by Carven, Anna
What a waste.
What a shame.
It was done now; there was nothing she could do.
“I just wish there was some way you highly advanced aliens could figure out how to make a suit of battle armor that would accommodate the horns,” she hissed, keenly feeling the loss.
Her frown turned into a tight, bitter smile as she tried to imagine Ikriss decked out in full battle kit, his helm crowned with a pair of menacing black horns. She remembered the very first time she’d laid eyes on him—when she’d known him only as the Shadow. God, he’d been a formidable sight. She could easily understand why the Kordolians were feared throughout the Universe. “It would make you look all the more intimidating though, not that you need it.”
Ikriss inclined his head, eyes narrowed, a half-frown, half-smile hovering on his lips. “Hm,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Hm.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You humans see the Universe differently,” he said cryptically. “That is all.”
“You’re not going to tell me what you think about my idea, are you?”
Ikriss shrugged. “Not yet. But you make an interesting point.”
Sienna let out a puff of exasperation. Did all Kordolian males have this habit of being deliberately obtuse? She would have to ask the other mates about this—and so many other things.
She looked down at his fallen horns. “Can I have them?”
“What in Kaiin’s Hells for?”
“Um, because they are unique and special and they’ll remind me of you when you have to go away on missions—which I assume will happen from time to time. And they’re a trophy of my conquest of you. And they’ll remind me of your promise.”
His brows knitted together. “Promise?”
“Yeah. The one you’re about to make. That one day you’ll ditch the armor and grow the horns so I can touch them whenever I want, and give you pleasure whenever I want—even when we’re just sitting around doing not much of anything. They’re so convenient for that, don’t you think?”
He blinked, looking just a little stunned.
Sienna suppressed a grin. It was kind-of fun to catch the unflappable commander off-guard.
But the expression of surprise quickly disappeared as he slowly looked her up and down, and it occurred to her that she was still naked.
Oh, shit.
And he was aroused again.
Sweet stars.
Did these Kordolian males never run out of stamina?
“I can’t promise that I’ll ever compromise my ability to protect you,” Ikriss said slowly as he swooped down to the floor and retrieved his black horns. “But perhaps there are some compromises that can be made.” He rose to his full height and took a step forward, holding out his severed horns. The bases gleamed with drying black blood—his blood. “Once they are dry, the outer skin will fall off, and they will polish up nicely.” He grinned. “Believe it or not, some races trade these on the intergalactic black market. Apparently, our horns are incredibly valuable, although I cannot fathom why. We usually just discard them, but since you asked for them, they are yours.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “Perhaps you have started a new tradition. A trophy for our precious mates. Whatever will you do with them?”
Reverently, she took Ikriss’s horns into her hands. They were solid and heavy and elegant, and somehow, they felt comforting and familiar in her hands. “I’ll dry them and polish them and keep them in a safe place. As a memento. Thank you, Ikriss.”
He bowed his head, the gesture oddly formal, as if they were completing some sort of ceremony. “Everything that is mine is yours, Sienna.”
Her heart did a thousand flips in her chest as he moved in closer, his head still bowed. He walked forward until his bare chest was pressed against hers; until she could feel his warmth and his steady heartbeat.
Stars, this man. Did he not know how terribly irresistible he was?
He leaned in and kissed her.
She kissed him back, tasting warm spice and a hint of bitterness.
God, he was delicious, even with all that blood on his face.
“Does it hurt?” she asked as she pulled away, staring at his severed horn-bases with concern.
“Immensely,” he said nonchalantly, stealing another quick kiss, “but it’s just pain, and it will be gone in a few sivs.”
“Y-you don’t even show it.”
“Training,” he shrugged. “I am used to these things. Why would I let something as insignificant as pain distract me when I have you right in front of me?” He chuckled, sounding as if the fact that he had just cut off his fucking horns was no big deal.
Sienna let out an exasperated huff. Arousal was making her restless. She rocked back and forth on her feet, unable to ignore the blatant bulge of his erection as it pressed against the soft skin of her lower belly. “Well, if we’re about to make our dramatic return to Earth, you should probably get yourself cleaned up then, right?”
Her fingers were still curled around his velvety horns. Part of her could hardly believe this was real.
Her silver warrior grinned, flashing his fangs. “That went better than I hoped it would. You will join me, of course.”
“But I just got out of the shower. I’m clean.”
“True.” He leaned forward and buried his nose in her hair. “You smell incredibly good. I could eat you again.”
Her legs quivered. “E-eat?”
He swept the horns from her hands and took her hand into his. “Come,” he whispered. “There is work to be done, but first I want to enjoy you a little longer.” He held the blade and his horns in one hand, leading her by the other.
Heat spread through her core, seeping between her thighs. Her entire body felt like jelly. “You’re impossible,” she sighed.
“Yes,” he agreed, dropping his blade and horns onto a small storage compartment as he gently led her toward the small Kordolian-style bathroom; into the magical shower compartment.
He slipped off his trousers, revealing his proud, erect cock. Unable to help herself, Sienna reached out and ran her hand over the mouthwatering ridge along the top.
Droplets of cool water began to fall, dampening her hair, running in rivulets over her feverish skin, washing away the black stains on Ikriss’s face.
She ran her fingers over his cheeks, his forehead, his temples, wiping away all traces of that terrible violent act.
At least his gorgeous long hair was still intact, cascading over his shoulders and down his back. She ran her fingers through it as she kissed him, closing her eyes and luxuriating in his warmth for one last time before she was thrust back into reality.
The last traces of her sadness melted away in the cool torrent of water; in his powerful embrace.
How the hell had her world spun around and ended up like this?
Dreams were only fleeting, but they could be relished and savored and fully realized…
Until the very next one came along.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Qualum doors silently unravelled. Ikriss strode straight through them and into the war-room beyond, his boots echoing in the cold void. The meeting was about to start; he was the very last one to arrive.
Tarak was there of course, along with former Commander Iskar Gar-Kurai. Like Ikriss, he had been tasked with handling security in the Ninth Sector, especially around Earth.
Like Ikriss, he was utterly livid that the Ephrenian slavers had managed to breach their surveillance, and they were both determined to make it right.
The other three High Commanders were also seated at the table, although they were present only in holo-form, because Mardok was stationed in the Fifth Sector—at a midway point between Kythia and Earth—and Tarkun and Jerik were still back on Kythia, containing the fallout that came with toppling an empire.
Ikriss didn’t envy his comrades the job. Amongst other things, they were there to oversee the installation of a new system of government—one that would be f
air to all Kordolians that chose to remain on Kythia.
That was no easy task. The civilization they’d left behind was deeply fractured—the ordinary folk highly resented the nobility, and the nobles would fight to the death to keep what was theirs.
Change would take time, and it was proving to be a bloody affair.
And Ikriss knew better than most that they had to be ever vigilant—to avoid becoming the very evil they had defeated.
He took his place at the table—beside Iskar and directly opposite Tarak.
His comrade greeted him with a sharp nod. Like always, Iskar’s appearance was crisp and precise; his Darkstar uniform did not have a line out of place, and his hair was tightly cropped in regulation military style.
He looked as hard and formidable as ever, and yet when Ikriss slid into the seat beside him, Iskar cracked a slight smile. “We have been waiting for you, avarth,” he said good-naturedly, using the Aikun word for brother. “I trust you are in good health.”
“Better than ever,” Ikriss grunted, feeling the weight of five hard, dissecting stares. He was well aware that his near-death experience and subsequent mating would be the topic of discussion amongst the warriors, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest.
How could he be bothered by anything when he had found his precious-above-all-else mate?
He had left her in the human cooking facility with Arin, where they had decided to prepare something called salted caramel popcorn, which involved melting sickening amounts of that disgusting crystallized Earth food called sugar.
Ikriss had gotten one whiff of that cloying sweetness and quickly departed, leaving the females to their infernal devices.
“Then we will begin,” Tarak said quietly, and all eyes snapped toward him. “You all know why I have called this meeting.”
“Dissent arises in the most unexpected of places.” Holo-Mardok leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow. “And now this intangible threat is starting to become a serious pain-in-the-ass.” He wore his usual cynical half-smile. That was the problem with Mardok. One never quite knew whether he was being serious or not.
“Right under our fucking noses,” Jerik growled. “Are they stupid? And now they are using humans and Ephrenians to carry out their dirty work? I say we drop the restraint and destroy them all. I do not understand why we have to play nice with these humans. We should have gone on the offensive a long time ago, and hard. I would have executed the lot of them… send a message to anyone who’s thinking of trying to fuck with us.”
“Ordinarily, I would agree,” Tarak said calmly, not reacting in the slightest to Jerik’s fiery words. “But we have not yet identified the ones that are giving the orders, and we do not want to deter aspiring mercenaries and hirelings from working with them... not yet, anyway. Patience, Jerik. Once we have certainty on their location and their identities, I will not hesitate to unleash our full might upon them. But for now, we must bide our time. The best laid traps are the ones that are never detected, don’t you think?”
Jerik glowered but said nothing. The bald commander was a firebrand; quick to anger and action, and as tough as Callidum. In a firefight, there was no better ally to have. But he was also fiercely loyal, and he would never go against the General’s orders, even when he disagreed with them. Tarak knew what kind of missions suited the crusty old war-varhund best. Ikriss guessed he’d stationed Jerik on Kythia to counter Tarkun’s icy, detached way of doing things.
Fire and ice. There were more than a few of them like that.
It occurred to Ikriss that the others probably didn’t know he’d been attacked by the Silent One. If they did, this meeting would be a lot more charged. Each of his brothers would try and claim blood-revenge rights for Ikriss’s near-death.
Was it wise of Tarak to leave out that particular detail? An enemy that could command the blade of a Silent One was not to be underestimated.
But Tarak obviously had his reasons, so for now, Ikriss decided he would play along. The bastard had a way of always being right about these things.
“So it appears we have a small problem,” Tarkun said carefully, his almost-black eyes unreadable, even to Ikriss. Tarkun was a weapons master by training. Before he’d ascended to the rank of Commander, he’d been in charge of the Imperial Military’s vast weapons inventory. Nothing much slipped past him. He had a prodigious memory and knew all kinds of obscure things about the inner workings of the Kordolian fleet and the ancient technology of their ancestors, the Zor. “Some noble faction or other has organized itself enough to start seeking human females from the other side of the Nine Galaxies. We do not know where they are, or who leads them. All we know is that they have contracted Ephrenians and Humans to do their bidding… and one former death-squad asshole who has a thing for torturing helpless females.” His gaze was ice-cold as he turned toward Ikriss. Tarkun’s eyes were a strange color for a Kordolian; a shade of red so deep and dark it was almost black. “Have you taken your blood-revenge on Sagarath Rexu yet, brother? And do not disappoint me by telling me he did not tell us everything we need to know.”
“I am yet to decide how I will deal with him,” Ikriss hissed, fighting down the tide of fury that rose up inside him as he thought of the bastard that had masterminded Sienna’s abuse onboard that Ephrenian ship.
Tarak had granted him blood-revenge rights over Sagarath Rexu, and now that Sienna was truly his, his desire to make Rexu experience a thousand hells of pain was stronger than ever.
“The prisoner knows little,” Tarak said, giving Ikriss a quelling look. Patience. “I have personally interrogated him and extracted anything of use. Even with Zharek’s truth serum, there is little he could add to what we already know. But it might be enough. I have the location of a contact in the Fourth Sector that was supposed to receive the humans from Rexu. I have the name of their supposed leader. Vordokar.” The General’s lips twisted into a cold smile. “A contrived name.”
“Vordokar?” Mardok’s rumbling laugh came from deep within his belly. “That’s High Kordolian, isn’t it? The Rightful One? Sounds typically pompous. What the fuck do they think they’re doing? The only heir I’d recognize is Xal, and he’s sensible enough that he doesn’t want a bar of that Kazharan dynastic nonsense. Do you have a real name for the leader of this infernal resistance, Tarak?”
“Not yet, but we will. I am sending one of the First to hunt down this contact, and from there we will follow the trail to the source. Think of it like a game of Anpikki. Each small token points to a bigger piece, yet to be revealed. We must be careful and patient. We still do not know the true extent of their power.” He turned and looked directly at Jerik. “There will be plenty of opportunity for aggression. But first, the trap must be laid.”
“And their minions on Earth must be dealt with, in case they grow cocky and start to think they are little emperors themselves,” Ikriss said softly, suddenly craving violence. Part of him wanted to wreak pure destruction to avenge the hurt they had inflicted upon his mate.
Sagarath Rexu, the Ephrenians, and the human Syndicate on Earth… He would destroy them all and put a ring of Callidum around Sienna’s little empire.
She would never know the full extent of it, because she was human, and far too innocent and honorable and pure to be able to comprehend some of the things he could—and would—do to his enemies…
To anyone that dared take her away from him.
He never wanted to see fear in her eyes ever again.
“In that, at least, we need to act quickly,” Iskar added. “Amongst the humans that were inciting violence in the New York riots, we found a small group of trained mercenaries.”
“Human mercenaries?” Tarkun looked almost disinterested. “Surely you would not have problems dispatching a group of humans.”
“They had plasma weapons,” Iskar said flatly. “Our kind of weapons.”
Tarkun, Mardak, and Jerik swore.
Ikriss and Tarak showed no surprise. Of course, the General kne
w everything, and Ikriss had been briefed on the situation by his men on the ground.
Callidum plasma guns.
In the hands of humans.
“Shit just got interesting,” Jerik growled, a hint of glee in his voice. Ikriss could sense the pent-up anger in him; he was spoiling for a fight. “Someone’s supplying Kordolian-issue weapons to any asshole in the Nine fucking Galaxies now? That is unacceptable.”
“And stupid,” Ikriss said softly. Cold anger crackled through him as he wondered who could be so reckless that they would supply their weapons to outsiders.
It reeked of desperation… and arrogance.
This was the act of someone who thought they could outsmart them, but who didn’t know a fucking thing about how the wider Universe worked.
Did they really believe the humans would just lay down and do their bidding if they were in possession of Kordolian tech?
Their advanced technology—the legacy of the Zor—was the source of their power.
They could not just hand it over to anyone, let alone humans that particularly resented their occupation of Earth.
Ikriss really had a particular dislike for idiots who would cause chaos just to gain power.
“We have the human mercenaries in detention; six in total,” Iskar informed them, although this wasn’t news to Ikriss. “Interestingly, our truth serums don’t work on them, but it wasn’t necessary to use them anyway, because they were fairly easy to crack once we disarmed them. None of them know where the weapons came from. They all had the same story—they were hired by a private company to stir up anti-Kordolian sentiment amongst humans. The plasma guns were delivered to them by drone. They had orders to wait and travel to any site where we showed up publicly… and attack us.”
“I wonder whether they knew they were being sent to their deaths,” Tarkun mused.
“Obviously not,” Iskar wore a grim half-smile. “They were fed untruths about our capabilities—and theirs. They seemed to think they had a chance.”
“So, who hired them?” Jerik demanded.
