Hope’s stomach flip-flopped and her pulse leaped about like a mad rabbit. Don’t come in the tent. Don’t come in the tent. Don’t—
The stranger yanked open the tent flap.
She scrambled to sit, clutching the blanket to her chest.
“Oh ho! Now I know why Blayne’s been taking so long.” His deep voice boomed with laughter. “Where did he find you, little chick? And where is the sly wolf, anyway?”
He grabbed her arm and towed her from the tent without a by-your-leave. “Ah, there he is. I bet he’ll be surprised to see me. Let’s go welcome him.”
Outside, Hope stood rooted to the spot, too shaken to speak. Warmth from his breath stroked her face and she flinched, realizing he must be peering at her very closely indeed.
“Gods. I’m sorry, little chick. I didn’t realize….” Chagrin softened his voice. “My name is Cayl. Dayamar sent me to find Blayne—he was expected back a week ago.”
Before Hope could untie her tongue, she heard Blayne hailing them with a “Hola, Cayl!”
Blayne jogged up and clapped his friend on the back. “Shikari’s hairy paws, what are you doing here?” Noting the tension in the air he turned his gaze on Hope. She’d wrapped both arms about her middle. Her shoulders were hunched. Anxiety and tension etched her forehead.
Wisa’s white wings. She must have been terrified.
“I was off checking the snares I set last night,” he told her. “I’m sorry Cayl scared you, Hope. Big oaf has a habit of forgetting his manners.”
To Blayne’s relief, Hope managed a smile. “I have much pleasure in meeting you, Cayl,” she said.
“And I have much pleasure in meeting you too, Hope. Much, much pleasure.” Cayl looked her up and down, his raised eyebrows and the smile playing about his lips indicating he liked the view.
Blayne stiffened. The shirt Hope wore was suddenly more provocative than mere nakedness. He choked back a growl as Cayl’s far-too-appreciative gaze lingered on her legs. Unfamiliar jealousy rolled through him and he frowned at his friend. But although Cayl acknowledged Blayne’s displeasure with a quirked eyebrow, his smile grew wider.
Blayne elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “What’s so funny?”
“Just imagining the look on a certain woman’s face when you arrive with this little chick on your arm.” Cayl’s stomach chose that moment to rumble loud and long. “I’m starving. Where’s breakfast?”
Blayne’s ire ebbed. Cayl never dallied with other women. He was head over heels in love with his life-partner Maya. Blayne had nothing to worry about. He waved a hand at the pot of porridge hanging over the fireplace. “What do you think this is, you fool? Hunger must be affecting your brain.”
“Hunger always affects my brain.”
While Cayl helped himself to breakfast, Blayne served Hope. He caught Cayl watching them, doubtless observing the easy familiarity he and Hope shared. What it would be like to feel so strongly about a woman, he would move mountains to Join with her, like Cayl had with Maya? Blayne glanced at Hope… and wondered if she might prove to be his “Maya”.
Cayl had stuffed himself with food before he broached the topic of Blayne’s prolonged absence. “Was it Hope who delayed you? I’m sure the old man will forgive you that. He’s always appreciative of a beautiful woman.”
Blayne wanted to keep the conversation general, vague—at least until he could explain about Hope out of her earshot. “I’m sure Dayamar will be interested to meet Hope,” he said.
“I just bet he will,” Cayl said.
“Who is this Dayamar person?” Hope demanded.
Cayl’s brows rose to his hairline.
Blayne cursed beneath his breath. So much for keeping his concerns from her. “Dayamar is our spiritual leader. He’s very wise. He knows many things.”
Cayl sucked in a deep breath, but before he could launch a question, Blayne placed a finger on his lips and jerked his chin toward Hope. Cayl closed his mouth and nodded, but Blayne noted his gaze kept flicking to Hope.
“This Dayamar worries about Blayne,” Hope said. “Why?”
Cayl darted Blayne a quick glance and then blurted, “Because Blayne’s our Panakeya.”
Hope’s brows drew together in a perplexed frown. “Blayne mentioned this panakeya word when he first introduced himself. I do not understand it.”
Cayl’s jaw sagged, and Blayne gave up trying to play down Hope’s obvious ignorance. “Panakeya is the title given to the leader of the healers—the First amongst healers,” he explained.
“Oh.” She nodded. “That does explain much.”
He waved a hand to catch Cayl’s attention. Later! he mouthed. And thankfully, despite Cayl’s obvious curiosity, Cayl nodded, accepting the explanations would have to wait.
As they broke camp, a sense of urgency shrouded Blayne. His snares had come up empty. They’d have to pool whatever food Cayl had brought with their own dwindling supplies. He hoped Cayl wouldn’t complain about eating dried meat instead of fresh.
Pity shone on Cayl’s face as he took Hope’s arm to assist her over the unfamiliar terrain. Blayne hid a sly smile. Cayl would soon learn Hope didn’t appreciate pity.
“Gods save me!” his friend mourned after a particularly pithy exchange. “Beauty and brains. The young bucks will swarm about you like bees to nectar.”
Hope blushed and the smile hovering about her lips suggested she was pleased by the compliment. Blayne scowled. And seriously considered sprinkling Cayl’s next meal with some foul-tasting herb.
They pushed on until they found a suitable place to spend the night. With an audible sigh, Hope slumped on the ground, laying her head on her bent knees. She looked so lost it wrenched Blayne’s heart. He hunkered down beside her, and the instant she identified him, her face lit up.
Blayne intercepted Cayl’s quizzical gaze. Please gods, Cayl would keep his conclusions to himself. And thankfully, Cayl only cleared his throat before asking, “What delicious repast are we to partake of tonight, o most magnificent of cooks? Or perhaps Hope is going to cook?”
“Not me,” she said. “I do not know how to cook a proper meal over an open fire.”
Cayl rolled beseeching eyes at Blayne. “It’s up to you, my friend. We both know what my cooking skills are like.” He chose to ignore Blayne’s mock-despairing shake of the head.
Blayne threw together a stew of dried meat, some tubers and a few wild herbs, which Cayl seemed to appreciate. Then again, Cayl appreciated any meal he didn’t have to cook himself. Hope had curled up by the fire. The second yawn she tried to smother only emphasized her exhaustion. She was fighting to keep her eyes open.
“Poor little chick. Traveling really takes it out of you, doesn’t it?” Cayl waggled his eyebrows at Blayne in a “hurry up and do something about the poor girl” way.
Blayne didn’t need to be told twice. He scooped her up and carried her to the tent.
His reappearance a few moments later had Cayl grinning and slapping his thigh. “Sonuva she-wolf. How long has that been going on?”
“Nothing’s ‘going on’,” Blayne said. Was it too much to expect his best friend wouldn’t automatically assume he’d taken advantage of a vulnerable girl? At least Cayl had lowered his voice so Hope wouldn’t have overheard the innuendo.
“Pull the other one,” Cayl said. “This is me you’re talking to. For some unfathomable reason women find you irresistible. And you and I both know you can’t resist a pretty face.”
“We’ve shared a tent. That’s all.”
“Are you ill?” Cayl leaned over to feel Blayne’s forehead with the back of his hand.
Blayne smacked his hand away. “Don’t be an idiot. Hope is….” He groped for the right words.
“Gods. You’ve fallen for her.” Cayl guffawed loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Rub my nose in it, why don’t you?”
“Had to happen sometime. How did you meet her, anyway?” Cayl’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Confess or I’ll make you sorry you were born.”
“You can try.” Blayne threw up a fist to fend off his friend’s mock lunge. “All right, all right. I stayed a couple of days in that cave I told you about—there’s a rare plant that grows in the area.”
Cayl nodded. “Figured as much. That’s where I was headed before I spotted your camp.”
“Instead of the plant, I found a large wolf. And I’m talking really large—the biggest I’ve ever encountered. It had golden eyes.”
Blayne shifted uneasily, recalling all too well how the hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end, and his skin had prickled, as the massive wolf had padded from the shadows to stand in the clearing. In the filtered sunlight, with its silvery pelt and eerily glowing eyes, it appeared almost spectral… until it had stared directly at him, its feral gaze burning into his for one long, heart-stopping moment. When the beast had loped off through the trees, the compulsion to follow had been too great for Blayne to resist. And whenever he’d fallen behind the wolf had paused, as though waiting for him to catch up.
“You’re thinking the wolf was Shikari in beast-form,” Cayl said.
“Yes. Gods, I don’t know. Maybe. I tracked it and—”
“You tracked it,” Cayl drawled. “And of course it didn’t occur to you to be concerned for your safety. It didn’t cross your mind that if the beast wasn’t Shikari, it could turn on you.”
Blayne ignored the sarcasm. “And it led me straight to Hope.”
“She wasn’t scared at all? Of the big bad wolf? I’d have been screaming my lungs out.”
“She was unconscious. I thought she was carrion at first, something the beast had dragged there to feed on. I was shocked to discover a human being. I—”
“Let me guess. You shooed big bad wolfie away and checked out its potential meal. Good one.”
“After Lyam’s death I could hardly not investigate.” Blayne shrugged, trying to hide how shaken he still was by the encounter. “And I didn’t have to drive it off. It vanished. One moment it was right there in front of me, the next, gone. Thought I was going mad.”
“Well, since you said it first….”
Cayl’s grin struck Blayne as forced. He, too, was unsettled by the tale. “Have I told you lately what a supportive friend you are?” Blayne said, trying inject some levity.
“Not nearly often enough.” Cayl’s grin this time was genuine. “You’re obviously not mad, by the way. Carry on.”
“Thanks.” Blayne blew out a sharp breath, wondering how Cayl would react when he told him the rest. He’d probably revise his opinion of Blayne’s sanity. “There were wolf-prints leading up to and completely encircling her body,” he said, “but none leading away. Not a single one.”
“So unless this wolf managed to tippie-toe past you, stepping in its own tracks, it was a spirit-wolf.”
“Yes. I couldn’t find any trace of Hope’s tracks either. She seemed to have appeared from nowhere.”
“You’re too experienced a tracker to miss them. That wolf was Shikari. He put Hope in your path. He wanted you to find her.”
Blayne rolled the tension from his shoulders. Cayl’s easy acceptance was a huge relief. “I could hardly leave her there, so I picked her up and started walking.”
Cayl waited. Expectantly. “Gods above, Blayne, it’s like trying to squeeze blood from a stone getting a story out of you.” He made a rolling motion with his hand. “And what happened then?”
“When she came to, she took off—scared of me, I guess.”
“You can be very scary,” Cayl agreed.
Blayne didn’t bite. They had been friends since boyhood. He was used to Cayl’s humor. “But she didn’t get far—she collapsed like she’d been whacked over the head by some invisible force. It was near dark, so I carried her back to the cave.”
“Where’s she from?”
Blayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “No idea. She insists she comes from some place called See-View, and she speaks a bizarre language I’ve never heard before. She can’t remember how she got here, or how she knows our language. It’s a mystery.”
“I reckon.” Cayl shook his head and snorted. “Still, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Blayne frowned, not following the abrupt change of subject. “What was bound to happen?”
“The gods snatching a woman from another world and plunking her down here to tempt you. I mean, what else are they to do when you refuse to Join with a Dayamari woman?”
“Right. As if the gods care whether I find a life-partner. They have more important things to concern themselves with.” Blayne paused to chew over Cayl’s reactions to his tale. “It doesn’t concern you at all she might be from another world, does it?”
Cayl shrugged, holding both hands out, palms up. “Nope. The gods move in mysterious ways. Always have. Always will.”
Blayne tended to agree, though he’d be happier if they left him out of it. “That’s not all,” he felt compelled to admit. “Her eyes have changed.”
Cayl scratched his chin and leaned forward. “What do you mean ‘changed’? They’re blue—surely that’s unusual enough. If you’re about to tell me they used to be another color, that I will find hard to believe.”
“They’ve temporarily turned gold. Twice.”
Cayl paled beneath his tan. “You’re joking.”
“Wish I was.” Blayne scrubbed his fingertips over his face, and pressed deeply into his temples to banish the tension ache. “Scared me witless.”
“A Sehan? A blind Sehan?” Cayl exhaled in a loud puff. “A Sehan that Shikari might have showed a personal interest in? Man, Dayamar will surely have plans for her.”
“Yes.”
Cayl clapped him on the shoulder. “Better get on with it then. No time to waste.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sex. Heck, the way you’re mooning over her, call it ‘making love’. Do I have to spell it out to you? You have tonight and tomorrow before she’s taken away from you. Once Dayamar gets his hands on her, that’s it. He won’t leave her to choose her own path and risk losing another apprentice—even a blind one.”
Blayne scowled but had to concede that Cayl had a valid point. If he did nothing, he would always wonder what could have been, but…. Hope had been through enough already. Blayne didn’t want to add to her stress by putting pressure on her to take their relationship—if it could be called that—to the next level.
Cayl climbed to feet and arched his back, stretching out the kinks. “Better get some rest. We’ve a full day of hard travel ahead if we’re to make it home before nightfall.” He headed for his tent, glancing back over his shoulder when Blayne followed him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Hope needs a tent to herself. I’ll share yours.”
“Idiot. I should make you sleep outside in the cold.” But he moved his sleeping roll and made a show of tossing Blayne a blanket.
Cayl was soon snoring peacefully but Blayne lay awake for many hours, his mind whirling.
Hope’s cries jerked him to wakefulness. He shouldered Cayl aside as they both tried to push through the tent flap at the same time.
Cayl yelped. “Watch it. That was my nose.”
Blayne blinked until his vision adjusted to the darkness. He glanced around but when he detected no threats, strode to his tent and peered inside.
Empty. His gut fisted. “She’s not here,” he told Cayl.
Cayl nudged him and pointed to a huddled shape by a scraggly bush.
In the gloom Blayne could make out Hope hugging her knees, head bowed as she rocked back and forth. He hurried over and knelt beside her. “Hope, what’s wrong? Did you have another nightmare?”
She raised a tear-streaked, desolate face that wrung his heart dry. “You were not there,” she whispered. “I thought you had left me.”
“Ssshh. It’s okay. I figured you’d prefer a tent to yourself so I shared Cayl’s.”
Cayl tossed Blayne a disgusted look that plainly said, Told you so, you big idiot. “I need some sleep,” he declared. “Good night.” He made a huge fuss about pulling the tent flap closed behind him.
Blayne gathered Hope close. “Ssshh. I’m here now. I won’t leave you alone again. I promise.”
When the tears ceased, he helped her back to the tent. “Will you be okay to sleep now?”
“You will stay with me?” She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands.
Gods help him. “Yes.” He drew her down to the sleeping-roll and settled her against his chest. She sighed and closed her eyes but it took a long time for her to stop shivering and relax back into sleep.
~*~
The squawking of an agitated bird woke her. She lay on her side. Blayne was curled behind her. He’d flung one muscled leg over her thighs, pinning her to the bedroll and... her shirt had ridden halfway up her waist during the night.
Hope attempted to slide from his embrace. He stirred and she stilled. And then there was only his scent, his warmth, the press of his body against hers.
Her mind filled with thoughts of him doing other things—intimate things—and those thoughts coaxed responses from her body. Her pulse raced. Her breath came in tiny gasps. Butterflies cavorted in the pit of her stomach. She knew she should shove him aside and escape. But oh, how she wanted to get closer still.
Blayne yawned and stretched. One hand brushed the bare skin of Hope’s thigh, stroked and caressed. “Morning,” he murmured.
Abruptly the stroking paused. He stiffened, and then shifted, freeing her and tugging down her shirt until she was decently covered.
Before Blayne could rise, throw on some clothes and leave the tent—leave her—Hope fumbled to grasp his arm.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Not a thing.” She tugged his arm until he lay back on the bedroll. And, with a sure movement, she straddled his hips, hoping that he wouldn’t think her forward, hoping he wanted her, too.
With feather-light fingertips she learned his body, thrilling with each hitch of his breath beneath her touch. She traced his well-defined abs—a six-pack and then some—his pectorals, shoulders, biceps. She speared gentle fingers through his hair, releasing it from the leather thong he used as a tie. And, as she smoothed strands of his hair back from his forehead, her fingertips lingered. She’d wanted to do this but never dared. Until now. Her questing fingers learned his features, delicately tracing his eyebrows, eyelids, nose and stubbled cheeks, only to linger on his lips.
He was a strong, powerful man—one who wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever he deemed necessary. But he could be gentle and compassionate, too, as she well knew. That fleeting earlier vision of him formed again in her mind. He was handsome. Not that his looks mattered to her when she could no longer base her opinions on appearances. The person inside the masculine shell was far more important to her. “Blayne,” she whispered, wanting him so badly she ached.
He cupped her nape with a big hand. His heat soaked into her skin and the toughened calluses on his palms chafed the sensitive skin of her neck. Phantom fingers tickled her spine. It was the first time he’d touched her in a sexual way, because he wanted to, not because he’d been forced to guide her or assist her with some task. It thrilled her to her core.
Gentle but insistent pressure on her nape urged her downward, toward him. Anticipation built. Time stretched. And then she was sprawled across his chest and his lips were on hers—warm and firm. They tasted, nibbling and teasing and then demanding more. Her lips parted and Blayne’s tongue stroked hers. Hope’s mind whirled with the heady sensuality of his kiss.
“Are you sure about this, Hope?” he murmured against the corner her mouth.
Her lips curved upward. “Yes, I am. Are you?” She held her breath, waiting for his response, tense with hope and a raw, powerful need.
He wrapped an arm around her to keep her flush against him, hooked his leg about hers, and twisted them so she landed beneath him. He settled between her thighs, hard male flesh pressing intimately against hers. Oh yes. He was sure.
After they’d made love, Hope lay draped atop Blayne, her hair fanning his chest as he idly stroked her back. And for the first time since she’d been plucked from her world, she felt no desire to rebel against fate, God, or whatever supernatural forces had snatched her from her home. She only wished she could stay here with him, like this, forever.
The wish shattered when Cayl yelled, “What’s for breakfast?” And when they didn’t immediately emerge, followed up with a pithy reminder that Dayamar would be getting impatient.
After breakfast the two men broke camp. Despite knowing she should eat to keep up her strength, Hope had barely managed more than a couple of bites. Her stomach was still clenched into a tight knot at the prospect of meeting this all-powerful man who inspired such awe in Blayne and Cayl. What would this Dayamar want with her? Could he truly help her return home, as Blayne had suggested? And, more importantly, did she wish to go?
Back home there was no one to miss her save Maggie, her mother’s long-term friend, who’d helped so much after the accident, and insisted on acting as a surrogate housekeeper until Hope found her feet. Maggie had become a dear friend. She would be worried sick about Hope’s sudden disappearance. And mortified to discover Hope had named her sole beneficiary in her will if she died without a partner or children.
Hope deeply regretted not having the chance to say goodbye, and assure Maggie that all was well. But she had to put her old life behind her. Here, there was Blayne and a new beginning. Though it both worried and thrilled her in equal measure to realize she’d become so attached to him in such a short time.
Blayne took her hand and they trailed after Cayl.
By noon, Hope began to feel light-headed. The darkness that was her world came to life, boiling and surging in sickening waves. Her skin prickled, so ultra-sensitized that even her light shirt chafed her skin. A pounding ache built behind her eyes. Unwilling to hold the men back, she remained mute, gritting her teeth and plodding onward, one foot in front of the other.
As dusk fell, she’d reached the limit of her endurance. “Cayl. I know you are eager to reach your settlement but I cannot continue at this pace. I am sorry.”
Cayl patted her arm. “We can take it easy now. We’ll be home in a couple more hours anyway.”
“Why don’t you go on ahead and advise Dayamar,” Blayne said.
“Good idea. I’ll head him off before he comes looking for you personally.” Cayl strode off and Hope concentrated on staying upright and hiding her discomfort from Blayne.
~*~
Blayne spotted bobbing flames in the distance. A welcoming committee. Cayl’s doing, no doubt. There went any chance of sneaking Hope in unnoticed to spare her the inevitable song and dance her arrival would cause. He touched her arm to let her know he was about to speak. “Cayl’s sent a few people to guide us in. I can see their torches.”
She halted, slumping. “That is good news.”
As he slung an arm around her waist to urge her forward again, a shudder coursed through her slight body… followed by a muted whimper. He searched her face. She was deathly pale, her features drawn and her blue eyes clouded with pain. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said. “Now.”
“I do not feel good. Dizzy. My head and eyes pain me. My chest, too.”
Gods. He’d been dreading this. If only he’d pushed her to travel faster. He shucked his pack, swung her into his arms, and sprinted toward the lights.
One light detached itself from the group ahead and bobbed closer. A familiar face materialized from the darkness. “Cayl. Thank the gods. Hope’s ill.”
“Is it—?”
“Yes. Here’s what I need you to do.” Blayne fired off a list of instructions. “Go. Hurry!”
Cayl sprinted off as the others caught up and gathered around. Concerned faces peered at his burden. “What’s wrong? Is she ill?”
“Someone find my pack. I left it back aways. Bring it to the Healing Hall. You—” Blayne jerked his chin at a strapping young man whose name escaped him “—help me with her.” Together they propped Hope into a semi-reclining position, and made a seat with their linked hands so they could carry her between them as they ran.
Cayl met them at the entrance of the hall with the box of herbs and preparations Blayne had requested cradled in his arms. Good man. Blayne barked orders at Johan, the healer on duty, while Cayl retreated to an unoccupied sleeping platform.
Fear bit at Blayne when he noted that Hope couldn’t catch her breath. Her chest heaved as she tried to suck in air. Her eyes burned feverishly bright and her skin felt hot to the touch. Her pulse raced, and then skipped beats altogether.
They stripped her, and Johan sponged her with tepid water to try and get her temperature down, but aside from forcing more herbal concoctions down her throat there was little more they could do for her. They needed Dayamar. What was taking the old Sehan so long?
Blayne smoothed the tangled locks that had escaped her braid from Hope’s face. “Hope, it’s me, Blayne. It’ll be all right. We can help you.” He fought to remain calm, to distance himself from his patient and assume the authoritative mantle of Panakeya. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“My eyes hurt. Head… stomach… very sore.” She squeezed her eyelids shut, clenching her jaw as another spasm wracked her body. When she opened her eyes again she stared past him, at the doorway. “Who is that man?” she whispered.
Blayne glanced over his shoulder to see Dayamar standing there, watching. Apprehension slithered down his spine. He turned back to Hope. “You can see him?”
Dayamar brushed past him. “Do you know me, Hope?” The old Sehan spoke quietly but his words, like his presence, filled the room.
“You. I do know you… know your voice… from my dreams… see you in my mind… gold eyes… strange mark on your forehead… like another eye.”
“Have you given her any medicine?” Dayamar asked.
“Euphrasia—eyebright—with anthemisia and lavendula to relax her airways. When she had difficulty breathing before it helped. I was about to administer more of the same mixture.”
“Don’t give her anything more,” Dayamar said.
Blayne’s healer instincts shrieked denial. Dayamar’s authority was absolute but…. This was Hope. He couldn’t stand by and watch her struggle for each breath. Dayamar could not demand this of him. “She can scarcely breathe. I have to do something.”
“Wait and observe.” The old Sehan held his gaze. And then, just as Blayne was about to do something foolhardy, something that might see him stripped of his authority as Panakeya, Dayamar threw him a bone. “There are changes that must take place, changes that will affect Hope’s physiology and innermost being. We must not interfere. She’s now in the hands of the gods. This is how it must be.”
All the fight drained from Blayne. “Have you Seen that she will survive?”
Dayamar gave a curt nod. “Yes.”
Relief coursed through him. Thank the gods.
Dayamar motioned to Healer Johan. “Help Blayne sit her up.”
With Johan’s help, Blayne maneuvered Hope upright. She shook violently, forcing them to tightly grasp her arms.
Dayamar bent to peer into her eyes. “It begins. Watch closely, Blayne.”
Hope’s pupils paled to milky white until she resembled a spirit-woman from some ancient myth. Johan swallowed an imprecation. Blayne fought the desire to close his eyes and shut out the sight.
Color leached back, and he dared hope he’d been mistaken, that what he’d seen was some bizarre affliction he’d never before encountered. But though her irises remained black, Hope’s pupils swum with liquid gold.
The rich golden hue swirled, intensifying—
Abruptly it set. And Hope’s eyes shimmered. Unearthly gold—permanently gold.
If she survived the transformation, Dayamar would have a new Sehani apprentice.
~*~