Killer Instinct: Carrie Unleashed

Chapter 5: Drukwa Tsezhi

The sun bled scarlet across the sky, melting toward the mountains. Gongs and chimes chimed deep, reverent pulses within the Tiger Shrine. Torches hissed and spat, painting dancing orange light across the paving stones.

Carrie braced against the barrier, scanning the terrain beyond the shrine's exposed wall. Despite her layers, the frigid air drove a vicious sting into the stab wound. She ground her knuckles over the injury until light, crisp steps stilled the blood in her veins.

Jago sank onto the bench beside her, placing two woven baskets on his lap. "You must be hungry." He offered the nearest basket. "Please. Eat."

Carrie pushed off the railing and accepted the basket with a brief thank you. She sat at the far end of the bench. Lifting the lid, her brows drew tight. This meal, whatever it was, her mother would have deemed godless. Fervent fury and desperate longing tore through her. Her shaking hand hovered over the container's lip.

"Is something wrong?" Jago murmured.

"It's-it's nothing." Carrie ducked her head as her stomach's protest cut the silence, a flush rising across her cheeks. A raw, furious pang drowned her mother's warning about the 'Devil's Food'.

With a jerky motion, Carrie peeled back the cloth, revealing a pile of glistening, damp bread and two chopsticks. Her grip slipped on the chopsticks until Jago's hand met hers, his thumb and forefinger guiding the sticks into the proper grip. The warmth of his touch registered, sharp and startling. She didn't move until Jago retracted his hand, leaving a faint prickle of heat on her cold skin.

She snagged a chunk of the bread and bit down hard. The heavy seasoning exploded on her tongue, demanding she slow down and savor the bite.

"Wha... what is this?"

"A momo," Jago replied, snapping his chopsticks apart. "My village is famous for it."

"Oh." Another piece of momo tumbled from her grasp. "These things feel impossible."

"They're awkward at first. You'll gain control with practice." Jago unhooked and peeled back his mask, catching her gaze. His jaw carried a shadow of stubble in the torchlight. His skin was sun-kissed, a light tan encircling his watchful eyes. "You've avoided me for days. Since you're staying with me, let's get to know each other."

Carrie dragged a chopstick through the bread pile. "I don't want to be tricked... or hurt."

"You have nothing to fear from me. I swear."

​She had braced for a ravenous, lust-crazed beast; instead, Jago's quiet stillness greeted her. His saddened eyes hinted at a deep, kindred darkness, forging a sudden connection she couldn't explain.

Her gaze fixed on the tattoo covering his upper torso. Thick, bold lines formed tiger stripes, converging into a fierce, stylized feline face. His left arm guard obscured the rest, leaving her hungry to know what lay beneath the metal.

"Is everything all right?" Jago murmured.

Carrie blinked, jerking her gaze away. "Sorry. I couldn't resist staring at your tattoo."

Jago glanced down at the ink. "It's alright. The monks who once lived here trained me. I was a favorite among the Order until-" He broke off, a distant memory freezing his features.

"Jago?"

He jolted, blinking. "My apologies. My mind was elsewhere. The High Abbot engraved this on me. These stripes, he said, were the mark of an ascended, loyal warrior." He worked the tape loose and pulled off the arm guard. The tiger stripes converged at his wrist, twisting into cryptic, angular script. "That writing is a Tibetan prayer."