Chapter Fifty Four
The portal is in the aubelet. Nigel’s thoughts invaded Octavion’s mind, finally giving him hope and settling the ache in his heart. Come quickly, she is not far from death. I will hold back the others as promised.
Turning to face Luka, Octavion ordered, “Have my chambers prepared and the physician waiting when I return. And be prepared if I need your help.”
“Consider it done.”
Luka’s words were a distant echo as Octavion appeared in front of the aubelet, its crumbling walls a witness to the abandoned structure’s neglect. The thick wooden door leaned precariously against its frame, sagging loosely from a single rusty hinge. With a thrust of his foot, the door slammed against the inside wall sending dust and dirt raining down from the rotting beams, their skeletal frame giving a broken view of the starlit sky.
He breathed deeply, the smell of Kira’s tattered flesh already filtering through the portal. He pulled a section of his tunic over his mouth and nose. He had to stay in control or he’d kill her before getting her to safety.
As her scent grew stronger, Octavion felt his transformation taking over, the muscles across his shoulders and back swelling, his eyes burning. He pressed the fabric tighter to his face and continued to the front of the structure where he came to the altar—a solid slab of white stone carved from the mountains of Eshman. The cold hard surface still held the blood stains of the many sacrifices made to the God’s of Lor.
He closed his eyes and held his breath, focusing only on the sounds—the scurry of a small rodent to his left, the creak of wood shifting with the slight breeze, a whimper coming from above. Without taking a single step, he stood at the top of a rickety staircase that led to the loft and observatory, now overgrown with ivy. Dead leaves and small twigs swirled and danced along the wooden planks where the journey stone held a doorway open to Kira’s world. He pushed through the whirlwind of warm air and stepped onto the concrete floor of the barn.
At first he didn’t see her, but then noticed fresh streaks of blood leading to where a tattered bundle lay on the floor. When the bundle whimpered, Octavion’s heart clenched. Now he could see her—her back riddled with welts oozing with infection, her beautiful red hair tangled and matted with blood.
As he went to her side, he took a quick inventory of her injuries. Beyond the mass of cuts and bruises on her arms and neck, her hands were swollen and deep burns cut into her wrists where ropes had once bound her. The ends of her fingers were dark, as if they’d been singed, her broken nails caked with dirt and dried blood.
“Kira!” He fell to his knees and cradled her head in his arms, carefully turning her onto her wounded back. “I am here. You are safe.”
She gave no reply.
He brushed the hair away from her face exposing a long gash on her cheek. Streaks of blood made a labyrinth across her face and down her neck. He cursed. Shandira, there is no place for you to hide, no sanctuary from the evil you have inflicted. I will come for you.
Shandira’s sick laughter invaded his mind before he threw up his defenses, blocking her thoughts.
He lifted Kira from the floor, not caring that his tunic slipped from his face. He stopped when he smelled a strong, pungent odor. He leaned closer to her face and dared a treacherous breath. Mixed with the scent of her blood was poison.
“Blessed, Zi'ah!” Nigel, what did they give her? What poison?
A few seconds passed with no answer.
Nigel!
Look . . . pocket. Nigel’s thoughts were strained and distant.
Octavion searched Kira’s pockets, finally finding a small green vial. He knew the poison well—only one cure could stop its assault on Kira’s body. Luka! Go to Pride Meadow and gather three Pyrulis Blooms. They grow along the river bank—yellow with—
I know what they look like. I’m picking them now.
Be sure they are in full bloom, no buds.
Done!
A groan came from the Royal lying across the room and Octavion grabbed the hilt of his knife, but the man did not move. Cradling Kira in his arms, he stepped to the doorway. He’d only had three days to prepare himself for the effect Kira’s blood would have on him with the stronger pull of his world’s two moons. He wasn’t sure he was ready.
He took in as much air as his lungs would hold and pushed through the swirling portal to the other side. The onslaught of cravings struck him like a jolt of electricity as it rippled through his muscles, bringing him to his knees. He arched back, causing him to loosen his grip on Kira. She rolled out of his arms and onto the wooden planks, the wrought iron railing barely keeping her from tumbling over the edge. Octavion grabbed the nearby rock wall with his hand, digging his claws into the crumbling stone. Her scent was like a razor to the back of his throat, bringing him to his maximum transformation.
A scuffle broke out behind him. The scene through the portal showed the Royal exchanging blows with Nigel. Octavion reached through the opening to snatch the journey stone, just as Nigel grabbed his wrist. When Octavion yanked the stone through the doorway, Nigel came with it, barely getting through as it closed. They both slammed against the wall, knocking mortar loose from between the crumbling stones.
Nigel glanced at Kira lying on the ground. Let me take her.
“You and your kind have done enough!”
My kind? And what of your kind? Look at you. You will kill her. I should have brought her through myself.
Octavion wrapped his fingers around Nigel’s neck. “I suggest you take your freedom and leave before I reconsider our bargain.”
Nigel grabbed Octavion’s arm and pushed it away. You are a fool to bring her to our world. She will never survive.
Octavion took a swing at Nigel’s face just as he disappeared, driving his fist through the Darkord’s wake and into the rock wall. His ferocious roar caused Kira to moan. He swore under his breath and went to her side. As he slid one arm behind her raw back, she came to life, kicking and screaming as if he were the enemy. She grabbed the iron railing and began dragging herself along the edge of the balcony.
Octavion carefully pried her fingers from the cold, black iron, took her by the wrists and tried to calm her with his voice. “Kira, you are safe.” It was all he could do not to hurt her—he had little control over his strength at this stage of transformation and could crush her fragile bones with no effort.
“No,” she moaned. She continued to struggle, grabbing at his face with her bloody hand. One of her fingers grazed his bottom lip.
Instinctively, he licked it.
Every muscle in his body rippled with pain, but he forced his nature away, trying to soothe her fears. His mind drifted back to their first kiss. She’d called him something when he growled at her, something her captors would not know. “Kira, it is me . . . Dimples.”
Her arms relaxed and she stopped fighting him. “Octavion?” she whispered. Tears sprang to her eyes as she grabbed the front of his shirt and used what little strength she had left to pull herself into his arms. Her body trembled against his chest as he lifted her from the ground.
An instant later, he stood in his sleeping chambers, several members of the castle staff anxiously awaiting Kira’s arrival. They all froze in place when their eyes caught sight of Octavion. Luka stood in the far corner, a piece of fabric pressed against his nose and mouth. He pulled it away long enough to bark a set of orders that sent the staff scurrying in every direction.
Octavion lowered Kira to the crisp white linens that covered the feather mattress, careful not to scratch her with his claws when he withdrew his hands from under her tender back. But Kira held tight to his shirt and wouldn’t let go.
“Don’t . . . leave me,” she whispered.
Her words gripped Octavion’s heart, but he couldn’t answer. Not without taking in another breath. He peeled off his shirt and let her take it in her arms. Luka, the flowers.
Luka appeared at his side, the flowers in his fist. You must leave, cousin—as should I.
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Octavion took the flowers, laid two on the bed beside Kira and began ripping the petals from the third. Go! Lock down the castle. No Royals allowed unless I approve it.
Luka took a few steps back. As you wish, but what shall I do with Cade?
Move him to the other wing of the castle for now. He is of little threat to her in his condition.
Octavion continued shredding the flower until he’d split the pod in the center and retrieved the tiny pea shaped fruit from inside. He put his hand behind Kira’s neck for support. “Kira, you need to wake up.” But she didn’t move. “Kira!”
The muscles in her body tensed and her eyes cracked open to narrow slits. “Where . . . am I?”
“You are in my home. You are safe, but I need you to open your mouth and swallow this. It has to be in your stomach to dilute the poison.”
Kira nodded and opened her mouth like a little bird. Octavion pressed the tiny fruit between his finger and thumb, squirting the white puss-like substance onto her tongue.
“Ussay, I need water,” Octavion ordered.
One of the servants stepped to the sideboard, poured a cup of water and handed it to Octavion. He made Kira drink a few swallows, then continued the process with the other two flowers. It was all he could do. Her fate now lay with the gods of Lor.
Handing the empty cup to Ussay, he backed away from the bed and watched as the staff surrounded her and began washing her wounds.
“Sire?” Ussay’s sweet voice was a needed distraction. “Perhaps you could wait in the hall. I will have a wash basin and fresh clothing brought to you.”
Octavion nodded. His muscles began to retract, but he could still feel the burn in his eyes and throat. “You will come for me when she wakes.”
“Of course.”
He took one last look, catching a glance of Kira’s sweet face as one of the women stepped to the fire to throw the soiled sheet into the flames. Doubt crept into his heart at the sight of her fragile figure. He looked down at his blood covered hands, his claws barely visible now. What have I done? Perhaps Nigel was right. It was stupid to think Kira could survive in his dangerous world. Even if by some miracle she survived her injuries and the effects of the poison, her unique scent and inability to protect herself would make her an easy prey.
His thoughts wandered back to the day by the river when he revealed his heritage. Kira feared being weak—a mouse, she’d called herself. He’d tried to convince her that nothing could be farther from the truth, that she was strong. But now things were different. In a world filled with wild and hungry cats, she was indeed a mouse.
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COMING SOON!
BROKEN
Book Two in THE CRYSTOR Series
Due out SPRING 2012
With Kira injured and dying, Octavion's last hope is to plead with the king of Panthera for a cure. But King Ramla's magic isn't free. The price he asks Octavion to pay goes against everything he's fought so hard to protect and could destroy his bond with Kira. Will Octavion trade his crown and swear allegiance to a kingdom feared by all, or will he sacrifice the woman he loves to remain faithful to his father and Xantara? Find out when BROKEN takes you on a journey into the savage and unpredictable world of Ophira.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
So many people helped me along my journey and stuck with me through the tough times. I’d never be able to list them all here, but know that I do appreciate each and every one of you. Without your help and support, this dream would have died long ago.
A special thanks to my parents for raising me to be a strong,
independent woman who has the courage to take this leap.
To Kris Sidwell, for encouraging me to write this story. Without you, Kira
wouldn’t be the kick-butt warrior she is today.
To Ali Cross for sharing the ups and downs of the publishing world with me
and for showing me tough love through your little red pen. I’m a better
writer because of you. And a better friend.
To my niece, Stephanie, for teaching me all her graphic design secrets.
Thanks to you, my cover rocks.
To all the many writing buddies, friends and family who critiqued and edited
this book and loved the story enough to encourage me to
publish it--especially Danyelle Ferguson, my awesome editor and friend.
And most of all, I’d like to acknowledge my Heavenly Father for his love
and guidance, and for inspiring my words. Some days it took
far more than a still small voice to get through my thick skull.
And to my Savior, who never left my side through the hard times.
Without Him I would be nothing.
In Loving Memory
Shandra Lee Bennett
1979 – 2010
Shandra always wanted to be the villain in my book, the opposite of her kind-hearted character.
I think she would be proud of how Shandira turned out.
If only she’d lived long enough to read it.
I miss you, my friend.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christine (C.K.) Bryant
Christine has always been a writer. Even before she could compose a single word with pen, she scribbled her version of cursive along the open page just to see what it looked like. As a teen, she swiped her dad's old Royal typewriter so her muse could breathe life into what her vivid imagination had created.
She's spent the last twenty-five years married to the man of her dreams and raising their two sons. After helping run the family restaurant for most of their marriage, Christine finally broken away to pursue her dream of being an author.
When she's not with her family or tickling the computer keys, she loves camping, reading, scrapbooking, listening to all kinds of music, and making new friends.
Christine currently living in the middle of sage brush and lava rock with a spectacular view of the Snake River Canyon in South Central Idaho.
Find out more about the author and the projects she's currently working on by visiting her blog at:
https://www.ckbryant.com
Find her on FACEBOOK
And on TWITTER
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