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Rayen sat in a twelve-foot-square metal room of the same building where the TecKnati had held Callan captive, but it didn’t appear to be the actual space where they would have put Callan.
This room was too clean and sterile feeling.
Thylan had brought her here and he now stomped back and forth in front of the dull silver table. She sat on the opposite side of the table, studying the laptop that stared back at her in total silence.
“Why isn’t it powering up?” Thylan asked as he crossed in front of her for the fiftieth time.
“It takes concentration to make something electronic come on with power derived from a human.” That sounded pretty good for being totally made up by someone with zero electronic knowledge. She was no technical whiz like Tony and knew nothing about this computer, but the flat screen monitors at the Byzantine Institute had seemed familiar so she wasn’t completely clueless. She hoped.
On the other hand, the only real memory that her mind had given up had involved horses in the desert, not buildings and equipment.
“I suggest you start concentrating a lot harder or I’ll have to motivate you.” Thylan’s words slid and shifted, viscous as thick slime.
“Threatening me interferes with my concentration.” She moved her hand over the keys, ignoring him as best she could.
“It wasn’t necessarily a threat. You might enjoy yourself.”
She paused her hand and took a closer look at Thylan.
He hadn’t stopped moving since he walked her into this room. His eyes were bright, too bright. Everything about him said he was agitated and nervous, but in an intense way. His last words settled into her mind, warning her that Thylan might be mentally unstable.
Her skin prickled with the way he leered at her. Thylan had more on his mind than just what she could do to make this computer operate. Did he intend to force himself on her?
The room and Thylan blurred, then all her senses sharpened.
She could hear his watch ticking with loud clicks. He shifted his stance, scuffing his boot heel over the gritty floor. It sounded too loud to be natural. He smelled of hate and fear.
Her skin heated from the inside out. She warned him, “Don’t underestimate me.”
He turned rigid. A muscle jerked in his jaw. “You do not give me orders. The last girl who tried regretted it.”
She didn’t want to kill anyone here, but she would not allow him, or anyone else, to assault her. She warned softly, “If you touch me, you will be the one to regret it.”
She heaved one breath after another. Her body fed off the tension, preparing to fight.
Thylan unbuckled his belt.
Images on the buckle flickered between a triangle design and letters, then he started pulling the belt through the loops on his uniform. “You’re clearly not motivated, but I’m going to fix that.”
Energy stabbed through her like a lightning bolt.
In her peripheral vision, the monitor flickered, but she kept her eyes on the predator in the room.
He whipped his belt out of the last loop with a snap.
She flinched.
Thylan smiled, pleased at her reaction.
Her heartbeat picked up speed, beating faster.
The monitor flashed bright, drawing her attention. She caught the flick of the belt being swung and put an arm up to protect her face. A sharp sting slashed across her arm.
Clearly, her power had no loyalty to her, or it would rise to the surface and protect her.
Acting like a rabid animal, Thylan raced around the table and grabbed for her.
She shoved him back, but he didn’t fall. The belt rained blows over and over in a chaotic attack, biting her shoulder, then it popped her face.
Slamming a hand down on the keyboard, she used her other hand to grab for the belt on the next swing, catching it before the whip slapped her again.
Light exploded from the computer.
It screamed at a high pitch. Out of instinct, she clamped down her mental shields, which thankfully muted the sound.
Scouts started yelling outside the room. The door flew open, and two scouts ran in with hands over their ears.
Thylan released the belt. She yanked it away, tossing it to the ground. He doubled over, cupping his ears, and screaming, “Shut it off!” Blood trickled from his nose.
She grabbed the computer and slapped it shut. The thing kept screeching. That worked for her. It was incapacitating the TecKnati. She raced out of the room and entered a cramped hallway. Narrow strips of light from odd fixtures in the ceiling shone a green glow over scouts fighting each other at the end of the hall.
As she moved closer, she realized the scouts were actually jerking around, still holding their ears.
Not really fighting.
The screech from the computer she clutched was disabling them, but they still blocked the only way out she knew about. This sound could die any minute. She headed toward the scouts.
All at once, bodies flew backwards, hitting each other and the walls before falling into piles. It was as if a giant arm had swiped across them.
Two figures rushed forward through the cleared space.
Not a giant arm, but one with powerful kinetics.
Callan stormed toward her. When he reached her, he grabbed her to him in a fierce hug with the screaming computer sandwiched between them. He cupped her face in two hands and pulled her head back so he could look at her.
Warm liquid trickled from where the belt had cut her cheek.
Callan growled, “I’m going to kill Thylan.”
She was both glad to see him and wanting him gone from here. “We don’t have time, Callan. I don’t know how long this computer will keep making noise and they’ll probably turn the grid on as soon as it stops.”
Callan kissed her forehead and stepped back. “Go with Kaz. I’ll be right behind you.”
She grabbed his arm. “No. I’m not leaving you here again.”
“Just go outside and give me a minute.”
“Why?”
“I have to free another MystiK.”
That’s right. She’d forgotten about the second one. “Hurry.”
As Callan vanished down the hall, Kaz stepped into view and yelled over the sound blaring from the computer. “I was ordered to take you out of here even if I had to use my powers.”
“I’m coming.” She gave him a hand motion to get him moving. They ran past bodies of unconscious scouts. A few were groaning and shaking their heads against the torturous noise. She had a hard time feeling sympathy for them even if some might not have wanted to be here in the Sphere.
None had raised a hand to help the MystiKs.
Or to help Callan.
When they stepped outside, she searched the area and sky. Dark was choking off the last hint of twilight. Even outside, scouts had fallen to the ground, gripping their heads. Some rolled around as if that would stop the noise.
She looked up at the sky again and realized... “The moon is gone, Kaz.” Her gaze snapped to his face. “What happened with the wraiths?”
“They didn’t come.”
She searched his eyes for the truth. “Are you joking?”
“No, I’m not.” Kaz sounded grim enough to be serious.
How could he be so unhappy? She was thrilled that Callan had survived. She wanted to run around shouting and dancing.
Callan would not die.
And now he would be free from the TecKnati, too. Where was he?
Callan shouted, “Get moving. I’m coming out.”
She turned with a huge smile breaking on her face until she saw who Callan had gone back for. A young woman held his hand and looked up at him like he was her world.
The same way Rayen looked at him.
Callan slowed only long enough to shout, “Why aren’t you running? Let’s go.”
She suffered a rush of embarrassment she couldn’t explain and took off in the direction of the tortalones. Kaz caught up and fell into stride next to her.
Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she noticed that Callan was falling behind them because that girl was slower. And he was still holding the girl’s hand. Swinging her attention forward again, she asked, “Who is that, Kaz?”
“It’s not my—”
“Stop telling me it’s not your place.”
Kaz lowered his voice as they reached the edge of the forest. “He can hear every word you say. So can she.”
Heat blossomed in her cheeks, and it wasn’t from her core energy. She was making a fool of herself. Callan had told her not to come back, but she’d thought that was for her safety.
Maybe she was just dense and missed the fact that he had been trying to tell her their time was over.
It didn’t matter. She would have still come back for him.
Fool that she was, she still cared.
In the forest, Kaz turned his hands palm out and a glow pulsed on the ground ahead of them or she’d have fallen over roots and downed trees. The computer under her arm continued to pretend it was a siren.
They reached the tortalones first. Kaz walked over to the one he’d ridden here and put his hand on her shell. Nothing came out of the holes of either his tortalone or the male she’d ridden.
Kaz frowned in her direction. “Turn that squawking thing off.”
She opened the laptop and colors flashed repeatedly. Holding her hand over it did nothing. She tapped keys. Still nothing.
Kaz stepped over to her, lifted his hand to shed light on the keyboard, then he pressed a button, and everything went silent.
She asked, “How did you do that?”
“I pushed the power button.”
When he returned to his tortalone, a head slowly came out followed by a long, snaking neck. Kaz whispered something and the head nudged him in a sweet way.
The female tortalone then swung her head over and bumped Rayen’s tortalone’s shell. Another head emerged.
She could see the glow of Callan’s hands coming through the woods. He was still a bit farther back. Rayen caught Kaz by the arm to gain his attention.
“What?”
“Don’t snap at me.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Just tell me who she is. Please.”
“Her name is Becka. She is the youngest of three daughters in the Creativity House.”
“Thank you.” That wasn’t what Rayen had specifically been after, but the friction between them seemed to be dissipating so she pushed for a little more. “But who is she to Callan?”
“Not now.”
At this point, Callan and Becka were approaching and Kaz was silent again. Rayen stood there, watching the pair illuminated by the glow Callan was generating. He held branches out of her way and guided her carefully as if she were fragile.
Kaz took the laptop from Rayen and slid it into the sling he once again strapped across his chest and back. Once he had the computer loaded, he pushed the thing around to his back. Then he shined light from his hands on the tortalone she’d ridden here, telling Callan, “That one is yours.”
Rayen waited for Callan to hand Becka off to Kaz and ask her to ride with him.
But Callan lifted Becka up on his tortalone.
Shock rolled over her.
Callan was so busy getting Becka settled that Rayen was invisible to him. Or was he ignoring her on purpose?
She stood there like an idiot with no clue what to say or do.
Kaz’s light disappeared then his hands hooked around her waist and lifted her up on his tortalone before she could protest. She was not fragile. She could climb up on her own.
He jumped up behind her and grasped the mane with one hand, hooking his other arm around her waist.
She started to tell him that was not necessary either but then she felt a bump on her mind.
Callan was paying attention after all.
Her heart raced at the contact she’d missed so much, but she did not want to do this mind to mind. If he wanted to talk to her, he could do it in person and to her face. Plus, she wasn’t sure she could hold back all the hurt banging around in her head if she opened her mind.
Rayen told Kaz, “I’m ready.”
He clicked with his tongue and the tortalone rose high on all four legs.
Callan said, “Be careful with—”
Kaz cut him off. “I’ve got Rayen. You worry about your passenger.”
Their tortalone flapped its wings rapidly.
“What’s your tortalone doing, Kaz? I thought she needed enough area to run and take off.”
He kept an arm tucked securely around her middle. When he spoke, he was right next to her cheek. “It’s more difficult to lift straight up, but she can do it. She knows it is important.”
What had Gabby called Kaz? The turtle whisperer? That fit.
Why couldn’t Rayen’s heart yearn for Kaz? He’d made it clear that he liked her, and he had no obligations back home that mattered. They could enjoy the time they had left here.
But that wasn’t how she was built. She had opened her heart to Callan and the stubborn organ didn’t want to give him up.
Turning enough to look over to where Callan and Becka flew maybe fifty yards away, she could see them only because Callan continued to shine a soft glow from his hands.
He had his arms around each side of Becka, holding the mane of his tortalone.
The words came out before Rayen realized she was speaking. “Why are his hands still glowing?”
“I sensed that Becka was afraid of flying on the tortalones when she first saw them. Callan is talking her through it and keeping enough light available that she doesn’t feel lost in the darkness.”
What girl could feel lost with Callan’s arms around her?
Maybe Becka was a friend, and he was just protecting her as he would any defenseless female. He knew that Rayen could handle herself in a fight, where Becka looked ... delicate.
And pretty. Rayen hadn’t missed the fall of blond hair that hung like long strands of corn silk, or the smooth skin on her perfectly sculpted face.
She probably had fine hands that were soft, where Rayen’s were rough from the gritty work of staying alive.
A wave of a dark emotion plowed through her. Jealousy. It dug deep and twisted her feelings into a warped animal that howled in pain. After a bit, the sound quieted and there was nothing left but her.
Alone. Just as she’d been when she woke up in that desert and just as she’d be when this last trip was over.
Kaz hugged her. “Stop feeling so sad. It’s killing me.”
She’d forgotten she was with an empath. “I’m not sad.”
“And now you lie to me.”
Kaz had been here for her when she needed his help to meet the TecKnati and he’d managed to get Callan out of the camp when she asked him. She would not weigh him down with her self-inflicted misery.
Rayen swallowed her sinking pride and admitted, “I’m being silly, sitting here feeling like I’ve been rejected when Becka is just another young woman captured and sent here. Right?”
They flew in silence for a moment, the chilly wind whistling past her ears. She couldn’t say she was cold with Kaz’s heat so close to her back.
His chest moved against her back with a deep breath. “When Callan’s brother was killed, the Warrior House was in an uproar until Callan accepted that he had to take his brother’s place. To do that, Callan will be expected to make an acceptable choice for a future mate. Based on how things were left back at home, many Houses will be watching for an indication of Callan’s decision by the BIRG Con.”
Blood rushed too loud in her ears. “When is the BIRG Con?”
“Tomorrow. Becka is the G’ortian Callan’s parents expect him to choose and Callan will not shirk his responsibility. Nor will he humiliate Becka. I have tried to warn you off him so you would not be hurt, but I was unsuccessful.”
In other words, that was the woman Callan would spend the rest of his life with and she would not have even one more moment with him.
Rayen blinked back tears. She would not cry, but it hurt worse than any physical wound she’d suffered.
This one would never heal.
