Guardian of the Storm

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

The first rock caught Kiran completely off guard, missing his head by mere inches. Stunned, he looked up just in time to see his attacker launch another missile. This one, fortunately, was far smaller, for it caught him on the shoulder. Surprise gave way to fury the moment pain exploded in his shoulder and arm and he saw that the stones were being lobbed at him by the scrawny, fire haired devil that had decided to stake a claim to the watering hole. “Throw one more rock, Earth born demon spawn, and I’ll thrash you within an inch of your life when I get my hands on you!” he roared.

“This watering hole is mine!” the youth screamed at him, looking around for another rock to throw. “And I’ll defend it to the death if need be!”

Kiran jumped back as a sizable rock screamed past his ear. It struck the ground near his foot, shattering, throwing tiny missiles in every direction. One collided with his bare toe, sending a shaft of throbbing pain all the way up his leg. He let out a yelp of pain, then glared up at the ragged urchin above him with mayhem glinting in his eyes.

The child’s eyes widened in horror at the look he sent him.

Muttering under his breath, Kiran grabbed a handhold and hoisted himself rapidly up the short outcropping of rock. The face disappeared as he neared the top and Kiran braced himself, expecting to be met at the edge of the summit with more determined resistance.

Instead, he hoisted himself onto the ledge just in time to see his attacker beating a hasty retreat down the other side. A combination of satisfaction and renewed anger went through him. With a roar, he charged after the culprit. The youth was quick on his feet, but Kiran had a far longer stride and rapidly overtook him, catching the youth by the rags of his shirt. To the surprise of both, the fabric could not withstand the tug in two different directions at once. It separated from its wearer, who yelped with a combination of fear and anger and ran faster. Not to be outdone, Kiran launched himself at the youth. He twisted as he fell, knowing he would crush the scrawny creature if he landed on top of him.

The landing stunned them both for several moments, but Kiran had the youth tightly clutched to his chest. After a moment, he rolled over on top, pinning the youth to the ground. Straddling, him, he levered himself up and glared down at his captive.

He could count every rib … except those beneath the two, very feminine, surprisingly full breasts. Mesmerized by the bobbing globes that undulated with every desperate heave the boy—girl made in her efforts to wriggle free of him, Kiran’s mind went perfectly blank. His body, however, operating under its own agenda, burgeoned with lust.

Sucking in a deep breath, he curbed his instincts with an effort and dragged his fascinated gaze from the jiggling breasts to the face above them. He had, quite obviously, been wrong about pretty much everything else, but he had not been wrong about her origins, he saw.

The girl was Earthling and, from her condition, probably one of the few orphans to survive the disease that had swept through the Earth colony almost a year and a half ago, though she had not survived well. Her eyes were huge, dominating her thin face, glazed now with pure terror.

Irritation surfaced, but so, too, did sympathy. Neither completely subdued his desire, however. He closed his mind to it, willing his body to cool, but it would’ve been far easier if she had ceased heaving beneath him. He knew very well that she was only trying to throw him off, but his serpent smelled a nice warm hole and was resistant to his efforts to tame it when she continued to bump her female body against his groin.

“Be still!” he ground out harshly.

Instead of obeying, she swung at him. He caught her arms, forced them down, manacling them to the ground on either side of her head.

“I mean you no harm, grat! Cease and I will release you.”

He wasn’t certain whether she finally understood, and believed him, or if she simply ran out of strength to fight. She went still.

He eyed her warily. After a moment, when she remained perfectly still, he relaxed his hold on her wrists. The minute he released her, she snatched up a rock and jackknifed upright, swinging at him for all she was worth, snarling. He slammed his chest against hers as he dove forward to avoid the blow, flattening her. They wrestled briefly over possession of the rock. He tightened his hand around her thin wrist until her hand went numb and she dropped it.

This time when she went still, he moved far more cautiously.

Her eyes were closed when he raised up enough to see her face. He studied her for any telltale signs that she was pretending and finally, satisfied, rolled away. Touching his fingers to her throat, he was relieved to discover that he had not suffocated her when he’d thrown his weight upon her, but without doubt he’d crushed her lungs enough to make her lose consciousness.

She looked like a broken doll.

Guilt swamped him, but it was followed quickly by irritation. He’d told her he wouldn’t hurt her. If she had not tried to kill him with the rock ....

After a moment, he scooped her limp body into his arms and moved back to the small pool of water. Settling her gently beside it, he scooped up a double handful of water and dashed it into her face. She came up swinging and he jumped back.

“Zoe’s truth! You are a demon spawn!” he growled with a mixture of irritation and indignation that she’d caught him by surprise and damned near clocked him with her fist.

Coughing, sputtering, Tempest glared at the bear of a man hovering over her, scowling as if
he
were the injured party! “Asshole! What’d you do that for!” she demanded.

He sat back on his heels, putting a more comfortable distance between them. “To wake you,” he said through gritted teeth, obviously struggling for patience.

Dimly, Tempest acknowledged a good bit of relief that he seemed determined to get his temper under control, but fear and frustration still dominated her own emotions. She eyed him with disfavor. “I wasn’t asleep,” she snapped. “You nearly crushed me!”

“You tried to hit me in the head with a rock!”

Tempest was obliged to admit, to herself anyway, that the outrage in his accusation wasn’t unwarranted. Even though she’d felt justified in defending the turf she’d claimed, or more specifically, the watering hole, she could see where he might consider
her
the interloper.

Beyond that, she couldn’t see any sign at all, now, that he presented the threat she’d feared he did when he’d pinned her to the ground. She looked away uncomfortably, covering her breasts with her hands. “I thought you were trying to … you know.”

Kiran ignored the movement with an effort, but he felt his belly clench as if she’d punched him in the gut as the realization hit him that she’d seen his reaction to her and feared he meant to rape her. He let out a bark of laughter to cover his discomfort. “I would sooner mate with a grat!”

Tempest glared at him, but decided she’d had worse insults thrown at her than being compared to the desert cat-like animal the natives called a grat. For her own part, she thought them rather cute—of course they were vicious killers, but they reminded her a lot of the pictures she’d seen of the cougar that had once inhabited the mountain areas of earth in the
days before
. They were not nearly as big, of course, in fact, from what she’d read, not much bigger than one of the domestic cats
the people
had once kept as pets.

Looking around, she saw that he’d left her shirt where they’d struggled. With an effort, she got to her feet and went to retrieve it. To her relief, there remained enough salvageable material to wrap the shirt around her breasts and tie it. It wasn’t much, but it beat the hell out of going around bare-chested.

When she was decently covered, she turned around and studied the man again, feeling defeat settle inside her. “Will you share the water?” she asked tentatively.

He glared at her. “You were not inclined to share,” he said coldly.

Tempest’s shoulders slumped. She’d feared as much.

He was Niahian, though, of the nomad race of Niah. He wouldn’t remain long. They never did.

It was the one thing about Niah that had truly set them apart,
the people
and the Niahians. From the time they had crashed here, long before her memories, the people had set about making a colony, something of permanence since they knew they would never leave the desert world they’d crashed on. The Niahians were nomadic, always moving, and could no more understand the Earth survivors’ determination to put down roots than
the people
could understand having none.

Physiologically, they were much the same. The Niahians were giants compared to humans, on average nearly a foot taller than their human counterparts. They were dark skinned—not surprising considering theirs was a desert world—and remarkably handsome—apparently ugly people did not breed on this world.

Kiran was exceptional, even for a Niahian. Despite her fear, Tempest had noticed that. He was also shorter and far broader than most that she’d seen, probably no more than six foot six … which still put him a good foot taller than she was.

Or maybe not. Maybe she had just gotten so used to the Niahians he didn’t seem so tall?
The people
were gone … probably all dead by now, so it wasn’t as if she had anyone to compare him with anymore.

Something clutched at her heart at the thought. Resolutely, she ignored it. If she gave in to fear and sorrow for all who had died, she would die, as well.

She wasn’t certain what she wanted to do beyond living, but she didn’t want to die.

When she saw that Kiran was occupied setting up his camp for the night, she moved, as quickly and quietly as possible, toward the rocks where he had ascended. He didn’t seem to be paying her any attention, but she wasn’t about to take a chance on leading him back to her shelter. She cast a glance back up after she’d reached the desert floor. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that Kiran had moved to the ledge and stood watching her, his hands on his hips, his expression unreadable.

Shaking her surprise, she whirled and darted away, slowing only when she reached cover and saw that he hadn’t followed her. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she had to lean against a boulder until the weakness passed. It had been stupid to run when there had been no need. She was as acclimated to Niah as she could get, having been born here, but she had not been born of Niahian parents. Her physiology was designed for the planet of her parents’ birth, Earth. Moreover, she had had little to eat in days and had not dared compensate by drinking more water for fear her little pool would dry up.

After a few moments, she began moving again, making a wide circle around the jumble of rocks that formed a tiny island in a sea of unending sand. When she’d traversed perhaps two thirds of its circumference, she began to climb again.

She’d found the tiny cave that had become her home by purest accident. The colony, ravaged by some disease
the people
had neither resistance to, nor medicine for, had ceased to be a place of security. So many had died so quickly it had rapidly reached the point where there were not enough living to bury the dead.

Knowing that she, too, would die if she stayed, she had gathered together what she could carry after her parents died and struck off into the desert with her younger brother and her best friend. The tiny oasis here was one of the few
the people
had known of … that she had known of … and she had headed for it.

Two days into their trek, her friend, Georgia, had become ill. They’d pressed on anyway, knowing they had no chance at all of surviving unless they reached a source of water. Dallas, her little brother, had become ill on the third day out … too ill to help her scrape out a shallow grave for Georgia … too ill to continue. She’d discarded most of the supplies so that she could help him walk, worrying all day that he would not be able to walk at all by the following morning.

He hadn’t. Just as Georgia had, he’d died during the night.

Tempest had buried him the next morning and kept moving, reaching the oasis at last the following day.

The desert was cold at night. She’d thought she had the sickness at first, but then realized that she was just cold, not feverish. She’d left most of her supplies, however, and wasn’t strong enough to return for them.

She’d discovered the tiny cave while she was scavenging for rocks to use to build a crude shelter.

She would be dead now if she hadn’t found it, and she had not been able to bring herself to leave it for any length of time. It was shelter from the elements, and located near a source of water. The water drew food. Sometimes days passed before she managed to catch anything small enough to kill, but she could count on the water drawing food to her.

One day, she would return to the colony … when she thought it had been long enough that it was safe.

Pausing cautiously every few feet to listen for any sound that seemed out of place and to look around for any sign that she was being followed, it was almost dusk when Tempest reached her shelter at last. She smelled smoke long before she reached it. Thinking it was the fire of the Niahian, she ignored it along with the smell of cooking meat, though her stomach rumbled in response.

She didn’t dare try to make fire herself. The Niahian was far too close and would almost certainly notice.