Burning Dawn
Page 47
Pain. Pain he did not welcome.
For Elin, he had to stay strong.
“You think you have me?” Thane released Ricker’s wrist, reached inside the air pocket and withdrew a dagger. He pushed the tip against the male’s voice box, drawing a bead of blood. “You think wrong. I can do this all day.”
“As can I.” Ricker unsheathed a dagger from his waist and rested the cold steel against Thane’s throat.
“Enough,” Ardeo shouted. “Enough.”
Ricker grunted with disapproval. “But, my king—”
“I said enough! He could have ended my people, but he didn’t. I won’t have him killed.”
Hate blazed in Ricker’s dark eyes as he jerked the sword out of Thane’s shoulder. He backed away, Thane’s blood-soaked weapon sliding out of his belly. Finally free, he bowed low to Ardeo, saying, “My apologies, Great King.”
Bjorn and Xerxes stepped over the bodies of the men they’d fought, men now writhing in pain, to flank Thane’s sides. They were, and always would be, united.
“You were looking for me,” Thane said to Ardeo. “Here I am.”
The king stood and stumbled over. He’d been drinking. The smell of liquor seeped from his pores. His eyes were fogged over and bloodshot, and his leathers were torn and stained with blood.
“My men want their precious women,” the king said, his voice a slur and a sneer all at once.
Thane thought for a moment. As much as he desired eternal revenge against the entire Firebird clan—did he? Still?—he had a new enemy to contend with, and the prince would require all of his skill and attention.
Perhaps it was time to clear some more weeds.
“I will relinquish your women, and even your males,” he said. “All but Kendra. Her, I keep.” He no longer wanted to torture her eternally, he realized with no small measure of surprise, but he wasn’t ready to give her up, either. “In return, you will leave the heavens and never return.”
“My king,” Ricker said, affronted. “Kendra is more than my wife. She is your consort’s niece. Surely that means something to—”
“My concubine is dead, killed by her own family. The rest of them can rot,” Ardeo spat. “Besides, your wife was poisoning you. You would have become her slave if I hadn’t forced you to leave the camp with me. You would do well to send Thane a fruit basket in thanks for his part in your liberation.”
Ricker nodded stiffly, but his eyes threw a new dagger of hatred at Thane.
Message received. This wasn’t the end.
Ardeo looked to Thane. “Your terms are acceptable.”
He tasted no lie.
“You must give us the halfling, as well.” Orson, the one Bellorie had killed, tugged on a pair of pants as he closed the distance, his regeneration complete. A dark, twisted look had marred his face as he’d made the demand—one Thane knew well. He’d seen it in the mirrored walls of the Downfall, every time he’d gone in search of a lover.
“Halfling?” Thane asked.
“A female named Elin.”
Elin. Thane’s Elin. Rage clawed at him. The warrior wants her. He wants what’s mine.
He dies.
Thane held out his hand to summon a sword of fire. Then the warrior’s words penetrated the haze of jealousy, and his arm fell to his side.
Elin was a halfling? Half human, half...what? Phoenix? Captured because she was considered an abomination, never permitted to procreate—a practice the Phoenix were known for.
No. No! She was not a tricky, conniving Phoenix, able to enslave every male she bedded—able to enslave him.
But what if she was...
Emotion welled inside him. More rage. Disgust, sorrow and, worst of all, bone-crushing fear. If she was Phoenix, he would never again be able to touch her. Never again see her. She would no longer be welcomed in his club.
He would lose the sweetest part of his life.
Abruptly, the sorrow overshadowed all else, even the fear. He could feel a roar brewing at the back of his throat. Not knowing what else to do, he stepped into the spirit realm, where the Phoenix couldn’t see or hear him, threw his head back and let the sound loose. His entire body shook with the force.
When he quieted, several rays of light managed to penetrate the darkness of his reaction. Elin screamed at the sight of blood. She baked terrible cakes, and enjoyed digging in the dirt. She laughed. She teased. She was nothing like Kendra and her fire-witch friends.
Thane began to calm.
Elin might be a halfling, but she certainly wasn’t Phoenix. Her people were probably at war with the Phoenix. Yes. That fit. For all he knew, she was part banshee. That scream...
Completely reassured, he returned to the natural realm.
The Phoenix were in the process of demanding Xerxes and Bjorn go get him, wherever he’d gone, and his friends were in the process of standing still and quiet, arms crossed over their chests.
He wanted to rapid-fire different questions about Elin but didn’t. Revealing vulnerability was foolish.
“The girl,” Orson barked, jumping back into the conversation.
“Trust me. You don’t want to travel that road,” Bjorn told him.
“The only fork you’ll come to,” Xerxes added, “is the one leading to Pain and Destruction.”
Orson ignored the males, saying, “Do you have her or not?”
Thane once again held out his hand, and this time, a sword of fire formed. The flames crackled menacingly. “With your words, you negate our deal. Therefore, I will offer you a new one. After I discover what each of your people did to my human—” my halfling “—I will mete out proper punishments. Then you may have your people back. If they regenerate.”
“Dirty winger!” Orson spat.
“Let it be known,” Thane said with absolutely zero inflection. Only cold, hard truth. “Hurt what’s mine, touch what’s mine, even desire what’s mine, and suffer.”
For a moment, Ardeo’s eyes cleared of the fog. He peered at Thane with newfound respect. And envy.
“Very well,” the king of the Phoenix said, giving up the battle to remain on his feet and plopping to the ground. “Your human was kind to me. Kind to my precious Malta. She is yours to do with as you please.” His shoulders slumped. “As Malta was once mine.”
The liquor wasn’t ruining him, Thane realized—it was merely a symptom. The true culprit was grief. The man had finally gotten Malta in his bed—but she was killed a few days later. He’d tasted heaven, and then he’d lost it.
For Elin, he had to stay strong.
“You think you have me?” Thane released Ricker’s wrist, reached inside the air pocket and withdrew a dagger. He pushed the tip against the male’s voice box, drawing a bead of blood. “You think wrong. I can do this all day.”
“As can I.” Ricker unsheathed a dagger from his waist and rested the cold steel against Thane’s throat.
“Enough,” Ardeo shouted. “Enough.”
Ricker grunted with disapproval. “But, my king—”
“I said enough! He could have ended my people, but he didn’t. I won’t have him killed.”
Hate blazed in Ricker’s dark eyes as he jerked the sword out of Thane’s shoulder. He backed away, Thane’s blood-soaked weapon sliding out of his belly. Finally free, he bowed low to Ardeo, saying, “My apologies, Great King.”
Bjorn and Xerxes stepped over the bodies of the men they’d fought, men now writhing in pain, to flank Thane’s sides. They were, and always would be, united.
“You were looking for me,” Thane said to Ardeo. “Here I am.”
The king stood and stumbled over. He’d been drinking. The smell of liquor seeped from his pores. His eyes were fogged over and bloodshot, and his leathers were torn and stained with blood.
“My men want their precious women,” the king said, his voice a slur and a sneer all at once.
Thane thought for a moment. As much as he desired eternal revenge against the entire Firebird clan—did he? Still?—he had a new enemy to contend with, and the prince would require all of his skill and attention.
Perhaps it was time to clear some more weeds.
“I will relinquish your women, and even your males,” he said. “All but Kendra. Her, I keep.” He no longer wanted to torture her eternally, he realized with no small measure of surprise, but he wasn’t ready to give her up, either. “In return, you will leave the heavens and never return.”
“My king,” Ricker said, affronted. “Kendra is more than my wife. She is your consort’s niece. Surely that means something to—”
“My concubine is dead, killed by her own family. The rest of them can rot,” Ardeo spat. “Besides, your wife was poisoning you. You would have become her slave if I hadn’t forced you to leave the camp with me. You would do well to send Thane a fruit basket in thanks for his part in your liberation.”
Ricker nodded stiffly, but his eyes threw a new dagger of hatred at Thane.
Message received. This wasn’t the end.
Ardeo looked to Thane. “Your terms are acceptable.”
He tasted no lie.
“You must give us the halfling, as well.” Orson, the one Bellorie had killed, tugged on a pair of pants as he closed the distance, his regeneration complete. A dark, twisted look had marred his face as he’d made the demand—one Thane knew well. He’d seen it in the mirrored walls of the Downfall, every time he’d gone in search of a lover.
“Halfling?” Thane asked.
“A female named Elin.”
Elin. Thane’s Elin. Rage clawed at him. The warrior wants her. He wants what’s mine.
He dies.
Thane held out his hand to summon a sword of fire. Then the warrior’s words penetrated the haze of jealousy, and his arm fell to his side.
Elin was a halfling? Half human, half...what? Phoenix? Captured because she was considered an abomination, never permitted to procreate—a practice the Phoenix were known for.
No. No! She was not a tricky, conniving Phoenix, able to enslave every male she bedded—able to enslave him.
But what if she was...
Emotion welled inside him. More rage. Disgust, sorrow and, worst of all, bone-crushing fear. If she was Phoenix, he would never again be able to touch her. Never again see her. She would no longer be welcomed in his club.
He would lose the sweetest part of his life.
Abruptly, the sorrow overshadowed all else, even the fear. He could feel a roar brewing at the back of his throat. Not knowing what else to do, he stepped into the spirit realm, where the Phoenix couldn’t see or hear him, threw his head back and let the sound loose. His entire body shook with the force.
When he quieted, several rays of light managed to penetrate the darkness of his reaction. Elin screamed at the sight of blood. She baked terrible cakes, and enjoyed digging in the dirt. She laughed. She teased. She was nothing like Kendra and her fire-witch friends.
Thane began to calm.
Elin might be a halfling, but she certainly wasn’t Phoenix. Her people were probably at war with the Phoenix. Yes. That fit. For all he knew, she was part banshee. That scream...
Completely reassured, he returned to the natural realm.
The Phoenix were in the process of demanding Xerxes and Bjorn go get him, wherever he’d gone, and his friends were in the process of standing still and quiet, arms crossed over their chests.
He wanted to rapid-fire different questions about Elin but didn’t. Revealing vulnerability was foolish.
“The girl,” Orson barked, jumping back into the conversation.
“Trust me. You don’t want to travel that road,” Bjorn told him.
“The only fork you’ll come to,” Xerxes added, “is the one leading to Pain and Destruction.”
Orson ignored the males, saying, “Do you have her or not?”
Thane once again held out his hand, and this time, a sword of fire formed. The flames crackled menacingly. “With your words, you negate our deal. Therefore, I will offer you a new one. After I discover what each of your people did to my human—” my halfling “—I will mete out proper punishments. Then you may have your people back. If they regenerate.”
“Dirty winger!” Orson spat.
“Let it be known,” Thane said with absolutely zero inflection. Only cold, hard truth. “Hurt what’s mine, touch what’s mine, even desire what’s mine, and suffer.”
For a moment, Ardeo’s eyes cleared of the fog. He peered at Thane with newfound respect. And envy.
“Very well,” the king of the Phoenix said, giving up the battle to remain on his feet and plopping to the ground. “Your human was kind to me. Kind to my precious Malta. She is yours to do with as you please.” His shoulders slumped. “As Malta was once mine.”
The liquor wasn’t ruining him, Thane realized—it was merely a symptom. The true culprit was grief. The man had finally gotten Malta in his bed—but she was killed a few days later. He’d tasted heaven, and then he’d lost it.
