by Carven, Anna
“Yes, Sir,” Ikriss growled as an image of Sienna flickered through his mind, sending a fresh wave of agony through his temples and a lance of desire right down through the pit of his belly and into his cock.
He had already decided there was no point in being present to see her off from Silence.
She was afraid of him, and she’d shown no interest in him whatsoever.
He didn’t want to see her again until he had these cursed symptoms under control.
“Ah, but you have a problem, ‘Kriss,” the General said softly, his crimson eyes piercing right through him.
“Is it so obvious?”
“For those of us who have been there, yes.”
“Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? She has expressed a desire to be away from anything that is alien to her. She is afraid of us. She does not even want to see our guards around her shop, although she has no choice in that matter.”
“You follow your instincts, Commander,” said the General. “You have no choice now.”
“And what if she remains unwilling?”
“You find a way make it work.”
“Take her by force?” Ikriss’s lip curled in disgust. “Are we still doing that kind of thing?”
“No,” Tarak snapped, his brows creasing into a frown. “You misunderstand. She must be willing, or else it would be pointless. There are a thousand and one ways to seduce a female, Ikriss. You are a brilliant commander. Now you are presented with a challenge of a different kind. Find a way.”
The irrational part of Ikriss seethed at being taken to task by the General over this. An involuntary growl escaped him. His claws threatened to flick out. He wanted to fight someone, and that bothered him, because he was usually able to keep a tight leash on his emotions. “Let me engage in a thought experiment for a moment, even if I do not believe in it,” he hissed. “For reasons none of us understand, our Kordolian women are no longer producing female offspring. We are a dying species. But now we have found a planet with billions of reproductively viable females that just happen to be genetically compatible with us. It is the solution to all our problems, and yet we take our time. We give them the freedom to choose instead of taking them by force. The tactician in me needs to know if the benefits outweigh the risks of your strategy, General.”
“And yet the Aikun side of you understands the reason behind my decision.”
“I understand that it is dishonorable to claim a female against her will, and personally, I would not do such a thing.”
“Even if the Mating Fever is driving you to madness?”
“Even if. But when it comes to matters as serious as the survival of our entire race, I cannot help but think like a former Imperial Commander.”
Tarak folded his arms and nodded in understanding, his gaze growing distant as he stared out across the ice. “It is a curious paradox that we, who are so used to taking whatever we want, are now beholden to these fragile creatures. Let me tell you this, my friend. You are correct. The logical option would be for us to breed in great numbers, and at all costs. I have thought about all eventualities, even the possibility of our males claiming humans against their will. That would be a very imperial response. But when one looks at sheer numbers alone; when one thinks like a commander, the most important details are lost. See, children, whether human or Kordolian, must be raised.” Now the General was looking directly at Ikriss, his crimson eyes holding truths that could only have come from darkness. “People like you and I were reared in the cold, Ikriss. We were forged in cruelty and tempered in violence. On our own, we do not have what it takes to nurture our offspring. Yes, we could easily take our mates against their will, but to what end? We could restrain them and force them to receive our seed and bear our offspring, but then our females would come into motherhood broken, cradling resentment in their hearts, and they would whisper malevolent dreams into our children’s ears and hearts and minds, and the next generation of our people would end up damaged and weak and destructive, and the whole infernal cycle would repeat itself over and over again. That is why the Empire fell, and I will not allow it to happen again.”
Ikriss held his breath. It was rare for Tarak to reveal this much of himself. His thoughts echoed much of what Ikriss felt, but as always, the General’s reasoning went just a little bit deeper.
That is why Ikriss had sworn loyalty to this man all those revolutions ago. Even then, he’d known that he would be loyal to Tarak al Akkadian above his Emperor and Empress.
As the truth seeped into every fiber of his being, Ikriss felt the storm of his Mating Fever abate just a little.
“The Claiming has changed you,” he said softly.
“As it will you. See, Ikriss, I have thought about this in the old Imperial Kordolian way of thinking, and I have thought about it in the way of the Old Tribes, and I have become convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that what we are doing is right. It is not only that we need them for bearing and nurturing our offspring. Our mates are the complete antithesis of us. They fill the void inside us. They hold a mirror up to us each and every time we contemplate doing evil. We need them on our side.”
Ikriss remembered the way he’d felt when he’d first caught sight of Sienna, naked and helpless and terribly injured. In that moment, he’d wanted to do everything in his power to save her. He’d also wanted to annihilate the entire fucking Ephrenian race. Was this the paradox the General spoke of? “You have an interesting perspective on vulnerability and weakness,” he murmured. “Unfortunately, there are still some of our kind who would find your views repulsive… and ridiculous.” Those kinds of Kordolians still existed; imperial loyalists who had fled Kythia when Tarak overthrew the Empire. The bastard who had tried to buy the shipment of human females was one of them.
They were starting to encounter resistance in some pockets of the Universe. Infernal Kordolian enemies were popping up in all kinds of unexpected places.
There were whispers of something bigger; a yet-unseen threat that would eventually reveal itself.
Now more than ever, they had to be on their guard.
But of course, Tarak already knew that.
He’d probably planned for a thousand such eventualities.
The General started to undress, shrugging his loose Kashkan from his shoulders, letting it fall to the pristine white ice below. Like Ikriss, Tarak was in peak physical condition, with not a shred of fat on his powerful body. But he was more muscular, and unlike Ikriss, his skin was unmarked by even a single scar, thanks to the healing nanites in his bloodstream.
“That is what makes us different to them,” Tarak said as he tested the weight of his krizen, rolling it in the palm of his hand. “We all have the same primal urges. The desire for control; for power, for complete domination. Violence is as much a part of us as our craving for darkness. But you and I, we know how to temper those urges. The violence will never leave us, but we can channel it. Whenever you find yourself descending into the Madness, you must remember her. Trust me, it helps.”
Tarak loosened his trousers and let them fall. Like Nythian and Lodan, he was naked underneath. He lifted his harpoon and made his way toward the hole in the ice. “Don’t let the shadow of the old empire cloud your thoughts, brother. All of that is gone now. If you have the Mating Fever, then you have no choice. You must go after her. Make her understand you, Ikriss. We may have sworn against enslaving them, but they are ours. Some of them just don’t know it yet.” And with that, the General gave Ikriss a knowing look and slipped into the water without a sound, disappearing into perfect darkness.
“I already knew that,” Ikriss murmured, staring after him.
But at least Tarak’s words had helped clear the fog of his madness just a little… enough for him to formulate a plan.
Ikriss plunged his harpoon upright into the ice and started to undress; jacket first, then his undertunic, then trousers, then boots, until he was perfectly naked. The icy wind whispered against his bare skin, and it felt good; a s
alve for his raging lust.
It felt good to be like this; out in the wild without any need for armor or uniform. It reminded him of Kythia, soothing the dull ache of homesickness that occasionally surfaced. He let out a wry snort as he wondered what Sienna would make of him if she saw him like this.
Apparently, humans were ridiculously modest and always had to cover themselves with garments, even when they were amongst friends of the same sex.
Ikriss couldn’t understand it. This was the body he’d been born with; he was proud of his scars—both from battle and tribal initiation—and of his physique, which he’d honed through many cycles of training and fighting.
Would she be able to understand that when she saw his scars?
Strangely, the thought filled him with a sliver of apprehension.
And now he was horny again.
He had a fucking hard-on again.
In a single swift, savage movement, Ikriss wrenched his spear out of the ice and strode toward the water.
There was only one way to temporarily cure this madness.
He jumped in, plunging into the cold and the darkness; into perfect silence.
The icy water was a salve.
In the distance, he caught a darting flash of silver.
His prey.
As he slowly emptied his lungs, releasing an ephemeral stream of bubbles, Ikriss went very still and let himself sink deeper and deeper toward the bottom.
Unlike the others, who had swum off to hunt, he would wait for his prey to come to him.
And as he reveled in the water’s comforting, cocoon-like embrace, the answer came to him, as crystal clear as the stars in deep space.
He would go to her, and he would make it work.
Of course he would.
Tarak was right. After all, he had no choice in the matter.
Chapter Eight
“What in the Nine Hells are these?” Ikriss frowned as he stared at the strange device in his hands. With two clear lenses and black frames that were designed to sit above the ears, he presumed it was some sort of eyeshield. In fact, it looked like the human-inspired sunglass lenses their kind had adopted for use on Earth whenever they wanted to protect their light-sensitive eyes while attempting to appear less threatening to the humans.
But these sunglasses had clear lenses.
What in Kaiin’s Hells was the point of clear lenses?
“You asked for something that would help you blend in amongst the humans.” The tech, a deceptively youthful and delicate looking Kordolian called Mavrel, wore an almost-smile, as if he were smugly pleased with his creation but too afraid to tease Ikriss about it.
“I do not see how this contraption will help me blend in anywhere.”
“Eyesight defects are quite common amongst humans, it seems. Although they have the technology to permanently correct them, many still prefer to wear these archaic eyeglasses because of some sort of nostalgic fashion-sense. If you go into one of their cities, you will see that they are relatively common.”
“But I am not human,” Ikriss said slowly, deliberately, trying not to let impatience seep into his voice. Although the brief swim in Earth’s icy waters had tempered his irritability a little—as had the satisfaction of spearing several of the long silver creatures called fish—he was still on edge.
Mavrel eyed him warily. “With all due respect, Sir, I would request that you try them on first.”
“Very well,” Ikriss grumbled, unfolding the curved arms and sliding the cursed things onto his face. Nothing happened. He felt faintly ridiculous. “Is this some sort of joke at my expense, tech?”
“I-I would not dare, Sir,” Mavrel said hastily. “Look at the holo-reflector.”
Ikriss watched as Mavrel uttered a command. In a heartbeat, Ikriss’s very own image came to life right in front of him.
He frowned as he stared back at himself. Well, it was his face and body and uniform, but he looked different.
For starters, his skin was a different color. It was a shade of medium brown, somewhere in the middle of the spectrum of human skin tones. Behind the thick black frames, his golden eyes had turned a warm shade of brown. At least his hair was still the same color, and the points of his ears were still intact—emerging from between his tousled hair.
Ah. Now he understood Mavrel’s objective.
The creature that stared back at him looked almost human, but not quite.
Perhaps from a distance or in a busy crowd, he could pass for human.
Perhaps.
Sooner or later, his actions would give him away. He couldn’t possibly behave like a human, could he?
“This is what I look like?” he asked sharply. “Right now?” Ikriss made a quick deduction. “You’ve inserted a clever little holo-skin into these frames, haven’t you?”
“Skin tone and eye color simulation,” Mavrel said proudly. “It’s a prototype—still in the development phase—but it’s stable enough for you to use on Earth. You’ll have to keep your natural hair color for now. I’m still working on that.”
“And my ears?” Humans didn’t have pointed ears. Theirs were gently curved in a way that made them look particularly cute—on certain females, anyway.
Mavrel shrugged. “We’re still working on that too. Your hair’s grown long enough. I know it’s a pain-in-the-ass, but just use it to hide your ears. I’m told humans would only notice if they’re looking very closely.”
“The eye perceives what it wants to see,” Ikriss agreed. “The same is true for most species.” When he’d worked for Intelligence in the past, he’d been able to go incognito under the guise of a mercenary, donning nondescript armor and a helm that hid his distinctive features. Mostly, he’d adopted the language and mannerisms of the Lokati, a secretive Kordolianoid species that rarely ventured into the Nine Galaxies.
On most developed planets and trading ports, the sight of a lone mercenary decked out in full armor was not anything to take notice of, but on Earth…
The planet of humans was so far removed from the rest of the Universe that mercenaries didn’t even bother to visit. They would find very little work or credits on Earth.
It was a small miracle that Earth’s ruling Federation had been foresighted enough to educate most of its working age citizens in Universal, the language Kordolians had developed for the indentured classes, but Ikriss understood the motivation behind it. In the past, if a species had wanted to do trade or receive more favorable terms when the Kordolian Empire finally came to colonize them, they taught their population Universal.
The fact that Sienna even spoke the language—with her endearing accent and occasional grammatical incorrectness—was proof that the shadow of the Empire had loomed large even in the remote Ninth Sector.
Thank the Goddess she had no inkling of what would have happened to humans if the Empire had decided to take a particular interest in Earth some five or ten revolutions ago.
Ikriss ran his fingers through his longish hair, arranging it so that it concealed his unmistakably Kordolian ears. He studied his holo-reflection again, a little unnerved by his same-yet-different apperance.
Mavrel was right. He could pass as human, albeit a slightly unusual looking one.
But then again, from what he had seen, humans did all kinds of strange things to modify their appearance. They dyed their hair, wore strangely colored garments and outlandish metal jewelry, and even used colored paints and pigment powders on their faces.
So maybe his appearance wouldn’t be so out of the ordinary on Earth, after all.
Sienna would know him straight away, but nobody else would, and that suited his objectives perfectly. See, he didn’t want any potential enemies to know they were around until it was too late.
They’d taken her once. Ikriss clenched his teeth, his fangs grazing against the inside of his lower lip, drawing a hint of bitter blood. If the buyer on Zarhab Groht—a cursed Kordolian—was taking his orders from a Kordolian master, then they would definitely try and
steal her away again, just to send a spiteful message to Tarak and Ikriss and the rest of the Darkstar tribe.
They would go to all lengths. He had no doubt about it.
After all, they were Kordolian.
That was just how they were.
Things they viewed as their property—stars, planets, ships, sentient beings, humans—they would raid and claim and plunder and steal back in an endless cycle of increasing viciousness.
The Noble Houses had been doing it to each other for thousands of revolutions.
It was a power play.
With their kind, everything became about power.
Ikriss wasn’t exactly innocent himself, but at least he could exercise his power to keep Sienna and the other females safe.
His temples throbbed with a strange mixture of pain and pleasure as he anticipated seeing her again.
What would she make of him?
Would she be afraid? Annoyed.
Make it work. The General’s words echoed in his mind. He would just have to do everything in his power to convince her otherwise.
His heart began to race.
His breathing quickened.
Mavrel gave him a nervous look. “Is everything to your satisfaction, Sir?”
Ikriss ripped off the eyeglasses and glowered at his own reflection as it went back to normal. Brown skin turned back to silver. His eyes reverted to their natural golden hue. “I look like a damn fool with these on, but you have fulfilled all the objectives of my brief. It is acceptable.”
