Chapter 3
Jessa’s breath caught in her throat as the shadow detached itself from the trees and became a man.
No. Not a man. A Vultor.
She’d been sure there was someone in the shadows, even though she hadn’t been able to actually see anyone. Given the fact that she was in Vultor territory, it was logical to assume it was a Vultor. But a logical deduction and reality were two entirely different things.
For one long moment, her mind went completely blank. She’d heard the stories, of course, everyone in the valley had. The Vultor were more beast than person, and their interactions with humans often ended in bloodshed. They were tales told to frighten children into staying close to home.
The reality was somehow both better and worse than the stories.
He was enormous. That was the first thing she registered.
He stood at least a head and a half taller than any man in the village, with shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway and muscles that strained against the simple leather vest he wore.
His features were harsh and angular, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones that gave him a lupine cast even in his human form.
Dark hair fell past his shoulders, twisted back in a simple knot, and his eyes…
His eyes glowed faintly green in the shadows, fixed on her with an intensity that made every instinct scream at her to run.
She didn’t run. Even she knew that running from a predator only triggered the chase instinct, and while most of the stories featured the Vultor as the aggressors, she’d heard whispers that it wasn’t as one-sided as most of the colonists preferred to believe.
Praying that she was right, she forced herself to remain seated on the fallen log, her hands pressed flat against the rough bark to hide their trembling. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she was certain he could hear it, but she kept her voice steady when she spoke.
“I told you I was armed.”
His lips curled back, revealing gleaming white fangs. “You lied.”
The words were a low growl, his voice rougher than a human’s, as if speaking wasn’t something he did often.
She supposed it wasn’t. Although they avoided the mountains, no one in the village had ever encountered a Vultor before, and something about this one suggested he’d been alone for a long time.
“I am armed,” she said defiantly, putting her hand on the knife at her belt, and one brow rose in an oddly human expression.
“You call that a weapon?”
Considering his size, he was probably correct not to be concerned, but she skipped past the argument.
“I’m not trespassing,” she repeated instead. “Or at least I am, but I don’t mean any harm. I’m looking for a plant that doesn’t grow in the valley. It must grow somewhere in the mountains instead.”
He took a step closer, and she had to fight every instinct not to flinch backward. The breeze shifted, carrying his scent towards her, the scent of leather and something darker, something wild that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
“What plant?”
The question surprised her. She’d expected threats, demands that she leave, perhaps even violence. Not curiosity.
“I don’t know what it’s called. I’ve only seen it once before, after a storm, tangled in the branches of a fallen tree.”
“What did it look like?”
“It’s vine. A sort of golden color, like spun sunlight. The fibers were incredibly fine and they shimmered when I pulled them apart. They were long too, much longer than any other fiber I’ve seen.”
He studied her for a long moment, those emerald eyes unblinking. Then his gaze dropped to her hands, still pressed against the log, and something flickered across his harsh features.
“You’re a weaver.”
It wasn’t a question. She looked down at her own hands and saw what he must see—the calluses on her fingers, the faint scars from years of working with rough fibers, the permanent slight crook in her left ring finger from an old injury at the loom.
“Yes.”
“And you need this plant for your craft.” His voice was still rough, but some of the growl had faded from it.
“For my sister.” The words came out before she could stop them, raw with a desperation she hadn’t meant to reveal. She clamped her mouth shut, cursing herself for the slip.
“It is not a healing plant.”
If he knew that, did that mean he knew where to locate it? She hesitated, then blurted out the truth.
“I know it’s not. I need to weave it into cloth to trade for medicine.”
For a moment, he simply looked at her, and though she couldn’t read the expression on his alien features, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of understanding in those glowing green eyes.
“The plant you seek is called sunvine.”
Sunvine. The name fit the plant she’d found. Hope fluttered in her chest, a fragile, desperate thing.
“You know where it is?”
“Sunvine is rare. It only grows in one place. And that place is sacred to my people.”
Disappointment washed over her, so bitter it almost made her nauseous. “So you won’t help me.”
“I did not say that.”
She blinked.
“You’re trespassing,” he continued, taking another step closer. Now he loomed over her, a massive silhouette against the silverleaf trees. “The penalty for trespassing is death.”
The fragile hope died. She’d been a fool to come here, a fool to think she could solve this problem. Her uncle would take Dani, and it would be all her fault.
“Unless,” he added, the words a low rumble that vibrated through the air between them.
“Unless what?” She forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away even though every instinct told her that direct eye contact with a predator was dangerous.
Silence stretched between them. The wind whispered through the silverleaf trees overhead, and somewhere in the distance, a bird called. The Vultor remained motionless, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
“Unless I decide differently. Why should I help you?” The question was quiet, but there was something underneath it, something that sounded like genuine curiosity rather than dismissal. “Your people and mine have no love between them.”
Her mind raced. What could she possibly offer a Vultor warrior? She had no weapons, no money, nothing of value except…
“I’ll do anything you ask.”
Those emerald eyes fixed on her with renewed intensity. “Anything?”
The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
She knew she should be afraid. She knew the stories about the Vultor, about what they did to humans who wandered into their territory.
She knew what he might ask. But all she could think about was Dani’s pale face and the rattle of her breathing.
“Anything,” she repeated. “Name your price.”
Something shifted in his expression. The predatory edge softened slightly, replaced by something she couldn’t identify. He was silent for a long moment, studying her with those unnerving eyes, and she had the uncomfortable sensation of being weighed and measured.
“You would bargain with a Vultor?” There was a hint of dark amusement in his voice now. “Your village council would be horrified.”
“My village council can hang. They’re part of the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.”
The words came out bitter, and his head tilted in an oddly wolfish gesture of curiosity. But he didn’t ask for an explanation, and she didn’t offer one. Instead, he took a step closer, then another, until he was near enough that she had to crane her neck to look up at him.
This close, she could see the details she’d missed before.
The faint scars that traced across his forearms, pale lines against the silvery bronze of his skin.
The sharp points of those gleaming fangs.
The green glow in his eyes wasn’t constant—it flickered and pulsed like a banked fire, brighter when his gaze intensified.
He was terrifying.
He was also, she realized with a jolt of surprise, striking in a way she hadn’t expected. The harsh angles of his face held a certain brutal beauty, and his eyes, for all their inhuman glow, were intelligent and searching.
Not helpful, she told herself firmly. Focus.
“I will show you where the sunvine grows.” His voice was low, pitched for her ears alone even though there was no one else to hear. “In exchange, you will owe me a debt. A favor, to be claimed at a time of my choosing.”
“What kind of favor?”
“That remains to be seen.” His lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Perhaps I will never call upon it. Perhaps I will ask something small. Perhaps…” He let the word hang in the air.
Her throat tightened. A nameless debt to a Vultor warrior. It was madness. It was dangerous. It was her only option.
“Deal,” she said, before she could talk herself out of it, and offered him her hand.
He stared at it for a long moment, then curled his hand around hers.
His skin was fever-hot and his grip engulfed her fingers completely.
She felt the rough scrape of his callused palm against her skin and the barely restrained strength in his hold, but she also felt something else—a tingle that ran up her arm like static electricity, making her breath catch.
His eyes flared brighter.
Then he released her, stepping back so abruptly she stumbled.
“We leave now.” His voice was rough again, the growl creeping back into it. “The journey is long and I will not slow my pace for you.”
He turned and started walking without waiting for a response, his long stride carrying him towards the far edge of the grove. She scrambled to follow, her mind spinning with what she’d just agreed to.
A nameless debt to a Vultor. An unknown favor to be claimed whenever he wished. She’d essentially signed away a piece of her future to a creature from her childhood nightmares.
For Dani, she reminded herself as she hurried after his retreating form. I’ll do anything for Dani.
Even this.
The Vultor led her out of the grove and onto a narrow trail that wound upwards through the trees.
The terrain grew rougher as they climbed, the ground scattered with loose stones and twisted roots.
She had to watch her footing carefully, while he moved ahead with the easy grace of someone completely at home in this environment.
“I’m Jessa,” she called after him, slightly breathless from the pace. “Jessa Allenby. Do you have a name?”
He didn’t turn around, but he suddenly stopped walking. His back was a wall of muscle and barely contained tension, his shoulders rigid.
“Names have power. You may call me Tarek,” he said finally, then set off again at the same rapid pace.
The path grew steeper, and she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to focus on the prospect of finding the vines and not on the price she might eventually have to pay for them.