Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Kolt
First, there was pain. Then there was the dull throbbing that seemed to pulse through every part of my body. I forced my eyes open, though the faint light felt like shards of glass stabbing into my brain. Wincing in agony, I rolled onto my side and took shallow breaths as pain contorted my chest.
The air was hot and thick, nothing like the cold air I preferred. But why did I prefer the cold? The question rattled through my head unanswered. I did not know. All I knew was that the steamy air was an assault on my throat and my lungs.
Despite the ache in my head and twinge in my chest, I pushed myself halfway up and peered around. Stone walls and iron bars for a door with only a meager grate high in one wall for air and light. The corridor beyond was shrouded with shadows, and the only sounds from the outside world were muffled.
I put a hand to my chest, which was hot and tender to the touch, but not bleeding. Then I touched my head, running my palm carefully over my forehead and then up and around until I touched something sticky. I pulled my hand away to see blood darkening my fingertips.
“Tvek,” I said instinctively, without knowing exactly why I’d used that word. I only knew it fit my growing sense of frustration and general confusion.
I gingerly touched the sticky spot on my head again, grateful to realize that the blood wasn’t flowing. Whatever injury I’d sustained wasn’t fresh, and it wasn’t gushing. That was some comfort.
I slowly hoisted myself onto the metal bench bolted to the wall, putting my head in my hands when the movement made the room tilt and my stomach churn. My injury might not be spurting blood, but it had been enough to knock me unconscious.
I squinted at my surroundings, straining to remember anything about them. Nothing. I blew out an impatient breath. I remembered nothing. Not where I was. Not how I’d gotten here. Not how I’d gotten hurt.
Tvek, I didn’t even remember who I was.
This made my pulse quicken and my tail snap. How did I not know who I was? Then I looked at my red-stained fingers. My head injury must have been severe enough to knock all memories and knowledge about who I was from my brain.
I rubbed my bloody fingers together slowly, trying to stay calm. I hadn’t lost everything. I could still speak and apparently curse, although I didn’t know what language I spoke or how many.
Sitting back, I looked down at myself. Somehow, I knew that the leather strips hanging from my waist were a battle kilt. That meant I was a warrior. A smile tugged at my lips. I liked the fact that I was a warrior.
Is that how I’d ended up in a prison? Had I been captured in battle? Was I a prisoner of war? But which war, and what side was I on?
All the questions made my head pound, so I closed my eyes and leaned back. I took long, even breaths and tried to quiet the panicked questions darting around my mind.
“This is not permanent,” I reassured myself, the deep burr of my voice a pleasant surprise and a surprising comfort. “This is only temporary.”
My memories would come back. I didn’t know how I was sure, but I was. Until then, I would have to operate on instinct. That shouldn’t be so bad. A warrior should have finely honed instincts.
“If only I knew who I was fighting for and against,” I said in a hush.
Of course, I could safely assume whoever imprisoned me was not a friend.
A scraping, creaking sound shocked me from my calm, and I struggled to stand as footsteps approached.
“He’s up,” someone growled, and they didn’t sound happy about it.
Three figures emerged from the shadows. Two burly men in dark uniforms held weapons pointed at me.
Blasters, I thought, the word rising sluggishly from the depths of my brain. They were pointing blasters at me. I didn’t need to remember anything more to know I didn’t want those shooting me.
I frowned at the males, a growl emanating from my throat unbidden. Were these the ones responsible for my injury? Were these the warriors who’d made me forget everything?
My growing anger halted when my gaze landed on the third person in the group. The female was clearly not one of them. By the way they gripped her arms, she was also their prisoner, although she was not dressed like me.
The female with wild curls like dancing flames did not wear a battle kilt, nor did she possess a tail.
Human, I thought. She is human. I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant to be human, but I knew she was one and I was not.
I also felt a twinge of unease about humans, although it made no sense that I should fear a creature so much smaller than me.
Then my unease was overpowered by the urge to protect her, despite knowing who she was to me. The instinct to leap across the room, reach through the bars, and rip the warriors’ hands from her arms was so powerful I swayed on the spot.
“Get to the back,” one warrior bellowed. “Unless you want to get shot again.”
So, they had shot me. My fingers tingled with an urge I didn’t need memory to recognize. I might not know who I was or why I was there, but I knew two things: I wanted to protect her, and I wanted to kill them.
My eyes drifted to the female between them and her pleading expression. I backed up, raising my palms in supplication and schooling my quivering tail.
One of the warriors opened the door to the cell, and the other shoved the female in with a malevolent grin. “She’s all yours, Vandar.”
My mind snagged on the word. Vandar. Was that my name?
Before I could figure it out, the woman stumbled inside, and I lurched forward to catch her as the bars slammed shut with a ferocious clang. Then the warriors I wished to kill stomped off, leaving me holding the woman.
I looked down to meet her questioning gaze, urges and instincts battering me relentlessly.
I might not know her name, but my gut told me that I did know her, and the look in her eyes told me that she knew me.
For some reason, her humanness made me wary, but I also knew without a doubt that I wanted her.
Was she my mate? Did I already know the taste of her curvy, pink lips?
Was this the reason it felt so natural to hold her in my arms?
Was this why my heart thundered and my throat was tight?
There was only one way to know. I slid one arm around her waist and pulled her body flush to mine before crushing my mouth to hers.