CarnalPromise (2 page)

The only way to do that was to get trained, and the best way
to get trained was to join the forces. At the time, she had not known she was
fertile. So many of her people were not. It wasn’t until the end of her first
training cycle that it came to pass. She could have disclosed that then but she
didn’t. She had already sworn her vengeance, so she sought out a way to
disguise her fecundity and found an old recipe that included Earther flora, an
infusion that had kept her secret for many solar cycles.

Even so, she anticipated one day she would be found out.

And that day had come. Drakkar of Vulgaria, her enemy, had
claimed her. She wasn’t a fool. She knew she couldn’t stay on the run forever.
Still, if she was to be bonded she wanted more than just to procreate. What
that
was, she had yet to determine but one thing was for damn sure, she’d be a
warrior whether Drakkar liked it or not. She’d worked too hard, even skirted
her own people’s laws, to achieve the status. Nothing and no one would take it
away from her. Especially not some pompous ass like her intended. Besides, her
other mission was more important. She couldn’t rest until Craddock came to
justice.

The staccato of their footsteps pattered on the wet stone.
Water splashed against Jinn’s leg. She grimaced as cold drops from yet another
rain pelted her. Her other issues would have to wait until she had her revenge against
Craddock. That came first. And he was here somewhere. She knew it. His biodroid
would lead her to him. It would only be a matter of time before Cassius showed
again.

The cloudburst broke into hail. There was nothing to do now
except find shelter. “Where’s your Nyphosian outlet? We need to get to safety.”

The woman sucked in air, trying to catch her breath. Jinn
slowed to allow her to speak. “Near…near the government center,” the woman
uttered.

That was their main temple on the planet. Jinn sneered as
she glanced down the dark path that Cassius had taken. The center lay in
another direction. Growling, she turned. They’d take a safer way to get there.
She didn’t want to cross any more Telrusian gangs.

Slowing to a fast walk, she took a side path and hid in the
shadows. Jinn removed her coverlet and handed it to the naked woman. “Put this
on.”

The darker woman eyed her. “Thank you.” As soon as she
covered herself, Jinn grasped her arm again and ran, praying that she and the
woman would get there in one piece.

Damn her.
Drakkar raced after his woman. He could
barely scent her now but still he followed.
Damn, damn, damn.
She could
not escape him. Not again. He needed her too much.

The others caught up.

“Where?” Khariton, his ship’s Number One, asked breathlessly.

Drakkar closed his eyes and inhaled a deep draught of air.
“That way.” He pointed to the black passage.

“Shit.” Hunter, Jinn’s nephew, shook his head. “I hope I can
do that someday. Smell someone’s trail.”

Drakkar cringed. Having grown up on Earth with his Earther
mother, Hunter had only recently discovered his true identity as the son of his
one-time enemy-turned-future-brother-in-law and now Svendian Headmaster, Rurik.

Khariton chuckled lowly. “A trail like this? Most likely
that attribute will be only for the woman you will mate with, my friend. It’s
the strongest. I’m sure it will come. Your ability is improving every day. You
can already sense a fertile woman who’s nearby. It’s a start.”

Drakkar didn’t stop to listen. He had to find Jinn. Had to
bond with her soon. His needs were growing too painful. Besides, their bond
would finalize the treaty between the Svendians and Vulgarians, a peace he’d
tried with his life—and the lives of his friends, his people—to broker. He
would not let the efforts of those who died go to waste.

He rushed ahead of the rest, hoping she wouldn’t disappear
again.

* * * * *

From the shadows, Cassius watched the Vulgarian run after
the Svendian royal. Relieved Hypatia, the Nyphosian priestess, had gotten away,
he was curious if the common Vulgarian warrior would ever capture his mate or
if he, Cassius, would have to destroy them both.

He scoffed, knowing, even understanding, Jinn of Svendia’s
pursuit. More than she would ever realize. But he could not allow it. Could not
allow her to interfere.

Too much at stake.

He stepped from the shadows and hurried after the two women.
Armed with new data and old alliances, he needed to complete his mission. And
he needed Hypatia to do it.

As he moved, the chill of the night crept into him. It was a
perilous game he played. One he would die for. Yet, what else was there in this
life for him except his justice?

Rain pattered on the ancient windowsill of the Nyphosian
abode, lulling Jinn into a half-conscious form of slumber. She’d been on the
run for some time and sleep had been a luxury she could ill afford. Now
tiredness finally overwhelmed her aching body, forcing her to rest.

Her eyelids fluttered briefly as the murmur of voices
sounded outside the old-fashioned doorway. Fear threatened to grip her but
using a warrior breathing technique, she let it go. The warm room soothed her.
For once she felt reasonably safe. Calixte, the head priestess, had assured her
no one would find her here. Jinn trusted the woman and even though the building
was many millennia old, there were plenty of protection devices on it. Tonight
she would be safe from all who wanted her.

At least until morning.

Sighing, she snuggled her head into the silky Maloran
pillowcase, appreciating the opulence of the living quarters. For the last
several moon cycles, her living had been harsh, a necessity caused by her
wayward status with her own people. The Nyphosians had been grateful. Hypatia,
the woman she’d saved, especially so. Even though Jinn refused to give them her
name—an act considered quite rude by the Nyphosians—in compensation, they’d
taken her in. With the return of the headmistress’s younger charge, the
headmistress seemed to accept Jinn’s reticence to divulge her identity,
although the woman’s curiosity showed as she arched her brow.

Jinn couldn’t afford to be found. Certain parties searched
for her and she didn’t know now much the Nyphosian mistress knew of the notice
that her brother, Rurik, had issued, instructing anyone who found Jinn to hold
her fast and notify him. Yet the time was late for the Nyphosians. Barring some
extraordinary circumstance, they wouldn’t do any more business tonight, even
with an official document from her brother.

Easing another breath through her barely parted lips, the
tightness in Jinn’s chest loosened. She sighed, still sensing the warmth of the
scented bath water—a Nyphosian ritual offered to all visitors. Jinn savored the
small respite she so needed. She’d luxuriated in the milky liquid—replete with
Androsian oils—taking her time to bathe, wishing she could have accepted the
offers from at least
one
of the priests to assist her.

Of course, seduction would have been included—if wanted. It
always was with the Nyphosians, who generally engaged in a large array of
sexual endeavors. Although the Nyphosians believed in a single greater power,
that belief manifested itself in all the forms of love for their
neighbor—assuming all parties were agreeable, of course.

Which made for some interesting liaisons. Those sexy hunks
would be a temptation to any female Svendian warrior. At least any female
warrior but her. After being claimed by Drakkar, no one else could satisfy her.
She knew that. Not that she hadn’t tried but she just couldn’t get into sex
with someone else. Hell, as much as the Vulgarian pained her, her body still
burned for Drakkar’s touch, still yearned for him with something deeper than
what she could define. She couldn’t deny it. The unique magnetism they had for
each other was part of their biology. Their mating was only a matter of time.

Yet nothing could piss her off more.
Why him?
Why had
the fates chosen a man more controlling than her brother? And how could she be
attracted?
To him?
Her sworn enemy. A Vulgarian. A coarse man who had
planned the Vulgarian raid that was used by her uncle’s cronies as a cover to
attack her father’s ship. She grimaced. The Renegades had disguised themselves
as Vulgarians, yet how could they have known of Drakkar’s move? One thing was
certain. Her betrothed had not known about it nor had any of his crew. But
someone in the Vulgarian ranks had. Who? Who was the link to her uncle? She
rubbed her brow and cringed at the myriad thoughts that assailed her.

At least she knew Drakkar was innocent, the bastard.

She gritted her teeth at his controlling ways, yet in truth,
she did not know the man. True—when he’d found her, the need to mate consumed
him. He’d admitted that much. Admitted that she wasn’t the type of woman he
wanted but his body gave him no quarter.

True, after her capture, he listened to her enough to see
for himself that someone else had broken the shaky truce their two people had
in place, not her brother Rurik.

True. She had agreed to bond with him but not under the
conditions he’d laid out and only under duress! Hell, he was torturing her by
withholding the sex they both craved, the instinct to mate.

Shatz.
When her uncle’s deception was revealed, her
brother and Drakkar’s forces worked to defeat Craddock and the Renegades, the
rebellious sect from both their people’s with which Craddock had aligned
himself, even though Craddock and his biodroid were with those who escaped.
However, when the battled ended, Drakkar pled his case to bond with Jinn. Her
brother took Drakkar’s side.

Damn
. Rurik hadn’t given her the chance to explain. A
problem, especially now. Even being on the run, she’d heard the news. The
Svendian council had made Rurik the new planetary headmaster. Now all her
people must be aware of the need for her return. Yes, Rurik had sent others
after her, ones she easily avoided.
But Drakkar
. God, he was relentless
in his pursuit. Her last escape from him had been with the skin of her ass. She
huffed and closed her eyes with a prayer of thanksgiving. She’d been lucky to
get away unscathed for so long.

Which was why she had to find Craddock soon. If Drakkar ever
got a hold on her, she would never get away. Yet she would die if she left
Craddock go unpunished.

She bit her lip as unbidden images came to her. The torturous
look on her father’s face, his words to save herself as her sire forced her
onto the last safe transport leaving the ship. These visions—these ghosts—still
haunted her. Jinn squeezed her eyelids tighter to force the moisture in them to
abate. Yet melancholy threatened to consume her. Craddock, Ulrich’s older
brother, had done this.

Jinn suspected her father knew her uncle had been the
traitor. Only now did her father’s actions and his words to her make sense.
Tell
no one, Jinn, except Sophos. The Nyphosian negotiator will know what to do.
Craddock…

Then he died.

Must find him. Must find the sick bastard.
Must make
him pay for his sins.

A lone tear streaked down her cheek. She’d sacrificed much
for her revenge—her people, her home. Her family. She would not be denied now.
She would find her uncle. No one was better at tracking than she was.

No one.

And when she captured the malevolent man, her father’s ghost
could finally rest.

Holding on to that thought, she inhaled a deep breath,
confident she would complete her mission.

Or die trying.

A warrior’s death.
A life’s ending she could accept.

Somber dreams seeped into her thoughts. The impending demise
of those that faced her. Her possible end at the hands of her hated uncle and
his biodroid. She accepted these visions. Embraced them.

She inhaled once more to ease her tension. Her heart rate
slowed, her breaths grew even. In moments, Jinn drifted into the land of
Morpheus.

The last thought she had was of the warm, calloused hands of
Drakkar, stroking her body, protecting her.

Rain dribbled off Drakkar’s hood and into his face. He
sucked in a draught of air to detect Jinn’s scent.

Nothing.
Scowling, he studied the darkened doorway of
the Nyphosian outlet. As long as she used the Earther potion she’d developed to
cover her body’s unique perfume, he was the only one who could scent her. And
he had to be physically close to do that. But two could play that game. When he
discovered what she used, he developed a potion of his own. He was sure she
hadn’t realized who’d freed her from the Telrusian.

After she took off, Drakkar could track her essence a while,
but the heavy rain had washed away any lingering trace. Their only recourse was
to go to the Nyphosian outlet to ask after the woman Jinn had tried to protect.
Perhaps the priestess would know where his mate went.

Mate.
Yes. Whether they had formally bonded or not,
she was his—and he needed her, in more ways than the obvious. He knew that in
his soul. More than to garner the peace, yet he didn’t understand entirely why,
nor had he had the time to search deeper in his being to find the answer.

Stepping out of the dark alley, he strode to the entrance,
his companions silent next to him. Loping up the steps, he clenched his fist
and pounded on the large gilt-laden door.

After a few moments of silence, he raised his hand again but
before he could pummel the wood harder, the portal cracked open, revealing a
half-naked man who stood almost as tall and as broad as he did.

“Who calls at this late hour?” His voice rough with sleep,
the Nyphosian priest held a light globe over his head.

Drakkar spanned the doorway, ready to pounce inside. “I’ve
come to see if a priestess of yours has been returned to safety. We found one
captured in an alley in a seedier part of town but she took off before…”

The scent hit him. Hard.
She was here.

Drakkar growled. “Let me in.”

Khariton stepped beside him and pulled his arm. “I’ll handle
this.”

“N—”

Khariton jerked him back then stood between him and the
Nyphosian as he pressed Drakkar toward the Svendian headmaster’s son, but
Drakkar surged against his Number One toward the entrance.

“Hunter, hold him,” Khariton ordered.

“Me?” Hunter wedged himself between Drakkar and Khariton,
gripping his fingers around Drakkar’s shoulders and pressing him backward.
“Thanks a lot. So he’ll beat the crap out of me instead.”

“Drakkar,” Khariton pleaded, assisting Hunter. Drakkar knew
Khariton appealed to his normally predominant reason.

“Drakkar?” The man at the door spoke, his voice laced with
recognition.

Drakkar steeled himself, tamping down his urges so he could
end his struggle. Khariton was right. Yet every fiber in Drakkar’s being cried out
to barge inside and find his mate. Drakkar eyed the priest with bitter
awareness.

The Nyphosian’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head a
moment to study the scene. “I’ll get Calixte, the temple headmistress, here,”
he said softly then shut the door.

“No,” Drakkar shouted and broke away to pound on the
entrance again but his companions halted him.

Drakkar yanked himself from their grasp and turned his back
on them in frustration. The door opened again. “You may enter the parlor.” The
priest waved his arm toward a room off the hall.

Drakkar marched in. The others followed and their group was
led to the lavish greeting room. The priest then left and locked them in.

Drakkar stormed to the door.
He could smell her.

Khariton intercepted him and held him by the arm. Hunter ran
and stood in front of him as if ready to tackle him.

“She’s here?” Khariton whispered.

Drakkar nodded. “If she isn’t, she was here not long ago.
Since I didn’t scent her outside…”

Khariton nodded just as the door opened again.

Hunter and Khariton turned to see who entered, joining
Drakkar to stare at the headmistress. Synchronously, the three of them bowed
their heads a moment, an act of deference to the fertile woman, the Vulgarian
and Svendian way of showing respect.

Drakkar then scrutinized the headmistress as she did him and
found it interesting that as most Nyphosians got older they grew more alluring,
even with some age showing. Calixte was no exception. One could see clear
through her purple shift at her firm breasts, her taut thighs—and her belly,
barely swollen with child. It was enough to make any man notice, even
appreciate, but still, Drakkar had no lust for her. He wanted Jinn.

“Where is she?” he demanded, trying to soften the harshness
in his voice, his bloodlust somewhat abated by the thrall of this woman.

The headmistress’s smile grew slowly. Her eyes gleamed in
the seductive way of a priestess. Then she laughed. He sensed she knew she had
little effect on him.

She glided to him, studying him with her violet chameleon
eyes. “Curious, you act as Vulgarians even though you are dressed as Telrusian
warriors.”

“We have our reasons.”

She stood in front of him a moment, waiting for more, but
Drakkar would not appease her curiosity, not unless it helped his cause. She
finally spoke again.

“I see I cannot charm you, even in my obvious fertile condition.
I know most Vulgarians like pregnant women.”

Drakkar jerked his head in a bow again. “We appreciate a
woman who can breed, madam.”

She smirked then moved to study his companions. “Although
your behavior… Drakkar is it? Well, it is more Telrusian at the moment.
Naturally, most Vulgarians really aren’t that…how you say? Vulgar.”

In his frenetic state, Drakkar had forgotten his manners. He
had not introduced himself or his friends, a serious faux pas to the diplomatic
Nyphosians. “My apologies, madam.” For a brief moment, he considered lying to
the woman, afraid that revealing who they were might undermine his attempts.
After all, Jinn had helped her priestess. Calixte might feel a need to protect
Jinn from others who asked for her. But if Drakkar read Calixte right, she
already knew who he and his team were and what their mission was.

Drakkar cleared his throat. “I am Drakkar of Vulgaria,
Captain of the Star Cruiser
Intrepid
.” He lifted a hand toward his
compatriots. “This is Khariton of Vulgaria, my ship’s Number One and Hunter of
Svendia, son of Rurik of the House of Skarptförstånd, the Svendian Headmaster.”

She smiled pleasantly then strode to Hunter and eyed him
with earnest. “I see. Easy enough to verify.”