Sink (Cold Mark Book 2) Read Free

the back of Bailor’s exposed neck.
    Just as my best friend had twirled and missed being impaled by Bailor’s blow.
    Bailor’s body, and ax, landed with a thud directly next to Jax’s feet.
    The crowd was now silent.
    Too late, I realized my best friend hadn’t been stupid. It had been a ploy to rouse Bailor.
    My act had been rash and stupid.
    Sucking air in the midst of my folly, I slowly peered up from the ground.
    Jax’s eyes met mine. His widened.
    With my heart hammering inside my chest, I quickly jumped to my feet. I raced to the middle of the pit, and dropped, sliding to a stop with sand flying everywhere to jerk my knife free of Bailor’s corpse. Jax was still standing in shock, his jaw even hanging open, but I didn’t have time for that. I grabbed Jax’s free hand lunged toward the exit, scrambling to my feet, and ran as fast as I could toward my one escape and yanking Jax behind me.
    I shrieked when a Mian…Stiller…just suddenly appeared in front of me. Slamming to a halt, I barely kept myself from being impaled by the sword he held out. Stiller, the jokester of the previous match, wore none of the humor he had during his fight. His violet glowing eyes were narrowed on me, as he pressed his sword right over my heart.
    “Let him go,” Stiller growled softly.
    I tried inching back from the blade, but Stiller advanced with me. With Jax still in surprise at my sudden appearance, I had no option but to release Jax’s hand. As soon as I did, I didn’t even see Stiller’s blow coming. With a shudder of pain, I was flying backward through the air as my chest burned with the agony of Stiller’s heave.
    I still held onto my knife though.
    Landing with a brutal whack on the sand, I rolled a few feet until my body’s momentum stopped. Spitting sand from my mouth and chugging much needed air into my lungs, I barely got to my knees before I saw two new pairs of feet advancing toward me. A quick glance up and I knew I was in the worst trouble possible.
    It was the Plumas of the east.
    By their expressions, seen through my locks of my hair, they had recognized me.
    “Jax,” I whispered, glancing in his direction. I stumbled to my feet, seeing him now moving, rushing toward me. It was about time his shock had worn off. But I groaned, holding my bruised chest as Stiller followed directly behind him, and grabbed him by the waist, holding him back from coming any closer. My eyes reluctantly lifted to the Plumas who were almost on me. “Fuck.”
    With white, long strands of hair blowing out behind him in a breeze of his own making, Pluma Phila Moir moved to stand between Stiller, Jax, and me.
    Pluma Killeg Creo stopped directly in front of me, his white, chaotically chopped hair in disarray.
    He lifted one hand in front of my face.
    Opened his fist.
    He blew out hard, and a fine purple dust flew from his palm into my face.
    I blinked as a haze immediately started to envelop me.
    As I started to sink deeply into oblivion, I felt warm, muscled arms catch me as I fell.

The rough toe of a boot kicked my knee. “She’s awake.” I knew that voice. I had heard it before. It belonged to Pluma Killeg Creo. He kicked me again. “Open your eyes, Ms. Valorn.”
    I opened one first, and then the other. I hadn’t been awake for more than a minute. Just long enough to tell that I was lying on my side, soft leather was beneath me, and my hands were bound behind my back by a scratchy, thick rope. I also knew that there were four sets of lungs breathing by their slow intakes and exhales, meaning four people were near.
    I was right.
    They sat in a half-circle in front of me.
    I was lying on a white couch inside a parlor of some sort – location unknown. The individuals who stared at me were also sitting on white leather chairs. All four were peering at me with varying expressions.
    My kicker, Pluma Killeg Creo sat directly by my feet in their little half-circle.
    Stiller sat to his right.
    Jax sat next to him.
    Pluma Phila Moir