Tempted Tigress Read Free

forward and throwing her down at his feet.
    He leaned forward. She was at the edge of his vision. He could see a dark tunic and bowed head. Her hands were long and unusually large where they landed on the rocky ground, but he really couldn't see much more than that. With an internal curse, he drew on his other senses. He heard her breath as it rushed in and out in frightened gasps. He smelled her scent—both sweet and sour. Most of all, he felt her qi: the intangible force of energy that invested all life. He touched it with his mind, allowing himself to steep in her crystalline light. He felt the sweetness of a woman with a flexible strength beneath, that skeleton of will that was softer than a man's and yet so much more alive. He smiled to know that she was one who would survive where others would fall.
    But then the energy shifted. His intent had been to know her, and he believed he had. And yet, the moment he touched her energy it shivered away from him, it covered itself in layers of coldlike dirty snow and then turned on him. He felt his own energy change. He had no understanding of what or how; it happened too fast. He only comprehended that the transformation was core-deep and had the echo of immortality within it.
    Zhi-Gang reared back in horror, certain truths imbedding themselves in his thoughts. He knew then that this woman—this shaking, terrified thing at his feet—had the power to change everything at the most fundamental level. He didn't understand how he knew this, only that it was true. She could change his life.
    And she was white.
    He couldn't see her face, didn't know anything beyond what Jing-Li had said. But wise men did not question qi knowledge. And so he responded without thought.
    "Kill her," he snapped. Then he remained stone-faced while beside him, Jing-Li gasped in shock. The guard nodded once, then drew his sword. But his attention remained on the woman as her head reared up in shocked horror. He saw her lips open on a cry, and her eyes shimmered with tears.
    "Why?" she cried in Mandarin. She scrambled forward on her knees only to have the guard grab her tunic and hold her fast with a knee pressed hard into her back. She was pinned to the ground. Her face hit the rocky dirt and something cut her chin. Zhi-Gang saw the faintest edge of red well up as her blood began to soak into the ground. And still she spoke, her eyes desperate with shock and confusion. "Why?" she repeated. "I have done nothing!"
    There were other sounds, too. Jing-Li was speaking in a low urgent tone. Zhi-Gang did not hear the words, but he knew the meaning. The Emperor had just been incarcerated by his mother. Zhi-Gang was the Emperor's Enforcer and therefore someone fully allied with the son and not the mother. Jing-Li was reminding him they could not afford any extra attention.
    Yes, a murder along the Grand Canal would certainly create attention. Even if they pretended her death was an official punishment, they had hundreds of witnesses within a quarter li. The local magistrate would need a report, the body would need to be disposed of and Zhi-Gang's trip would be delayed by a day at least.
    Zhi-Gang ignored it all. His attention remained on the woman's angry expression. He'd been prepared for sobs and pleas, for all the tricks that women played on men. What he saw instead was confusion, horror, and a growing fury.
    He could not see her white eyes clearly, but he knew their shape. Hers would be round and ugly, their color light and insubstantial. And yet in his mind he saw a different woman—his sister, so many years ago. She had been a young girl with dark almond eyes and a fury that defied her captor. Zhi-Gang had been too young to stop the man with thick fists and a punishing grip. His sister had fought with all the strength in her tiny body. All the while, she screamed two words: No! And... Why!
    Before him, the white woman rasped the same words over and over while the guard raised his sword, point down. At least