Midland Refugee (Ultimate Passage Book 3) (2 page)

F
inn reflected
on Marissa’s news that Saraz was coming and bit back the growl, stifling the urge he had to drive his TripTip blade deep into Saraz’s neck as soon as he stepped foot into their camp. He ran its sharpness over the stone that would make it even more deadly. Its rhythmic sharpening did not calming him like it usually did. He hated waiting until Saraz’s arrival, hated it almost as much as he hated the visits.

He knew his own behavior was frustrating to Marissa.
Curses
. It was frustrating to all of the camp’s members that he begrudged Saraz’s timely visits.

Could they not see how difficult it was for him? Finn knew the men didn’t blame him. Norn, Barz, and Corzine all understood his position, and had indicated that if it were their woman that Saraz were visiting, they would be equally frustrated. Barz, a frown on his Kormic forehead that traveled clear to his spiny scalp, went so far as to say he would have killed Saraz. Finn had nodded.

Unfortunately the women in the camp did not agree. They thought that he should be silent and bide his time. Wait it out until Marissa had delivered and Saraz could keep his promise to create the portal that would allow Finn to take Marissa and their baby back to Earth.

The problem was, Finn was not sure that it was even true. He still had his doubts that Saraz could open portals. He also found Saraz’s story was foolishness—about Marissa being Carrier, and that their baby would be Bearer, the winged Asazi woman who would produce Deliverer, Saraz’s long-awaited redeemer. Finn fought the reflex to roll his eyes at this. The American eye-rolling habit was something he’d picked up way too easily. It conveyed his emotions so well.

Yet he was tiring of arguing the point with Marissa. So he kept his reservations silent, even if he couldn’t keep his anger at bay. Especially when everyone could read his emotions on his Asazi skin. Morphing into a human did not serve him very well, because everyone could see he was doing it to hide an emotion.

He heaved a sigh, sheathed his TripTip, and traveled down the path and out of the privacy of the forest, into the camp.

He studied their new home, this temporary home for the last few weeks, and until Marissa gave birth. Their little camp of refugees and outcasts. Three different races. Asazi, Kormic, and human. Three races that had no business interacting personally. Two of the races were blood-sworn enemies, the Asazi and the Kormic. The humans—he shook his head in sadness, had been nothing more than instruments to provide the means for Asazi to have children.

His father looked up from assembling a bow for little Feroz. He smiled at Finn.

“Good morning,”
Finn greeted his father. Father, a word he thought he’d never say again, when his father was proclaimed dead more than a decade ago, a victim of an Asazi-Kormic battle.

“Good one to you,” Norn wished him.

Raiza, Norn’s Kormic woman, the mother of Feroz, raised her dignified head from the fireplace and smiled. She was younger than Norn and had forsaken her people to cleave to the mate she had chosen. Several of her Kormic tribe had believed in Norn’s goodness and had splintered off and sided with Raiza, forming a new village half a day’s walk from this camp. The refugees kept to themselves though, going to the village to barter for supplies on rare and necessary occasions.

The other four refugees were Barz and Corzine, Raiza’s brothers. And Taya and Cinia, former concubines of Saraz. They’d betrayed Saraz when they assisted Marissa to leave his temple—or monastery—depending on who was doing the describing.

Marissa came out of their cabin, her belly swelled with their child. Finn could not contain the smile that grew on his face. Months later, she was still the same woman he’d seen in her restaurant on Earth, in Houston. A fiery hellion of a brunette with flashing dark eyes. She’d kill for their child, and fought to keep them together. They’d both forgiven their mistakes, especially the ones that were out of their control. Now he just had to make it through this last stretch.
And hope that the bastard Saraz came through and kept his word as soon as he saw that the baby was not a winged Asazi girl.

Finn pushed away the idea that when this happened he’d have to bring Alithera, the original winged girl back to Saraz. Alithera, with her unpredictability and wings had made an enemy of Marissa and almost cost Finn his relationship. He shoved that thought aside. He would deal with it later. For now, his goal was the safety of his woman and their child. And passage to Earth, for the final time he hoped.

If he ever had to return to Kormia, he would guarantee that one of his goals would be Saraz’s demise, preferably a painful one, because he did not like the being at all.

The camp was peaceful and sedate, voices quiet, laughter more prevalent than tears. The only thing that shattered the serenity of the camp at times was Saraz’s regular and disruptive appearance.

Little Feroz ran up to Finn, holding a large canine tooth from a jungle cat. “Look Finn. Lev lost a tooth. He is well on his way to becoming full grown.”

Finn hoisted his adolescent half-brother to his shoulder, feigning an interest in the tooth. How the child had managed to not only befriend but also train a fierce, mighty jungle cat was a mystery to Finn. But it was not one he wanted to solve. He had no faith in these wild beasts. He’d seen what they could do to an Asazi man. They could tear one up and make a snack out of him.

“Nice.” Finn handed Feroz the canine, glancing about for the jungle cat. “Where is your pet?”

“Oh, he went hunting. He’s in the forest somewhere.” Intuitively, the boy went on, “He will not hurt you. He will not hurt any of us here. He considers us family.”

Finn nodded, unconvinced, but disinterested in arguing with a child. “When do you want to continue your morphing lessons? You’re doing well. You know, you are the first Kormic I’ve ever met who can morph into a human.”

“Silly.” The boy giggled, rubbing his Kormic spiky knob-covered forehead. “I’m only half-Kormic. Or I wouldn’t have Asazi wings.”

“That’s right.” Finn pretended to have forgotten. “So, when will we work on morphing? You know we will be leaving for Earth sometime in the near future, you need to be ready. You have to have full control over morphing. We do not want to be discovered.”

The boy’s eyes opened wide beneath his protruding Kormic forehead. “I did something,” he whispered. “I told Mother that I was learning to morph.”

Not good. Raiza might not be happy if she knew the full plan. Finn had no idea if Norn had told her yet. He did not agree with Norn’s delaying the inevitable act of telling Raiza, but he understood it, for Raiza would not be in favor of Norn being the collateral that tempted Saraz to open the portal. “And what did your mother say to that?”

“She frowned. She did not yell at me, but I do not think she is happy with me.” Little Feroz bit down on his lip, orange tears forming in his eyes, perfectly matching the orange tips on his spiky head.

“Your mother is proud of you, no matter what little one. You do not need to worry.”

A tremulous, tentative smile formed on Feroz’s lips. He squirmed to be put down.

Finn released him and looked for Marissa, he wondered if Saraz had communicated with her yet, if he was near.

When Marissa first told Finn about the mind-talking communication, he’d doubted. Now he believed Saraz could do that—communicating in her head, projecting thoughts into her mind. But she would not discuss all of the details surrounding her stay at Saraz’s.

And Finn did not want to ask. Sometimes it was better not to ask the questions to which you would not like the answers.

T
aya couldn’t put
her fingertips on it . . . yet something was different. Saraz was as imposing as ever.

Sexy.

Shifter.

Dragon?

The dragon part she was unsure about, but with his height, his handsome but unapproachable good looks, the skin, the wings . . .

She fought to control her emotions so that what she was feeling—disgust with her former relationship with him, disdain for him—wouldn’t show.
Cursed Asazi skin
. She’d recently started to work on morphing to a human form to mask her emotions, the way Finn did. That was probably why he did it, since there was no real need for him to appear as a human here. It was easier to expend energy on becoming human than it was to constantly attempt to harness her emotions and contain her Asazi skin.

Saraz looked away from Marissa, looked at Taya. She could feel his will trying to penetrate her mind. She held her guard up, she couldn’t give him access. It hadn’t been long enough since they left him, she feared he’d still control her.

“You seem healthy.” Saraz turned his gaze away from Taya, back to the human, Marissa. He stepped closer to Marissa, reaching a hand out to lay on her belly.

Finn, half-Asazi, born of a human mother stepped forward, blocking Saraz.

“Do not lay hand on my woman.” Finn’s chest rose, his back straight. He was an Asazi Elite Forces. A formidable soldier, Taya knew this. But she also knew what Saraz was—a powerful shifter—and she feared for Finn’s safety, unsure of the outcome.

Marissa put her hand on Finn’s arm, as if to calm him, but the muscled Asazi soldier wouldn’t be calmed.

Taya bit back the bile that wanted to rise for what she was about to do. But she had to do it, to help her human friend, Marissa. She had to divert Finn’s anger from the situation. Mostly, she had to divert Saraz’s attention from Marissa. She took a deep breath and strode forward, leaning close to Saraz. “I have missed you, Saraz. I’ve missed my god.”

He glanced at Taya, his eyes traveling from her head to her toes. She knew he would find her lacking. No longer in the diaphanous dresses that showed the curves and intricacies of her body like the rest of his women, she was now attired in the same Kormic dress that Raiza had. A tailored, feminized Kormic soldier’s uniform, with attack-proof attributes. It clung to her curves.

“I banished you from my collection. Do not address me, cast-off.” Taya didn’t bristle at his insult. She was better for the exile he forced her into, weeks ago. But when he’d first banished her and Cinia, she felt the world had ended. She’d been born and raised to serve the Asazi god, Saraz. And to be kicked out of his service, though it was corrupt, left her aimless and confused.

“What will you do, half-breed?” Saraz raised a brow, tempting Finn.

“Saraz.” Marissa’s tone was sharp. “We’ve had this discussion before. The tension you are creating is bad for my baby.”

Saraz’s smile turned charming, disarming—changing his features from formidable to the epitome of sexiness. “My apologies, dear one.” He put his hand out again, this time touching Marissa’s swollen, pregnant stomach.

Marissa winced the tiniest bit, not from pain, probably from the memory of Saraz’s touch the last time she was at his temple.

Taya lowered her eyes. She remembered that too well, and shame poured over her as she thought about how she was a party to Saraz’s attempt to seduce Marissa.

Taya watched the tendons in Finn’s forearms tighten, as he fought back the urge to attack Saraz for his offensive gesture.

Marissa told Saraz at every meeting that he had to stop touching her with familiarity. Clearly he ignored her requests.

“I’ll be back in a week’s time.” Saraz pulled away, nodded to Finn with a condescending look on his face.

From behind Taya, Cinia ran out, attired in the sheer clothing she and Taya had worn when they’d been members of Saraz’s collection of concubines. Sheer fabric that clung to her curves and showcased their feminine charms.

Taya hadn’t realized that Cinia saved the clothing, for she’d discarded her own. Cinia ran toward Saraz. “Take me with you,” she sobbed. “Please don’t leave me here. I’m fated to be in the temple. I cannot be here. Please. I beg you.”

Saraz looked at her as though she were the tossed out entrails from a hunt, his face a mask of disdain. “Go away, unwanted one. You’ve done enough damage to me and mine. You helped the human leave our temple. You risked the future of the prophecy.” He shoved her with the heel of his palm.

Cinia fell, her tumble taking her headlong into the path of the cooking fire that roared in their midst.

Taya caught Cinia’s fall, stopping her short of rolling into the fire.

Except that one tiny strip of the outfit flared out, touching the embers. Flames licked at the fabric, embracing it in their hotness, igniting her skirt. In less time than Cinia could react or Taya could blink, her entire outfit was encompassed in flame.

Cinia screamed. Taya ripped at the fabric that was on fire.

Saraz turned, cloak flaring, and left the scene while his former concubine burned.

“Finn, do something.” Marissa screamed.

From paces away, Corzine sprang forward, a blanket in hand. He covered Cinia, patting the flames away.

Under the blanket, Cinia’s screams faded to moans and then whimpers.

Over Cinia’s head, Corzine’s eyes met Taya’s. She averted her gaze. Looking at him reminded her that she had these uncontrollable feelings. Asazi were not supposed to feel for Kormic. They were to feel nothing but disgust and hate. And yet, when it came to Corzine and his brother, Barz, things became very confusing. She wanted Barz, but knew that Corzine would be better for her. Safer. Easier. She thought he was interested in her, at least a little—and yet, there was Barz.

Her face became warm, she knew her skin was changing colors. Curses! They’d see her emotions. She clenched her fists to her side and pushed the thoughts aside.

Taya turned away to give her sentiments a chance to fade away from her skin. Being an Asazi was becoming ever more difficult on a daily basis. Humans had it so much easier. They could hide their emotions with such ease. They could tell a lie without being discovered when glanced at.

I
gnoring Saraz
and the general tumult that his arrival had caused, Barz sat in the back and worked on the noose he was assembling for Feroz. His little nephew was his weakness. When Feroz had noticed Barz’s noose, looped and hanging off his waist, he’d indicated he wanted one of his own. Feroz couldn’t have rope as heavy as Barz’s, so Barz decided to work some leather from a slain deer into thin twine which he would use to create a lightweight rope that Feroz could sport about his hips.

Barz remembered when he was Feroz’s age and he’d wished for that very same thing. His favorite uncle had done exactly what Barz was doing. And now that he would not have children of his own, the sentiment hit him to be as good an uncle as he could for little Feroz. He channeled all the energy into his nephew that he would have into his own offspring.

Cries caused him to look up. The blond Asazi woman had caught herself on fire. Before Barz could get to her to help, his brother Corzine was closer and had put the fire out. Taya and his brother helped the woman. He caught a look that passed between the two, as if they shared something.

Bitterness swelled in his intestine at the idea. He didn’t know if he was jealous that the curvaceous redhead had given his brother attention or if it was that he was upset because Corzine might have feelings for the redheaded Asazi woman. He wondered how Corzine could feel and show an attraction for another woman after having lost a mate.

Barz tried to be fair to his brother—it had been five summers since the day his brother was widowed.

And if Barz were to admit it, though he did not want to, the flame-haired Asazi woman, with her shimmering skin that showed her emotions made him feel. And he had not felt in a long time. And her hips and breasts that were made for breeding—and pleasure, his cock reminded him, with an involuntary twitch. He became angry with himself for thinking this way. He was also a widower, though he had not yet seen twenty-eight summers.

He hated himself for wanting the Asazi woman. He hated her for flushing with desire when she glanced his way. He especially hated Corzine for that fatal mistake that one beautiful twilight evening that cost Barz his beloved Alina.

The glance the redhead—he did not want to call her by her name, Taya—gave his brother made Barz’s blood boil.

And yet the other half of him thought he and Corzine had suffered long enough in the throes of being widowers.

As if knowing his thoughts, the red-haired one glanced at Barz while she was kneeling over her burnt, fallen friend. Her skin flushed the telling color, a soft pink, signaling her desire.

Desire for him? Or for Corzine? A part of him wondered if she favored one of them more than the other.