Seeing with the Heart_A Kindred Tales Novel Read online

  “It’s an honor I cannot accept,” Molly protested. “I mean, do you want him? Because you can have him—I just can’t—oooh!”

  Her last words ended in a gasp of wonder because they had finally reached the crest of the rocky hill, which seemed to be the focal point of the Deep Dweller village. Standing there was Drogor, along with an older male with stooped shoulders and an air of great age and wisdom around him—he must be the clan’s Elder.

  But it wasn’t the males waiting for her that drew the gasp of surprise from Molly’s throat. It was the sight that met her eyes when she finally reached the top of the hill.

  Earlier she had noted that the village, which seemed to consist of rock-walled dwellings with no roofs on them—was lit by a soft blue-green glow. But now she could see the source of the radiance.

  It was a river of blue fire that pulsed and flowed along one side of the village.

  No, not fire or lava, Molly thought. It’s Cha’llah—the Cha’llah.

  She knew at once she was right. For the fire didn’t look like any other she could ever remember seeing and there didn’t seem to be any heat emanating from it. It didn’t flicker—it throbbed. It looked like pictures Molly had seen about the Aurora Borealis back before she’d lost her sight. That immense, beautiful glow that filled the sky on cold arctic nights had imprinted itself on her memory and she had never forgotten it, even after she went blind.

  “Oh,” she whispered, staring at the mesmerizing flow of the Cha’llah. She could see now why the people here worshipped and revered it. Even at a distance, she could feel the power coming from it—could almost hear it—a low thrumming in the air that beat upon the ears, just under the range of audible hearing.

  “You see the Cha’llah,” the Elder remarked to Molly. “And the Cha’llah sees into you. I notice you wear a healing crystal upon your forehead.”

  “Yes. Yes, I…the Wise One gave it to me.” Molly spoke haltingly. Though a moment ago she’d been upset about the idea of being “claimed” against her will, now she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from the river of turquoise and cerulean light that pulsed far down below her.

  “It glows only dimly. Now that you are here in the Depths to stay, you can perhaps persuade the Cha’llah to fill this vessel to the brim to help in whatever healing it was given to you for in the first place.” The Elder said, nodding sagely.

  “Oh, uh right,” Molly mumbled, and then realized what she was saying. With an effort, she dragged her eyes away from the mesmerizing flow of power and looked at the older male standing beside Drogor. “No wait—I’m not here to stay. I mean, I shouldn’t even be here at all!” she told him. “I was stolen—kidnapped! I am not here of my own free will.”

  If she was hoping for some reaction, she was considerably disappointed. The Elder simply nodded and Drogor actually had the gall to laugh, his rumbling tones rolling like thunder .

  “Of course you are not, Molly from the Stars!” he exclaimed. “You are here at my will—because I brought you. You are here because I want you and no other.”

  “But I don’t want you,” Molly exclaimed.

  He frowned. “It does not matter—for you are mine now. I am claiming you since that fool of an off-worlder was too stupid to claim you when he had a chance.”

  Seeing there was no help in that direction, Molly turned hopefully to the Elder.

  “Please, sir,” she said, leaning towards him anxiously. I am not Drogor’s woman—I, uh, belong to another man.”

  Though it stuck in her throat to say such things—she was an independent woman after all—she felt this might be the only way to get out of this predicament. Maybe if she could make the Elder understand—

  “You belong to Drogor now, Molly from the Stars,” the Elder said gravely. “You do not wear the scent of any other male which means you are ripe for claiming. Drogor has taken you as many have been taken from the Surface clans. You will be his and live out your life among us here in the Depths.”

  “No, she won’t!” A loud, masculine shout echoed through the huge cavern, sending a shiver down Molly’s spine. Could it be…? Had Braxx come for her, even after the fight they’d had?

  Heart beating hard, she turned and strained her eyes, using her new vision, trying to pick out the big Kindred from the rest of the milling crowd. At last she saw a much larger figure with one dark blue cheek shouldering his way through the assembled people.

  It is him! It’s really Braxx, she realized, feeling a surge of relief. Now he’ll claim me and we can go home—or at least back up to the Surface. Everything will be all right—won’t it?

  A look at the Elder’s face, which she could see pretty clearly because he was closer, made her not so sure. There was an expression of grave disapproval on his glowing features while Drogor was glowering like a thunder cloud about to break and spew lightning.

  “Who are you?” the Elder demanded as Braxx pushed his way up the hill to stand beside her. “And how is it that you interrupt a sacred claiming ceremony, here before all the village?”

  “I am Braxx, the rightful mate of this female.” Braxx put a proprietary arm around her, drawing Molly close. “I have come to take her back with me. Drogor cannot claim her because she is mine.”

  Molly felt an electrical tingle of excitement rush through her when she heard the big Kindred say she was his, just as she had at the feast. God, she knew she shouldn’t react like that—she was a strong, independent woman who didn’t belong to any man. But she couldn’t help herself—hearing Braxx claim her seemed to touch something deep inside her, some primal, sexual part that wanted nothing more than to belong to the big Kindred forever.

  But the Elder was shaking his head and Drogor’s face had gone more red than gold with fury.

  “Your scent is not on her,” he pointed out, stabbing a finger at Molly. “You did not claim her when you had the chance.”

  “I pledged to her,” Braxx said, speaking to the Elder, not to Drogor. “At the Feast of Pledging in the village of the Surface Dwellers. And the Elder of the Surface Clan declared that she was mine and no other.”

  The Elder turned to Drogor, frowning.

  “Is this true?”

  “Yes, but after pledging to her, he did not claim her!” Drogor protested. “When I came upon her, she had washed all his scent away. And she said she regretted allowing him to pledge to her.”

  Molly felt Braxx’s arm around her shoulder stiffen and she wished she could sink into the ground right then and there.

  “I wasn’t saying that to you,” she protested, glaring at Drogor. “And I didn’t mean that I didn’t want Braxx. I just meant—”

  “It’s all right,” Braxx muttered, pitching his voice low. “I heard it. I found your recorder—it’s how I knew that Drogor had taken you.”

  “Braxx…” She turned to him, putting a hand on his arm appealingly. “Please believe me, I would never say anything to hurt you. I was just…expressing my feelings. Not that I feel I don’t want you. I mean, what happened between us at the feast was wonderful…amazing. It’s just—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he cut her off grimly. “It doesn’t matter how you think of me, Molly. I have sworn to protect you with my life and see you safely home. I will keep my promise no matter how you feel or do not feel for me.”

  “And that’s the only reason you came for me?” She couldn’t help the twist of disappointment she felt. “Just to keep your promise?”

  “No,” Braxx growled. “Damn it! I—”

  “You see, Elder—they don’t even want each other!” Drogor exclaimed and Molly realized with a sinking heart that he must have heard their whispered conversation.

  “That’s not true,” she retorted quickly. “It’s just…complicated between Braxx and me. And anyway,” she added. “I sure as hell don’t want you, Drogor.”

  “But I want you—which is all that is necessary for a claiming,” the Deep Dweller proclaimed.

  “You cannot have her! She is