She cleared her throat, threw off some I’m not to be screwed with attitude. “No. I wanted to watch my man and get some air.”
“Maybe give them the fuck-off for telling you girls stay in the house?” Her face had to show the shock she was too late to cover up, and his laugh was deep and genuine, regardless of the coughing edge that made her think he didn’t do it too much. “I know a few women who would have shoved pointy objects up Beylor’s ass if they heard the rule about staying in the quarters, and you have that same look about you.”
She shrugged, taking a step closer. “Can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind. Esh in this area?”
“You checking out your man’s competition? Sizing us up?”
“No need for me to. Esh will win.” She gazed around with what she hoped was an unconcerned air.
No Esh in sight, and when her gaze came back to him he was nodding in approval. “Good woman. Every man needs one like you. Keep treating your man right, and make sure you can say the same about him.”
“What’s your name?” She needed to ask Esh about him. Something about him wasn’t sitting right. He was a warrior, but he didn’t belong to the Cage. He didn’t give off that vibe. Which, if that was the case, why was he here?
“Rorth. And you’d better get back before the guards are out in more force. Hate to think of you in trouble.” With a smile that looked very wrong, given the number of sharp protruding teeth in his mouth, Rorth left.
As if his prediction had brought about the change, a large number of men appeared, most ignoring her but some stopping to give her a blatant once-over.
And that was that. Innate hunting was a bust for today. There would be other ways to find out the information she needed.
But even as she turned to face the apartments there was a tickle, a tease, a dim thrum to come look, something here, come find me grabbing at her…compelling her.
She walked past the edge of the training center, down a path a little more overgrown, a little less trampled than the others. The feeling tugged at her, twisted along pathways in her mind.
At the sighting of the figure in the distance, she stopped, even with the magic pulling on her. It was…wrong, like a saccharine sweet scent over rot, the disharmony inciting rebellion in her.
The fighter appeared to be an albino, bright and white and so large, a mountain of snow against an evergreen background. He was shirtless, the loose white pants darker than his skin. He had been shadowboxing, but within moments of her arrival he lifted his head, scented the air, before turning bloodshot eyes in her direction – not the true red of a vampire, but the unwavering stare unnerving all the same.
Further back, from behind him, evil magic…crawl of fetid flesh
slice of the blade into decayed muscle
deep, feral joy at the pain yet to be visited upon them, on all of them…
Nalah’s pulse jackrabbited in her neck, cold sweat a clammy reality at her hairline. The only time she’d experienced anything close to this feeling was those first moments exposed to Tenro. Tenro was savagery, war, bloodlust, mixed with the last moments of the damned.
This… This was…
Pure madness.
And a cold, crazed love of death.
Something clamped down on her upper arm – large, with a grip that hurt. “Get off!” Her fist came up to hit at whatever had her. “Get off me!”
“What are you doing here?” He caught her fist, blocking her with less energy than she would use to swat a fly. Bad, but… Her pulse slowed and comprehension flowed through her. He was a guard who caught her breaking rules, not a servant to that madness. And he was human, large and mean in that generic way all the guards around here were, as if they’d been selected for that exact reason.
Her pulse normalized, and as she came back to herself and the evil faded, now something from this guard teased her senses, beat against her skull. He wasn’t connected to what she had just felt, but this guard was innate, and she didn’t recognize this power.
Did Beylor know? Was the guard selected because of that, or did he hide it from his employer?
She had to get away and regroup, with the least amount of trouble possible. Clearing her throat, she went for a tone of Tiffany oblivious. “I was trying to find my boyfriend.”
No, he didn’t buy that at all, as his fingers gripped even tighter. “You don’t seem in too much of a hurry to find him.”
She jerked once, twice, finally free though very aware it was because he allowed it. If oblivious didn’t work, time for attitude. “The set-up is interesting! No law against looking, and don’t fucking touch me again if you don’t want the Cage King crawling all over your ass for manhandling his woman!”