Into His Command (4 page)

Ass. Sometimes he could read me as well as Dillon, which was a little scary. Really,
I didn’t need any more guys in my life with the psychic-force connection thing going
on. At least Dillon had an excuse. My stepbrother had always been more like a twin,
especially with his similar coloring and temperament. I had no choice about
his
hooks into my brain.

What about Samsyn
?

Samsyn…was different.

Beyond different.

He was the dream. The Pegasus. The dragon on the mountain. The man who’d never be
connected to me like that, in spite of my constant pleas to fate for the miracle.

Impossible.

Which meant Jag was right. I needed to toss the man out of my mind—every beautiful
damn inch of him—and focus on what mattered here: being mentally and physically prepped
for Syn’s arrival. Yesterday, his personal envoy from the palace had arrived, having
driven three hours from the palace at Sancti, located on the other side of the island.
The man had waited to read the missive aloud to Jag, myself, and the eight other guys
who trained regularly at the Tahreuse Valley Fight Skills and Fitness Center.
Arriving on palace business Friday. ETA 14:00. Be at your best and ready to roll.

Naturally, curiosities had been piqued.

Maybe a little more than piqued.

But the ten of us had dealt with it as we always did: by doubling the intensity of
our workouts. I’d gone for triple the effort, not one speck blind about the importance
of Syn including me on this. It was why I’d taken up self-defense and fight skills
three years ago, and worked my backside off to excel at them all. It was my only avenue
to staying close to Syn. If there was any truth that glared loudest about the man,
it was his love of fighting—perhaps, at times, even more than “other” physical pursuits.
I had no hope of ever sharing something like the latter with him, but I could really
do something about the former. Being included in on his important “palace business”
meant he’d finally noticed my efforts too.

That I’d finally, if just for a little while, be important to him.

But not if I kept fighting like a girl.

“Let’s do this.” I ignored the hand Jag extended. Chose to grasshopper it back to
my feet instead. I jabbed my stare into his. Reset my fists in front of my face. Lifted
my chin. Let all thoughts fly free but one.

You’re going down, Jagger Foxx.

Jag chuckled, once more reading me like a ten-foot-high banner. “All right, then.
Let us ‘do this’.”

We wove and danced around each other for a couple of minutes. He cuffed my shoulder;
I socked his stomach. My fist smarted from colliding with the protective band around
his middle; my lungs pumped against the similar device wrapped around me.

“
Bonrika plute
.” Jag was a little winded from the blow.

Tiny mouth curl. “Of course it was very good.” Shoulder roll now, savoring the flush
of adrenalin but knowing better than to let it rule. I held position, studying Jag’s
stance. During this morning’s practice, he’d taken a good punch on the right from
Victyr. How much did it still bother him? He was masking it well. Too well. A weakness
to be exploited?

“This is
not
the Royal Regatta, princess.”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

I expected his gloating chortle but his angular face stayed solemn. “Too much
thinking
, Brooke. Evaluate, do not deliberate. Then commit to the move and—”

“Control my enemy.” I practically snarled it. “I know, I
know
. I swear to God, you’re like a broken sound chip from one of my old toys.”

“Because you would treat this like a child’s game?”

Wow. He really wasn’t just trying to piss me off. He was out to push every button
in my book.
Three years.
For three damn years, I’d worked to earn the respect of him and every other fighter
who trained here, honing my skills and my work ethics in order to stand next to them
as an equal, not the scared girl who’d first wobbled her way onto Arcadian soil. His
dig was as good as offering me a diaper.

Take
this
nappy, my friend.

I lifted my fists and prepared to advance, when something ruthlessly grabbed me from
behind. My feet left the ground. Adrenalin jacked my blood. Time-honed instincts took
over my muscles. The wall of a bastard wouldn’t budge. He felt like the freaking Terminator,
steeled strength clad in thick leather, deployed with frightening precision. I was
pinned in, twisted around then dropped to the grass.

Between one breath and the next, my fury burst into panic.

In two seconds, six years fell away. Day turned to night. The surface beneath my body
changed from polished walnut boards into a sea of crazy confetti: bits of glass and
flowers, the remains of the dining room windows, as well as the vase of my birthday
flowers from last week. Dad had asked me to change out the water. I’d forgotten. It
smelled awful but I clung to its pungency; anything to block the acrid violence of
the guns and explosions…

Mom screamed. Soldiers bellowed. The guy shielding me was one of the loudest.

We need that chopper now! Those whack jobs aren’t going to stop until this place is
dust. Land it in the backyard, man. There’s two fucking acres back there
!

Then he’d yelled down at me. Told me everything was going to be okay, though I far
from believed him. Ordered me to stay completely still, faking my own death to our
intruders if necessary, as he ran off to find Dillon. The house—the home I’d grown
up in—kept crashing in around me. More tumbled in when the helicopter arrived, its
thunder throbbing the air. I’d listened with gratitude and grief. The chopper was
here to take us to Burlington, where we’d fly to Rome then Arcadia, where we’d been
offered asylum by King Ardent. The rest of the world would be told the four of us
died in the attack.

Terror had kept me glued to that floor. Rage had made me long to burst from it. To
leap through the rubble and kill every one of those monsters with my bare hands—except
their leader, Rune Kavill. For him, I’d invent a special death. Something really painful…

The anger had never left me.

Often, it’d been the only friend I possessed.

Right now, it was my best and dearest buddy.

Let’s go, pal.

I drove an elbow into Terminator’s ribs. Again. His grunts were like booster rockets,
empowering the buck of my hips. He’d expected that, and easily pinned his knees into
the backs of mine. I grinned into the grass. The asshole was either kind or stupid,
giving me that gift. With his weight pinned there, it was easy to twist up, ramming
my elbow into his jaw instead.

“Brooke!” Jagger’s shout was unexpected—and urgent. “By the Creator! Do not—”

A growl from my new opponent stomped him into silence—and gave me the chance I’d been
waiting for. The guy’s second of distraction was my scoop of opportunity. I used my
elbow on his forearm, tilting his weight enough to dislodge one pinned knee. Next,
a swift roll to my back. Instant curl-up on both legs, locking them around his broad
shoulders. Brutal squeeze in, pushing my knees to his earlobes.

“Cry
rahmié
now, or I’ll snap your head off like a Barbie after Christmas.”

“For the love of fuck.” Jag’s mutter completely contradicted the humor rumbling from
the man in my grip—and the face between my legs.

The face, with eyes piercing like winter skies. With that proud, high warrior’s brow.
With the gentle smile that dominated so many of my fantasies.

And now, one catastrophic nightmare.

“Oh my God.”

Mortified gasp. Paralyzed shock—not seeming to disturb Samsyn in the least. The bastard
chuckled while running his massive hands down—up?—my tense thighs. His mouth kicked
a little higher as our gazes met, exposing a rare glimpse of his gleaming teeth. Had
I ever seen more of the man’s teeth than that? And why the hell was I thinking of
that right
now
?

“Well, hello to you too, starlight.”

The nickname, understood by all as his alone to use, rolled off his generous lips
as if we’d seen each other two hours, not two months, ago. I normally delighted in
that dynamic between us but right now, it was too close.
He
was too close. Too big. Too warm. Too much of everything I desired…and would never
have.

Frustration simmered up. Spilled over. With a snarl, I untangled myself. Scrambled
backward. That would’ve been fine—a few seconds to find the game face he hadn’t given
me time for—if I didn’t glance back up, ensuring I didn’t decapitate him during my
escape.

What the…?

His teeth weren’t visible anymore. But neither was his mirth—nor even the lights in
his eyes.

He swallowed hard then dragged in a ragged breath. Raked a shaky hand through the
top of his thick dark mane. And his other hand…

Frantically adjusted things in his crotch.

Sizable things.

Ohhhh…wow.

“Brooke? You okay?” Jag, sounding like he spoke through a hundred layers of gauze—that
suddenly caught fire. The heat roared through me, drowning my equilibrium, fanned
by the force of one unmistakable concept.

I’d
done that to Syn. Instigated that reaction. Made him force a rocky laugh to his lips,
trying to cover it up…resealing the rift in his invisible armor. A glimpse into the
man behind the wall that I’d never imagined seeing. Well…not outside my dreams.

Dammit.

The reality was so much better.

Dammit.

I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t even begin to think, or even hope that he saw me any
differently than six minutes ago, much less six years. Besides, he was a guy. Their
bodies did shit like that, springing up when they weren’t supposed to. And I’d baited
the damn dragon, after all. Royally.

And now, was paying the royal price for it.

A debt I could, and should, just as easily laugh away.

But couldn’t.

Just the preview of Syn…like that…slammed in another recognition. The realization
that I’d never have him like that again. Like a beggar brought to the buffet, only
to be told I couldn’t have another bite.

Problem was…I was still starving.

I had to get out of here. Now.

‡

I
made my
way to the old bridge at Temptina Falls. The decision stemmed from habit more than
logic, and I immediately regretted it. Syn would look for me here first.

“Starlight, star bright.”

Bingo.

He tried to tease with it. Well, his version of teasing. During my first year here,
I didn’t think he comprehended the meaning. It’d only added to his allure, making
me fall harder every time I was lucky enough to see him, when he came to our side
of the island for climbing vacations or training trips with his troops. Every time,
there was something physically different—his muscles got bigger, his hair grew longer—but
the steadfast warrior I’d first met was always there, so different from the brash
boys I’d known back home. Not that Vermont could ever be home, with Rune Kavill living
as a free man. Even if the vermin
was
existing in some rat-infested cave, Dad wasn’t safe—and neither were Mom, Dillon,
or I.

That was enough of that. The waters of my mind were muddy enough as it was.

Because of whatever
that
was.

That look on his face…

What the
hell
was that look on his face?

I didn’t dare open my mouth, for fear those exact words would come out. Thank God
I managed to school my features before he stepped over and leaned against the bridge
rail next to me.

“You’re early.” I shot it as accusation.

“Despicable habit.”

“No shit.”

He arched a brow. “Fitting in with the boys in
many
ways now, hmm?”

“Not you, too.” Was Jag sending him reports about my language now? “And when did you
decide to be Stuffy McGoo? Isn’t that Evrest’s job?”

As always, bringing up the man’s brother made him stiffen and glow at once. “Evrest
has many roles to fulfill lately.” He swiveled his gaze over the falls. They rose
nearly twenty feet up, emptying from the Temptina River, cascading over the boulders
on the hill like sparkling stair steps. “Things are changing fast for Arcadia.”

“And you’re worried about keeping him safe through all of it.”

He snapped his gaze back. It was on fire again, boring into me in a way he’d never
stared before.

Damn.

His intensity returned me to the illicit glimpse I’d stolen on the training lawn.
That stomach-tingling flash of his hand…right
there.
Only now he was doing the same thing with his eyes, as if questioning why I’d said
that…as if thankful no matter what the reason.

He shifted closer. Tilted his head, continuing to study me. The wind off the falls
tugged a chunk of his hair free from its leather tie. Flattened his black Henley against
his sculpted shoulders. “I truly
am
sorry,
astremé.
”