Firestorm by Kathleen Morgan Read Free Book Online Page B

of all, attraction.
    Raina shuddered in revulsion. Attraction? For a man? Perhaps she'd misinterpreted her feelings. Perhaps it was but an admiration for a perfectly honed and superbly healthy body. She was a warrior, trained to respect her enemy, to assess him for his weaknesses as well as strengths so as to assure her own eventual triumph over him. And the monk Teague Tremayne, as exposed as nearly every millimeter of his body had been to her, was magnificent in every way.
    Perhaps admiration was indeed all it truly was. But then why had she almost cried out in distress when he'd stabbed himself? And why had she reached out to him when he'd finally turned his face to her and she'd seen the terrible pain etched there?
    Those questions, more than anything else, haunted Raina. She'd felt his pain, recognized it as so very similar to her own. The kind she'd carried deep inside ever since—
    With a vicious wrench, Raina recalled her thoughts to the present. Nothing was served by wallowing in a morass of self-pity or regret. She'd finally taken control of that seething sense of impotence when she'd made the decision yesterday to return to Incendra and set the injustice to rest at last. But she could not return with this monk.
    There was a greater danger in Teague Tremayne than in continuing to live with the memories of Incendra. Raina didn't know why she knew it; she just did.
    She forced a smile. "Forgive me if I seemed a bit harsh a few seconds ago," she said instantly remorseful for the hurt she'd most evidently caused her friend. "I-I just don't want to . . . talk . . . about last night. Not quite yet, anyway. There's still too much to sort through."
    "He didn't touch or hurt you, did he? That's all I want to know."
    "Do you imagine me gone soft and helpless in the past few cycles?" Raina tossed her long braid off her shoulder and laughed. "No, sweeting, he didn't touch or hurt me." Not physically, at any rate, she added silently, torn once again by her conflicting emotions. "We didn't even meet, if the truth be told. I just . . . saw him."
    Marissa's sudden look of interest gave Raina warning of how her words could well be misconstrued. She flushed. "It's not what you think," she muttered.
    The chestnut-haired woman cocked her head, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes. "And how do you know what I'm thinking?"
    "Never mind." Raina made an impatient motion with her hand. "King Falkan awaits us. We should be going."
    "Indeed we should." Marissa strode out. "Brother Tremayne should be there, too." She cast Raina a surreptitious look. "He must give the king his answer this morn."
    She had known she must meet the monk sooner or later, but suddenly Raina fervently wished it was later. Much later. No good was served, however, in revealing her reluctance to her already too perceptive friend. Though Raina could be as inscrutable as a stone statue when it suited her, she'd spent too many cycles in close friendship with Marissa to hide much from her for long.
    "It matters not to me," she replied tersely as she walked along. "I told you before that I won't work with the monk. The king will have to take either him or me, and find another Incendarian to fill the second position."
    Marissa shrugged. "Have it your way. I learned long ago not to argue with you when you get that obstinate look on your face."
    "Obstinate? I'm never obstinate," Raina cried outraged. "I just know my own—" Her voice faded as they rounded a corner and she noted the monk standing but fifteen meters away, outside the closed doors of the royal reception hall. A stout doorman, garbed in the shimmering finery of his office, guarded the portals.
    Raina's steps slowed. The monk, alerted to their presence by the sound of their footsteps, lifted his gaze from what looked to be an intent inspection of the tiled floor. Raina's breath caught once more in her throat.
    Ice-blue eyes the color of a clear mountain stream locked with hers—eyes that assessed her dispassionately,