“Never seen a weapon charge so quickly,” Gabe said, a distinct note of awe in his voice.
“Owning a priestess does have its advantages,” the captain drawled, and stroked the side of my face with his free hand. Balancing an instrument of mass destruction on his hip. “Now,” he said, “let’s see what we can do about these rebels and their shields, shall we?” He placed a hand on my back, once more guiding me from the building into the cool evening air.
And though I couldn’t feel much else with the power that had been stolen from me, I could feel the undeniable bubble of excitement just waiting to boil over.
Thecaptain’selation at the prospect of bloodshed.
I tripped, staggering along at his side. “What are you going to do?” I asked, voice a pathetic quiver that held no strength as I tried to right myself.
He steadied me. “Whatever needs to be done.”
“It would seem,” Gabe said, easily matching the captain’s pace, “their shields are absorbing the energy from our weapons before we can even come close to punching through. Dispersing it, maybe, I’m not sure yet. What I’d really need,” he added, and flipped through a folder with a scowl, “is to study one before it’s destroyed. But we ran out of charge cells half an hour ago, and the rebels have been advancing ever since.”
“Clever bastards,” the captain murmured, adjusting the cannon where it sat on his hip. “Marco, order a new shipment of cells and inform General Tilcot of this development.”
“Already done, sir,” Marco said with a smug smile. “And the general is on the way. Said he’d like to see this for himself.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched the captain’s lip curl, and I was the only one who heard him say, “I’ll just bet he does.” And louder, “It’s hard to imagine they could’ve come up with a viable defense,” he said, and turned dark eyes down. Idly checking the mechanisms of his cannon, avoiding eye contact as he busied himself with the menial task. “In the meantime, allow me to charge your cells, gentlemen.”
Both soldiers removed chunky black boxes from their weapons and handed them over without complaint or hesitation. Almost eager as they watched.
Just as it had with the cannon, the internal features of the cells lit up the instant it touched the captain’s skin. An intense, glowing green I could see through my lids no matter how hard I squeezed my eyes shut.
And the burn.
It burrowed deeper. Sinking beneath my skin and into the bone where it charred my meat. Passing my elbows in a brief flare, before it receded back to simmer in my wrists. My throat.
The captain’s bark of laughter surprised me, but when he tossed the charge cells back to his soldiers and spun, scooping me up in his arms, I gasped. Stupefied when he bent to claim my lips in a searing, blatant display of ownership that was met with jeers of encouragement from the gathered soldiers. “The things I’m going to do with you,” he murmured, and flexed. Making me feel the bulge of angry possession where it was trapped behind his slacks. Throbbing, held barely in check. And then, louder, so his men might hear, “Rebel scum aren’t going to know what’s hit them, boys!”
The men cheered.
But my blood ran cold.
Clotted and thick in my veins, for although I could feel a whisper of the captain’s eager glee, I couldn’t help the way my eyes strayed. Pulse pounding high at the back of my throat, I searched the horizon for the rebels. The Elorans who would die by my hand, because of the man who’d claimed me for the empire. A man who meant to use my power for murder.
“We’d better stop here, sir,” Gabe said when we reached the crumbling, burnt-out shell of what might have once been a park. Crouching behind a low wall, he added, “Don’t want to give them the advantage in this half-light.”
“How close are they?” the captain asked in an undertone, scanning the area.
Gabe jerked the muzzle of his weapon. “Few hundred meters north, sir. Just past that statue. Got the rest of the unit waiting behind those buildings with the last of our charge cells. Ready to flank ‘em if they’re stupid enough to make another push forward,” he said, nodding to the abandoned houses behind us.
“Perfect,” the captain said, and without warning, went utterly stiff. His shoulders rigid, tension building in every line of his frame.
Startled by the sudden change, I tried to taste that pillar of elite power. Tried to see through his eyes and found nothing but what he’d left anchored in my blood and sinew. My senses blind to all but Captain Asher Rawlings.
The crunch of heavy, approaching boots made me jump and I spun just in time to see a face I hated before he spoke.
“Gentlemen,” General Tilcot said, leering as he glared down the length of his nose. Eyes fixed to me when he too knelt behind the crumbling shelf of ruined concrete.
“Come for the show?” the captain asked without taking his eyes off the field.
But I heard nothing else of their whispered rivalry, for the creature skulking in the general’s wake claimed every forgotten ounce of my attention.
The Head Priestess.
Consumed in the general’s shadow, she was a shell of the woman I’d been taught to fear. No longer the leader of the temple my father had hidden me from since the day my status as a priestess had begun to manifest.
Instead, her head was bowed. Eyes downcast, her shoulders slumped and curled, protective of what little she had left. Whatever spark remained that kept breath moving in her chest.
