Traveller (26 page)

“It shouldn’t have happened. Neither one of them should have been here.” Michael gave Sean an angry glare, and Sean got even paler.

I felt bad. “We forced him to take us. Leo was going to hurt Brooke.”

Michael stomped over to me. “And now she’s facing a fate far worse. You promised you’d be careful, but you behaved in the most reckless way imaginable.”

The fury came off him in waves, an almost palpable thing.

“You’ve broken the law,” he said softly. “This isn’t a game, Emerson. You could have been killed. Margaret and Sean could have been killed. You’re all lucky to be alive.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Don’t get your knickers in a knot.

~Grandma Sugar

The expression on Michael’s face frightened me. I reached for him, but he backed away, rubbing his hand over his head the way he always did when stressed.

Sampson gripped Michael’s shoulder. “You saw the truth with your own eyes, boy-o. She’s a fighter the likes of which I’ve never seen, but it won’t make a bit of difference to the council.”

“We can’t talk about this right now. We have other things to deal with. Sean, take the women back to the compound. Da, go with them. The rest of you stay here and help me clean up this mess.”

I tried to meet Michael’s eyes, but he refused to even look at me. A few hours ago, I’d been naked in his arms. I could still feel his hands on my skin and his breath in my ear. Now he seemed scared and distant, and I had no idea why.

We’d only been back a few minutes when the whispers started. I held my head high, and walked straight to my grandparents’ caravan. Thankfully, they weren’t there, so I showered and dressed in peace. I needed to wrap my head around what had just happened. I’d always been good at martial arts, but today had been very different. Today, I’d been unstoppable.

I wiped down Sean’s jacket with a damp cloth and cleaned his weapons belt. Blood, gore, and Moktar parts clung to my clothing. My white shirt was blood stained and ruined, and my jeans were beyond repair. I tossed everything into the trash.

Opening the door, I was greeted by a crowd of gypsies holding white candles and waiting in complete silence, hoping to catch a glimpse of me. I found it completely creepy.

“Aw, Jiminy Christmas.”

Michael pushed his way through the crowd, and came to stand next to me on my grandparents’ porch. He looked at the crowd in irritation.

“Go home. The party is over.”

He grabbed my hand and led me away, walking so fast I had to run to keep up with him. We headed straight to his caravan.

He pulled me inside and slammed the door without turning on the lights. In the dark silence, I heard only the sounds of his slow, measured breaths and the thumping of my heart. Michael had been pissed off at me before, but never like this. The anger radiated from his body.

Instead of yelling, though, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me with a furious hardness hinting at desperation. I kissed him back, happy that what I’d done hadn’t caused a permanent rift between us. It didn’t take long before we were both stark naked and back in Michael’s bed.

There was nothing slow or gentle about our lovemaking this time. He slammed into me with the force of a wave hitting the shore during a hurricane, and I answered him, thrust for thrust. We came in moments, crying out at the same time in voices that barely sounded human, and clung to each other afterwards like survivors of a shipwreck. He sighed and softly kissed my shoulder. The storm had passed.

I had so many questions to ask I didn’t even know where to start. The crazy, hungry, angry sex had thrown me for a loop. I’d enjoyed every single minute of it, but the primal nature of it had shaken me.

“I’ve heard make-up sex is even better than angry sex, but I’m just not sure that is even possible,” I said, trying to get my breathing back to its normal rhythm.

Michael kissed my cheek and rolled to his side, cradling me in his arms. “We’ll find out if we ever make up.” His voice was a growl, but I knew he wasn’t mad anymore.

I stroked his face and stared at him, still finding it hard to believe this impossibly perfect man could be mine, even if only for a little while. I kissed him once on the lips, and then broke the spell by talking. I couldn’t help it. There were things I had to know.

“Was there any sign of Brooke?”

Michael shook his head. “Another reason we don’t mix with Dwellers. It’s dangerous for them even to be around us.”

I swallowed hard. “My father is a Dweller.”

Michael cupped my cheek with his hand and stroked my lips with his thumb. “He’s lucky he survived.”

I frowned. “Not luck. My mom did what she had to do to keep him safe. When she drove off the cliff, she saved all of us. Don’t dismiss her sacrifice by calling it luck.”

“But you aren’t safe, Em. You’ll never be safe until Melo is dead.” He spoke to me like a child, and it was getting a bit irritating.

I glared at him. “And it’s up to you to keep me safe, right? Another thing on your long list of duties and responsibilities. Well, Michael, I have news for you. I can take care of myself.”

Biting his lip, he turned away. “You demonstrated that quite nicely this evening. That’s why they showed up with the candles. They do it to honor the warrior if a Moktar is killed without Traveller lives being lost. It’s a sign of respect, and gratitude.”

I sat up against Michael’s pillows, and pulled him over so his head rested on my naked stomach. I didn’t want to fight. He hugged me around my hips, and I stroked his back.

“But I still broke the law.”

Michael sighed, his breath warm against my belly. “You did. Women cannot fight. It’s been that way as long as there have been Travellers.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed. He put his face into my stomach and kissed me. I rolled my eyes.

“You’re a scientist, Michael. You work with facts. Do you seriously think that law is necessary?”

“No, but I can understand the reasoning behind it. What the Moktar do to women is crueler than death.”

“And now they have Brooke.” I slid out from under him and started getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” Beautiful and naked, he lay on his stomach gifting me with a great view of his bottom. I almost had to fan myself. I would never get tired of looking at his body.

“I want to talk to your father. There has to be a way to help her.”

Michael stood up slowly, giving me a glimpse of his full frontal glory as well. He looked like Adonis with tattoos.

“And if there isn’t?”

I tore my gaze away from him, although it required great effort on my part. “I don’t know.”

I should have just gone and hit my head against a brick wall. That would have been a more productive use of my time because nothing could convince Sampson Brooke might have a chance if we only tried to save her. To make matters worse, my own grandparents had jumped on the bandwagon. They agreed with him completely. I tried talking to them and reasoning with them. None of that worked. Finally, I threw up my hands in defeat and stomped out. Michael followed closely at my heels.

My phone buzzed, alerting me I had a text, and I yanked it out of my pocket. The number made me look at Michael in shock.

“It’s from Brooke.”

I fumbled, almost dropping the phone, as I opened the text. The message was short and sweet.

We have her. You want her. We offer a trade; you for her. Wait for more details, and don’t try anything stupid. She is safe for now.

Even the Moktar monsters thought I had poor decision making skills. A really great idea formed in my mind. “This could work. Trade me for Brooke. I’ll kick their Moktar butts, Brooke will be safe, and everyone will be happy. Except the Moktar. They’ll be dead.”

Michael shook his head. “They’ll be prepared for you this time. It won’t be so easy. I can’t let you do it.”

“I’ll do whatever I please, Mr. Nightingale.”

Sudden anger lit his eyes. “That’s the last thing we need. They knew you were a Traveller before we did. They knew I was the Ceannfort. They knew Melo was my brother. Why are we always one step behind?”

He slammed his fist into a tree. It had to hurt. Blood trickled down his knuckles, but he didn’t make a sound.

I took his hand and dabbed it with a tissue. “Now what did that poor tree ever do to you?”

At the sight of Michael’s blood, I remembered the words of the dying Moktar. I’d completely forgotten to mention it.

Michael grew very still, the way he always did when receiving bad news. “He said, ‘he who can walk in the sun’? Are you sure, Emerson?”

The expression on his face worried me. “Is it important?”

Michael paced back and forth. “It could mean a Moktar has finally overcome their genetic reaction to the sun and can go out in daylight.”

I frowned. “Even if they weren’t allergic to the sun, they couldn’t go out in daylight. People would see them. A Moktar wouldn’t go unnoticed.”

Michael’s expression was grim. “He could if he looked human. They’ve been taking Traveller women and mating with them for generations. Perhaps one of their offspring came out more human than Moktar. There have been tales of such a thing.”

“Is that even possible?”

He frowned. “Possible, but not plausible.”

My mind raced, imagining golden eyes, abnormal strength, and a powerful stench. My knees almost gave out.
Possible, but not plausible.

“Leo is a Moktar.”

My hands reflexively went to my neck. My bruises had almost healed, but I remembered exactly how his hands had felt. I’d really thought I was going to die.

“Why do you say that?”

“A lot of reasons, but mostly his eyes. Normally, they’re a sort of golden color, but tonight they were different.”

“Yellow?”

I nodded. “And he was a mess, both mentally and physically. He looked like he hadn’t washed or eaten. He acted just like a drug addict. Wouldn’t that be how a Moktar would act if he hadn’t eaten any brains lately?”

“The Moktar go through something described as a thousand times worse than cocaine withdrawal. Most of them are born with the addiction, and many don’t survive infancy because of it.”

I almost felt bad for the Moktar, but not quite. “You know that Traveller sense you told me about? Well, I feel it now. He’s a Moktar. I’m sure of it.”

Michael sighed. He tilted his head up to look at the stars, his expression sad and resigned. “We must tell the council.”

The last thing I wanted to do was to deal with Sampson and my grandparents again. “There’s nothing we can do right now. Everyone is asleep, we have no idea where the nest is located, and we aren’t going to go out looking for it in the middle of the night. Why don’t we go back to your place, take off our clothes, and have make-up sex?”

Michael gave me naughty little smile. He tilted his head down until his forehead rested against mine and our noses touched. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me for what happened earlier with your grandparents?”

I held up my hand. “Did you know they would see this ring and think we’re getting married?”

“Would it be so awful?” He needed reassurance, but I wanted to shake him.

“Answer my question.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “I understood how it might be perceived. I gave it to you anyway because I knew you’d leave, eventually, and I just wanted some part of me to go with you.”

The anger building inside of me came out in a whoosh. “I think I’m ready for the make-up sex now.”

He gave me a small kiss. “I’d never force you into marriage. Can you be patient until I come up with a diplomatic solution to our problem that will appease your grandparents? Although it may not even matter.”

“Why?”

He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “What you did tonight was very brave, but also idiotic.”

“I know I broke that stupid, old law, but I was defending myself. And Margaret and Sean, too.”

“Is that what you call it?” He shook his head. “When that Moktar ran away and you chased him, everyone saw you. The law is very clear, as is the punishment.”

I trembled and it wasn’t because of the cool night air. “What is the punishment?”

His blue eyes were dark with sadness. “Exile.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A friend in need is a friend indeed.

~Grandma Sugar

The next morning, Michael got a text saying the council was ready and waiting for us. We dressed quickly and met them in the center of the compound. They weren’t wearing robes. They sat in a circle looking like a bunch of elderly English people enjoying a spot of sunshine. Judging from their conversation, they didn’t seem to notice our approach.

“She’s a menace,” said Mavin with a sneer. “She put my Nella in a garbage can. She needs to go.”

I made a face at Michael, and he shook his head in disgust. I hadn’t realized Nella was Mavin’s daughter. It explained a lot.

Sampson glared at her. “Nella probably deserved it, and this is far more important than a petty squabble. I saw Emerson fight, Mavin. We need her.”

“She’s just a girl,” she said, almost spitting out the words. “Nothing more.”

Sampson gave her a long, steady look. “I’m beginning to think she might be a great deal more, Mavin, and I think you understand my meaning.”

Mavin flinched, like she’d been struck, and then she shook her head vehemently. “That’s a myth.”

She looked up at that instant, and her eyes met mine. They were as black as onyx and so cold they seemed almost reptilian. She knew exactly what was about to happen, what punishment I faced for my actions, and she found pleasure in it.

“Here she is now,” she said.

I kissed my grandmother and sat next to her. She took my hand in hers. Her hand was soft and warm and she smelled like lavender, but her face was pale and frightened. I wanted to ask Sampson what he’d been talking about when he said I was something more, but the look on his face told me now was not the right time to ask.

Michael took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “All of you are aware of what happened yesterday. A Dweller girl was taken.”

The council nodded in unison. They listened to him, but most of them snuck little glances at me, trying to see if I would suddenly turn into a crazed Moktar killing machine. It annoyed me.