Jolene
Was I sad that we hadn’t had a chance to repeat the first night? Perhaps a little… Mostly, I was starting to think that my gruff, one-eyed Naga warrior was the biggest worrier on the planet. He’d fussed endlessly over my improvised clothing before we set out, and had taken extra furs from the hideout to wrap me in. Over breakfast, he’d let me ask him about his kids again, and I’d discovered just how hard it was for him to make up his mind about what they needed. Apparently, Naga females were supposed to be tough, ruthless fighters, even at a young age.
As he carried me through the snow at a rapid pace—one that even outdid the one from the day before—I knew he feared harm to his daughter most of all. What a big heart, I kept thinking. A devoted father. I didn’t always see those in the ward at the hospital; too often, they were either dead or not in the picture. Those were the hazards of raising a child—and of being a woman—in a poor,UAR-controlled neighborhood. When Khawla worried about his children, I found myself worrying too. How big was this danger? And why would he even consider staying in a town—a Clan—that didn’t treat them right?
I knew the answer, of course, but I didn’t like it. I wanted better for him, but he’d made it clear I wasn’t going to be a permanent part of his life. I was not his mate, was I? His mate was dead, at least, I had to assume the mother of his children had been his mate, as distant as he’d seemed about her whenever she came up in conversation. In the few anecdotes he’d shared about his younglings, she’d also never come up—like she’d played no part in their children’s lives.
We didn’t talk when we traveled this morning. It felt like he’d hunkered down into the pace—the rapid journey—and I felt bad that he was burdened with me while he undertook it. Should I have offered to stay in that little den we’d slept in? Was it selfish to want to be closer while he checked on his kids? I reasoned that if one of themwashurt, I might be able to help. I was a trained nurse, after all, with fairly extensive triage skills. Before I’d done the extra training and switched to pediatrics, I’d been on the front lines, right in the ER.
Surely, it wouldn’t be that bad, though, would it? If I went by Khawla’s expression, yes, it very well might be. His handsome, sharp face was drawn in harsh lines, and the leather patch that covered his right eye made him seem stern and forbidding.
I hoped he’d take me close to his village, but I didn’t expect him to take me close enough that I could see it. When we crested a hill, I could see the plumes of smoke rising into the sky, and my heart skipped a beat. Then, through an opening in the naked tree branches, I saw it.
Surrounded by snow-covered wooden walls was a group of quaint little houses. They looked medieval in make, with thick wooden beams and snow-covered roofs that were greatly slanted and tall. It was cozy, but only at first glance. Then I saw the many Naga moving about, several dozen ofthem near the large entrance gate. They were all male, big, and in various shades of blue. So obviously blue that it became all the more noticeable how little Khawla fit in. From azure to midnight, they sparkled and glittered like jewels, and Khawla’s scales didn’t even catch a glimmer from the pale purple sun.
I thought the many Naga males were threatening, but from our higher vantage, I could also see a tussle going on between two females farther into town. A crowd was watching them, but nobody interceded as they clawed viciously at each other. It was brutal, and it didn’t seem to surprise my companion at all; he just sighed. “That’s the Queen fighting,” he said. “Probably didn’t like what that particular courtier had to say. It’ll be over soon.”
It happened when one paler-blue female was struck across the face and fell to the ground. Afterward, she did rise, but not to rejoin the fight; with a bow so deep her face nearly touched the muck, she slithered away. The apparent queen raised her arms and cheered, and the crowd celebrated as though she’d accomplished something incredible. All I saw was a bully asserting her power over everyone else.
There was no sign of any children, and I hoped that meant they were safely out of the cold and away from the violent fight—hopefully in school, or at least playing with their peers. Khawla turned us away from the small village before I could study it more closely. He zigzagged between trees until he found us yet another hollow, much like the one from last night. This one was beneath a fallen tree, and it was not as deep as the other one, barely a hollow at all.
I didn’t like having to stay behind and liked it even less in a place that felt exposed. Khawla circled the clearing several times before tucking me into the hollow with the heater, food, and water. He left practically everything with me—even his tunic—and I worried that would arouse suspicion. He brushed those concerns away and dipped closer: partially in the hollow with me, but mostly out of it. “Do not movefrom this spot, do not go anywhere, and don’t make a sound!” he warned darkly.
I clutched at his shoulders, found no grip on his slick scales, and tangled my fingers around his long black braid instead. That made heat spark in his amethyst eye, and something shifted between us—like that grip on his braid linked us together, reminding us of the passion that seemed to flare so easily when we touched. “You cannot trust my Clan males; blue scales mean danger, understood?” he warned again. I nodded, his vehemence slicing through me. It was perhaps at that moment that it truly sank in how dangerous his Clan was to me.
Nala had been rescued byhernaga male, and if I believed Khawla, more of them had come and rescued Jasmine and the others who had gone missing after the dragon attack. Heck, according to Khawla, even the dragon was a good guy. It was hard to reconcile that with what he had told me about his own people. I felt the seriousness of his warnings now, though, and it made me realize what a risk I had taken just being this close.
“I promise,” I whispered, and then, against my better judgment, I reached up to kiss him. I should have been guarding myself—my heart—not getting tangled even further with this enigmatic male and his one piercing amethyst eye. To stop this kiss would have been impossible, and it wasn’t one-sided either. With a groan, he sank into the embrace, yanking me close with his arms and his tail.
Kissing a man with a tongue like his—long and narrow, with a split tip—was something else: simply too different. It was scintillating, enticing, and excitement thrummed through my veins. I didn’t need the alluring scent of his arousal or the taste of his seed on my tongue to inflame me. It happened anyway.
We were both panting like we’d run a marathon when he pulled back. His hand was folded around the back of my neck, his forehead pressed to mine. I could feel the warmleather of the strap for his eyepatch and the slightly rougher texture of the fine scales that covered his face. “Stay safe, Jolene. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”
He left silently and left nothing but ice and cold fear in his wake. I hugged my arms around myself, but it was only a weak imitation of how he’d held me. I was in trouble, in more ways than one. Because I didn’t really want to analyze what I felt, I focused on the more immediate issues. How was I going to stay warm enough while huddled in this tiny hollow? When night fell, I was going to be in trouble.
The woods were awfully quiet. The soft sigh of the wind and the groan and crack of ice filled the air; sometimes, there was an alien bird squawking, but that was it. I shivered, hugging the furs around me, and curled closer to the strange little portable heater. I tried to focus on the small metal object and consider its implications, but my eyes kept being drawn to the stretch of snow before me.
No sign of Khawla, not even tracks in the snow. It was as if he’d never been there at all. I didn’t like that. I was a woman of action, driven to help others and always in the thick of things. Sitting still wasn’t my strong suit, and it made my mind spin and spiral. In this case, I knew there was nothing I could do but wait, but it sucked.
What if Khawla’s fears were true? If his younglings were in danger, why did he still think they should be raised in the village? I could read between the lines, and having seen the many shades of blue by the gates, I knew Khawla was an outsider, and if they hated that so much, they wouldn’t treat his kids right. I wanted to protect them from that, even if I’d never laid eyes on them.
The more time passed, the more fear and worry began to coalesce into something bigger. What ifhewas in danger? He’d been sent to scout the ship, and, given their anti-human sentiments, rescuing me was tantamount to treason. If they’d found out somehow, had they harmed him? I couldn’t really imagine anyone getting the better of my Naga. He was sobig, and so confident, too—his body a work of art, all strength and grace. But against a town full of opponents, forced to protect his children?
A very big part of me wanted to crawl out of this hollow to try and sneak closer. If I were on the hillside, would I be able to see what went on in town? That might be enough to give me the strength to wait a little longer. Then I’d remember how fervently he’d made me promise to stay put, and I forced myself to sit back down—wriggle my toes and fingers, count all the tree branches draped over the entrance to my hollow, anything to help me pass the time.
It didn’t help. I was convinced something was very, very wrong. What could I do, though? This damn snow and my lack of proper warm clothing hobbled me, not to mention that I was a healer, not a fighter. I had my sling, and my aim wasn’t terrible, but I doubted it would accomplish much. I’d seen Khawla fight; he would probably not even blink if a stone struck him, and his ‘Clan males’ wouldn’t be any different. All I’d do if I tried to mount a rescue was get myself caught and killed.
I had others depending on me, too, even if they were asleep and didn’t know it. A whole hold filled with stasis pods of humans, waiting to be saved from the Krektar—and whoever was in charge of them. Not Thor; if he were their boss, they wouldn’t have rebelled against his plan to put me back under. I had a feeling that strange alien who’d taken the time to learn my language was far more than he seemed.
Was this in anyway similar to what Nala had gone through? We’d pieced together that her stasis pod had fallen from the broken hold of the ship. She’d been lucky—more lucky, I realized, than I’d initially thought. The Naga that found her had no objections to humans, like Khawla, but that was not the case for all of them.
Damn it, why was it taking this long? I craned my head out from beneath the fallen tree for a look again, but there was still no sign of my friend. I doubted I’d see him until hewas really close anyway, his scales camouflaged him far too well. Still, I kept trying. I hoped he was okay, but the pale violet sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon. With each inch it dropped in the sky, my worry for him grew. Now I was the one with the terrible feeling, a sense of impending doom. And still, there was nothing I could do.
Chapter 11
Khawla
The kiss was still singing in my veins when I hurried away. Her taste had its hooks in me, and not just her taste; it was everything about her. From the way she smelled to the way she sounded, to the sassy look in her eyes that reminded me of Nisha. She also aroused every single protective instinct, and I’d never felt that way about an adult female before. Kusha would have killed me herself if I tried to have her back in a fight or told her to stay back while I ran into danger.
