Page 26 of Luna

“Please, leave me alone.”

There was silence, but then she heard movement, popping, cracking, and hissing around her.

“I will not ask again, fire witch.”

Anger surged in her veins. She was no witch. Fire elementals could summon and control flames, not cast spells.

“There are no such beings. Now leave me alone. This is the forbidden zone.” She could not see the hunter, yet she felt stalked as if he’d release her just for the chase.

“Yet, you are here,” he chuckled. Instead of another demand, he found humor in their standoff. The response surprised her.

Males didn’t laugh when they gazed upon her. She’d been sold as an indentured servant to a Nepherian mining company. As a mucker, she was responsible for moving rock and stone, and then melting both to create more land mass.

“I am not your concern, warrior.”

The fire ball separating the two of them quickly drained her energy. If she could not rid herself of her unwanted guest soon, she would be at his mercy.

“Are you sure I am a warrior?” he quizzed. “How can you look upon me through your orange glow?”

Cindra didn’t respond, sure that he toyed with her. Nature played a cruel trick in that humans in past centuries had the option to segregate themselves; now the four elemental races were forced to work together for their basic survival. Interestingly enough, thirty years after the Toxic War ended, the people of the former North American continent had enacted a law forbidding inter-elemental mating.

“I know your type,” she wagered. It was a lie. After ten seasons in the mines, she had seen little of warrior males. Those doomed to a life of servitude were too thin and gaunt, like her.

“Are you a runaway sin-ji?”

Sin-jies were pleasure females used to quench the physical needs of male guards. He accused her of being a whore; all the while amusement lit his voice. Cindra channeled more energy into her palms. A fiery tendril shot forward in the direction of the warrior. The crack of her fire whip hitting its mark brought a smile to her face.

“You attacked me,” he roared, his rich baritone booming in the night. Where she’d heard night creatures before, they fell silent when confronted with this male’s anger.

“You called me names,” she said incredulously. “Twice.”

His laughter quickly replaced the angry outburst from before.

“Indeed,” he capitulated, a hint of admiration in his voice. “But I did not give you permission to strike me.”

The air around her suddenly grew cold. What...what was happening? Cindra held her breath. Would he punish her? Many times her handlers had withheld food and water until she was too weak to defend herself. Another shiver shimmied down her spine. His voice was closer now. It was a nice voice, filled with warmth and depth, but the temperature change had to be him.

Panicked, she pulled on the last of her energy. “Stop it,” she panted. Wielding her arms in a wide circle, she wove a sphere around herself. A protective cocoon. “I will not allow you to punish me,” she yelled.

She was mine property, no different than a backhoe or a crane, but her handlers had limits. Cindra took comfort in the fact that they couldn’t kill her. Because of her unique fire handling abilities, the mine, and therefore the handlers enjoyed the financial fruits of her labor. This warrior, on the other hand, lacked a vested interest in her physical welfare.

The air grew colder. Normally she would welcome the relief, but fear gripped her instead.

Just then, the male, tall and brooding, appeared outside the fiery walls she’d constructed. He peered through the web.

“Who hits you?” he growled.

His dark hair hung in thick waves down his back. Eyes the color of the bluest ocean before the Toxic War seemed to sparkle against the firelight, vivid and cutting like sea glass. His features were stern yet refined as an old-world aristocrat. A straight nose stood guard over high cheek bones. His full lips had her licking her own, and his jaw darkened by stubble rivaled a diamond on the hardness scale. Slowly, he trailed an assessing gaze over her glowing hands, her face, and then her too lean boyish body. Cindra lifted her chin, unashamed of her urchin appearance.

“Leave me.” She let urgency seep into her voice.

While Cindra stared, he moved right up to the crisscrossed fire ropes, his chest touching the flames. Concerned for his safety she bellowed for him to be careful.

“Be care-,” she stopped abruptly. Steam, actual ghostly wisps of vapor rose between them. She gasped.

His chest, unharmed by her fire, rose and fell with ease. Was he her kind? He wore battle leather similar to that of the Nepherian guards. His vest appeared to be of a mammalian source, but the war had killed off thousands of land species, so she had limited experience with their garments.

He spoke then. “Let down your guard, female,” his voice gentled.