Exiles adored, p.9
Exile's Adored, page 9
Would he let her make her own path?
Jaek had been so careful and protective with her. And his kisses had made her burn. But she couldn’t be dependent on anyone if she wanted real freedom.
Carise checked in at the restaurant and Layala was sitting at her table, drinking tea alone.
“Sit,” her boss told her. “Have you eaten?”
Carise shook her head, and Layala flagged down someone to bring out a meal. Carise accepted it gratefully. Layala was generous with food and drink, and half the time it meant that Carise didn’t have to waste her credits on food.
“How is the roommate working out?” Layala asked while Carise finished off her meal.
Carise chewed and swallowed. “Good, good. She’s…” She stumbled over what she should say.
“Always busy?” Layala suggested. “I thought you might like someone who gave you your personal space.”
Carise wasn’t sure about that, but having some space to herself wasn’t a bad thing, at least. Her roommate also worked for Layala, but Carise wasn’t sure what she did. She wasn’t sure what Layala did, exactly, but it involved a lot of employees and a lot of errands.
Carise didn’t need to know more. Yet.
Layala flicked her fingers in the air and one of the wait staff brought her a package. “I need you to deliver this package to this address,” she said, sliding a card across the table. “You will meet a Kru’dari named Fynn. He’s… charming.” Disdain dripped with the words. “Hand this over and if he has any messages, report back directly. This is a sensitive matter.”
Carise took the package. “Got it.”
Layala held up a hand to keep her from leaving. “Dump the package and forget the name if anyone stops you.”
Carise nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you later.”
“Safe travels.”
Carise left the restaurant with her bag slung over her shoulder, the package safely inside. It was a bit more cloak and dagger than usual. For her first week she hadn’t done anything by herself, instead trailing after Layala’s errand runners and learning the ropes.
The second week she’d worked in the kitchen, but it had quickly become clear that she wasn’t a very good cook or waitress. But errands? She could run errands and messages with the best of them.
The streets of Orion weren’t as scary as they had once been, even if she was certain she could feel eyes watching her every so often. But now she had a small blast stick to use if anyone tried anything. It carried a charge that could incapacitate three Kru’dari at once and reminded her just a bit of a cattle prod.
She hadn’t had to use it. People knew she worked for Layala, and Layala’s people were protected.
She waved at a few of the shop owners who she’d gotten to know and felt like she was really making a home here. It wasn’t Earth. It was barely civilized. She was surrounded by convicted criminals every moment of every day.
And yet she felt free.
Carise quickly found the address Layala had sent her to. The place wasn’t much better than a hovel, with a half-collapsed roof and rotting drapes in front of the windows. But Fynn, whoever he was, warranted a personal courier from Layala, so clearly the terrible accommodations weren’t the entire story.
She would have knocked, but the door was already swinging on its hinge and she feared it would fall off if she hit it too hard. When she gave it a tiny push, it swung open. Carise stepped inside. The place smelled dusty, but not too dirty. It could have been worse. There were a few pieces of old wooden furniture and a nest of blankets in one corner that might have been a bed.
“Hello!” she called out. “Is anyone here?” She didn’t move far from the door. If this Fynn person turned out to be bad news, she wanted to be able to run. The package felt heavy in her hands. Under other circumstances, she might have just left it, but she had instructions.
There was a noise through a half-hidden doorway at the back of the room and a shadow fell across the opening. Carise’s breath caught for a moment, blood fizzing with the need to run. But she held her ground. She was here to do her job, not turn into a coward.
A Kru’dari wearing a soft looking robe, his hair short and slicked back, walked into the room. He was nearly as tall as Jaek. Nearly as hot too, with a wide smile on his face and trouble in his eyes.
“Well hello,” he said. He didn’t sound like Jaek. His voice was more clipped. Jaek had a tendency to fudge his vowels and drop letters off of words, as if he couldn’t be bothered to do more than mumble. “I must have done something right for the pleasure of your company.”
This guy talked like he was rich.
It was hard to tell with communicators sometimes—they could power over accents and through nuances of speech—but there was something about the way this man talked that made her think money.
And if he was rich, he must have done something really bad to end up on Guerran. At least, that was if Kru’dari justice was anything like what she’d expect back home.
“What’s your name?” Carise asked. The man was attractive, but no one she wanted. She had eyes for exactly one man, even if she was trying to put him out of her mind while she figured herself out.
The man stepped farther into the room. “I’d think you’d know that since you found me. Or have you stumbled into my little cave, all innocent and in need of a protector?”
“This isn’t a cave.” She shouldn’t take the bait, but there was one cave she wanted to see above all others.
But she couldn’t rely on Jaek until she was sure she could rely on herself. That was the whole point of this experiment.
The man waved a hand, as if swatting away her point. “Yes, yes. Tell me who you’re looking for, and I’ll let you know if I am he.”
“Tell me who you are and I’ll tell you if you’re right.” Layala wanted her couriers to be careful about who they handed packages off to. She couldn’t give this man Fynn’s name, otherwise he might lie and take the package off her hands. And while she didn’t think Layala would beat her for screwing up, Carise didn’t want to find out.
“A name is a heavy thing to give away,” said the man.
She was getting sick of this. “Listen, sir, I just need your name. If you’re who you’re supposed to be, a mutual friend has something for you. So what’s your name?”
That caused him to straighten, and the smile disappeared from his face as he was suddenly all business. “Layala sent it?” he demanded.
“I don’t know. What’s your name?” Really, this was getting frustrating.
The man blew out a breath. “She would call me Fynn. Now hand it over.”
That was what she needed. Carise held out the package and the man, Fynn, snatched it from her hands. She was kind of curious to see what it was and didn’t immediately turn around and leave. Fynn noticed her hesitation and glanced up at her.
“Did you want to stick around for a tumble? The package can wait.” He grinned.
“I need to get back. Goodbye.” She fled. The old Carise, the one from Earth, might have managed to flirt with that guy. She used to like flirting. It could mean nothing or everything, and it kept her mind sharp.
But flirting felt like a betrayal.
It was stupid. She’d been apart from Jaek now longer than she’d been with him. But none of her feelings had faded. They should have. Right? It wasn’t like he’d come for her. She wasn’t hiding. If he tried, he’d find her.
Carise snapped her gaze behind her as her neck prickled with awareness.
No one was there. She wasn’t being followed. It was just hyper-vigilance. She’d get over it.
She checked in at the restaurant to let Layala know the package was successfully delivered and started home. It had been a long day and she was ready to collapse into bed.
But it still felt like someone was watching her.
She sped up, wishing her little rooms were closer to the restaurant. She glanced down the narrow alley she’d normally take and faltered. The shadows were long and anyone could be hiding. If she went around the block instead, it would take ten more minutes, but it wouldn’t feel so claustrophobic.
“You’re panicking over nothing,” she told herself. This had happened a couple of times before, these little fits. Leftover treats from her time in captivity. And she wasn’t going to let them control her.
Carise turned towards the alley and took a steadying breath. Her hands trembled every step she took, but she made it through.
The alley wasn’t the problem. It was the exiles waiting on the other side. Three of them, all with leers on their faces that made her want to run the other way.
One grabbed for her.
Carise hit him. It didn’t do much. She was still so much smaller compared to all of these aliens. But she hit again, stomping on one of the exiles’ feet.
“You’re coming with us,” one of them said. “We have unfinished business.”
“I don’t know who you are,” she replied, as if she could make them believe this was all some misunderstanding.
“Ba—”
“Hey! Let her go,” someone called from in the alley.
She knew that voice. She’d feared she’d never hear that voice again.
Jaek stalked closer, and his words took on a more sinister tone as the three men didn’t back up. “I said let her go.”
15
For three weeks, Jaek had suffered in agony knowing his mate was out there and that he couldn’t touch her. All he’d wanted was to gather her close and take her home with him where he could keep her safe forever.
Instead he’d watched from afar as she found her footing working for Layala. And as the days went on, she didn’t come for him. He wouldn’t force her.
But he could watch over her.
And today he was glad he did. He didn’t recognize the three exiles who’d cornered her, but that didn’t matter. He stepped between Carise and the one closest to her, and got close to his face.
“One warning,” he said, voice dripping with menace. “I will let you walk away. Now go.”
He gave them a chance, but there was an eagerness for a fight brewing on the three men’s faces. Jaek still hated fighting. But he would gladly make these exiles bleed if it meant keeping Carise safe.
He counted to ten in his head, but didn’t tell them to walk again. They knew the terms. And he hadn’t survived so long on Guerran without building a reputation for himself.
At seven, one of the men broke and fled. Jaek was big, and he could be brutal. And everyone knew it.
The other two men didn’t care.
“We just want the girl,” the man he’d warned said. “No need to fight. We can share.”
Carise made a choked sound, and all Jaek wanted to do was gather her into his arms and tell her all would be well.
And it would. Once he’d removed all of the teeth from these two exiles’ mouths. “Say that again,” he dared.
“We’re not supposed to—” the second man tried to speak.
The first cut him off. “Shut it. We’re taking the girl.”
Enough was enough. Jaek punched him and he went down. It was a lucky hit to the jaw. If the exile had seen it coming, it never would have worked. But Jaek wasn’t here for a long, drawn out battle.
He wanted it done.
The second exile was smarter. He dodged back when Jaek hit and got in a few shots of his own. But he wasn’t particularly skilled or fast, and Jaek had speed and fury on his side.
Once he got the first hit in, it was over. His victim just didn’t know it yet. Blood coated Jaek’s fists and it wasn’t his own. His opponent spat out a broken tooth and Jaek felt a sick sense of satisfaction as a dark cloud of hate settled over him. Energy from the fight swirled around them and Jaek sucked it up hungrily, his spirit open to it even as he felt sick in feeding off another. But with no access to the Fount, there was little choice.
He was going to finish this.
But before he could get in another punch, the man he was fighting turned on his heel and sprinted away.
Jaek almost chased. He almost hunted him down and beat him to a pulp. But he forced himself to stop.
Carise.
She was his reason. She was the one in trouble. He had to protect his mate.
He stepped over the body of the fallen man, who was already starting to groan and stir. If he was smart, he’d run away before Jaek came back.
But where was Carise?
She was supposed to be standing there, but she wasn’t. Had someone grabbed her while he’d been distracted with the fight? Fury roared through him at the thought, and he would make whoever it was pay.
But that wasn’t it.
He heard a hiccuping cry come from the alley, and it pulled Jaek’s heart out of his chest. He knew those tears.
Carise had fitted herself behind a pile of debris next to the cracked brick of one of the buildings, hiding from sight, her arms wrapped around her midsection and her face a mask of terror.
Jaek stepped closer and she flinched.
He froze.
He looked at his hands and saw his knuckles were cracked and covered in another man’s blood. He wiped them as best he could against his shirt, hiding as much of the evidence as he could. But Carise still shrank back from him.
It stabbed him in the heart, and he could feel protestations try and rise in his throat. But he knew this wasn’t about him. His Carise had suffered so much, she’d been so strong. Of course something would crack her shields.
Everyone broke. Eventually.
Jaek sank to his knees and reached for her. And this time, she didn’t flinch from him. She let him wrap his arms around her hips and pull her close, his body a silent shield, a promise that no more harm could come to her.
He’d failed her so many times already. Once when Jadirel’s men came for her. Again when he couldn’t see her when Mad became exile king. And now, letting those men terrorize her.
No more.
He stroked his fingers over her side. She’d gained a little more weight, no longer the bony, fragile woman he’d first rescued. She stood taller, even when she was terrified, and eventually her arms came around and rested on his shoulders, holding him to her.
“It’s okay,” he promised. He wanted to tell her that she’d never be threatened again, that he wouldn’t let it happen.
But this was Guerran, and he didn’t want to lie to her.
He didn’t know how long they were like that, her huddled against the wall, him kneeling in front of her, but eventually they stopped. Carise tugged him up and wrapped her arms around him, plastering herself to his front.
He’d suffer exile a hundred times to be in her arms like this. He’d refuse a pardon and damn the king, so long as he got to keep her.
“Come on,” Jaek said after a while. The alley was starting to stink and he didn’t want to attract any more opportunists. “Let me take you home.”
Carise smiled up at him and nodded. “I missed you,” she said.
He didn’t know what it meant to miss a person until she was taken from his life. And though it was probably the last thing he should do while the vestiges of terror still clung to her and he was still partially covered in other men’s blood, he leaned down and captured her lips with his own.
Carise curled her fingers into his shirt and kept him close, opening her mouth and tangling her tongue with his in a desperate motion of need. His lust roared to life and he almost had her right there in the alley, against the wall for any to see.
He forced himself to pull away, breathing heavily and wanting nothing more than to kiss her forever.
Her eyes were dark with lust, her breaths heavy. He could make out the outline of her breasts under her tunic, the swell of her hips. Her body was a delight he wanted to explore again and again.
He needed to send her home, needed to let her make any irrevocable choice with plenty of time to think. He knew that if he got her alone, there was no turning back. She was his mate, even if she didn’t know it, and his soul needed her more than he needed the energy of the Fount.
“Take me home, Jaek,” Carise commanded. Her voice didn’t tremble and her gaze was clear. She knew what she was asking.
And he was helpless to resist.
16
They didn’t speak much on the walk back to Jaek’s, and once they were safely inside, he left her alone for a few moments to wash off the evidence of his fight with the other men.
With someone else, Carise might have been nervous. They both knew why there were there. They both knew where this night was going. But instead of nerves, she was just impatient for Jaek to come out from the bathroom and join her again.
How long did it take for a man to wash his hands?
Frenetic energy welled up within her until she had to start pacing or go crazy. Somehow Jaek’s cave was bigger than she remembered. Or maybe it was just that her new apartment was tiny in comparison.
And this place felt more like home than any other place she’d lived.
That counted her home back on Earth.
She’d only stayed there a couple of weeks, at most. She still wasn’t sure of the exact stretch of time.
And yet.
The water cut off and Carise watched the bathroom door like her life depended on it. A minute passed, and then another. And Jaek still didn’t come out.
Was he stalling? Had he changed his mind? Was she the only one who’d been living in agony these past weeks hoping he would come to her, even as she desperately clung to her newfound independence?
She was supposed to be figuring out life on her own, not falling into Jaek’s bed like she’d never left.
But no number of vicious exiles could drag her out of Jaek’s quarters. Not now that she was finally back where she belonged.
The bathroom door opened and Carise’s breath caught. No, Jaek wasn’t walking away.
He’d stripped out of his clothes and wore only the soft robe she’d claimed as her own while she lived with him. It was belted loosely, revealing his broad chest and the hair she wanted to run her fingers through. All he had to do was untie the belt and he’d be as good as naked.
