by Anna Carven
Sanctuary
A Dark Planet Warriors Novella
Anna Carven
Copyright © 2019 by Anna Carven
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
1. Tarak
2. Abbey
3. Tarak
4. Abbey
5. Tarak
6. Abbey
7. Tarak
8. Abbey
9. Tarak
10. Abbey
11. Tarak
12. Abbey
13. Abbey
14. Abbey
15. Tarak
16. Abbey
17. Abbey
18. Abbey
19. Abbey
20. Abbey
21. Tarak
Teaser - Darkstar Mercenaries Book 3 - Fractured Souls
Author’s Note
Also by Anna Carven
Introduction
Yes, this is another book featuring our original couple, Abbey and Tarak. From time to time, I get requests for a sneak peek into the not-so-ordinary lives of the Kordolians and their mates, and I’m only too happy to oblige.
If you’re not familiar with the world of the Dark Planet Warriors, you might like to go back to where it all started and check out the original Dark Planet Warriors (Book 1).
This book has a slightly different flavor to previous installments. It’s very much a ‘slice of life’ story, with some Christmas themes thrown in (yes, it’s March now, but what the hey), and of course, the usual steaminess.
I hope you enjoy it!
1
Tarak
I hear them even before I catch the sweet, familiar traces of my mate’s scent.
Little Ami, heart of my heart, miraculous child of moonlight and stars, is screaming. I know this sort of cry by now. I know all of her different cries. This one is not a sound of distress, but more of a how-dare-you-ignore-me kind of wailing; shrill, insistent, and rather imperious.
I am relieved she is no longer in pain. She has been dealing the effects of a virus these past few days, and I have learned what it means to bear witness to my own child’s suffering.
It is an entirely different kind of torture.
Zyara assured me it was a minor infection; an Earth pathogen that would cause a few days of fever and sore throat and a runny nose, but that did not stop me from feeling every siv of my child’s misery, especially when she would wake in the middle of the night, screaming.
This is the first time Ami has been sick.
Thankfully, the fever broke last night.
I do not know what I would do if she were to be seriously harmed. The Universe had better pray that it never happens. I have already witnessed Abbey almost succumbing to the malevolent black nanites that I introduced into her bloodstream, and it nearly broke me.
I saved my mate’s life once, and in doing so, I almost killed her.
I have a confession to make. I am not entirely stable. I have a problem with giving up control. I have attempted to retire several times—unsuccessfully. I have grown back my horns—once and only once—and only because Abbey likes them, but then I had to go into space again, so I cut them off again, because Kordolian horns are not compatible with nanite exo-armor.
Abbey was disappointed, but she understood.
There are still things that need to be sorted out. The Universe must step into line. I keep a grip on the reins of power because I am the only one who can do so. I need to be in control. Most of the former Imperial Military Fleet is under my command, and we fund the entire infernal operation from the seized assets of the Kordolian Noble Houses.
But eventually we will have to become self-sustaining, and that is where the mercenary work is necessary.
My ears twitch in irritation as I contemplate the realities of a post-Imperial Universe. Who ever would have thought the infamous First Division would offer their services—for a price?
Tch. It is a means to an end.
We will make it work.
We will be highly selective about which jobs we accept. Our rates will be the most expensive, because our skills are unrivaled in the Nine Galaxies. On occasion, I may—
“Nononononooooo!” Ami’s piercing yell sends a stab of pain through the rear of my skull. She learned that word several months ago, and now she uses it a lot.
When she is much older, my dear daughter will understand that her father’s sense of hearing is very sharp indeed, and that such high-pitched, sustained screaming causes a certain kind of pain at the back of the skull, just behind the ears; an irritating pinprick of sensation that would otherwise drive me to swiftly eliminate the source of that infernal noise.
But she is my child, and when they are coming from her, I will tolerate even the most infernal sounds.
Abbey seems to think I have trouble setting boundaries when it comes to Ami.
Ha. She should know.
I am the same way with her; my willful, obstinate, irresistible human, who has unlocked an indulgent side of me I did not even know I possessed. Certain behaviors that I would not tolerate from any other living being in the Universe… when they come from her, I find myself amused, aroused, and endlessly fascinated.
Ah, fuck. Neither of them truly understand the magnitude of what they have done to me.
“Ami, sweetheart, mama loves you very much, and I like playing with you and your little crocodile, but now you have to give him to mama and go to sleep.”
My mate sounds exasperated, and tired.
“Nonononono. No!” Inevitably, the screaming intensifies. “Badbadabadabad!”
I reach the entrance of our dwelling and the Qualum door unravels instantly, recognizing my biological signature. The structure we stay in on Earth might have been designed and constructed by humans, but I have had Kordolian tech installed in every part of this building.
Qualum doors are the most secure.
Our monitoring systems are the most sensitive.
I will not settle for anything less.
A soft sound from up on the roof captures my attention as I step across the threshold. A single hand appears over the roof’s edge, giving me a quick, silent salute.
Of course, the guard on the roof would not have made a sound unless he specifically wanted to me to know he was there. He acknowledges me out of respect, because he is there under my orders.
Arkan Kythelian is one of my trusted inner circle—a First Division warrior. When I am away, I always assign one of my elite to keep watch over my wife and child, even though we are at the center of the most highly guarded complex on Earth.
When it comes to their safety, I am taking no chances. I know Arkan or any of the others would do whatever is necessary to protect them. Abbey does not know there’s a silent, highly trained guard stationed on the roof. What is the point in bothering her with such minor details when she is preoccupied with more important things?
I make a sign with my left hand—dismissed. Arkan flicks me a quick signal of acknowledgement and disappears.
Now that I am here, there is no need for a guard.
If anyone—or anything—tries to approach
our dwelling, I will know, and I will deal with it. This is my domain now, and I will run it as I see fit. It gives me a certain sense of relief to know that everything is controlled, right down to the most minuscule detail.
“Uwaaah!”
But there are some things that simply cannot be controlled, and my baby daughter is one of them.
A strange feeling enters my chest as I ascend the stairs and head for my daughter’s room. It is a powerful sense of belonging, of contentment, of completeness.
This is my home.
And even though my child is screaming at the top of her lungs, and my mate is struggling to appease her—my sweet, patient amina—I look forward to seeing them.
My clan.
Abbey does not notice as I enter the room. She is holding Ami in her arms, pacing alongside the floor-to-ceiling window which looks out toward the glittering stars above.
We live in a house of metal and stone and glass, a structure I find baffling and utterly alien. My preference is for darkness and solid impenetrable walls, but Abbey finds Kordolian architecture stifling, likening it to subterranean caves, which are not such a bad thing in my opinion.
But humans have their quirks, and I am mated to one, so from time to time, I must adjust.
The clear panes of the window have been replaced with an ultra tough Kordolian-made composite. Good enough.
Before I reach Abbey’s side, I let my feet make a tiny shuffling sound, just loud enough to alert her to my presence. Ami has gone quiet.
She turns around, my sweet, beautiful, irresistible…
“Where have you been?” she demands, and there is a hard glint in her eyes that I have never seen before. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes are rumpled, and there is a distinct expression of weariness on her face.
Still, she is beautiful. I would tell her so, but now is not the time.
Ami sees me and squirms, putting her arms out. It is a small miracle that she has gone quiet.
In certain situations, she has been known to escalate.
“Bad,” she says, suddenly subdued. That is her approximation of dad. For some reason, Abbey finds this highly amusing. What a strange coincidence that those two words sound similar in both Universal and Abbey’s native English.
“Come.” I take her, cradling her gently against my chest. Her soft baby scent surrounds me, and I gaze down upon features that are so much like her mother’s. She has my hair, half my ears, and her mother’s face. Her big violet eyes are a revelation. I do not know where she gets those from. My own eyes are red—a common color amongst the peoples of the Lost Tribes—and Abbey’s are of the Earth itself—a perfect blend of brown and green.
“You are not sleeping, daughter of mine?” I frown.
“Nono!” she says adamantly, shaking her head. Her bottom lip juts out in an expression that reminds me so very much of my mate.
I make eye contact with Abbey. There are dark circles under her eyes. “It’s late,” she mouths. “Waaay past her bedtime.”
“Ami,” I growl, taking pity on my mate. “Why are you not asleep? Do you think that just because you have beaten this sickness, you now have permission to keep whatever schedule you please?” I shake my head. “My daughter, it does not work like that in my house. You do not get away with this kind of behavior. It’s time to sleep.”
“Takes after her father,” Abbey mouths, giving me a dirty sidelong glance.
I raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. Ami glances at my face. Miraculously, her expression softens, and a whisper of a smile tugs at one corner of her mouth.
Then she laughs.
Am I somehow funny? I am not known for being amusing.
I wipe the tears from her cheeks with the pad of my thumb.
Impossible child.
Abbey’s shoulders straighten a fraction, as if I have just taken a great weight off her, but the rigid set of her jaw tells me she is still irritable.
I am here now. All is well.
Still, she frowns.
“Leepleep. Ami leep.”
Sleep. So now my daughter wants to sleep?
“I think she just wanted to see you before she went to bed,” Abbey says. “She missed you.”
Huh. Never in my cursed existence did I think it would be possible for someone to actually miss me.
Strange emotions course through me, and for a moment I am transformed, my many barriers—impenetrable to most—melting away completely.
But if Abbey notices how unguarded I am right now, she does not show it. Instead, she looks at me balefully, as if I am a demon that has crawled out of the pits of one of Kaiin’s infernal hells.
“You said you’d be back before sundown,” she mutters, sounding decidedly grumpy as she brushes wayward strands of hair out of her face. “What took you so long?”
I do not tell her that I had to make an unexpected trip to one of our stealth cruisers, which is stationed in Earth’s lower orbit. I do not tell her that our surveillance systems had intercepted a Ephrenian transport bound for the illegal trading station, Zarhab Groht, with a very important cargo onboard—humans. I do not tell her that this is the third such shipment we have intercepted since we took over protection of Earth; that I had to go and personally interrogate the smugglers, because I am intent on finding the source of these shipments—and the buyer.
Too bad the captain of the ship—the one who has the information I want—was unconscious from a savage blow to the head when I arrived. The ship medic tried to revive him, but Ephrenian physiology is complicated, and our drugs do not work on them.
I couldn’t wait that long, so I left the captain in the hands of one of my capable First Division soldiers.
Jeral will extract the information I need, and when we find those responsible, we will destroy them. I need to send a clear message.
Humans are under my protection now. Anyone who fucks with Earth’s innocent citizens will answer to me.
“I am here now,” I say softly, turning my full attention upon Ami. I can do this because she is quiet now. I rock my child back and forth, and her limbs grow heavy as she drifts into sleep. Abbey’s eyes widen as she observes this. She shakes her head ruefully.
“She always does this with you,” she sighs. Abbey straightens a fraction, as if a great weight has been lifted off her shoulders. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just the entertainment.”
“You are everything,” I say, because it is true. My mate pouts at me as if she does not entirely believe my words.
She should know better. I never ever say things I don’t mean.
I take a moment to study her closely, an activity I never tire of. I never get tired of anything to do with her, even when she is like this.
Weary. Disheveled. A little irritable.
She is still wearing the same clothes she had on when I left—a short-sleeved grey top made from worn fabric and a pair of soft, stretchy trousers.
Loose clothes. Comfortable clothes. My mate is not one for pretense, and she knows I prefer her in her most natural state.
And right now, I know exactly what she needs…
But that will have to wait.
“Go,” I murmur, nodding toward the door. “You need—”
“A shower,” she says dryly, looking down at her rumpled clothes. “A bowl of Kenna’s homemade banana ice-cream. I’ve been thinking about it all day. But are you sure you don’t need me to—”
“Go,” I insist, knowing very well that she needs some time to herself.
“The sleeping pouch is over ther—”
“I know.” My voice becomes sharp, and my left ear twitches in irritation. My precious mate is always like this; she has an innate need to assume responsibility for everything to do with Ami, even when I am perfectly in control of the situation.
Perhaps in that respect, we are similar. Even so, this friction from her is a little unusual.
Something is different.
Her scent has changed, becoming complex and potent, a mixture of fema
le musk and something… other. She wears the traces of her busy day—hints of food and sweat and the fragrant lotions she uses to soothe Ami’s skin, which becomes dry in these hot desert conditions. The combination isn’t unpleasant, and underneath it all is her true essence—the unique, heady fragrance that never fails to capture my attention.
I am this close to going after her right now, but I must be patient.
She needs space. Ami needs to sleep. The time for other things will come later.
“Abbey,” I growl. “Rest. Get something to eat. I am here now, and I am not going anywhere.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her with a sharp look.
A puff of air escapes my mate’s lips as she shakes her head in exasperation.
I look down at Ami, nestled comfortably in my arms. With her eyes closed, her round, luminous face looks so peaceful. My daughter has long pale eyelashes, a tiny round nose and the most perfect heart-shaped lips.
Over the past few weeks, a smattering of brown pigment-spots have appeared across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.
Beautiful, just like her mother.
And finally, she is asleep.
Just like that.
“How do you do that?” Abbey whispers under her breath, knowing I can hear her perfectly well.
I shrug, raising an eyebrow. Why are you still here?
Abbey takes the hint and slips away, breathing a small sigh of relief. Her parting glance is a mixture of darkness and desire.
That look.
It does all kinds of things to me. She is angry, and yet she wants me.
Soon, my amina.
But why is she so upset?
I do not understand. On occasion, humans confound me, Granted, I came back late, but I have done so many times before, and she has never made an issue of it. Abbey knows my business very well—perhaps better than she lets on—and she accepts that sometimes I have to do things that she finds distasteful.
