Firestorm by Kathleen Morgan Read Free Book Online Page A

Then he went still.
    Nothing moved but his hands. He lifted the dagger and brought the tip to rest against the middle of his tautly muscled abdomen. The monk took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. Then his forearms bulged, flexed. In a blinding movement, he drove the blade into his belly.
    Raina choked back a horrified cry. Her nails gouged into the rough tree bark and she maintained her position by sheer animal reflex. A wave of nausea washed over her, then dizziness. But never once did she take her gaze from the man kneeling below.
    She waited for the blood to spurt and drench the ground before him, waited for the death rattle, for him to fall. Waited, and saw nothing but him kneeling there, head bowed, dagger clasped to his belly.
    The seconds pounded by, each marked by the crazed thud of her heart and the rush of blood in her ears. The world spun, whirling about her until she was caught up in a deafening vortex of light and sound. And, at its center, knelt the monk. A man who, with one violently irrational act, had become the focus of her heretofore uncomplicated universe.
    The tension built, plucking at her already strained nerves and perceptions, until Raina thought she'd scream from the pain. Then the monk moved. With a low groan, he wrenched the dagger from him—a dagger as immaculate as it had been when he'd first plunged it into himself. He picked up the dagger sheath lying beside him and rose, turning to face the three moons shining now just above the mountain and trees where Raina hid. With a smooth, supple movement, he brought the dagger up to his lips.
    Once more, Raina choked back a gasp. She saw his face fully now, and its sweat-slick planes were bathed in such terrible, anguished beauty. Unconsciously, she reached out a hand to him, then caught herself in the uncharacteristic, shocking act.
    It didn't matter. He had already lowered the dagger and, in a sharp, ceremonial move, resheathed it. Then he turned and strode over to his clothes. Gathering them up in his arms, he unlatched the door, opened it, and strode out into the suddenly calm, eerily silent night.
    Behind him, in the center of the dirt-packed ground, the fiery coals in the brazier slowly died and a thin wisp of scented smoke curled to the sky.
    ***
    "I tell you true, Marissa," Raina said the next morning, as they made their way through the palace corridors to the meeting with King Falkan, "I cannot work with the monk. It's as simple as that, no more, no less."
    "And I say again," her friend persisted, shooting her a worried glance, "it's not that simple. You agreed yesterday to work with him." She grabbed Raina by the arm and pulled her to a halt. "Exactly what happened between the two of you last night? Did he say something to offend you?"
    "He said nothing to offend me. And the matter of last night is closed. Do you hear me, Marissa? Closed!"
    Raina jerked her arm from Marissa's grasp and glanced out the long window that faced onto the huge palace courtyard. People bustled about, some hurrying to household tasks, others self-importantly climbing the bank of steps that led up to the entry hall, intent on some sort of royal business.
    All so normal, so commonplace, Raina mused like it had been yesterday and in all the days before. But nothing would be normal or commonplace to her anymore. Not after what she'd seen and experienced last night.
    The confirmation of the rumors about Tremayne's supposedly unnatural powers was unsettling, but Raina had traveled the Imperium and could adapt to unusual beings and their unique abilities. She didn't particularly like teaming up with a man who might well be her better in warrior skills, but in time she would find some way around even his greater powers.
    No, it wasn't his prowess with the blade that unsettled her and led to her sudden change of heart regarding joining him on the mission to Incendra. It was the strange and frightening emotions he'd stirred. Emotions like concern, protectiveness, and, worst