Shadow, page 8
He says it so simply even though it’s not what he wants. Beck cared about Marinah’s father and mourned his death. He wants to protect her and that sets Beast off again. I guess Beast needs the pleasure of killing Marinah all for himself.
I glance at Beck and he’s looking down at something interesting on the floor. I let out a long, slow breath and then another feeling my control slide back into place. “We need to make a deal with the humans. Killing her won’t make that easier.”
Beck rubs the scruff on his jaw, a sure sign he’s thinking too much. “Do you think Beast wants to kill her because she’s spying on us?” he asks.
I snort. “She admitted it to me without any thought to the consequences. She seems sincere and my human side believes her. It’s Beast who senses something else. Maybe the Federation has bigger plans and she’s using the spy thing to keep us looking in another direction.”
“Hmm,” Beck says. “We knew before she came that the government would ask her to gather as much intel as possible. If we allow the hounds to kill the humans left in the U.S. and don’t intervene, it could easily solve one of our major problems.”
“We’ve been through this,” I reply in frustration while rubbing my temple to relieve the strain. “The hellhounds won’t stop at humans. The bottom line is they won’t stop at all and if we can’t find a way to work with the Federation, our species will be next. We don’t have a spaceship to get us out of here like our ancestors did. The metal alloys are not found on this planet and chances are good we’ll never have a strong enough rocket.” I grumble the next statement under my breath. “We fight beside our enemy or we die.”
“We fight,” Beck repeats. He glances up for a split second but long enough to say, “Try not to kill her.”
Chapter Thirteen
Marinah
SOMETHING SLID BENEATH King’s skin and squiggled. One part of me wanted to run and hide in revulsion. The other part was fascinated even though I could sense my life hanging by a thread. The man is more animal than human. It surprises me he’s their leader. My father mentioned Greystone’s complete control of his animal side in one of our brief Shadow Warrior conversations. Until I witnessed King losing control, I never understood. My father respected Greystone immensely. I don’t believe that same respect would hold true for King.
The uptight man who led me back to my room called himself Beck if I understood him right. He made his displeasure about escorting me clear. To each of my questions I received an unfriendly grunt.
I’m basically a prisoner in my room, controlled by two guards and kept from everything I’m here to do. And, with my earlier nap, I’m wide awake. I try to stretch, but it’s too much for my overtaxed muscles. Thoughts of cool water in the swimming pool on the floor below don’t help. With nothing better to do, I go through the mostly empty drawers in the bedroom and closet and then move on to the bathroom. If a drawer isn’t empty, it holds only essentials. Most of the clothing I’ve been provided with consists of jeans and T-shirts. At least they fit. I haven’t worn jeans in years. The T-shirts are what you would find in a souvenir shop with Cuban flags and slogans like “Bike Cuba” on them.
The white socks provided for my athletic shoes are thick and comfortable. I’m currently wearing one of several pairs of black yoga pants that I wasn’t sure were for sleeping or working out. I’ve designated them my training gear. The bras I have fit like gloves and it occurs to me that the Federation sent my measurements to the Warriors prior to my arrival. There’s no other way they could have come close to my actual sizes.
At least I’ve solved one great mystery.
When my curiosity turns up nothing hidden in the drawers, I end up sitting on the bed twiddling my thumbs and thinking about the training. Being gangly and tripping over my own feet is so easy for me. As the day progressed, I actually made headway on that darn half-ball. Talking about my parents helped with my balance. Boot said it distracted my mind from worrying about falling. He seems to think I can master the ball and anything else I work on. I’m doubtful, but after today I’m giving it a shot.
It felt good to know I could stand on the half-ball and not fall. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to walk and chew gum tomorrow. Miracles can happen.
I glance around the room hoping to find a book… something, anything to take my mind off being trapped in this room. I’ll ask for books tomorrow, I decide. I head to the shower to rinse the sweat from my body. I’m hungry and have no idea when a meal will be delivered, so I take a very quick shower. When I exit the bathroom, I freeze. King is sitting on the bed looking like every young girl’s dream. He’s obviously showered and the new clothes are similar to what he had on before—black BDU’s, black T-shirt, and boots, but these are clean and crisp. I wrapped a towel around my head before leaving the bathroom to keep the water from dripping on the new T-shirt I put on. Not my best look for sure.
“I won’t bite,” King says when I stay by the bathroom door without moving.
“You don’t ever bite or you won’t bite right now?” I ask because I can’t help being snarky on an empty stomach.
“Not right now.”
My question was kind of a joke. His answer was not. “Are you here to explain what happened earlier?”
“No, I’m here to escort you to my room for dinner.”
“I think I’d like to eat a quiet meal here, alone,” I say and then add, “If you don’t mind?” to make it sound nicer.
He stands up, turns his back to me, and walks to the door. When he opens it, he glances over his shoulder with pompous jerk written all over his expression. “It wasn’t a request. Come.”
“If I run across an etiquette book, it definitely won’t have your name in it unless it’s what not to do,” I grumble because Shadow Warriors do not hold the patent on grumbling.
King grunts, which I guess is his way of ignoring my complaints.
The guard stays behind while I try to keep up with King and not face-plant. His long legs move quickly and I half-jog to keep up with him. It sucks because my legs are little more than sausage wraps holding jelly inside them after all the work I did today. The shower helped with some of my aches and pains, but fast walking is pushing me to my limit. King doesn’t turn around even when my palm slams against the corridor wall to save myself.
The only positive of this experience is I’m finally learning my way through the endless white corridors. I could most likely find the gym and King’s bedroom without an escort if I had to. King enters his room with me about eight feet behind him and completely out of breath, my snark out in full force.
“If you walked slower, a trip to your room wouldn’t be quite as painful for the mere human.” Yeah, I’m pushing my luck. I guess King’s attitude doesn’t bring out the best in me.
“I don’t think you’re a mere anything,” he says, which surprises me.
“You haven’t known me long enough or you wouldn’t say that,” I add.
“Why do you put yourself down?” He doesn’t look at me as he walks across the room and sits at the table, where a full meal is waiting.
I walk closer to the amazing smells and check my chin for drool after seeing it. Tonight’s dinner features pork chops and green beans with rolls that are still steaming hot from the oven. The food back home only steams when we cook it too long and even then, nothing improves the tasteless meals. I prefer cold rations so I can scarf them down and get the bad taste out of my mouth as soon as possible. We had a collection of old magazines back home and I had to finally stop looking at them because the pictures of food drove me crazy.
I take my eyes from the food and glance at King. Just a quick peek because of the whole eye contact thing. King is waiting for my answer to his question about putting myself down. I continue to ignore him as I take my seat and place the provided napkin in my lap. I glance up this time and hold eye contact a little longer. His eyes are nice and it irks me that I can’t look my fill. “I put myself down because I don’t kid myself into thinking I’m more than I am.”
“What are you?”
His face is so serious, like he’s asking a real question. It shouldn’t ruffle my feathers, but it does. Being around King is like standing in the path of a tsunami. He’s the force of nature that causes all the destruction. It’s in his eyes, the way he carries himself, and in his attitude. His name says it all—King.
I’m so tired of all of this and it’s only been five days. Glancing at the food on my plate I give him the truth. “I’m a human weakling without ambition. I could happily stay at my job, put in ten-hour days, and read at night to keep myself entertained.” I glance at his face again and this time hold his stare.
“You’re dangerous,” King mutters almost under his breath.
I refuse to back down. “Why?” I ask because I really want to know why he thinks as he does.
For the longest moment we hold each other’s gaze. I would swear the temperature increases in the room. The hard weight of his eyes challenges me for some strange reason and some part of me wants to stab him with my fork. I’ve never been bloodthirsty. I abhor violence even though I understand the world we live in requires it. And right now punching King in between his icy blue eyes and flattening his nose sounds as good as gutting him with the fork. So does ripping off his head.
These thoughts are wrong, but they’re there, filling my head while squeezing the old Marinah out. King and I bring out the worst in each other. I think back to him licking the blood from my scraped palm on that first day, and slow, steady tingles break out across my skin. I’d lick his blood after I stabbed him.
God. I cover my eyes for a moment and breathe deeply to gain control of my emotions. I swear I’m not sex-deprived even though it’s exactly what I’m thinking of right now. When I open them, King is watching me closely. Can he smell desire? I might need to crawl under the table and take my plate with me.
“I’m dominant,” he says and rubs the scar on his face. “My men are too. When someone looks us in the eye it’s a challenge to our superiority.”
“Superiority?” The tingles disappear instantly. He makes it sound like he’s better than us and my hackles rise even more.
He shrugs at what must be an unpleasant expression on my face. I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings. He continues before I can speak. “I don’t think there’s a better word. We’re superior fighters and right now that’s who will survive in this world.”
He’s correct in that, though he’s forgetting a key factor. “Without us, you don’t have a chance even if the Shadow Warrior numbers are triple what we estimate. You need us as much as we need you.” There. It’s on the table. My government didn’t need to tell me this, we all know it and King knows it too.
He studies me and I lower my gaze. It’s so strange because the wimpy me seems to have disappeared and in her place is a woman who doesn’t want to look down. I’ve never been this forward or this brave in my life. Who would think standing on a ball for one day would give me this much confidence?
King ignores my statement and I know this means I scored some brownie points. Yay me. “How did your training go?” he asks casually, entirely changing the subject.
I could refuse to let our current tract go, but honestly hunger is winning this war. “Ha,” I say for comedic relief and shove a bite of pork chop between my lips. “Standing on a half-ball all day made my feet, legs, and overall body hurt. I’m sure it will be even worse by tomorrow when the torture starts again,” I add after swallowing. Funny that I don’t ask for the torture to end or even better demand it.
King shakes his head slightly and the small curve to his lips means he almost smiled. “You stood on a half-ball all day?”
“Well,” I say and allow my smile to shine. “Maybe I exaggerated. The floor was a better friend and I spent more time with it than I should have.”
His laugh is gruff and the hard lines on his face… soften? It’s not the right word and even so it’s the only one I can come up with. Even his skin is weathered in a good kind of way. Very different from my pasty sun-deprived look even though a bit of red still tinges my cheeks from the day I spent in the sun training to come here. King is much better looking when he laughs and the tingles are back.
“Did it help improve your balance?” he asks when his laughter subsides.
“That’s debatable,” I reply after popping a green bean in my mouth. If I ever return home, I’ll definitely miss the food here. “Boot discovered if I talk and don’t think about my balance, I can stay upright longer. I don’t think that will be helpful if I ever need to save myself from a hellhound.”
“You never know. I know quite a few women who could talk the suckers to death.”
“Women?” No way was I letting that pass.
His smile disappears and his eyes harden. The lightened mood shifts to something more dangerous. “Before we entered the war.”
“You want me to believe there isn’t a single woman here? I know many of you were married before you exposed yourself to us,” I say in an almost blasé manner that doesn’t fool King in the least.
“We exposed ourselves to save humans from annihilation. Our women or lack of them is not something I wish to discuss.”
I wave my fork before stabbing another green bean. “By all means let’s not discuss something that will set you off again. I prefer my head on my shoulders.” I lay the fork down after another round of green beans and then pick up the remainder of the pork chop with my fingers. I was never a meat eater but it’s surprising how doing without can change you. I steal glances at King while he eats, without keeping my eyes on his for more than a second. See, food soothes the savage beast even in me.
“Many of our farming families died when we entered the war. They were trained to till the land and feed the people. They were not trained to fight,” King says pleasantly, though I can see the tightness around his eyes.
I am, however, impressed. King didn’t die on the spot after giving me this information. I’m also sad that so many died. Too many. Both human and Shadow Warrior. I lift my water glass and reach forward with it. “To fewer dead in both our camps.”
His glass moves forward and clinks with mine. “To the death of our enemies.”
“Am I drinking to my own demise?” I ask before finishing the tradition.
“I’m hoping you aren’t, but time will tell.” We both take a sip.
The curiosity is killing me. “How long will I be here?”
His eyes scrunch a bit before he answers. “As long as it takes.”
“What takes?”
His intense gaze meets mine full on and chills replace the tingles. “Trust.”
Chapter Fourteen
King
THERE’S A PART of me that wants to trust her. There’s even a part of me that is attracted to her and I’m not sure why. It’s Beast causing most of the problems right now and if nothing else, I’ve learned to listen to my animal instincts more than my human ones. So why am I fighting Beast on this?
Females are unique to us. There hasn’t been a female birth among Shadow Warriors since we came to Earth. When we mate with humans, the babies are always male. Males carry the strongest genes of our race, and something in our genetic structure caused only male children to be born after we settled here. The spaceship with my ancestors was the only one out of twenty similar ships that made it to Earth. We never discovered what happened to the other ships. My great-great-grandfather’s home ship began its journey with two hundred adults and one hundred children. Only half of the people survived and after an aborted attempt on another planet that looked hospitable ended tragically, those who survived landed on Earth with only a handful of women remaining.
We have volumes of texts that define our history before our forefathers came to Earth. Each spaceship carried a set of our histories. On our planet few women carried the gene that produces K-5 and allows us to shift. The women who did were mighty warriors. It was estimated that one in one hundred women were born with the special gene. Now it isn’t even a possibility. We mate with humans and produce strong boys who turn into beasts. In one way it made the transition to this world easier for us. We need women to survive and as much as our people fought among themselves, women, as the providers of life, were sacred and still are.
This is why I demanded a female liaison officer from the Federation. Easier to keep her alive or so I thought. Marinah is proving difficult. I need to understand what causes Beast to come unhinged when other men are near her. When Boot had her hanging over his shoulder, Beast didn’t object. It’s the first time one of the men has touched her within my purview that Beast didn’t show displeasure. Then, when they were laughing, Beast exploded. Why?
“You seem deep in thought. Can I hope you’re rethinking keeping me here for much longer? I don’t see building trust overnight and who knows how much time we have before the hellhounds return.”
I glance at the stubborn set of her jaw and see her father. “In order for us to help you, there are certain things we need before I share our secrets. Once I share, I have no way of knowing if they will be used against us.”
She nods. “The Federation also has secrets that will leave us vulnerable if you decide to attack the Federation.”
Maybe we’re getting to the heart of the problem. “The Federation actually thinks we would attack them?” The look on her face gives her away. Her government is stupid. We want safety and peace for our people. If the Federation leaves us alone, we will do the same. I wave away her reply before she gives a properly rehearsed one. “Does your president agree to you sharing your secrets at all?”
She shrugs. “My president gave me permission to say or do anything that would make you willing to help us again.”
My eyebrows arch and I’m intrigued. “Anything?”
This should be good. Her cheeks turn pink. “Come on, you saw how they dressed me. You haven’t figured out that they hoped you would fall head over heels and take me up on anything I offered.” Pink cheeks turn a deep red. “They think you have a woman shortage and that was the reason you asked for a female liaison officer.”
