Rogue Within Page 3

  Bear rolled his mental eyes on their shared internal magescape. The jungle rustled around him. Honor? Man thoughts again. It doesn’t put food in our belly. It doesn’t put Moriko in our bed. Leave that word. And leave your anger too. There are no enemies at the moment. Save it.

  Catching the ball, he squeezed his big, crooked fingers around it. Ground his teeth and stretched his stiff neck to one side. Settling, he went back into blank wait mode. Bump, thump, slap. He pushed it to the sweet spot, but didn’t even watch as it bounced and returned off the floor to his hand. After over a week of this, he didn’t need to.

  Dinner had come hours ago. He’d exercised hard. Soon, she’d sleep. Soon. Then they’d go creeping, creeping down the dream threads. Soon, he’d taste the buzzing presence of his mate’s spirit. What color would her blanket be today?

  Through his room’s stone door, he heard the outer door to the punishment cells open, and voices. Someone was coming for him. He never paused from passing the ball to wall, floor, hand. He wondered if he’d fuck her tonight. Sometimes he didn’t. Watching her sleep, crouched over her curled-up, misty form on the peaceful beach of her magescape.

  Bind her, Bear ordered. Connect, seduce, steal.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bump, thump, slap. He agreed with Bear’s urgency, but understood all the politics around this pivotal claiming. She was more than their satisfaction. Moriko was salvation.

  It had been his idea, a few days after being penned in here, to go find their own mate. Now that they were away from that fucking island, now that they were giving the clans all their information, and having it ripped from their brain, there was no way they’d be allowed to live.

  Donte knew he had to find a reason for them to let him live. The only thing that brought him despair was the thought he wouldn’t see the human pusbags die. His work wasn’t done. It wasn’t likely, but he’d thought if he could find a mate, they might hesitate if he’d linked himself to a woman. So he’d begun the grunt effort of seeking his own mate. When the groundbear spy hadn’t been ripping through his soul, he’d gone flying through space alone.

  Searching with his spiritcraft after having no access to it for so long had ached. The tedious nights he’d spent canvassing the largest human city had drained him, but he didn’t need his strength at the moment. And in just a few weeks, he’d fucking found one. He’d found a woman who matched them. Finding her soul had been like following the trail of one scented flower in entire valley of identical blooms. But he’d done it.

  The door ground open, stone scraping stone. If Donte hadn’t already put some musk-wax into his hair for style, his naturally shaggy hair would have stood straight up into the spikes he now favored. Dom, again. Fucking crazy. Staring at him. Sniffing him. Poking at him, literally.

  Case in point. Dom, the dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed head of the Council sat against the wall next to him and stretched his legs out. Donte stayed hunkered, facing the corner. Bump, thump, slap.

  “Stop that. Face me.”

  Almost two years ago, when Donte had been labeled a lone alpha and booted from Council training, he’d been like the rest of the dupes. He’d met Dom and thought him nothing more than an over-dedicated politico assigned as the Council spokesman. Now he read the insane beastspirit power Dom covered up quite easily. Dom was like no other trux in existence. He was a mess, but only on the inside, and he gave Bear the creeps. Literally. Bear sat down in Donte’s mind and scratched his ear with a back paw.

  Bump, thump, slap. Donte’s hand controlled the ball. Bear kept their heart steady, but their scent was a little more uneven. Darkmages were human. He hadn’t had to worry about his scent in the fortress so he didn’t have much practice.

  Dom kicked at his flank. “I know you understand me today.”

  Donte caught the ball anyway, although he had to adjust his balance. It was true—sometimes Donte wasn’t here. Bear and he had survived the darkmages, but the cost had been a taboo blending of beastspirit, battleform, and intelligence. It didn’t matter to him much when Bear wore his body. But it meant a ton of shit to the clans. It meant enough that they’d kill him with a label of rogue. It was strictly forbidden to let your beast wear your human form, considered perverse, irresponsible, and psychotic. Dom wasn’t here to kill him tonight. Not yet.

  Donte needed Moriko.

  Bump, thump, slap. He kept up the pattern with the ball.

  “Your spiritmage has informed me your last souldance was an exact replica of the prior one. We have mined all the memories we can from you.”

  Nausea churned in Donte’s gut. His spiritmage Quor was also a Council alpha, one of the clan outcasts eking out a life of respect in River Mountain. Oh, how he wanted to taste that groundbear’s heart. And at the same time never see him again. The man had seen everything. All of it. He tossed the ball, at ease with hiding his thoughts. Bump, thump, slap.

  “Quor confirmed the darkcraft’s weave in your spiritair. He says you’re actively holding on to the spell. We’ve never seen the like. Until you, we were sure through millennia of records we were immune to darkcraft.”

  Donte gave a mental smile that Dom had given up trying to stop his ball. Tiny battles meant sanity, sometimes.

  “He is our foremost Council spiritmage and yet he also still insists you’ve blocked large chunks of memory from yourself.”

  Like he had control over Bear. Puh-lease. Like he had control over being an alpha. Like he had control over the spiritcraft, earthcraft, or firecraft that tumbled and played together inside his skin. Everyone had talents. His was being different.

  “Why are you holding onto their darkspell? Just observing it made Quor physically ill. They didn’t break you. You accepted their attack. You’re still holding it in place. I’d still like to hear from you, Donte.”

  Bump, thump, slap. Bear stuck his nose in the air, pleased with Dom’s respect in using their name. For too many, for so long, they’d been unworthy, nameless on top of being clanless. Donte scowled at the little brown ball.

  “The strength this is taking in both body and spirit awes me. You clearly have some sort of reason for clinging to their evil and neither Quor nor I believe it’s because you are theirs.”

  Donte kept his amusement hidden but its scent rose off his skin a bit. Outright compliments. Surely their leader could do better.

  “Talking through your memories is different than having a spiritmage’s comfort.”

  Donte couldn’t let that slide. He slid Dom, the lunatic walking around with a firebomb of a secret, an incredulous look for even trying that kind of hypocritical crap. Quor, the groundbear spiritmage cataloging Donte’s soul the last few weeks, was not doing it to comfort him. And talking about his secrets to the Council’s freakish leader would not help Donte feel better in any way. It didn’t matter that he’d never smelled the truth of Dom before he’d been to the island fortress, but he knew the truth now and wondered how to use his knowledge.

  “You have to be holding on to that poison for a reason.” Dom pursed his lips. “They’ve been given Quor’s final report. We’re about to meet, the Council and all eleven clan Alphas. If they call you before them, which is likely, your attitude could save your life.”

  Bump, thump, slap.

  He could hear Dom grind his teeth. “Let me rephrase that. Showing a better attitude than you’ve shown me and Quor could save your life.”

  Donte grunted and threw his ball. Visions of the eight warriors he’d gutted and broken when he approached The Den after his escape came and went. Sunshine on drying autumn grass clotted with black blood, a lot of it his. Two had died. Unlike any of the shit from the fortress, he regretted that. When the wolves tried to stop him from returning to River Mountain, he’d had to insist. Reeking of darkcraft, they’d assumed the worst, ignoring his calls for parlay with a Council Alpha. But he wasn’t going to let it all be for nothing. When they’d tried to kill him, he’d fought back.

  There was only one reason he was breathing right now
. One. The darkmages would die, especially that sick fuck Thad. All that pain wouldn’t be for naught just because he’d gotten tainted in the process.

  “You’re really not going to give me any help at all?” Dom’s tension at his defiance showed in the tart scent of irritation.

  Wasn’t the first time Donte had smelled it on the man. Funny. He never came into the cell smelling that way. Thinking over Dom’s words, Donte knew his life didn’t depend on any attitude or spiritmage report or useless words of explanation. Moriko would save him. And he didn’t, in any way, want Dom knowing about his princess before he’d bound her.

  Even with Moriko, there was a significant chance Wolf would get him somehow. Freaking pure beta warrior wolves, all cozy in their packs, all proud of their rules. They’d tried to stop him, tried to kill him. They named him rogue, as if it were an insult and not a badge of survival. Inside, Bear opened his mouth and licked his muzzle, amused. The wolves would call loudest for his death, and still they busily planned an assault they couldn’t have formed without the knowledge he’d given.

  You’re wasting our energy with this bitterness. We survive. Bear flopped down, a considerable adjustment even though it was psychic.

  Donte paused in his ball tossing rhythm. Again, the sour regret. He’d killed his own, and while it had been necessary, the wolves had right on their side, too.

  Besides, Bear murmured. We have her. There is no question that we now wish to survive.

  There had been. Oh, yes. There had been. Once he’d been back in this cell and shared his knowledge with the clans there had been weak moments when he’d thought it would be best to just let go and let the agony and shame end. But Bear was right. Now their nights were full of luscious, raw sex. Good sex, not torture, not for feeding the darkmages. This room had gone from being their endgame to merely a waypoint. Psychic sex was good. It was clean, it was…

  Donte veered away from that thought. Bump, thump, slap. One moment at a time, dickhead. He listened to Bear, generally. Because, as much as it irritated, Bear was usually right.

  Bump—Dom’s hand flashed out to take the ball. But Donte’s had less space to travel and was on it first. Dom’s hand scraped over his. For a moment, Dom pressed on Donte with his power, that fucked-up mess of beastspirits he carried around. Then Donte’s darkcraft and seething cauldron of elements roiled back. Dom’s face contorted, skin and bone pulsing, lumping as he snarl-growled. Donte clamped firmly on his churning dinner and held the stare.

  Dom’s hand slid away, leaving the ball with Donte. His human-handsome face slid in place, and Donte angled himself away, rocking on his haunches until he faced Dom, with room to move. The chain on his ankle clattered softly as he shifted.

  Dom stood, his black leather Council warskirt swishing around his knees. “Ash and Sand, Donte. I’m trying to save you. I know you went rogue in order to aid the hawks. Help me. I’m not leaving here until you drop this defiance.”

  When he’d come back, Bear’s senses had helped clear the mirage off of Dom. He was far from the political leader of the clans’ Council. Yeah, this guy looked submissive to the clan Alphas, but he was a deadly trap. Donte stood too, and even though he was a head taller and two heads wider than Dom’s powerful form, he didn’t relax. Dom could take him blindfolded, in human form, if he really wanted to. “All right.”

  Dom’s eyebrows drew together.

  “I’ll tell you how to stop the calls for my death.”

  His heart gave one mighty telltale shudder and Dom heard it. His brows smoothed taut as they raised.

  Mentally, Bear got a kick to stand up and help. Lazy ass. Bear sighed and snuffled and stretched his back feet.

  “Tell the Queen there’s going to be a Royal Bonding.”

  Dom’s face went blank. Eyebrows in place, eyes empty, mouth neutral.

  Donte couldn’t get a scent on him, just that his beastspirit energy surged and roiled. It was so bizarre his gaze dropped, staring at the bare rock floor. The Council, and the bear clan Alpha Alaric, pretended Dom was a bear. Donte would waltz with a fuzzy if that were true. Or rather, the only truth. The Slender Spider looked exactly like a whistleflower. Both were beautiful. One could kill you.

  He could feel Dom stare at him. Dom knew no one but he and Quor had spoken to Donte since he was stuffed in this holding cell a month ago. There was no way Donte should be speaking of Royals or Bonding, let alone the earthshaking, unheard of concept of mixing the two. He’d given away a large clue to his plan and Dom was intelligent. More than him, most likely.

  He really needed to quit mooning around over her sleeping curves, quit fucking her, and get her mated. He’d told himself to go slow and let her become intrigued. Enough. Be mysterious, be sexy, be bossy, and trick her. That was what needed to happen tonight.

  Bear shrugged. Yes. No Moriko means no life.

  “So your eyes are on the Cities. Not the fortress, at least not yet.” Dom stroked his jawline thoughtfully.

  Stomach churning, Donte dropped his gaze again, struggling not to bare his teeth and challenge the man. Rules. Rules upon stupid rules over how to look at a woman, fuck a woman, let a woman choose you, and nobly pine into dust if she turned up her tiny nose at you. Fuck that. “I’m the best weapon you have. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  Dom’s eyes went dangerous.

  “You need to use me. I’ll take as many as I can with me, I swear on Bear’s strength.”

  Dom rotated his head, very owl-like. “Those are the words I wanted for the Council. Are they words the Queen should hear as well?”

  Bear focused on Dom, shoulders drawing tight. “The humans have been using us while we play nice by their rules. We could have taken what we needed, like the old days.”

  “Taking unwilling women led to war, both with the humans and within the clans.” Dom’s voice dismissed Donte’s words.

  “A Royal Bonding would be a gesture of respect to the clans. We’ve been good and they cheated. The Mage Guild started the cloaking spell that let the darkmages evade our beastspirits. The Queen needs to acknowledge that her Cities are overrun and it’s not our fault. The darkmages will try to make it seem like it is. Mating a Royal with a trux would be in her best interest anyway.”

  Dom’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t fathom why you’re focused on a Royal Bonding. I’m fighting for your life. A Bonding is beyond logical and a Royal one would be laughable.”

  His mind raced, playing up the wisdom of revealing what Bear had told him about Dom now in private, or waiting to use it before the Council. He decided to use it now as a sidestep around Dom’s probing interest. Respecting the twisted secret power Dom had, he named him carefully, hoping it would distract the man. “Alpha of Alphas, clan Master, Spirit Holder, let me get as many as I can, before you have to send our women to face the evil. There’s a chance I’ll succeed and you can’t doubt that risking me is better than risking the adopted women.”

  The man gave no reaction to Donte’s knowledge of his secret many-natures, but he did abruptly quit poking at Donte’s new idea. Dom turned on his heel and slid out the spelled door. He paused when it was only a handspan from closed. Donte met Dom’s black eyes, saw the gleam of red no one else seemed to.

  Dom shook his head. “We’ll see.”

  The door slid shut. His heart thundered and his lungs began to flutter. He’d Bond Moriko tonight, which would put her in the notice of Dom. It was risky. If the word got out she was his mate before he was there with her, the darkmages might move on her before he could draw their notice. They might take Moriko. It was just the first of many dangers he’d put her in. All for the chance to kill.

  Donte unsheathed Bear’s claws, a handlength long, curving. They pulled at his fingertips. He slashed at the stone, but it wasn’t good enough. He slashed up his thigh and it was better. He slashed up the blanket they’d given him and that was good. Panting, he stared at the little leather ball Quor had brought him that first day back in this stone cage. He’d learne
d the hard way not to lose one’s treasures to the rage. They were too rare, too hard won. Blood slipped down his leg. He kicked the ball away before it got stained. He worked out the rest of his fear on the chains, yanking and thrashing them until his ankle bled.

  Sitting down, he wore Bear’s head, and used his long tongue to soothe the wounds. It was so very very sweet how bodycraft worked here. It wasn’t one of his main powers, but like most trux, Donte could call all Six at least a bit. In the fortress, none of the six elemental crafts had worked. Darkcraft had blocked them all and he’d been little stronger than a shadow.

  He healed the wounds, but not completely. The sting of the raw flesh eased something inside. He let go of Bear’s parts and shrank into human form.

  He’d be a long time falling asleep and might miss walking in Moriko’s dreams. Maybe it was best. He was good at being in pain. He was good at breaking rules. He wasn’t so good at watching over almond-eyed beauties sprawled on the sand. Tonight was the night he needed to tell her.

  Chapter Four

  Night Two

  Dom strode through the Royal compound’s golden hallways with a marten warrior at his side. It was so late as to be very early and he was exhausted, but he’d held off Wolf’s demands for a few more hours. Donte was currently still alive, and Dom had sifted straight to the Royals to discuss the man’s strange statements.

  He waited outside the jeweled doors to the royal private suite. Idivay herself opened the smaller door inset into the huge pair.

  She stepped out, murmuring to a teenage boy he didn’t know. After closing the door and nodding in dismissal to the marten, she folded her arms. He wasn’t surprised she was already dressed.

  The marten moving down the hall would hear every word. They both knew it but such was the Royal life. Carefully trusted relationships functioned around the illusion of privacy in a web of interconnected lives.