not. His black eyes were cold and held a brutality in them that made her uneasy. To her, his lips were hard and too quick to lift in a sneer. A voice that might cajole an innocent girl merely grated on Aingeal’s nerves. There was nothing about the brave she found enticing and everything about him rubbed her the wrong way.

“What ails you, beast?”
Aingeal silently asked the creature now moving restlessly inside her.

“You accepted me, warrioress,”
the parasite whispered
, “and I have protected you. You
must protect me now. I fear my dam is lost for I cannot speak with Her.”

“Your dam?”

“The queen from whom I sprang. I fear She is dead.”

Aingeal heard Otaktay grunt. She did not think he could tune in to the mental conversation between her and the creature but she didn’t want to take the chance he could.

“
The queen belongs to the Reaper Cree?”
she questioned. There was a moment of complete stillness then the creature twisted painfully beneath Aingeal’s skin—as though punishing her for the question. It was all Aingeal could do not to show how much the slithering hurt her.

“He belongs to Her!”
the creature hissed then was silent for a long time. When next it spoke, its voice was sad, laden with sorrow.
“If he lives, he now has another queen and
belongs to Her.”

“If he lives?”
Aingeal mentally gasped.

“I do not sense him though I have tried,”
the creature wailed
. “My dam is lost to me!”

Aingeal understood that at one time it had to have been possible for the creatures to speak to one another. Perhaps she could speak to Cree as well. She tried—calling his name in a soft tone—but Otaktay seemed to intercept her sending out for he moved so 93

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

quickly she had no chance to get away, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her up to him, his face hard as flint, his eyes shooting fiery sparks of fury at her.

“Do not attempt to contact that foul one, woman!” he warned her. “He will come when he has recovered from the viper wounds.”

“Ghoret!”
came the shocked hiss through Aingeal’s mind.
“My dam
is
dead!”

Obviously furious that Aingeal had tried to reach the Reaper, Otaktay shoved her to the ground and threw her skirt up, fumbling with his breechclout as he clenched his teeth, growling with his rage.

Aingeal lay very still, knowing he would surely hurt her if she fought him. There was peacefulness in her mind that told her she had nothing to worry about, that the man striving to pull his cock free would be unable to breech her. All she need do is lie perfectly still so he would not use his fists upon her when he realized he would be unable to use his cock.

Yanking upon his staff, Otaktay could not put steel into his weapon. No matter how hard he rubbed, twisted, shook and squeezed his manhood, it would not harden. It remained flaccid—a wilted stem devoid even of a dewdrop upon its head.

“Why do I not stiffen?” Otaktay shouted, and tried even harder to make his staff become rigid.

Aingeal hid the smile that hovered behind her lips. She lay there staring up at the brave—seemingly completely at his mercy. A mean little imp in her head whispered to her to suggest she offer to help the brave but she tamped down the request, having no wish to touch the man’s greasy flesh.

“Why do I not stiffen?” The words were spoken in a whine and accompanied by a whimper as Otaktay shot to his feet and walked away a few paces, jerking upon his limp flesh until he groaned with frustration and ran out of the cave, stuffing himself back into the confines of his breechclout.

“He will never hurt us again,”
the creature inside Aingeal assured her. Once more, Aingeal tried to contact the Reaper and this time there was a faint voice that answered but something told her it was not Cree.

“Who are you?”
she asked.

“Be at ease, Lady,”
the voice said
. “He will come for you when he is well.”

“Who are you?”
she repeated.

“Kheelan,”
was the reply, but no matter how hard she strove to make contact with the voice again, the speaker would not answer.

Sitting beside the steaming pool with her knees drawn up into the circle of her arms, Aingeal tried to picture the Reaper in her mind. His amber eyes and dark hair was all that came to her, though she knew in her soul that he was as handsome a man as any who walked the earth. How she knew this, she could not guess but she thought perhaps it was the creature’s influence.

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Reaper’s Revenge

There was no despair in Aingeal. She felt relaxed, at ease, and held within her a strong conviction that the Reaper would win in his battle between Otaktay and Jaborn. He would rescue her and they would return to whatever place they had been before Otaktay had snatched her away.

“Hurry, Cree,” she whispered. “I am waiting.”

* * * * *

Jaborn glanced around as Otaktay came striding angrily from the cave. The red man’s face was pinched and full of rage. “You had words with your woman?” the Akhkharulian asked.

“I cannot take her!” Otaktay complained before he thought then waved aside the statement as though it were of no consequence.

“Your dagger does not sharpen?” Jaborn inquired, but when the brave shot him an enraged look, he shrugged. “Such has happened to us all.”

“It has never happened to me!” Otaktay fumed, and began pacing in front of the cave’s entrance.

“Acklard warned us not to take a female to mate,” Jaborn said. “Once we do, we are locked to that woman for all time. We will put her interest before our own.”

“That will not happen to me!” Otaktay said, jabbing a thumb into his chest. “I rule her!”

Jaborn suspected the brave knew very little about what it meant to be a
balgair
. Having no interest in instructing the savage, he continued whittling the stick of wood in his hands.

“She belongs to me!” the red man insisted. “I own her!”

“Best you save your strength for our coming battle with the Reaper,” Jaborn advised. “I have often heard it said the fury in a man’s unfulfilled cock adds might to his blade.”

“I too have heard this,” Otaktay lied, unaware he was rubbing his flaccid member as he spoke.

“Go beat the woman,” Jaborn suggested. “Take out your anger upon her and let it smolder again for when we come up against our enemy.”

Otaktay’s eyes shifted away from the other man. “I will take your advice,” he said, and headed back through the cave.

“Like hell you will,” Jaborn muttered. He had observed the flinch that had accompanied the savage’s inability to maintain eye contact. There would be no way the red man could lay a hurtful hand to his mate. He might want to, but the female parasite within him would not allow it—taking care of Her own as Acklard once had sneered. Thankful he had no female to hold him back, the Akhkharulian dug his blade into the wood and concentrated on sharpening the stave he fashioned. 95

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Stomping back through the tunnel to the underground pool, Otaktay’s anger dissolved with each step he took. He looked forward to seeing Aingeal’s lovely face. Beat her? Never, he thought, shaking his head. Allow harm to come to her? Not if it took his last breath to see that did not happen.

She was wading in the calm water, the hem of her skirt tucked up between her legs and stuffed into the overly big leather belt that nearly circled her slim waist twice. The white blouse she wore was too large for her and it was soiled—the best clothing Otaktay could find at a moment’s notice, swiping the garments from a farmer’s clothesline.

“They say Reapers cannot cross running water,” Otaktay said, nervous that she was standing in the pool.

Aingeal shrugged. “This is not running water and I am not a Reaper.”

It was on the tip of Otaktay’s tongue to correct her statement but he let it slide, coming to the edge of the pool and holding out a hand to her. “Come to me, beloved. I am uneasy with you in the water.”

She looked up from the concentric circles undulating out from her bare legs. “Can’t you swim?” she asked.

“I am a strong swimmer!” Otaktay boasted.

“So am I,” she said, and stopped moving in the water. She locked eyes with him.

“Why don’t you join me, then?”

Fear shifted across the brave’s face and he took a step back, his parasite shifting uncomfortably beneath his skin at such a suggestion. He shook his head. “I do not wish to do so,” he answered, lowering his hand.

Aingeal did not miss the fear as it moved over Otaktay’s tight features. She nodded imperceptibly—making note of the weakness. “When will we leave this place, beloved?” she asked, hating the use of the endearment. “I grow weary of the low light and the closing in of the walls. I need space.”

“That is the beastess in you speaking,” Otaktay said, and winced at his own words. He should not have said such a thing to her.

Tilting her head to one side, Aingeal studied the man who claimed to be her husband. “You believe I have an animal within me?”

“Do not we all?” Otaktay countered with a smile that tugged anxiously at his lips. Aingeal sighed. “I suppose that is true. Sometimes I feel there is something wild hiding inside me, striving to break free.” She lifted her arms toward the cave’s ceiling.

“I want to run as fast as I can across the grass, jump over rocks, climb trees.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I want to fly through the heavens and count the stars.”

Otaktay was shaken by her words. He feared she was close to Transition and that was something he was not prepared for as yet. He wasn’t sure he could control her and he worried that with the changing, she might regain her memory. 96

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Easily reading the red man’s unprotected thoughts, Aingeal watched him as he paced at the water’s edge. She had a vague notion of what it meant to Transition but she found she did not fear it. Truth be told, she looked forward to the coming event, for she suspected it was something she had enjoyed in the past. She knew herself to be like Cynyr Cree—a being far more powerful than what Otaktay and Jaborn were—and she was sure everything would come back to her when her beastly nature returned.