“I told you it’d be five-star deluxe.”
“I could push you into the river so you could float to Karachi. The Beas makes it there eventually. You wouldn’t.”
“Been to Karachi. I’m just a tourist, goddess. Wouldn’t want to waste time repeating the same sights.”
“You’re a jester without an audience.”
“You’re here with your hands in my hair.” He glanced up through the window again. “What’s your strategy? Personally, I don’t like the idea of a blizzard. Wasn’t on my travel brochure. Not in mid-October.”
“We won’t freeze. We’ll get to Bhuntar and stay the night. If it’s a blizzard, we stay a few nights. The runway is hazardous enough without snow and ice as an added dare to the Dragon’s mercy.”
Tallis sat back on the creaking old seat and crossed his arms in that defiant gesture of his. He adjusted his shirt collar and the layers of his coat, while Kavya coped with the loss of his warmth beneath her palms. His mouth was motionless now, locked in a mocking expression that said she was going to regret his next words. Regret them, or be angered beyond the ability to retaliate.
“Please tell me Bhuntar is smaller than Kullu.”
She frowned, wary. “Why?”
“Because I want a tiny bed-and-breakfast. Breakfast optional. And I don’t want there to be anyplace else for you to sleep other than in my bed.”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Bhuntar was even smaller than he’d pictured. Tallis decided that was a very, very good thing. The snowstorm struck with speed more akin to lightning than a blizzard. Then again, he had no experience with the ferocity of a blizzard in the foothills of the Himalayas. He was a man of the Highlands and a man of the sea—even a man of the world. He was not born to storms that sounded like planes crashing into tarmac.
Great analogy.
The shuttle had only just crested a hill overlooking Bhuntar when the storm obscured everything in a blast of white. The driver pumped what sounded like brakes forged during Clan Sath’s reign as lords of the Egyptian Bronze Age. Ice beneath the wheels, or perhaps snow in the treads, made the bus fishtail. A car climbing the steep road swerved to avoid the collision. Several on the shuttle gasped. One woman screamed, and a baby started to cry. For the most part, the occupants were silent.
“This happens to them all the time,” he muttered. His knuckles were white as he gripped an armrest. “Tell me that.”
“Not all the time.” Kavya’s voice held the intention of humor, but taut skin across her cheekbones gave her away. “Sometimes we close down the highway and ski down the ice. Much more efficient.”
“I nearly believed you. Your sarcasm is getting pretty good.”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic.”
The bus didn’t move. The driver pumped the accelerator as the engine turned over and over. It was the sound of helplessness: a vehicle that wouldn’t start, when a half mile separated them from the nearest shelter.
Tallis wanted to smack himself in the face. What in the name of the Dragon and the Chasm am I doing here?
He was sitting next to the Sun, who was a flesh-and-blood woman unlike any he’d ever known. He was enjoying her company. He remained suspicious as hell as to her motives—and suspicious as to why he felt such an attraction. He couldn’t trust whether his reaction to Kavya was of his own making, or some wiggling, undetectable nudge of an idea that wasn’t his at all.
But . . .
The beast inside him had not lied and could not be deceived. Rather than spend the next twenty seconds listening to the driver try to resuscitate a dead engine, he closed his eyes. He let his mind reopen the memories he’d accumulated during his berserker fury—the feel of teeth sinking deep, the foul taste of Pashkah’s blood. Spitting out the piece of flesh would be an insult too disgraceful and revolting for Pashkah to forgive.
Tallis wasn’t in the mood to forgive him either.
Past that, through that, he remembered kissing Kavya. Yes, there had been lust and need. But his soul, if he still had one, had experienced a soothing rightness he’d never thought possible. It was as right as coming home. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t even depend on his deepest instincts. Tallis had no idea what it was to go home, or to be accepted with open arms. Why would he equate that fantasy with a woman he couldn’t trust?
Fanciful, ridiculous bollocks.
“How much time before we’re snowed in and can’t leave this bus?” he asked.
Kavya searched the sky. Eerie pewter clouds lightened her amber irises. Flecks of gold glowed like burning flames. Her lush lips parted.
No matter the reason, no matter the insanity of bedding the woman against whom he’d sought revenge, he did want her.
So he would have her.
“This isn’t good,” she said. “The snow’s collecting too fast. We stay or we go. Your decision, Pendray. You seem to think you and the earth are on friendly terms. Figure out her intentions, and make a choice.”
“You’re no fun when you’re being condescending.”
“Just returning the favor.”
He frowned and took a deep breath. “Advantages of staying?”
“Warm for now. Lots of bodies. Guaranteed shelter.”
“Disadvantages?”
Kavya glanced around the bus. “Lots of panicked minds if things get worse and stay that way.”
“Is that the likely way of things? Get worse and stay that way?”
“October storms are freakish. No gauging if they’ll stay for a few minutes or a few weeks.”
“Then we go.”
“Agreed.”
He grabbed her hands—then hesitated. She was dressed in a patchwork of silk and cotton padding. Slippers. No gloves. Skin exposed to the elements.
As a species, the Dragon Kings feared the inability to continue procreating. Extinction by slow measures. No more babies. No powerful future generations. They certainly didn’t fear a bit of cold. But pain was still pain, even if their bodies quickly healed.
“You keep your mind trained on the town,” he said. “Find us minds. Guide the way.”
“And you?”
“Wind block.” She laughed with a mocking tone he didn’t understand. “What?”
“You’ll see,” she said, still smiling, but the tautness across her cheekbones had claimed the corners of her eyes. On the inside, she wasn’t laughing at all.
Tallis hefted his pack, checked his weapons, and headed toward the front of the bus. Other passengers started talking in that low buzz noise of gathering panic. The hairs along the back of his neck lifted. He’d heard that same buzz when Pashkah had stepped onto the altar. Worry, building on worry, building on worry . . .
The snow was going to be ball-bustlingly cold, but he didn’t want to be stuck in a group of freaked-out innocents when his sense of claustrophobia kicked in. The Pendray loved open spaces and sweeping Highlands. Tight little shuttles crammed with panicking humans was enough to spark a flare of red across his vision.
The bus driver said something he didn’t understand. Tallis glanced back at Kavya for explanation. “He says he’ll have it started any minute now.”
“Does that change your decision?”
She shook her head. “Out.”
He yanked on the lever to open the bus door and jogged down three steps. Wind smacked his face like a punch. Unlike any Tallis had ever known, this wind held nothing back. If he hadn’t been gripping Kavya’s hand, he’d have thought himself alone in a swirling maelstrom of pure ice.
She pressed her mouth against his ear. “Block that wind, Pendray. Dare you.”