Ghost in my Heart Read online

  He hadn't missed the way she'd stared. The look had affected him, made him feel hopeful that he could attract a wife, though that could change when he washed the makeup off his scar. It had also roused in him the hunger that was never far below the surface.

  She looked too good in jeans and her clingy knit top.

  He shook his head sharply and gunned the throttle, making her hold tighter. Maybe the wind would wash away this feeling.

  The hunger was what made the men of his generation so wild in battle. They'd had no women, no hope of finding a mate in their lifetimes. The hunger had grown, made them reckless, impossibly dangerous in combat. With no women to distract him, Dagon had spent many hours honing his fighting skills, hardening his body. Only the pain of constant, furious work had kept the despair at bay. The need.

  And now he had a living, breathing woman holding him in her arms….

  The hunger stirred.

  * * * *

  It only took half an hour to reach a tiny village with a bar and a hotel. Since everything else was closed he parked the bike and led her into the bar. A few customers glanced their way as they entered the dim joint, and then went back to their beer and conversations. The smell of sizzling steaks made his stomach rumble with the promise of dinner. He fervently hoped the grill was still open as he escorted her past the pool tables to the pay phone. She dialed while he made use of the restroom.

  She smiled a little when he came out. "I called the academy and told them I'd be a little late. They sent a tow truck to get my car, and someone to pick me up, but he won't be here until early the next morning." She glanced around the bar and tried not to look chagrined.

  "The academy?" he asked, pretending he didn't know who she was and what she was up to. "That wouldn't be the Dagon Academy, would it?"

  She blinked. "You've heard of it?"

  With a wicked grin, he took her hand, kissed it. "Dagon T'Siantal. No relation to the founder," he lied. "I'm one of the instructors there. I'd be happy to escort you up."

  A little breathless, she drew her hand back. It was definitely not a good idea to spend too much time in this guy's company. She was sure to trip over her tongue and embarrass herself. "Er, as I said, they're sending someone, but thank you."

  A devilish light still twinkled in his eyes when he looked at her. "I'll keep an eye on you until he gets here."

  A little wary, she stared at him. "Will you?"

  He blinked at her slowly, like a cat.

  There was something about that look. More than a little unsettled by the evening's events, she turned her back on him, moved to the bar and studied the billboard menu. No way could she order a steak. She had just enough money to pay for a glass of water. Maybe.

  Dagon claimed the stool next to her. "Order whatever you like," he said. "My treat."

  "I really shouldn't," she started to protest, chagrined. She'd have felt even worse if he'd known just how little money she had. It had been one reason she'd leapt at the chance the academy offered. She'd worked hard in college, held two jobs so she wouldn't have a loan to repay. Until the day she'd collapsed at her night job with a bad case of pneumonia and exhaustion, she'd been doing fine. Unfortunately, that incident had seriously drained her reserves, both of time and health. She'd been about two days from being evicted when the academy had accepted her.

  When she hesitated, he flashed the waitress a smile and said, "Hi. She'd like the steak, potato and slaw, please. The same for me." He tossed some bills on the counter.

  "Anything for you, sugar," the waitress said, giving him the once-over. Her hips wiggled as she walked away.

  Vana rolled her eyes at the waitress's antics, but said, "Thank you," to Dagon. Accepting his generosity made her feel shy, so she lowered her eyes, traced the grain in bar to avoid his gaze.

  Every detail of her history was known to Dagon, for they'd researched the "applicants" carefully. He could guess what emotions kept her eyes nailed to the bar. It displeased him that a woman could be left alone to fend for herself the way she had been. With no family or friends who would help, she'd been forced to care for herself since the death of her mother at seventeen. The father had left a long time before that.

  The knowledge burned him. She--and the others like her--would be much better off with the men of his world.

  He finished eating first and left to speak to the barkeeper about a room. He was frowning when he returned. "They've only got one room, and the hotel is full up. I checked."

  Vana narrowed her eyes at him.

  The waitress perked up. "If that's a problem I know of a free bed." She looked straight at Dagon as she purred it, completely ignoring Vana. If she had bent over the bar any farther she might have fallen out of her low-cut shirt. Her red nails traced a lazy, suggestive circle on the bar.

  "I don't mind," Vana said sardonically. No one was listening to her.

  A single, hard glance from Dagon sent the woman scurrying off. "I'll sleep outside the door," he said to Vana. His look brooked no argument.

  At once she felt guilty, but not guilty enough to take a chance on letting him in her room--that was, if she had been about to accept one. Unfortunately…. "I can't afford a room tonight. I'd expected to be at the Academy already."

  "The bar closes at one a.m.," he said with implacable logic. "Nothing else is open tonight, which would leave you wandering around in the cold until dawn. Do you really think I'm going to allow you to do that?"

  She'd been too tired to consider those obstacles, ought to have been grateful for his thoughtfulness. Instead he got a grumpy nod of acknowledgement. Too weary to ponder it further, she said, "Fine," and followed him up the rickety stairs.

  The room wasn't much to see. It had a bed, tiny bathroom and a battered dresser. One streaked window looked out at the motel sign. Vana eyed the full size bed and the floor doubtfully. There was barely room to swing the door open. If she had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night she'd step on him. It was just as well he was sleeping outside.

  The waitress cleared her throat and handed a bundle of worn quilts and a lumpy pillow to Dagon. She left without making eye contact.

  "You made a friend," Vana observed as she tossed her pack on the bed.

  He shrugged. "I'm not likely to desire a woman that … blatant. I prefer a woman who beds only one man--me." He tossed the blankets on the floor, making a makeshift mattress.

  A hot flush made her duck her head as she sat on the bed. The man was blunt. And disciplined. There weren't many guys she knew who'd turn down easy sex in this day and age. She eyed him discreetly as she kicked off her shoes. A discriminating stranger who turned down a warm bed to sleep outside her door. There was something gallant about that, and very sexy, in an old fashioned kind of way. How many guys would do something like that?

  She tossed her jacket over the foot of the bed and crawled under the covers. It was chilly in here. At least she wasn't the one on the floor. Guilt made her wince. But what could she do? She wasn't about to invite him into the bed.

  She just hoped he wasn't going to hold it against her when she had to take his class.

  * * * *

  Vana woke up from a dream involving a pair of ice blue eyes and knowing male hands. It faded as her eyes opened, leaving her unsure of the details but uncomfortably curious about their cause.

  'The cause' leaned against the doorframe, watching her wake.

  "Do you always sleep this hard?" he asked. He didn't seem to mind. Those sensual blue eyes of his moved over her with warm appraisal.

  Finger combing her hair out of the way, knowing she must look a mess, she grumbled, "Usually. I hate mornings."

  White teeth flashed in a bright smile. "You need a reason to get up, then. If I buy you breakfast, will it cheer you?"

  "Only if it's a loan. I owe you too much already."

  There went that smile again. The man really was enjoying himself, though how he managed at this early hour was beyond her.

  As she passed through
the doorway, she was reminded where he'd spent the night. Now that she had some sleep behind her, the reason why was obvious, and she was impressed by his integrity. Not that she would have given him a chance to do otherwise, of course. He was married. Probably had several kids. She glanced at him and unconsciously sighed. "Your wife would be thrilled to know what a nice guy you are."

  His brows drew together in puzzlement. "I'm not married."

  He wasn't? Suddenly she felt perkier. "Oh. I just thought…." Embarrassed, she let the words trail off. She didn't want him to feel as if his chivalry was in question.

  As if he could read her mind, he snorted in amusement. "You're too used to Earth men. Earthy-men, that is," he hastily corrected himself, glancing at her. "Grown-up boys with no discipline, no morals. You'll appreciate the difference at the academy."

  She hoped she would. Already she was nervous. Still, if Dagon were a sample of the kind of men she would meet … maybe sending in that application was one of the best ideas of her life.

  * * * *

  As the tow truck pulled up at the academy, Vana grabbed her bag. Halfway out the truck's door, she froze. Dagon's motorcycle had hardly rolled to a stop when a man dressed in a black uniform came running out. Dagon pulled off his helmet, listening intently to the man's words. Although she couldn't understand the language the man used, his body language told her that whatever he had to say was urgent. Dagon confirmed it when he swung one long leg over his bike and moved swiftly to her side.

  "Hurry," he said, taking her bag. He caught her hand and helped her leap down from the jacked up truck, slamming the door behind her. Without explanation, he towed her off at a lope.

  "What's wrong?" she gasped, barely able to keep up.

  "We have a problem," was all he would say as he ran toward the academy. The building itself was a handsome brick structure with two wings off each side. At another time she would have enjoyed studying the lawn and gardens surrounding it. Just then it was all she could do to keep from tripping as they joined the stream of people rushing up the stairs.

  Another car careened around the corner and screeched to a stop, spraying gravel. A man leapt out, running around the other side of the car to hurry the women on the other side.

  "Hurry up, Ser! You're going to be a permanent resident!" someone yelled.

  One quick peek at that scene was all Vana got before she stumbled on the stairs.

  "Careful!" Dagon growled, grabbing her to prevent a fall.

  "Sorry."

  They dashed into the hall, past a series of rooms made hard to see by the press of bodies working toward a set of double doors. The crowd was so close she couldn't see what lay beyond them, but she felt the chill as they approached, an odd contrast to the body heat around her. And then she was through. A white light blinded her, and then she knew no more.

  * * * *

  Dagon swore as he caught the woman and lowered her to the frozen ground. They were supposed to have transported directly to the compound. This light forest with the frosted ground and naked trees was definitely not their destination. Tension gripped him, even after he recognized the familiar landmarks of the Banderols Highway, a mere two miles shy of their destination. It was the perfect spot for an ambush.

  "Shields up! Battle positions," Dagon commanded. "We got a message of sabotage, so we rushed everyone out. A group of enemy soldiers broke into the lab and made it to the controls of the Istalgilese Tunnel before they were stopped. They wouldn't have dared alter our arrival point by much, not if it was the women they were after." With a touch of a button, the men shed the electronic illusion of human soldiers and transformed into the fearsome vision of fully armed, combat ready Beast warriors. The glowing eyes of their fantastical beast-headed helmets made them look alien and dangerous. Scarier still were the sleek black rifles and deadly handguns. They would need them, for their enemy was every bit as dangerous as they were.

  He hadn't been surprised when he'd pulled up to the 'academy' and found the place in a state of controlled chaos. The emergency evacuation drills had prepared the men for trouble, and they'd been hustling the women along at a fast clip. Whatever had gone wrong at home would be dealt with immediately. They couldn't afford to have screw-ups like this happen, not with their precious breeders in hand. "Any sign of the Dark Ones?" he called to his scouts, who were busy scanning the area with their portable biosensors.

  Vana heard the last, though the meaning was dulled in her mind. Everything was fuzzy, and far too bright, like sun off snow. Her body felt leaden, like a mattress left out in the rain and reluctantly dragged back in. Had she hit her head? Where was Dagon?

  "What about the women?" someone said.

  "The displacement will wear off soon. They're better off tranquilized--at least they'll remain calm."

  Calm? Why did she need to remain calm? Was there a gas leak or something? Panic cleared her head. Suddenly the visual haze burned off. Vana sucked in a breath as the armored warriors around her came into view. A clear blue dome surrounded their group. And outside it--

  The ground shook as a massive, clawed creature like a saber tooth, but far too big, leapt in front of the shield. It snarled, every muscle poised to jump. A helmet of worked metal protected its head, and a steel breastplate guarded its massive chest. A warrior with a deadly looking weapon rode on its back.

  Vana made it into a crouch, but that was all her shaky body would do as a black dragon--a dragon!--landed in front of the shield. It flamed and screamed, shaking its wings in fury. It, too, was armored, but what shocked her more was the figure who dismounted and strode to the shield.

  "Give up the women or die," he demanded, as more riders arrived to back up his threat. His armor was black, and the close-fitting helmet hid his face, making him even more frightening.

  "When the sun freezes over, Nikon! Find your own women," the man who was apparently the leader called back. Outrageously tall, his animal headed helmet gleamed cold silver in the murky light. Close fitting body armor protected his chest, arms and legs. Even Mr. Rogers would look imposing in that get up.

  Vana heartily agreed, until it dawned on her that she didn't know anything more about these men than she did the other. She glanced at the dragon and her mouth went dry. On the other hand, at least the men on her side of the bubble didn't have overgrown pets.

  Nikon raised his hand. Every man there cocked his guns at the group within the bubble. The dragon drooled flame. "Is that your final word, Dagon?"

  Dagon? Shocked, Vana glanced at the beast-headed leader. It couldn't be! Oh, man. She'd known that she had terrible taste in men, but this! How could she have misjudged him so badly? Chivalry, indeed, she thought with disgust. The jerk had been planning this all along!

  Dagon cocked his own gun. "You never did know when to run, boy."

  Vana hadn't survived twenty-five years alone in the big bad world for nothing. With lightning deduction--thank God her brain was working faster than her body--she grabbed a sidearm out of the nearest man's holster, then swiftly wrapped her arm around the neck of a petite blonde and hauled her to her feet. Before anyone could react, she had the gun pressed to the girl's temple.

  "Play along," Vana hissed in her ear. "I'm going to try to get us out of here." Louder, she called, "Freeze! Nobody move or I'll blow her brains out, I swear!" It was a risky move. Had she stopped to think about it she would have chickened out. She was used to thinking exhaustively about what flavor of ice cream to buy at the store, for pity's sake! For someone who viewed trying Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey as a wild night out, this was crazy indeed. But for once in her life, action had taken the place of careful reasoning. Now she had to pray that her acting skills had peaked along with her bravado.

  Warriors on both side of the shield stared at her in horror. "Don't do it, woman," Dagon warned.

  She blew the girl's hair out of her face, trying to watch all sides at once as she spun in a circle, dragging the poor girl with her. "Back off! I will blow her head off, man, I swear!"
she cried in her best imitation of a jacked up bank robber.

  A circle cleared around them, with warriors forming a wall between the remaining women and Vana to protect them from wild shots.

  Vana thought fast. "You," she nodded at the man whose gun she held. "Come here. That's far enough," she warned, holding the muzzle firmly to her captive's head. In a low voice, she told him, "I don't know what's going on, but I'm smart enough to figure out that we do not want to get shot in a war between you guys." She jerked her head at the men outside the shield. Adrenaline made her shake.

  The girl held very still.

  Vana said, "Pretend that whatever knocked us out when you brought us here made us crazy, or brain damaged, or whatever. Make those guys not want us, because none of these women deserve to get hurt." And hurt they would be if these guys started shooting. The fear in her gut told her so.

  The warrior stared at her for a moment, his metallic head gleaming. Then he backed off and started an argument with Dagon. Their words grew louder and more heated, until finally he shouted at Dagon, "We were warned that this would happen. I told you that nobody was desperate enough to bed a bunch of crazy women! Give them to Nikon. What good are they? They'll pass on their madness to their children."

  Nikon glanced sharply at Vana. Grumbling started among his men.

  To egg him on, she raved, "What are you talking about? I'm not crazy!" she fired a shot into the air to prove her point. Instantly the warriors leveled their guns at her.

  The blonde screamed and grabbed her head, apparently sure she was dead.

  Vana gulped. Hoo, boy! She was toast. Maybe she was too good an actor … either that or she'd watched too much garbage on TV.

  Vana grabbed the back of her captive's hair, trying not to be too rough. "Relax! Play along," she whispered. Though the girl probably thought she was nuts, she didn't fight. That was good, because the sight of all those rifles pointed at Vana made her light-headed. Heaven help her, she'd never pulled a stunt like this in her life! What had possessed her to act like a Wild West gunslinger?