Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(43)

The Captain grabbed her throat and squeezed. Air caught in her lungs, nowhere to go. Lights danced in her eyes from the pressure of his fingers. The bastard was strong.

She used the contact to send a pulse of pure, heavy lust into his brain, throwing him off. He was close enough that his erection was prodding her. His eyes lit on fire. Sanders groaned in the corner, in the radius of power but not getting the full dose. She switched to pricks of pain, searing his skin, aiming for the hand that held her, but too weak to hit it properly. Back to pleasure, confusing him, noticing his hand weakening as he tried to figure out what she was doing. Also trying to resist—men had an easier time resisting pain than pleasure. It had been a wonderful discovery. Back to pleasure, pulsing, prodding at his backside, freaking him out with how good it felt. Testing his sensibilities. Experimenting a little, too. Might as well screw with him as a farewell gift.

She shifted her power, noticing his eyes starting to dull as they looked into hers. Sucking in a breath of air as his hand loosened from her throat. The last of her power swelled, Sanders having fallen over, like a board, straight to his back.

She looked straight into the Captain’s eyes, gripped his mind as hard as she could, and prepared the knife. She stabbed.

And splintered on a block.

The Captain’s eyes had cleared. She hadn’t noticed. She was clutching to her strength as weakly as a leaf clutching to a branch in Fall.

He had been hanging on to try and figure out how she constantly blocked him. She’d been doing it since he came into the room. He would never know how close he came, because she could have done it. With contact, she would have ended him and probably taken Sanders with him. At full strength she could shatter that block and the mind behind it. She was far, far from full strength.

“You would’ve regretted it,” he said softly, his voice all kinds of strain, his face showing none of it. “You would have regretted killing me.”

Oh. So he did know how close. Which meant he had picked up another little trick. Which also meant he was capable to using that trick. It was not a pleasant discovery, though it wasn’t exactly a surprise, either.

She was out of options. “No, I wouldn’t have. I would have been close behind you when your people found out. If they didn’t kill me right away, Commander Daniels would’ve traded me in a heartbeat. My people, however, would have regretted it.”

The Captain removed his hand and Shanti fell. He scooped her up before she hit the ground and laid her on the bed. She didn’t bother trying to hide her trembling. Her body and mind both were spent.

“That was f**ked up,” Sanders shouted from the corner.

The Captain regained his chair. “Hasnias?”

“A divine gift given to us by the Elders—your gods. An immortal weapon or tool in the hands of mortals. In my language, it is Hasneas, which means Gift.”

A hunger flashed into the Captain’s eyes, and then wariness. After a moment, he changed the subject.

“Your Honor Guard disobeyed my orders.” His tone was smug. He’d felt like he won that battle, blast him.

Shanti didn’t bother answering.

“They were responsible for killing over a dozen men,” he continued.

“Good. Who got the most?”

“Leilius. Apparently he has a knack for sneaking around. His father said he got in trouble a lot for picking on his little sister and hid to try and escape trouble.”

“Good trait. Take him hunting, let him define those attributes.”

The Captain studied her.

“If you want to, obviously.” She was probably supposed to go through the chain of command for that suggestion.

“The men they killed did not look like Mugdock,” the Captain volunteered.

“Is that right? Were they women? If so, check for missing soldiers. They’ll kill anything they can’t screw, and take anything they can. They are great with nets, ropes, and knives. They also like strap-ons a great deal, so beware.”

“They were slight men with fair skin, like yours.”

“All of them?”

“Yes. All.”

Shanti felt a jab of fear. Again. It was getting irritating. “What type of weapons did they carry?”

“Large swords with a wide tip, or wicked looking knives.”

“Yarn or string on the hilts?”

“Yes.”

Shanti sighed in relief. “Not Graygual. Thank the Elders their mercy. The Graygual do not know I’m here. Not yet.”

Sanders staggered into view, his hair mussed and his eyes wild. “Why the f**k am I in this room with this perversion? What the f**k is going on? Sir. Let’s give her over and be done with it!”

“None of that was aimed at you, Sanders.” Shanti closed her eyes. “It was aimed at your Captain. You only got the backlash. He got the full blast. And he wasn’t witching.”

“Bitching, I think you mean,” the Captain helped.

“Bitching? Female mongrel?”

“Female dog, yes. Also slang—a derogatory word for a female. Also slang for whining.”

“For all your culture says you love women, you certainly have a lot of nasty terms to describe them.”

“I now know why,” Sanders said viciously.

“Who are the men we found? Where are they from and what do they want?” the Captain asked, easily ignoring the man foaming at the mouth in the corner.