Blood Warrior

CHAPTER TWO

What’s to stop me from screaming with my mouth and shouting with my mind?”

Grinning tightly, Tallis shook his head. “You would’ve done both already. And even on your lying face, I can see it—you can’t read my thoughts. Frustrating, goddess?”

“I’m not a goddess. My name is Kavya.”

He raised his brows. “Very pretty.”

Her jaw tightened. “No. I can’t read your mind. Who are you?”

“Tallis. Search that piecemeal soul of yours. You’ll know me.”

“They warned me,” she said, almost to herself. “I didn’t listen. How long have you been tracking me?”

He was pleased his gamble had paid off. Everyone had heard of the Sun Cult, but its leader was elusive. Cult bodyguards had felt his presence as he’d neared his objective. They’d reached out with tap-tap touches into his mind. Curious, then angered. Repeatedly they’d warned her of a coming danger. She’d reached out with her own gift—and sensed nothing. He’d been reluctant to depend on her telepathic blind spot, but recognizing it had been the genesis of his plan.

There behind the altar, he slowly released her neck. There was no explanation for why he trailed the soft, fine strands of her hair down over one shoulder.

She shivered.

No, there was an explanation. He’d been seduced by this woman for twenty years. That he’d want to admire her, to touch her—

He cut off his thought as surely as he would’ve cut her out of his mind, had he been able.

While he’d waited for her to finish her infuriating speech about peace and hope, Tallis had witnessed a living lie—a slippery eel pretending to be Everywoman. Now he had her attention. The disguise she drew from the impressions of a hundred minds began to slip.

Or simply . . . change. He couldn’t tell.

A man who lived rough in the world learned to trust his instincts, yet his had been corrupted by the Sun’s voice in his sleeping mind. She bled into every aspect of his life, like placing a magnet next to a compass. His true north was long gone.

For a Pendray that was especially infuriating. As creatures of the elements, his clan had inspired a pantheon of deities among hearty Celts, Picts, Norse, and Saxons. To remain so uncertain of the natural world would be even worse than losing his berserker rage.

This woman deceived everyone who looked upon her face. Who could trust her words if she presented whatever facade a person wanted to see?

“I’ll go with you,” she said at last. “Peacefully.”

“Good.”

He slid his fingers down her golden sari and clasped her hand, then mocked her with a smile. “We’re just taking a walk.”

“Where?”

“My tent.”

She jerked her arm, but Tallis wouldn’t let go. “You’re sick. No one . . . No one—”

“Takes you to his tent? I’m not surprised. You play in dreamscapes instead.” He adjusted his hold so that their bodies pressed side to side. “Come.”

Tallis dragged her through the stone archway that led away from the rear of the altar. They emerged into plain sight. Several dozen followers stood nearby.

“They may wonder why you’re walking so close to a Pendray,” he said near her ear. “But they trust you. Everyone you’ve touched with that witch’s mind has come to trust you. So keep walking.”

He tightened his hold on the low curve of her hip. She flinched and tried to draw away. “Let me go. I’ve come willingly this far.”

Tallis ignored her entreaty. Too much bitterness needed to be purged from his blood. “I wonder how many wish they could hold you this closely. Do you lie awake counting the minds you’ve warped? Enjoy becoming their fantasy?”

“I’ve never done anything of the kind,” she hissed. “I am a peaceful woman. I keep my thoughts to myself.”

“Being one of the Heartless must be useful when you use people the way you do.”

“Clan-based hatred is revolting. Don’t tell me you subscribe to those old prejudices.”

“I subscribe to bare facts. A deceiving witch leading gullible worshipers is a threat to every Dragon King.”

The sun—the real sun—was arcing westward. The valley would be dark long before nightfall. The steep angles of the Pir Panjal determined when the rays no longer reached the earth. Tallis strained every sense, trustworthy or not, and steadily guided his captive to his tent.

Then he shoved her between parted canvas folds. She fell to her knees as he pushed in behind her. “Much better, goddess.”

“Kavya.”

“Fine. Hold still, Kavya.”

She gasped as he searched for weapons concealed within layers of gold silk. Wiggling away from each touch, she was wide-eyed and edgy. She jerked as if his hands were hot irons. Tallis grabbed a rope from his knapsack and bound her wrists and ankles. She struggled against the hemp, but every movement tightened the sharp grip.

He rolled her onto her side. “Being helpless at the will of a more powerful force is a scary thing. I never liked it. You?”

Kavya looked away and blinked a sheen of moisture from her eyes. “You could at least tell me what you want! I can help you. Obviously you don’t want to be here.”

“We’re staying put,” he said. “Days will come and go. Your followers will know what I’ve learned—that you’ve deceived them. Wasted their hopes.” He traced a finger along her cheek, down to where blood had dried on her neck. “You’ll witness one disappointed face at a time, until no one will ever again worship a woman named the Sun.”

He retreated a few feet and crossed his legs. Kavya had stopped moving after her initial struggle. Self-preservation? Scheming? Probably both. A woman didn’t rise up from dirt-strewn slums to command an army without possessing canny skills.

The Sun was no idiot.

She wasn’t the goddess of his dreams. Neither was she the plain, almost anonymous orator.

Instead she was able to gather ready-made inspiration straight from her followers’ minds. En masse. How did she do that? What if she had the power to affect other Dragon Kings the way she’d manipulated him? Her influence could be catastrophic. Not even the Honorable Giva, the leader of the Five Clans, could compete with such a rival.

No Indranan should have that much power. No one should.

So he stared. And she did. As the hours passed, they played poker with their gazes.

“You might as well sleep.” His voice was rough, especially since his last words to her had been filled with such bile. He was going to hate her for a very long time. “You would have rested before your announcement.”

Light blazed in her brown eyes, as if mountains could glow. “No, I would’ve been walking among my people, making sure the agreement I’ve helped broker remains secure. You have no idea what’s at stake today.”

“You’re probably right,” he said flippantly.

She pushed her feet against the hard ground, found purchase, and struggled to sit up. The hemp rope creaked. The effort to appear strong for pride’s sake must have cost her body. Kneeling on her heels, with her hair a mess around her heart-shaped face, she raised her chin. Tallis was perturbed by his unconscious reaction, because that subtle movement chastened him without a word.

Why did he keep underestimating her? Maybe he remained susceptible to her ways—not to her telepathy, but to her natural charisma. He couldn’t find a strong line between the two, which was disturbing as hell.

“You are a bigot and a troublemaker,” she said with a voice made of bells and iron. “Some petty slight has brought this injustice on me. You’re going to ruin everything.”

Her expression hardened. Nothing overt. Eyes that had been passive took on a cold distance. Her mouth was shaped by voluptuous lips that pressed into a fixed line. Her hair was noticeably longer now—dark, with caramel streaks that highlighted its thick richness. Even her cheekbones seemed higher and more exotic. The anonymous image she’d presented on the altar was completely gone. Tallis’s memory of it lingered like having looked at the sun before closing his eyes, still seeing the image behind his eyelids.

“Your slights have not been petty,” he grated out.

“How do you know I haven’t been contacting my people for the last few hours, telling them to lie in wait for you?”

“I’ll take that chance. I’ve been taking it.” He grinned, which actually made her flinch. The Pendray weren’t very guarded with their expressions, and he’d lived in the human world for years. He liked the freedom of making his feelings known without language. That also meant being able to surprise Dragon Kings, who never expected such animation from their own kind. “You’ve been too distracted. At best, you’ve been successful and I’ll find out soon enough. But I think you suffer from the illusion you’ve created. How many would know your genuine call of distress?”

He shifted onto his knees before leaning down to kiss her cheek. Softly. Innocently. The touch was nothing more impassioned than a man might bestow on a sister.

The telltale hitch of her unsteady breath gave her away, despite how quickly she reclaimed her composure. He smiled. How often were Indranan surprised?

She smelled of the thin, cold Himalayan wind. She was warm beneath his lips when he kissed her again—an impression he could trust. Her shiver was honest, too. The Sun would’ve concealed that weakness had she been able.

“My seaxes didn’t intimidate you as much as when I held your waist,” he whispered against her temple. “Violence won’t keep your mind occupied. But I can.”

He traced his tongue along the line of her jaw. His stir of reaction was not surprising. His people had always been base and earthy, and she’d been tempting him for years. Now . . .

Now he knew how she tasted.

“I intend to use every method I can to make sure your thoughts remain right here, in this tent. With me.”

—

This man, Tallis, was as intimidating as he was impossible to understand. He spoke in riddles. Being unable to skim his thoughts was pure frustration, like attempting to see through granite or hear a pin drop halfway around the world. She’d tried to find her bodyguards among a multitude of Indranan thoughts, but so many wore Masks—mental distortion blocks to protect them from being detected by prowling siblings.

Even if she had found them, Kavya couldn’t jeopardize the tranquility of the assembly. To do so now would bring about Tallis’s dreadful scenario: the failure of all she’d worked toward for decades.

Her mind raced. Her wrists and ankles ached. And her lips burned with the touch of this stranger’s kiss.

Tallis was different. Frighteningly different.

A mind I can’t read.

She shouted into his brain until her gift retaliated with a walloping headache. She’d have been better served by smacking her forehead against the ground. Trying to compensate with her senses was nearly useless. Who of her clan needed them?

All they really needed was a Dragon-forged sword to kill . . . or a Mask to hide.

Every Indranan was born as a twin or, in Kavya’s case, as a triplet. Siblings grew up knowing that the Dragon had divvied up their true potential in the womb. Learn to share. So few did. By committing fratricide, the Indranan could unite fractured pieces into a whole. Some called them twice-blessed, although twice-cursed was more accurate. Murderous twins carried with them the screams of the departed.

The ability to read another’s mind was the most intoxicating, terrifying gift among the Five Clans. To keep from wanting more was the ultimate responsibility.

The Heartless.

Kavya had never protested the derogatory nickname. She’d simply fought to rise above that hideous legacy.

Her fight at the moment centered on Tallis. With his face tilted down and decorated with a maddening smile, he was as solid in body as he was opaque of mind. She’d suspected that he hid strength under unassuming clothing and a lean fighter’s frame. She hadn’t known how that strength would feel, pressed intimately along her silk-clad hip as they’d walked through the valley.

Now he knelt before her. Body to body. Heat against heat.

He was holding her.

He’d slipped his hands beneath the long sleeves of her sari and cupped her restrained arms. His fingers were warm, blunt, strong. When was the last time she’d been graced by anything more than reverent touches? This was prolonged contact. This was calluses against smooth skin. Because she couldn’t read his mind, she compensated with a desperate scramble for information.

He smelled of dust and juniper.

He was a foot taller.

He had eyes the color of the sea at its darkest depths, but not the Indian Ocean—some frigid, azure wasteland.

Kavya’s attention kept slipping back to him. She couldn’t even find Chandrani, her best friend and closest ally since childhood. Chandrani was the only person who knew Kavya’s mind without its Mask—the only person except for Pashkah. Without the Masks she’d worn since the age of twelve, Kavya would’ve been at her brother’s mercy. If he succeeded in killing her, Pashkah would become something unholy.

This stranger knew how he was affecting her and had piercingly guessed that violence was a fact of life for Kavya, as it was for every Indranan. She’d spent her adolescence in the rough cubbies and alleys of Delhi. A girl didn’t survive places so perilous without witnessing terrible things and developing protective skills. The net result was that to be threatened by a blade—even one as intimidating as his seax—had nothing on the distraction of being held.

Thought began and ended with Tallis’s arms sliding down to her backside.

No.

No!

Chandrani!

Except for her rabbit’s-heart pulse, she held perfectly still. Chandrani would find her. Kavya had to believe—and bide her time.

Her feet and calves were going to sleep, but she hadn’t wanted this man to lord over her with his height, strength, and the weight of his stare. Not that it had mattered after he’d assumed the same stance. They looked like worshipers at prayer, supplicated before one another.

What he’d done to her . . .

What he kept doing. The trace of his lips from the divot behind her ears to the tendon of her neck was like nothing she’d ever experienced. What was this madness? Had his ramblings been a strange cover for his desire to bind her, even ravish her? Sensation shot through her limbs and down her spine. Her thighs trembled—nothing he would see, but she resented her weakness.

“Those people who revere you,” he said against the skin he’d made damp by his tongue. “Do they know how you taste? Do they wonder? Do some fantasize about claiming the body of a living deity?”

Kavya punched her shoulder against his jaw. “Get off me, you Pendray filth. Always thinking with your cocks and your work-worn hands. If you think at all.”

He smiled as if he were the mind reader. “Stereotypes, eh? Wasn’t that my sin a few hours ago? We could play that way all day, but my game is better.” He grabbed a fistful of hair. “Tell me, goddess. Do you like that they imagine fucking you? Or that I have? For years.”

Her heart shuddered. He was sick, yet her body reacted to his crude words. No wonder the Indranan lived apart from baser clans, no matter the danger within their own.

“That’s why you brought me here? In a camp full of people loyal to me?”

“Ah, so they’re loyal to you. Not to your cause. You give yourself away.”

“No, they have dreams of a better future and hope for the safety of their families. What I offer them is beautiful and pure.”

“Pure,” he said, the word thick with sarcasm. He sounded English—not the typical Pendray blend of Scots and Norse—but certainly refined and exotic to her ears. “I’m sure the Sun burns away all sin and all thoughts of flesh and desire.”

Kavya yanked her head back, but he only pulled her hair taut and dug hard fingers into her hip. He scraped his teeth along her throat. She bit back a cry of indignation.

“I like how you taste, goddess. I even like these twists and fights. Those are real. You’re giving me quite a lot. I’m owed more, but this is a start.”

Kavya closed her eyes. His mouth’s caress was wrong and ghastly—and yet intriguing. What she knew about sex was . . . vicarious. Being a telepath meant catching scraps of feeling and unbidden images. The first touch of skin to skin, the moment of penetration, the ravage of climax. By comparison, those impressions were ephemeral and distant as Tallis licked her throat.

Yes, he was keeping her mind occupied. He was watching her as if examining the progression of a sick experiment: tempt the untouched with sex and see how she reacts.

The results were obvious. She’d reacted with surprise, a hint of revulsion, and greed. She’d had no idea she could be so untrustworthy. That realization was shocking. She’d always thought herself above.

Then he kissed her full on the mouth.

His body bowed over hers. She felt surrounded. Overwhelmed. Firm lips. Spicy taste. His heavy breathing remained tightly controlled. Her breathing and pulse, however, were panicky. More struggles. More casual restraint on his part. He used his arms to engulf her more completely. His strength made her struggles seem as fragile as cobwebs.

“I could do that all night.” He broke the kiss and threw her to the ground. “Maybe I will. But I’d just as soon kill you as assault you. I said I don’t want you martyred. I want no place for you in this world. When I’m through with you, no one will remember you with anything other than bitterness. If they remember you at all.”