Shattered Silence

by Anna Carven

  “Turn around.” It was a simple command, and there was probably nothing sensual or sexual about it, but Layla couldn’t help but become a little hypnotized by the roughness that entered Enki’s voice.

  It was the first hint of an emotion other than anger.

  Wordlessly, she obeyed, because really, what else could she do?

  Chapter Twelve

  There was a first time for everything.

  A first time for being face-to-face with a human, and for attempting to do a medic’s work.

  Enki’s first encounter with a human resulted in him applying fibrogel to her badly lacerated back. As he took in the full extent of her injuries, anger sparked deep within his soul.

  It was truly fitting that she’d killed Mirkel, finishing what Xalikian had partly done, because that deranged piece of shit medic had savaged her. In death, Mirkel was fortunate, because if Enki had caught him, he would have ripped the cybernetic prosthesis from the medic’s body, fiber by fiber, making sure he felt everything.

  And then he would have killed him slowly.

  The scratches on Layla’s back were long and deep, oozing blood. What surprised Enki was that she hadn’t complained once.

  And now she bared herself to him, trusting him.

  Why do you hesitate, soldier? For once, the Tharian didn’t mock him. It seemed genuinely curious. That’s so unlike you.

  But Enki didn’t answer, because he was transfixed.

  In the gentle arch of her ravaged back, he found beauty.

  Careful, soldier.

  Enki applied the tip of the fibrogel tube to the worst scratch, the one that ran from the bottom of her left scapula to her lower back. As he painted a line of silver gel along the wound, she flinched, then relaxed. The healing nanites did their thing, quickly dissolving into the surrounding tissue to repair the damage.

  At the same time, Layla quickly smeared fibrogel on the scratches across her chest, her back muscles flexing as she worked. Enki studied the planes and contours of her body, noting her toned muscles and the delicate, sculptural protrusions of her vertebrae.

  Her skin was pale and luminous, decorated with the occasional dark spot of pigmentation. Enki swept her long black hair out of the way, pushing it over her shoulder so he had a clear view of her back. “Yeah, my hair gets in the way sometimes,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse. “This stuff is amazing, by the way. I thought I was going to have terrible scarring all over my body… not that it really matters anymore.”

  “Hm.” Enki attended to a scratch that ran horizontally across her spine, watching with some satisfaction as the wound closed almost instantly. He never could have imagined that another creature’s back could be so… fascinating. “It matters,” he said quietly, dabbing the tube along a row of vicious looking claw-holes.

  As her back healed, he became more and more convinced that she was smooth, sinuous perfection, and there was something immensely satisfying about seeing her heal.

  And so it begins.

  What are you on about?

  As usual, the irritating creature quickly retreated into silence, leaving him to stew over its cryptic, snippy little comment.

  Consider yourself lucky you don’t have a physical form, Tharian. Enki was filled with the sudden urge to eviscerate the creature, but instead he focused on the sublime contours of Layla’s back as her skin knit together, leaving only faint white scars that would completely disappear over time.

  “That feels so much better.” Layla wriggled her shoulders and hips, moving like a dancer, stretching her newly healed skin. She grabbed her hair and twisted it into a single tail so that it rested neatly against the side of her neck, revealing a slender black collar.

  Ah. In his rush to deal with her wounds, Enki had almost forgotten about that heinous device. Moving quickly, he whipped out his Callidum dagger and sliced through the metal collar. He reached around with both hands and pulled the thing from her neck, throwing it onto the floor. “I don’t believe in these,” he growled.

  “Your have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.” She ran her hands around her neck, rubbing the place where the collar had sat against her skin. “That thing is awful. It’s weird, though. Once I stopped being scared of the pain, it didn’t hurt as much, or maybe I was just able to tolerate it better.”

  Her words struck a chord with Enki, who had spent cycles upon cycles being subjected to the worst pain imaginable… all in the name of science.

  Layla was right. In the absence of fear, pain was just another sensation.

  He was overcome with the sudden urge to caress her slender neck and tell her he knew what it was like, but instead he leaned back, the Tharian’s words echoing in his mind.

  You Kordolians tend to lose your heads whenever you encounter these human females.

  Enki told himself he was thinking this way because he’d sought solitude for so long; because he’d never encountered a human up close before, let alone a female.

  But there was more to it than that.

  She was vulnerability and strength, and the combination was curiously intoxicating. He could have studied her for an eternity, but he forced himself to snap out of it, because they had to move. It would only be a matter of time before some idiot on the upper decks noticed that Mirkel and the squadron guarding him were missing, and Enki wanted to be well away from here before that happened.

  “Let me fix the scratches on your face, then we have to go.” With each passing siv, Enki grew more and more edgy. Although he tried his best to be gentle with Layla, he was wound tight like a metal wire, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

  Layla turned to face him, her deep brown eyes widening a fraction as he leaned in and touched the fibrogel tube to a deep scratch that ran from the corner of her right eye to the edge of her mouth. It was still bleeding slowly, sending a trickle of dark crimson down her cheek.

  “You should have left that one,” she murmured, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards. “I would have looked like such a badass with that scar.”

  “No. You should not have to look at your reflection and remember what he did to you. Let those memories die when we leave this ship.” The fibrogel melted into Layla’s wound, closing it instantly, and Enki studied her face in detail for the first time.

  As far as Kordolian standards went, it was a highly imperfect face. Eyes too far apart, black eyebrows that were a tad too bold, cheekbones broad and high, dry and slightly cracked lips parting to reveal a gap between her two front teeth. Two distinct black spots decorated the right side of her face; one at the corner of her eye, and one in the center of her cheek.

  And now the vicious scratches had faded to faint white lines, adding another mark to her soft skin.

  When all of her imperfect features were put together, they became a thing of incomparable beauty.

  Perfection in imperfection. How was such a thing even possible?

  A deep feeling of relief spread through Enki as he realized what could have been lost.

  You got to her in time.

  Suddenly, he became acutely aware of her state of undress, and for a heartbeat, his gaze flicked down to her chest, where her small, pert breasts captured his attention, her nipples proudly erect and delicious, twin delicate nubs surrounded by a halo of pebbled tawny skin.

  He became aware of her scent—female musk and sweetness and a hint of earthy sweat, mingling with the sharp remnants of metallic blood.

  He noticed the delicate ripple of bumps across her skin, and how she was trembling slightly, shivers racking her body in rhythmic waves.

  Shit.

  She looked uncomfortable.

  Enki cursed himself for being careless. He’d forgotten humans were sensitive to cold, and that they followed certain customs when it came to dressing. Kaiin’s hells; he knew so little about them.

  Suddenly, her body wasn’t just a thing to look at dispassionately. It wasn’t just an ordinary soft-skinned alien’s body.

  It was a
woman’s body, and she was watching him expectantly, her brow furrowing slightly. “Enki, are you okay?”

  He took a step back as her addictive scent surrounded him. His nostrils flared. His claws extended. His cock stiffened.

  Well, that was qui—

  You shut the fuck up now.

  “Wait here,” he said to Layla, trying to inject some gentleness into his voice. “I will be back.”

  He slipped away into the darkness before her spell undid him completely.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Much to Layla’s relief, Enki returned a few minutes later, materializing out of the shadows like a wraith. If she had to guess what he did for a living, she would put her money on spy or assassin, because he moved so damn quietly and quickly.

  It freaked her out a little bit.

  As she caught sight of him, Layla nearly had a mini heart attack, because suddenly, he looked like one of them.

  Fear clutched at her insides as she absorbed his transformation. Enki had ditched the plain grey suit in favor of a Kordolian military uniform that looked suspiciously like the exact same one Captain Pradon had been wearing. If it was Pradon’s uniform, the jet-black fabric would hide any bloodstains.

  Weapons had materialized out of nowhere; a long sword hung at his waist, and two sleek black guns were holstered within easy reach at each side. He was actually very well armed.

  As Enki strode toward her, Layla couldn’t help but remember the way she’d been treated by Pradon and his crew. The memories were so fresh in her mind that she involuntarily flinched. If anything, Enki looked a thousand times more dangerous and intimidating in that uniform than Pradon had. There was a sharpness about him; a sense that he could kill you in the blink of an eye if you crossed him.

  “Why are you wearing that?” she asked nervously, not liking his silence, not liking the fierceness in his gaze. Why had he left so suddenly, only to return looking like some goddamn amber-eyed terror from the old Kordolian Empire?

  Had she upset him somehow?

  “Get dressed.” Enki thrust a pile of fabric at her, and Layla realized it was the grey jumpsuit thing he’d been wearing just a moment ago. “Now that you’re healed, we’re going to escape.” As he glanced down at his own clothes, a look of distaste crossed his stern features. “I hate this uniform, but it may serve to buy us some time and sow confusion amongst our enemies.”

  Layla gingerly took the grey ball of fabric, still staring at Enki in his military uniform as relief coursed through her. He isn’t one of them. He’s just using the uniform as a disguise. She kept repeating the words in her mind like a mantra, because that was the only way for her to keep sane.

  “I would have brought you something closer to your size, but there was nothing that wasn’t soaked in blood.”

  His words sent a chill through Layla, until it occurred to her that he was actually being… considerate. She waved her hand, trying to make out like it was no big deal. “I’m in dire need of a shower, anyway. Is it too much for a girl to hope there are hot showers onboard wherever we’re going?”

  “It is not too much to hope.” Enki frowned, and for a split-second, his eyes dropped to her bare chest. Layla couldn’t put her finger on it, but during the short time they’d been together in here, something had changed.

  The way he’d looked at her just now… it made heat rise in her cheeks, and suddenly she was acutely aware of her state of undress.

  Layla wasn’t particularly modest when it came to her body—it was impossible to be when her life had been VR-streamed to billions of viewers all over Earth—but now she felt exposed, wary, and a little bit curious.

  What did he think of her? As an alien, did he find her strange, awkward, ugly? Did he think she was weak?

  Feeling self-conscious, Layla jumped off the seat and quickly pulled on the grey uniform, tugging it over her leggings. It swamped her, the sleeves and legs flopping past her hands and feet.

  All the while, Enki stared at her, his expression unreadable, looking like the Empire’s dark enforcer in that sharply tailored uniform. As intimidating as he looked, she had to admit the outfit suited him terribly well, even if it was a little tight around the shoulders.

  He and the late Pradon were of a similar size, except Enki was broader in the shoulders and narrower in the waist.

  Lean, powerful, and perfectly proportioned.

  He had the body of a natural fighter, and he moved like a great big fucking hunting cat.

  And stars, he was handsome.

  Really, who the hell was this guy?

  Enki made a soft sound of disapproval in his throat. “You can’t move properly like that.”

  Before she realized what he was doing, Enki dropped to one knee and quickly slashed the long cuffs of her trousers with a short, slender blade that appeared out of nowhere. He rose in a single fluid motion and did the same with her sleeves, making a neat cut across the dark fabric that left her with the perfect length. Being space-age Kordolian super-fabric, the material didn’t fray or tear or look jagged. There was no need for hemming. She was left with a baggy and rather comfortable garment that allowed for surprising ease of movement.

  And it covered her boobs.

  There was that.

  As Enki let go of her wrists, his thumbs brushed against Layla’s palms. That simple gesture blew her mind, because it was careful and precise and yet gentle, sending a pleasant shudder down her spine.

  “Better,” he said, seeming mighty pleased with his handiwork. “You need boots, too. We will pick some up on the way out.”

  “So we’re just going to walk right on out of here and nobody’s going to notice? Isn’t there some sort of security monitoring or surveillance?”

  “It is a vast ship. The sylth can detect intruders by their biosig, but I am not one, and you would have been marked and processed when you entered.”

  Not an intruder… now she was beyond confused.

  As they moved back into the big chamber where the stasis tanks were, Layla’s thoughts went round and round, but she couldn’t make sense of Enki’s words. All she could do was follow him, because he’d done nothing but good things for her so far.

  He’d killed the soldiers, healed her, found her clothes, and most importantly, he’d come for her.

  No matter how severe and scary and violent and Kordolian he might be, he’d kept his word.

  “Wait.” Enki bent down and retrieved a pair of long boots from one of the fallen soldiers, inspecting them carefully before handing them to her. “They might be a little big—”

  “Perfect. I have big feet. Apparently, that’s why I’m a good swimmer.” She sniffed dramatically, making a mocking face. “Do Kordolians get foot rot like humans? Not that it really matters. I’ve walked through enough crap and gunk already.” Layla didn’t really know why she was babbling like an idiot. Maybe it was because it was the only way for her to hold onto her sanity while she put on a dead man’s boots next to the other man she’d just killed, while the dead women from the Malachi looked on from their glowing blue tanks, their eyes blank and half-open.

  I’m sorry. I have to leave you now.

  A pang of sadness hit her right in the chest. She’d barely known the women, but they were her fellow humans, and when they’d boarded the Malachi, they’d probably just been trying to do the same as her—escape.

  Everybody who left Earth had their reasons.

  She turned to Enki, wriggling her feet inside the repurposed boots, which were surprisingly comfy. “These are fine. I’m ready to—”

  But Enki wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was staring at the women in the tanks, a blank look on his face. He was as still as a statue; it was as if he’d been hypnotized.

  And his eyes… they were no longer amber.

  They were a vivid shade of green, the color of emeralds, and they glowed.

  Layla had never seen glowing eyes on any creature before. Enki’s sudden transformation made her skin crawl, because he looked so
unnatural, like something out of an old paranormal horror movie.

  “Enki,” she said softly. “Are you all right?”

  No response.

  “Enki,” she said again, more forcefully this time.

  Still no response.

  “Okay, now you’re officially freaking me out.” Not knowing what else to do, Layla moved to his side and reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Enki!” She shook him.

  Suddenly, his hand was on her chest, pushing her back with impossible force. Her feet were swept our from under her, and Layla found herself lying on the floor, flat on her back.

  Enki loomed over her, one hand tightening around her neck, the other holding a small blade against her throat.

  And his eyes still glowed that unholy shade of green.

  “E-Enki,” she wheezed, struggling to speak with his hand clamped around her throat. Terrible memories rushed through her mind—the way Damien used to do exactly the same thing to her, the Kordolian soldiers throwing her to the ground with such careless brutality, that deranged medic throwing her into the darkness, pushing her down, tearing through her skin with his vicious claws…

  Enki was far more powerful than any of them.

  “S-stop,” Layla pleaded, knowing this wasn’t him, because the Enki she knew hadn’t gone to all the trouble of rescuing her and healing her just so he could fucking choke her to death.

  Layla couldn’t move. Fear returned in a paralyzing torrent, but then her desperation broke through and she took a deep breath. “Enki!” she shouted. “I’m not your fucking enemy!”

  Stop.

  Just stop.

  To her relief, he relented, his hand trembling as he slowly pulled the knife away, as if he were fighting against some great invisible force. A storm broke across his face, and his features twisted into an expression of such perfect anguish that Layla suddenly wanted to put her arms around him.