Excerpt: Hunted

Only a few paces later she turned a corner and saw him.

Shuffling toward her with his hands tied in front of him and his ankles tied together with an arm span of rope, Rohnan held his head high and directed his eyes straight ahead. Each movement in his body in harmony, as fluid as a dancer’s, he showed assurance and confidence. Muscles played delicately across his exposed arms and bulged within his snug-fitting pants. To a fellow fighter, every line in his body screamed lethal!

She’d trained him herself, working him every day, to be the best of their people besides herself. And now he showed it, like a prized horse among donkeys, gliding along the enemy tents with that killer’s grace. Rohnan didn’t even like to fight—he’d always said it was a necessary evil to protect his family—but he was exceptional, just like all of her people.

Shanti blew out a soft breath, eyes focused and intense, watching the brother she’d thought she’d lost. She knew she could rush forward and kill his captors easily. They were watchful, but not ready for an attack. She’d take them unawares.

The problem was, her deed would be found out quickly, and the enemy would be on her trail within an hour. This was an officer camp; they were the elite. They might be complacent in many ways, but at the first sign of trouble, their camp would be enraged like a hornet’s nest. She couldn’t take the chance.

Instead, she waited as the progression moved closer. When Rohnan got within the range of his receptive Gift, his eyes widened. His gaze swung unerringly towards her. Relief and intense longing colored his mental path as moisture filled his eyes and joy lined his face. He’d missed her as much as she him.

Revealing that would get her imprisoned right beside him, the fool!

She glanced at his captors before letting the desire for violence fill her. She could tell that it took only a heartbeat for him to feel her intent with his Gift and remember where he was. His face smoothed over as a tear leaked from his eye. He swung his gaze forward before giving the slightest shake of his head. Not now.

They were thinking along the same lines. She’d have to wait.

She hated waiting.

Slinking back in frustration, she watched her sibling walk by. When they were twenty paces ahead, she stepped out of her hiding place and adopted the sensual gait of her assumed profession once more. The progression disappeared around a bend ahead. Without needing to speed up, she sashayed along the path after them.

As she stepped around the same bend, Rohnan’s party was disappearing around another bend up the path. In their wake stood ten men in a loose group, chatting with solemn faces. Two had rolled up papers tucked in their arms. Maps, she’d bet. Each had crisp, black uniforms with red slashes across the red circle on the upper breast. Her heart started to beat wildly when she counted one man with eight slashes!

What in Death’s playground is a Superior Officer doing here?

Shanti’s legs filled with fire as cold trickled down her spine. The urge to fight was so great she couldn’t stop from tensing up to stop herself.

A Superior Officer was a rare and coveted position, one step away from Xandre’s inner circle. There were only a handful in the whole of the land. He would be a master at weaponry of all kinds, a skilled tactician, an excellent leader of men, and held the power to direct an army of thousands. In order to advance to guarding Xandre himself, a coveted position that came with vast rewards, he’d need an act of extreme valor, or to deliver a prize of war.

And here she was. The one person Xandre sought above all others stood fifteen small paces away, within a camp of hundreds. She was a gold coin to a beggar, and she was practically offering herself for capture.

I’ve really stuck my foot in it this time.

She could take someone in Xandre’s inner-circle—she’d proved that on a chance meeting while heading east. But she couldn’t take a Superior Officer supported by others, and if she used her Gift, the whole camp would be roused by the Inkna residing there.

Her gaze scanned the men around him, officers all, many with four or five slashes, one with six. They were Death’s Huddle. More importantly, they would be her captors if she didn’t play this encounter perfectly.

Forcing herself to breath evenly, she pulled her top open a little to make sure her cleavage was on full display. Without changing her pace, and trying not to wipe her sweat laden forehead, she sashayed closer with hip and breast and sweaty palms.

Shadows licked her feet and crawled up her side. The urge to drift into those shadows tugged at her. If she did that, though, someone would notice. She was sure that these men already knew of her presence. To disappear suddenly would not be in keeping in character as a whore, which would raise suspicion.

Focusing on her breathing, and remembering to swing her hips, she sauntered closer. It didn’t take long for a few of the officers to glance up from the map, taking in the various elements that marked her profession, before just as quickly going back to what they were doing. Like the sober Graygual she’d seen earlier, they paid no attention to whores if they could help it.

Her small and silent sigh of relief was short-lived.

As she drew closer, the Superior Officer tilted his head up purposefully and looked right at her. His gaze did a quick sweep of her from head to toe, before honing in on her breasts. A small crease worked between his brows.

In that moment she knew—he wasn’t looking at her cleavage, he was looking at the binding containing it.

A crawling sensation worked up her spine in warning.

Cayan’s artisans had created that binding, working off of her instructions. Their styling had merged with hers, representing both lands; the land that birthed the violet-eyed girl, and the one who took down an Inkna settlement a few months ago. What’s more, it was made from material worth more than the rest of her outfit combined, intended for strength, durability, and comfort.

Her binding was the only physical thing showing on her body that hinted that she might not be what she seemed. And he’d found it right away.

A trickle of sweat ran down her temple, and the need to prepare for battle hindered the swing of her hips, straightening her walk into something too predatory for a normal woman. Something else he would surely see.

Not knowing what else to do other than kill him with her Gift and alert the whole camp to her presence, she veered into the middle of the path and trailed her hand down her chest, boldly presenting herself to him. Her fingers worked down her stomach and over her hips, back to their exaggerated sway. She tried desperately for a sultry smile, but only conjured up a stiff grimace. It would have to do. Hopefully the amount of sex she was oozing would overshadow her features.

The Superior Officer’s gaze flicked toward her hand. Then toward her hips. His lips thinned and his eyebrows settled low over his eyes. He glanced at the men around him, stiffening as he noticed more than one set of eyes taking his measure. Responding to their unspoken judgment, he shifted, showing Shanti his back as she passed.

She was sure his curiosity had been piqued; a riddle had been posed. Shanti knew it was just a matter of time before he pooled all the little items about her that were out of place, and figured out who he had sharing his camp. At the very least, he’d want to ask questions.

The sand was pouring through the hourglass.

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