Sūnder (Darksoul Book 1) Page 3

  “Have a seat, Your Highness.” As expected, she ignored Sūnder completely, her interested gaze focused on A’yrē, who scowled fiercely. Knights didn’t show such weakness in public, and she was likely unaware of the slight she’d given him by inferring he was too infirm to travel the short distance to his room unaided.

  “Sit, A’yrē. You are not on the field of battle,” Sūnder commanded when it seemed A’yrē would argue after she again insisted he take the seat. “If you had read the brochure on any of the trips you have taken to this planet, you would know she is required to follow hospital policy.”

  A’yrē grumped but, with an irritated flick of his ear, reluctantly conceded.

  Taking A’yrē’s good arm, Sūnder led him over to the chair that offended A’yrē’s pride. His cousin didn’t quite hold back a sigh once he was securely ensconced, letting Sūnder know he was in more pain than he let on. Before A’yrē could complain, Sūnder gathered up A’yrē’s long, golden mane, twisting it into a knot at the back of his head to keep it from getting tangled in the chair’s wheels. He drew two hair sticks from his belt and secured the tresses out of the way; A’yrē constantly lost his own hair sticks, so Sūnder had taken to carrying a couple of extra sets. Humans, especially the females, fawned over the long, curly mass when A’yrē left his mane down, and he accepted the caresses with pride. But he would always become aggravated later when his mane caught in doors or whipped around in the wind.

  The attendant smiled and flattered A’yrē with pretty words as she wheeled him away, cooing over his slanted blue eyes and his half-moon Panthrÿn ears. Sūnder merely shook his head at her typical behavior and followed them through the automatic doors into a brightly lit reception area. The attendant’s actions conveniently kept A’yrē occupied, allowing Sūnder to focus on protecting A’yrē while appearing relaxed. Word would spread fast. Soon the rest of the staff would find out the Chándariān heir to the Slorèx throne was in the hospital. Going by the chatter from his ear bud, Sūnder’s security team had ensured they weren’t followed to the hospital by either fans or the press. The knights who had accompanied them to the ER were already taking up strategic locations throughout the wing, and additional knights would arrive shortly.

  On this trip, Sūnder acted as A’yrē’s only personal guard. As a Bladedancer, Warder Class, his presence would be enough to keep his cousin safe, for the most part, although it helped to have the knights backing him up. But Sūnder was more suited to leading the crown’s armies or going on special missions than he was babysitting. Not that he didn’t enjoy A’yrē’s company. But A’yrē was attending the Festival, and Sūnder had no interest in taking a human to bed, let alone mating with one.

  However, this wasn’t Sūnder’s first trip to Earth. He’d visited for other reasons before, usually tracking down someone the crown wanted found. His uncle often ‘suggested’ Sūnder search here for a mate. They both knew no L’fÿn would join with Sūnder, but neither would a Panthrÿn. Anyone with political aspirations steered clear of a romantic relationship with him, and others didn’t want the complications of Sūnder’s life. Those who sought Sūnder out, both L’fÿn and Panthrÿn, only desired bragging rights for bedding the infamous darksoul. None wished to keep him. Sūnder didn’t mind the situation because he had yet to meet anyone he wanted to join his life with. Although he usually did accept the offer of a tumble.

  Following A’yrē’s wheelchair through a commons area, Sūnder spotted a dark-haired man wearing scrubs. Tall for a human but much shorter than a Panthrÿn, with ebony eyes and a golden-bronze complexion, there was something about him that called to Sūnder; his magick suddenly bloomed in his chest, pressing against him in eager anticipation, struggling to be free. The man smiled at his coworker, turning somewhat handsome features stunning. Curious as to why his body reacted so strongly, Sūnder sniffed the air in an attempt to catch the male’s scent, but there were too many people around to pinpoint which pheromones belonged to the man.

  Unfortunately, Sūnder couldn’t investigate while A’yrē was injured and he was needed at A’yrē’s side. Sūnder pushed the magick back into his core as he rushed to catch up to his cousin, but he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder for one last glimpse of the stranger. Intrigued by the unexpected longing he felt for the human, Sūnder promised himself he’d return later to discover the man’s identity.

  The attendant pushed A’yrē into a room decorated surprisingly like a Chándariān relaxation chamber, then, leaving him in the corner facing the room, said, “Please wait here. Your nurse will be right with you.” She closed the door behind her as she left.

  A’yrē sniffed after the woman, his eyes clearer and not as unfocused as they’d been earlier. “The building doesn’t stink of chemicals.” The last time they’d visited a human med unit, the vile sting of astringents had given them both headaches.

  “That’s because this facility is one of the few certified to treat Chándariāns.” Smiling at A’yrē, the male nurse closed the door behind him.

  Sūnder forgot how to breathe.

  The human he’d spotted in the common room strode farther into the room. The corners of his dark eyes crinkled when he smiled, but his eyes held a sadness Sūnder wanted to wipe away.

  “My name is Gabriel St. Baptista, but you can call me Gabe. I will be your nurse this evening. Let’s have a look at your arm.” Gabe lowered the bed in the corner and positioned a rolling table next to it. After wheeling A’yrē closer, Sūnder helped A’yrē up, all the while taking in everything about Gabe. He didn’t wear any cologne, making it easy for Sūnder to parse the alluring tang of Gabe’s scent. Clean male interwoven with something that tickled Sūnder’s senses, somehow reminding him of a vast forest.

  Gabe pulled a mechanical arm with a flat screen from the wall. “Can you place your arm on the table so that I can take a few scans?” As expected, A’yrē held his tongue as he did as Gabe asked, but his ashy color told Sūnder how much pain he was in.

  “Please hold very still,” Gabe instructed as he moved the flat screen over A’yrē’s arm and then tapped away on his data pad.

  The surface under A’yrē’s arm glowed white. Gabe used the time required for the scan to inquire how A’yrē came to be injured, his voice low and soothing. Did Gabe use that tone with all his patients, or just Chándariāns?

  Sūnder almost purred at the sound of Gabe’s low chuckle. “No matter the race or species, when inebriated they lose all sense of self-preservation and do the most foolish things.”

  Gabe’s gaze darted to Sūnder, and he was pleased to see a flush stain Gabe’s cheeks. Perhaps Gabe wasn’t as indifferent to Sūnder as his professional behavior led Sūnder to believe. “What about you? Are you the friend who goaded A’yrē into that stunt?”

  No one, apart from the king or Princess Válora, dared take Sūnder so boldly to task; too many were terrified of crossing a bladedancer of Sūnder’s skill, let alone a possible darksoul. Yet this human had just called the heir of Chándaria a fool, and was ready to include Sūnder in his assessment if the situation required. How refreshing.

  A’yrē laughed into his fist. The censure in Gabe’s tone made Sūnder stand taller even as he smiled down into those ebony eyes. “No, I’m the one who cautioned him to stop, and then caught him before he fell three storeys.” Sūnder smirked when A’yrē’s snickering turned to coughing and he flushed with embarrassment.

  Sūnder would never forget that heart-stopping moment when A’yrē teetered on the edge of the plank between the two rooftops. Any sober Chándariān could have crossed blindfolded, but with his balance compromised by the fruit juice, A’yrē fell. Sūnder had leapt from the rooftop, snagging A’yrē in midair to land on the edge of a balcony. A’yrē’s arm had been damaged when it smashed into a concrete overhang on the way down, but his injuries would have been far worse had he fallen the whole three storeys.

  Gabe arched an eyebrow at A’yrē. “It looks like you owe your friend more than a drink the
next time you two go out.” Tapping away on his data pad briefly, Gabe glanced at Sūnder from the corner of his eye. “Taylor didn’t ask for your data chip, did she?”

  Unclipping his chip from the breast pocket of his shirt, Sūnder handed the device over, purposely brushing his fingers against Gabe’s as he stepped closer to better scent the human. Gabe, with his dark beauty and sorrow-filled eyes, called to him like no other. It was a pity, actually, because once humans discovered who A’yrē was, they forgot all about Sūnder.

  Gabe scanned the chip, typing away on his data pad once more. Sūnder waited for Gabe to react like all the other humans had, slightly ashamed of the jealousy curling in his gut at the thought of A’yrē taking Gabe to his bed.

  Then the strangest thing happened. When Gabe handed the data chip back, his thumb caressed the back of Sūnder’s knuckles. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander Alārd. Are you in town for the Festival?”

  Ignoring A’yrē’s shocked expression, either because A’yrē wasn’t the center of attention or because Sūnder showed interest in a human, Sūnder cupped Gabe’s hand in his own. Giving the man a slow smile, he bowed, touching Gabe’s knuckles to his forehead, a pleased rumble escaping. “Yes, but only as escort to His Highness.”

  The corner of Gabe’s lips twisted up in a shy smile. “I always wondered if the Festival was as successful as advertised. Do you expect to bump into someone and just know they’re the one over a couple of cocktails?”

  Sūnder gave a small frown. “Do you not believe in love at first sight?” He slowly stood up, loath to release Gabe’s hand. Curiously, Gabe didn’t seem in a hurry to pull away either.

  “No, I don’t. I definitely believe in lust at first sight. Love comes later.” Gabe glanced down at their hands and scowled, his face flushing again as he finally stepped away.

  Inhaling deeply, Sūnder took in Gabe’s scent, memorizing the mixture of pheromones, excited to smell arousal. He wanted to nuzzle the area where Gabe’s scent would be the most concentrated, to rub his nose ridges along Gabe’s skin, leave his scent on him, warning others that Sūnder was considering Gabe as a possible mate. For now, committing the scent to memory would have to do until Sūnder could devise a way to thoroughly mark him.

  “Are you attending the Festival?” Sūnder asked.

  Gabe blinked as if coming out of a daze. “What?”

  As much as he hated to, Sūnder stepped away from Gabe. “I’m escorting Prince A’yrē to the Festival and merely wondered if you were attending. Seeing a familiar face would be nice.”

  Gabe’s gaze snapped to A’yrē as if he’d forgotten A’yrē was in the room. His soft blush took on a deeper, more alluring hue. “Oh, well, I can see why he’d need an escort if all his decisions are as bad as the one he made tonight. No, I don’t attend the Festival usually, ever, because I had… but now I don’t, and I didn’t think about it. I’m going to shut up now. I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready to see her.” Gabe slipped out of the room before Sūnder could say anything else.

  A’yrē gave a soft, drunken snort. “I don’t know if I should be insulted or amused. It was as if I didn’t exist. I think I like him, and by all the pheromones you’re giving off, so do you.”

  Sūnder barely bit back a growl. “There is something about him… I might just make him mine,” he said, startling himself. He’d never made such a declaration about anyone before, or even thought it.

  A’yrē hummed. “Father shall be pleased. He worries you don’t mingle more, keeping only to the company of a few, select people. You haven’t chosen a paramour—”

  Sūnder made a rude noise. “I am not interested in the human male to please Uncle.”

  A’yrē gave a weary sigh. “He hates it when you call him that.”

  “I don’t share his last name, do I?” Sūnder glanced away from A’yrē, not wanting to see the hurt in those royal blue eyes. The argument had existed from the moment Sūnder discovered who King Valiant was to him, and wasn’t likely to end any time soon.

  In Panthrÿn culture, females took the surname of their mother; males, that of their father. Occasionally, males didn’t carry the name of their father. Sometimes the sire denied parentage, or no female was born to carry their mother’s name. In the latter case, one of the male children would step forward or be chosen to take their mother’s surname, to be passed on to their daughter, continuing her grandmother’s name.

  The reason Sūnder didn’t bear his father’s name was more complicated than that. Not only was he denied the Bálsari surname, he couldn’t acknowledge King Valiant as his sire, either. Yet the female who had raised him as her own did not give birth to him. She, his birth mother, would never acknowledge Sūnder as being of her blood because of what he was: a faeborn male. L’fÿns, with their belief he would become a magick-crazed egomaniac and commit genocide like the faeborn of old, refused to be ruled by one such as he.

  Sometimes Sūnder wondered if his bitterness kept him from being grateful his grandfather hadn’t sent him to foster with a family far from his relatives. He knew his lineage when it could have easily been hidden from him. Instead he’d been given to Válora, his father’s twin sister, to raise. Although he loved her fiercely, he couldn’t help being discontented when it came to his father.

  An uncomfortable silence stretched between him and A’yrē. Just when Sūnder thought to step into the hallway to ask after the doctor, A’yrē spoke. “Well, I think it’s wonderful you have shown an interest in someone. Perhaps at the Festival you’ll find another you will want to make your paramour.” A’yrē’s innocent look didn’t fool Sūnder for a moment.

  The thought of taking someone other than Gabe to bed caused a sour taste in Sūnder’s mouth. But the human seemed resistant, or perhaps reluctant was a better word. Sūnder had scented Gabe’s attraction, although he’d left before Sūnder could pursue the matter. Sūnder’s magick moved again, more active than usual. What did that mean? “I don’t want another human.”

  A’yrē’s expression turned smug.

  The sudden urge to go track Gabe down rocked Sūnder. He wanted to know more about Gabe. Why did he work at a hospital? Who or what had put the sadness in his eyes? Did he want Sūnder as much as Sūnder wanted him? Would he allow Sūnder to take the pain away? Such a visceral reaction was unheard of, and surprising.

  Before he could think on it further, the door opened and a female entered. “Good evening, I’m Doctor Allen. Thank you for your patience, Your Highness. All the scans came back…”

  Sūnder tuned her out, disappointed Gabe had not returned with the doctor.

  3

  WHAT WAS WRONG with him? Pierce had only been gone four months, yet Gabe had practically thrown himself at Commander Alārd. Might as well hang a sign around his neck proclaiming: “Fuck me, I’m yours for the taking!” Not only that, he’d insulted the Chándariān royal. Multiple times. He should be terrified about losing his job. It would take only one complaint by Prince A’yrē and he had no doubt he’d be fired.

  A small crowd was gathered at the nurses’ station. Gabe rolled his eyes at all the oohing and ahhing. They were all in a twitter over Prince A’yrē. He didn’t understand why no one commented on the prince’s companion. How could they not notice him with his hair so bright? Add in his unique eyes, the outer red ring surrounding brilliant blue, and Gabe had never seen the like, and he’d been treating Panthrÿns for the last several years.

  Seventy-five years after Chándariāns were first introduced to Earth society, people still looked upon them with a kind of awe. The fascination with the feline-like Panthrÿns and the elfesque L’fÿns hadn’t yet dimmed. Panthrÿns were popular for their wide cheek bones, square jaws, honey-gold manes, and skin tones that ran the gamut of sun-kissed gold to the deepest of black. Gabe could see Panthrÿn features in the commander, but his bone structure was more refined and not as broad. His skin tone was also a shimmering dusky gray, not the common black or dark gold. And his ears were poin
ted like an L’fÿn’s, not rounded like a Panthrÿn’s. Gabe idly wondered if he was of mixed heritage, not that he’d ever meet the male again to ask.

  Why did the thought of not seeing the Panthrÿn again make him feel as if depression pressed down upon him? Surely he only felt this way because he still missed Pierce, right? Wasn’t it too soon to consider taking a new lover? What about simply asking Commander Alārd to dinner? Irritated, he pushed the thoughts of the Panthrÿn away. Why was he even contemplating another so soon after Pierce’s leaving, anyway?

  Down the hallway, a door to an examination room opened. Prince A’yrē exited behind Dr. Allen, followed by Commander Alārd. The small crowd that had gathered to catch a look at the Chándariān royal dispersed quickly at the frown Dr. Allen shot them. Upon seeing Prince A’yrē, the group of Chándariān males—bristling with the armor and weaponry of rudimentary warriors of ancient eras gone by—that had assembled at the opposite end of the hall snapped to attention.

  Dr. Allen motioned for the two Panthrÿns to follow her, then headed in the opposite direction of the group. As his gaze restlessly wandered the hospital, Commander Alārd’s tail lashed back and forth like an angry whip, the movement mesmerizing. Gabe distantly wondered what he could do with his tail. It seemed longer than that of other Chándariāns… The tail stopped midmotion, and Gabe’s gaze, no longer captured by its hypnotic movements, slowly traveled up leather-encased legs. Leather? Why hadn’t he noticed that detail before? Gabe hummed happily to himself at the view. The royal-blue, sleeveless shirt showed off impressive musculature. Those crimson-ringed eyes stared back at him, holding him captive. Busted! Gabe could barely breathe. Something strange swirled in his stomach.

  Commander Alārd’s small, satisfied smile promised naughty things if Gabe would only follow him. Inadvertantly taking a step forward, Gabe startled himself when he ran into the edge of the nurses’ station. He tore his gaze away, silently cursing himself for being distracted on the job, and for lusting after a Chándariān. When he dared sneak a look back up the hallway, the male was striding away, his movements inhumanly graceful as his tail lashed the air once again.