Warlord Sky by Cynthia Sax

Author:Cynthia Sax [Sax, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cynthia Sax

The dream started the same way it always did. Saruk swaggered toward her, kicking up dust with her big boots. The girl’s eyes were hard with malice. Her claws were extended.

Chameles surrounded them, watching, waiting, judging. They expected a show, one with blood and agony and humiliation.

For solar cycles, Nayan had been trying to extend her claws and failing. Everyone in their small settlement was now aware of her plight. They knew she was a freak and delighted in seeing her receive her comeuppance. They wanted her to hurt, to bleed.

She didn’t belong, would never be one of them. They hated her for being different.

That hate was written over Saruk’s face. “Are you going to fight this time, coward, or are you going to run?”

She should fight. Her chin lifted. She would die. Saruk would kill her for daring to stand her ground. But maybe then her father would be proud of her.

Her opponent neared her. Light reflected off the girl’s claws.

Nayan’s courage evaporated. Fear coursed through her, stronger and more primal than the need for approval. She turned and ran, fleeing as quickly as she could.

The other Chameles jeered at her, called her a being without honor. She didn’t care. The only thought in her mind was survival, living to see another planet rotation.

Her foot hit a solid object and she fell, smacking against the stone pathway. Hurt shot through her hands and knees as she made contact with the hard surface. Blood scented the air.

Leather rustled against skin. She looked upward and met her father’s gaze.

“Help me. Please.” She reached out to him. Pebbles were embedded into palms of her hands.

She expected him to turn away. He always rejected her in her dreams as he had rejected her in reality.

Except the dream had changed.

The being standing before her, tall and broad and muscular, was no longer her father. It was Qulpa, his long black hair streaked with gray, his body chiseled from a lifespan of battle.

Her barbarian didn’t reject her. He pulled her into his arms, folded his massive form around hers, protecting her from Saruk, from the Chameles watching her, from all danger.

She was safe. Nayan pressed her face against Qulpa’s bare chest, breathed in his male scent. The tension and fear eased from her form. She relaxed.

Her warrior would safeguard her. He wouldn’t allow anyone to harm her.

“You can’t escape who you are.” Saruk’s voice pierced her serenity.

Qulpa’s body jerked, his back bowing the way hers did when Saruk struck her with her claws. Her warrior howled, the sound ripping at Nayan’s heart, tearing at her soul.

The agony hadn’t been averted. It had merely been transferred to him, the male she trusted and adored. His howl broke the silence once more, his huge form convulsing with the most excruciating pain, one she knew well.

She’d inadvertently caused him that physical suffering. He was being punished because he dared to shelter her, to care for her.

Her punishment was now his.

It was all her fault.

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