by Anna Carven
And in return, he gave her release like she’d never known.
The orgasm ripped through her like wildfire. She stiffened and arced her back as Rykal fucked her relentlessly, increasing his rhythm as she yelled out and gave full throaty voice to her climax.
In the depths of space, one could be as loud as one pleased.
Rykal pushed her harder, his breath coming in harsh rasps as he consumed her, his powerful body wrapped around her. Arin slid her fingers up his muscular back and neck, winding them into his silky-soft hair as he thrust deeply inside her, moving faster and faster until Arin was quivering all over again, and one orgasm became two.
This time, Arin howled to the stars and back as Rykal came with her, crying out her name.
His lips were on her again, planting fierce kisses all the way from her mouth to her collarbone, his tongue feathering over her skin, which was now slick with sweat. He licked the spot where he’d marked her, and Arin relaxed against him, curling her arms around his neck.
She was completely, utterly spent, and she felt brilliant. Arin stretched as Rykal held her tightly. They were drifting slowly through the cabin, and Rykal was smiling.
It was a soft, gentle smile, without the hard, glittering edge she was used to seeing. This smile touched his golden eyes and made her insides melt all over again.
This smile transformed his features, making him seem almost boyish and innocent, even though he was anything but, even though his fangs peeked over his lower lip, a clear reminder of his alienness.
“How is this possible?” she asked, luxuriating in his warmth and nearness, still half-amazed that this being, who could cut through metal walls and survive rocket blasts, was all hers.
“I learned long ago not to ask things like why or how. If it’s good, just accept it.” He placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up so that he was looking straight at her. “And we are beyond good together.”
“Mm.” She couldn’t deny it. Even though they were supposed to be enemies, this thing between them had grown until it was an entity of its own. “I used to question everything, but after a while, I stopped. Being in the military does that to you.” She traced her fingers down his cheek, which was warm and dry. Apparently, Kordolians didn’t sweat. “But when it comes to you, I have to ask questions, because I need to know you. What are you, Rykal, and how can you be this way with me? I thought all Kordolians were hell-bent on conquering the Universe and enslaving all other races. Aren’t you supposed to be cruel and ruthless?”
He kissed her on the lips, long, slow, and hard. “I can be,” he said, with a certainty that sent a tiny chill through her. “I have been cruel in the past. I will probably be cruel in the future. But not to you. Never to you. We protect our own, and now that you’re mine, even the fucking Empire itself can’t come between us. I might be a wretch, but I know how to take care of what’s mine.”
Mine. He declared it as if it were the most natural thing in the Universe.
The enormity of it made Arin’s heart flutter. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. “I would do the same for you,” she confessed, although she had no idea what she could possibly protect him from.
He kissed the top of her head. “I know you would. You’re a natural protector.”
Arin shook her head. “You give me too much credit. I just try and do what’s right.” She didn’t mention the persistent sense of failure that dogged her; she was a misfit who should have been sitting in some cushy officer’s position back on Earth.
If everything had gone to plan, she would be following in her mother’s footsteps, but instead, she’d been relegated to a floating backwater called Fortuna Tau.
Ever since her demotion, she’d felt a constant need to prove herself; she’d forced herself to be faster, stronger, and more hardworking than the rest of the peacekeepers on that ill-fated mining station.
It hadn’t been enough.
What was it her mother had called her again?
A colossal fuck-up.
So what? You’d better stop ruminating, Varga.
There was no point in thinking about those things now.
After all, she’d come to enjoy the relative freedom of operating in space. They did things differently up here.
Rykal’s golden gaze dragged her back into the present. “That’s the difference between you and me,” he said, a trace of admiration in his voice. “You try to save people. I merely follow the orders of my commander, and occasionally, I take what I desire.” His expression turned wry, his tone half-serious. This was his way of becoming guarded, and there was that smile again, the one that never quite touched his eyes. That expression of his could be brutally mocking or scarily bleak.
“Why do you get flashbacks, Rykal?” she asked in a subdued tone, surprising herself. The question had been on her mind for some time, but she was almost afraid to hear his answer.
For a split-second, so quickly she almost missed it, his eyes turned hard, like polished amber. A gamut of emotion crossed his face as he warred with himself, but a part of him finally won. Absently, he pressed his thumb to the spot where he’d marked her with his fangs. “I don’t really know. You see, I’m a half-person. I don’t have any memories of who I was before they changed me.”
Arin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You sure don’t act like someone who’s lost their memories.”
“I was taught not to question such things. I was brainwashed.”
“Was?” Shocked, Arin stiffened. He’d admitted it so easily, as if it were no big deal.
“It was very effective at first, but over time it started to wear off. They thought they could control us by erasing our memories. They thought they could put a mindbond on us just like their cursed Silent Ones, but nano-particles interfere with mindbonds, and eventually things come back, including fragments of memories long past. So you see, I’m walking around with half a brain in my head.”
“You aren’t a half-person,” Arin said vehemently, suppressing a shudder. What had her Kordolian been put through in order to become what he was now? Perhaps she would never now the full extent of it. “Don’t you ever call yourself that again, Rykal. I don’t care if you can’t remember everything. You are who you are, and I’ll take you as you are.” She was only getting a small glimpse into the dark world Rykal had come from, and it was unsettling.
What would happen to the Human race if the Kordolians ever reached Earth?
She didn’t know and neither did Rykal, but the fact that she’d just made transcendent love to one of them gave her hope. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected a Kordolian to be like.
Rykal shook his head in wonder. “See how much I need you?” he mused, half to himself, before raining another storm of kisses upon her.
They were still floating, like capricious spirits out of some ancient tale, except that they were in an escape pod, waiting for somebody to find them.
As soon as they’d ejected, a distress signal would have automatically gone out to all spacecraft in the near vicinity. Right now, that would consist of the Arawen and the Marcia. It was a little concerning that neither of the vessels had tried to make contact yet. Had Rykal heard from his people yet? She had no idea what the range of his hidden comm device was.
As they drifted, Rykal’s arm shot out and he snagged something out of thin air. “I get the feeling we’ll have company soon,” he draped her jacket over her shoulders, then hooked her utility suit with his toe.
“That’s just a hunch?”
“I felt something just now. Vibrations.”
She stared at him blankly. “But you’re floating.” He wasn’t touching any part of the escape pod’s hull. How could he possibly feel any sort of vibration?
Rykal shrugged. “Just a feeling I get. Happens sometimes.”
By now, Arin knew better than to doubt Rykal’s weird preternatural instincts, so she started to dress herself. As if on cue, the pod’s comm started to chime.
Rykal withdrew from
her, raising his eyebrows as if to say: I told you so.
“Shit.” Arin tugged on her utility suit and smoothed down her cropped hair, trying to make herself look presentable, and not like she’d just had wild sex with a sensual alien.
As she settled back into her seat, buckling herself in, the heady afterglow of their lovemaking faded, and cold, hard reality hit her like a wet slap in the face.
The rescue team that had been sent to retrieve her from Fortuna Tau were dead, Rykal and his fellow warriors, who just so happened to be near-indestructible super-soldiers, were going to force their way into Earth, and she was probably in big fucking trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Arin.” Her mother’s image appeared on the flatscreen as Arin sat forward, tension making her stiffen. For a moment they just stared at each other, two Human beings trying to communicate something profound across the cold void of space.
They failed. If there was something Alison Varga lacked, it was the ability to express emotions with words.
Perhaps Arin had become a little that way herself.
Arin wanted to rail at her. She wanted to throw something at the screen and scream: why didn’t you fucking come when we were there the entire time, waiting to be rescued?
But she already knew the answer. Her mother was trained in the Federation way, and all she understood was hierarchy and protocol. There was no way she would have gone against orders from Nova Terra. When her mother joined Federation forces, she would have sworn to uphold and defend the people of Earth above all else.
Above all else.
Above family ties.
Above flesh-and-blood.
Sometimes, Arin wondered if these Federation people even remembered what it was like to think.
If Rykal’s brainwashing had been undone by time, hers had been undone by spending two long years with borderline criminals on a dilapidated, remote mining station.
The Federation wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” her mother said finally, shocking Arin to the core. For the first time, she noticed the dark circles under the general’s eyes. The lines at the corners of her eyes had become more prominent, and the hair at her temples had turned completely grey. “Is anyone else with you?” She spoke in Universal, the standard language of the Federation forces. If she’d wanted to be informal, she would have switched to English, but the just weren’t that close.
Rykal had found a patch of shadow in the corner of the pod; he was well out of sight of the holoscreen’s camera radius.
“I’m alone,” Arin replied, schooling her features into a blank expression. If it got out that there was a Kordolian on board, there would be trouble.
“When I heard that you weren’t on the last transport out, I sent a retrieval team in to find you.” Her mother sat ramrod straight, not moving a muscle, but her voice carried the heavy weight of responsibility. On paper, sending in a valuable retrieval team to rescue a single soul might be considered irresponsible by the bigheads in Nova Terra.
But General Varga had sent them in anyway.
Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.
The senior Varga sighed. For the first time, Arin saw a woman who’d sacrificed family for duty and ambition, and had probably struggled with the weight of that her entire life. “We lost six datafeeds in the blink of any eye.” There was nothing more to add to that. They both knew what it meant. The retrieval team were dead. “How did you get out, Arin? What happened?”
“There was an explosion from a volatile gas leak. The freighter’s taken a lot of damage from the Xargek. I managed to get out, but they weren’t so fortunate. I’m sorry.” She held her mother’s gaze, a tumult of conflicting emotions coursing through her. She was surprised and grateful for her mother’s intervention, but survivor’s remorse stung hard.
“The freighter has become extremely volatile,” the general said softly, unable to offer Arin any sort of consolation. “I knew that when I sent in the rescue squad. Questions are going to be asked, Arin. Nonhuman Affairs are already on my case. According to your squad members, you were seen with a Kordolian shortly before the last transport departed.”
“Negotiating isn’t a crime.” Arin froze, hoping Rykal would keep his cool. If they found out that he was inside the pod with her, listening in on a secure conversation, she could be in big trouble.
She discreetly tucked a hand behind her chair, motioning to Rykal to wait, because he could be unpredictable at times.
“I told them you couldn’t possibly be involved in anything untoward, but they want to bring you in for questioning anyway. I’d rather bring you to the Marcia immediately, but they assured me it would be brief.”
“Who?” Arin blinked in confusion.
“Nonhuman Affairs. One of their surveillance cruisers is in the vicinity. They’ll be retrieving you shortly.”
“But-” Arin opened her mouth to protest. This situation was getting way out of hand, and the last thing she wanted right now was to be put through an interrogation. She was hopelessly compromised and she knew it. “I don’t have anything new for them.”
Except for her relationship with Rykal. Would they see through her? She was supposed to be collecting data on him, not sleeping with him, although she could spin the latter to her advantage if she really wanted to.
Sleeping with the enemy. Spies did that kind of shit, didn’t they?
Not that she’d ever have the stomach to lie about such a thing.
Sweet Rykal. How could she betray him when he’d saved her life and stuck with her every step of the way?
“I’m afraid this is out of my hands, Arin. It’s above my security clearance. Just comply with their requests and everything will be fine. I’ll see you planetside.” Her tone softened. “Even if I’m going to be reprimanded for breaching protocol, it doesn’t matter. We managed to get all those people off the freighter with minimal loss of life.”
“Yeah.” That was something, at least.
“FNA will make contact with you shortly. Stand by.” And just like that, the comm ended, and Arin was left wondering how she was going to get out of this galaxy-sized hole she’d dug herself into.
Rykal emerged from his corner. He regarded her with a long burning look before he activated his comm and spoke to someone on the other end in rapid-fire Kordolian. When he concluded his conversation, he drifted to her side like a silent shadow. He’d activated his armor again, much to Arin’s disappointment. She appreciated his naked form. He leaned in, his lips grazing her cheek. “I don’t understand your planet’s politics, but you don’t need to shield me from your people. They can’t halt the inevitable. I am an enemy to your people, Arin. That isn’t going to change just because you’re mine.” His lips found their way to hers, and he kissed her again. “My brothers encountered a little problem, but they’re on their way now. Soon, we’ll be away from all this unnecessary nonsense. By now, your leaders should understand where we all stand.”
She shook her head, her jaw set at a stubborn angle. Her mind was racing. “We haven’t declared war on Kordolians and vice-versa, at least not yet. I don’t think the Federation knows where you stand in the grand scheme of things, but we need you to kill the Xargek for us. Maybe that makes us allies. What we’re doing isn’t breaking any laws, but my people won’t see it like that.”
“I don’t care how they see it,” Rykal murmured. Perhaps Arin was imagining things, but he seemed to radiate menace. It was like a black aura surrounding him. “If they try and mess with you, they’ll answer to me.” He said it matter-of-factly, and that made his statement all the more chilling.
“Rykal,” Arin warned, “you need to let me deal with my people. They don’t respond well to threats and violence.”
“But they work, don’t they? Look how far we’ve come with just threats and violence.” Somehow, he managed to look deceptively innocent.
Arin wasn’t fooled. “You deal with your people, I’ll deal
with mine.”
“That sounds rather sensible, Sergeant Varga.” Arin froze as the holoscreen came to life. There had been no calling chime; no accept/deny option. The holoscreen had just switched on, overriding the usual channels.
“What do you want?” Arin blurted, taken by surprise. On the other side of the comm was the woman who called herself E1. She was wearing Federation flight attire and sitting in what looked like a standard transport seat.
She wasn’t on Earth anymore; she was in space.
“It appears you’ve done exactly as we asked,” E1 said, giving Rykal a cold look. “We’ll be retrieving you now for a debrief. Get ready for an inter-space evac. We’re coming up beside you.”
“No,” Rykal growled, placing a possessive hand on Arin’s shoulder. It wasn’t just her imagination. A palpable darkness rolled off him, oppressive and terrifying. “She stays with me now.”
“We’re coming to retrieve her, alien. You don’t have a choice.”
“Touch her and I’ll skin you alive.”
E1 wasn’t moved by his threats. “The sergeant has some information we need. Therefore, we need her. In the event that we are unable to retrieve her, we have been authorized to erase that information, in order to prevent it from getting into the wrong hands. As long as she’s with you, she’s a liability to Earth.”
“Erase?” Rykal’s tone made the fine hairs on the back of Arin’s neck stand up.
“Rykal,” she began gently, trying to hold his seething anger at bay. She new him well enough by now to be able to sense the danger radiating from him.
“There are two options here, alien. Release Sergeant Varga and we will leave you, or keep her with you. If you refuse to let her go, we have no alternative but to eliminate the evidence.”
“What are you trying to say, agent?” Arin raised her voice in frustration. A bad feeling had wormed its way into the pit of her stomach. This didn’t make any sense. Evidence? Liability? The Kordolians could have pumped any of the Humans on the Hendrix II for information.
