by S. A. Ravel
The Archan stroked her cheek as if he sensed her uneasiness. “You have too many questions still,” he murmured. “There is enough time to quench my desire—when you are certain.”
“You’re a strange man.”
He lay there with her, holding her as she drifted. “I’m many things,” he whispered. “And stranger than even you think.”
10
Red hot anger washed through him. Not his, but Abella’s. Ishaiq slowed his ascent, landing on the balcony outside of his suite. When he’d left her that morning, her mood had been calm—still wary of him, but with a kernel of warmth unfurling. He counseled himself to patience. Just because he had made his choice didn’t mean she might not still need time to make hers. The days spent wooing her had helped—though the brushes with his temper had not. She seemed to handle him well, though.
Ishaiq followed the internal path of Abella’s unusually strong emotions to her suite. He frowned. Why was she still living in these rooms when he’d given instructions for her to move to his floor? But as he glanced around, clearly none of her belongings had been moved. Stifling irritation, he glanced at the opening leading to her office and he stilled, head tilting as he unabashedly eavesdropped on her conversation.
“Repeating yourself a third time, or even a fourth, isn’t going to make me say what you want, Cheryl.”
Abella’s voice was tight, on the verge of a growl.
“…Incredibly immature.”
He heard the soft sound of bare feet moving around the room.
“Would that be more, or less, immature than attempting to have me killed?”
“He was supposed to just convince you to come home. Really—“
“No, really, you bitch.”
Ishaiq crossed his arms, a rare grin on his face. His little human had some teeth on her after all. She would need them to survive an eternity with him.
“You tried to have me killed, and for fucking profit. I am absolutely done with you. I called you just to let you know that if you or any of yours ever step foot on Ailaut, my angel will have you shredded into a million tiny pieces. And I won’t say a damn word to stop him.”
Satisfaction welled, his own. Finally, she understood. He would kill to protect her, even her own kin. It meant that on some level she accepted him, accepted them.
Ishaiq strode across the room and entered her office as she disconnected the communication. “They do not have to step foot on Ailaut,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “My reach extends to Earth.”
She turned, a long braid attempting to restrain her curls swishing about her back like an angry tiger’s tail. She pointed, the finger stabbing the air. “You just—just… stay put! I’ll have none of your shenanigans either. You’re a menace!”
His brow rose. “I’m a menace? I’m not the one who tried to kidnap and murder you.”
Frustration seethed from her pours. “I know that.” She took a deep breath. “I have to go back, Ishaiq.”
His half amused, half indulgent mood vanished. “I’ve already told you, you may not.”
The look she gave him might have warned a lesser male. Ishaiq stepped forward, ready to do battle.
“My sister and her husband have access to a great deal of wealth if I’m either dead or declared dead. I didn’t care before—now I do.” She paused. “I want you to support me on this, but I don’t care if you don’t. I need to get back to Earth, clean up this mess, and have them exposed for the criminals they are, and then I’ll come straight back.”
He laughed without amusement. “You talk as if a trip across space is a walk across the beach. My mind has not changed, Abella. No. You don’t need the wealth and if it is retribution you want, I will lay their heads at your feet.”
She folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “I don’t want them dead. I want them in jail. And I don’t want your money, either. I want mine. I’m rich in my own right—I don’t have to be your poor housekeeper unless I want to be.”
His wings lifted off the ground, Ishaiq taking several seconds to stuff choice words back behind his lips. “You are not my housekeeper. You demean us both.”
“And what’s wrong with a housekeeper? It’s honest work!”
She would drive him into another long sleep. “Don’t play word games with me, Abella.”
She was silent, eyes lowering. “Fine.”
Ishaiq stared. “What does fine mean?”
She walked past him. “Whatever you want it to mean, Archan.”
“Where are you going?” Ishaiq asked.
Abella stopped, turned. “I’m going for a walk, if I have your permission.” She even bowed, imitating the obeisance she’d seen Seri give. She felt particularly ill-tempered, and didn’t even care if his eyes narrowed dangerously.
A moment of silence, then he stepped out of her way, wings ruffling. “Be back in time to dine with me, Abella.”
Didn’t he know how to ask? It was why she hadn’t moved to the floor he resided on. Too little space between them—all that autocracy within talking distance. No, thank you. At least down here, she could shut off her communicator, burrow deep in her mind and pretend to ignore him.
“And stay out of my mind tonight, Ishaiq. I mean it. I want some alone time.”
If he stiffened any more, he’d turn into an old-fashioned wood broom. His eyes flared, and their mental connection was gone. She blinked, and staggered, the sudden silence in her head jarring. Spurred by anger, both at Cheryl and Ishaiq, Abella hurried on her way, needing to put as much distance between them as possible. Two people who wanted to control her life. At least, he had an excuse—being male and older than dirt, he probably just couldn’t help himself. But her own sister?
Abella took the transport to the ground and walked the rest of the way to the village. No idea where she was going, just walking. And thinking. Thinking thoughts that would get her in a lot of hot water if Ishaiq decided to open their connection suddenly.
She followed the path through the market district to the dock. A little more distance gave her a clearer mind and a little more clarity. Ishaiq offered her everything he had. Anything she wanted, he would give her, even a place in his heart. But his offer wasn’t what made her flee from his bed.
It was fear. Only days before, when she landed on Ailaut, she had so much confidence in herself. She would be independent for the first time in her life. Nobody to depend on, but nobody who depended on her either. And instead, she had managed to snag herself an angel alien lover—more permanent than a lover—and now, she was embroiled in a nasty battle with her own sister. She hadn’t expected that. Over money, power, control. Why couldn’t the people in her life be content with what they had? Why did they have to covet what was hers—wealth, life, independence? In that quiet house after the funeral, when all the mourners and well-wishers had finally moved on with their lives, Abella swore she would finally live her life. Learning to live on her own wasn’t just a goal, it was a matter of survival.
It hadn’t taken much for her to abandon any thoughts of independence. Just a handsome alien asking her to set her life aside to save his. That and an earth-shattering orgasm she could still feel tingling through her body.
Abella looked over her shoulder at the white tower. Was Ishaiq her lover? Her beloved? Her master? What would he become if she said yes? She didn’t have any answers, and she suspected, she would never find them when he was so close.
She turned and headed back toward the town center. The ferrymen were all gone for the evening, but the restaurants and cafes in town still bustled with activity. Someone there must know how to work a boat. If she offered them enough money, maybe they would brave the dark ocean to take her to the mainland.
Abella tried to keep her mind empty as she walked. She wasn’t naive enough to think that the Archan would keep his promise if he knew she didn’t intend to come back that evening. He didn’t understand. To him, it was perfectly fine to be her savior, to solve her problems for her. It was typical masculine bullshit thinking. She shou
ld be okay with him swooping to provide everything from her toothpaste to her tampons. He paid her a salary, but she had the distinct impression he didn’t think she even needed that. What for, when he considered his wealth available to her at her say so? Abella snorted. As if.
She was so focused on keeping her mind clear that she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until strong arms grabbed her from behind.
For one second, she thought it was Ishaiq, but his presence still felt far away. The stinging pain of a needle in her arm confirmed it. Her heart rate ramped up from chilling fear, only to slow again as the edges of the world darkened. What had they given her?
All she could do was try to push her thoughts outward as the blackness took her. She sent out one thought, one desperate plea that she could only hope reached its destination.
Ishaiq! Help!
“Ishaiq, you’ll drown the island!”
Luqmun’s rough voice reached him, enclosed in the eye of a storm of his own making. Lightning cracked overhead as Ishaiq searched for her. But whatever foe had been sent this time knew what they were doing. Abella had one second to call to him, and then their connection died. Nothing. Either she was no longer living, or they’d given her something to put her in a deep, instant sleep.
If she was alive, she would be on a shuttle head to a space dock, and then to a ship to take her to her former home. He should never have listened to her, should not have stayed his hand because the enemy was her own sister. Ishaiq didn’t want to start their life together with the blood of her—and now his own—family on his hands.
His weakness would cost them both.
Luqmun called to him again. Ishaiq struggled for a split second not to swat his Vicelord out of the sky, his anger looking to express itself on the most convenient target. Gritting his teeth, he called his power back inside his body, wrestling the storm of his emotions into something that would disturb the weather, but not enough to harm the humans under his protection.
It took him precious minutes. Once the force of his temper was unleashed, it was difficult to restrain. When the rain softened from a pelting sheet to a soft drizzle and the clouds overhead broke up, he winged toward his friend and right wing.
“Abella has been taken,” he said.
Luqmun’s eyes arrowed. The water had plastered his cabled hair to his chest and back, and logged his feathers but he used a touch of magic to remain in the air.
“I’ll call in your guard,” Luqmun said immediately, referring to the Aikalah who owed Ishaiq their swords in times of war. They were mostly scattered now, dealing with their own lives and family, but it was testament to Luqmun’s loyalty—since he had no particular like of Abella—that his instinct was to go to war on behalf of the woman Ishaiq had chosen.
Ishaiq’s lips curved. “No, not for this. She is being taken to her home world. I will follow. And you will come with me.”
“Space?” Luqmun winced. He had no love of space travel.
“It won’t be a long trip. But it will be a bloody one.”
11
She noticed the cold first, a bone-deep chill that left her shivering, or would have if her arms didn’t feel so heavy. Someone had put a jacket on her before they belted her into the seat, but it didn’t help. The weightlessness was next. The sinking in the pit of her stomach let her know the ground was far away instead of beneath her feet. It was just as well that her limbs were still too heavy to move, too numb to even try. Wherever she was, running was impossible while she was airborne.
In her experience, only two modes of transportation produced a floating sensation: space travel and air travel. The Aikalah never developed air travel the way humans had. What use was an airplane when they had wings to fly? It could only mean one thing, she wasn’t on Ailaut anymore.
That explains the cold.
She opened her mind, reaching for Ishaiq’s presence. Nothing. Maybe their bond didn’t extend this far?
Abella cracked her eyelids and peeked through her lashes. She was in a car, or something like it. The sleek interior was all silver leather and blue lights, unlike any car she’d ever been in. It hovered nearly twenty feet above the ground. The city beyond the windows was equally unfamiliar. Towering metal skyscrapers with matte safety-glass windows dotted every inch of the horizon. Huge rings speckled with buildings and lights sat where the clouds should have been. Black emptiness and distant stars stood in place of the blue sky. Not a transport. A way station?
A way station was good. If she could get to the security team, they could help her. They might even be able to figure out who had kidnapped her.
She heard a familiar voice from the driver’s seat. “Pinafore, this is Black Elk, the package is in hand and will be delivered shortly.”
Another voice filtered through the car’s speakers. “What’s her status? Robin and Marian have plans for her tonight.”
“She’s sleeping it off right now, should be fine in a couple of hours.”
Abella closed her eyes again and prayed that Dakota wouldn’t notice the movement. If he thought she was still asleep, his guard would be down. She just had to wait for a chance to get away.
“Marian won’t like that,” the voice over the speaker said.
“Yeah, well, I’m a delivery boy, not a magician,” Dakota snapped. “ETA twenty minutes.” The com beeped as Dakota punched a button and ended the call.
Her stomach flopped, her heart raced, and she struggled to count the passing seconds in her head. She didn’t know who Robin and Marian were, but they were coming for her. In twenty minutes, there would be nowhere for her to run. Unless she gathered every scrap of strength she had and got away.
Just look away for a few seconds. That’s all I need…
At ten minutes until landing, Dakota unbuckled his safety belt and reached into the backseat. Without a moment’s hesitation, Abella popped the clasp on her own seatbelt. She tugged at the door handle and shoved her shoulder against the sleek surface.
“Fuck,” he swore. He reached for her just as the door swung open, snagging her jacket collar between his fingers.
Abella kicked her legs both to escape and in an instinctive response to the empty air beneath her feet. She looked down, frantic to find an escape route. If Dakota, or whoever he was, pulled her back into the car, she’d never have another chance to get free. Only a few of the way station residents on the ground looked up at the hovering car. None of them stopped.
She reached for the jacket zipper and tugged it open. Dakota pulled upward on the collar just as she got her right arm free. It felt like she fell forever, but it could only have been a few seconds before her feet collided with the surface.
Pain shot through her legs, blinding her as momentum sent her body slamming into the fabricated ground. Dakota reached for the open car door and nearly fell out after Abella. She scrambled to her feet and ran for it. Her legs hurt like hell, but the injury wasn’t serious enough to slow her down. She brushed past the residents and ducked down a narrow alley. There wasn’t a single security officer in sight.
He wouldn’t be able to follow her in the hover car. That bought her time to get to a different sector. But that would mean traveling on foot. It would take time for him to land and park the car.
Fifteen minutes after Dakota had promised to deliver her to Robin and Marian, Abella stopped at a communications booth.
The booth A.I. spoke in a cheerful voice. “Hello, I am detecting the presence of non-life threatening injuries. Med tech alert in progress.”
“Negative, cancel the alert,” she said. “Where am I?”
“Your current location is Residential District Theta, Block 9—”
“No, I mean what is this place? Is it a way station? A ship?”
“The larger structure is Station Kelvin, a spaceport located 1.5 light years away from the planet Ailaut.”
Abella opened her mouth to speak, but a thought stopped her from telling the A.I. to call security. It was a small, nagging feeling about the names
Dakota had used. If he had been using code names, Black Elk would have been him. But who were Marian and Robin?
“Bank record,” she said. “Abella Michaels. GEA Employee 564327.”
The machine paused for a moment before continuing in the same cheerful tone. “Voiceprint confirmed. Accessing records. What is your request?”
“Account balance.”
“Current account balance three million credits.”
Abella blinked. “That can’t be right. Check again.”
“Confirmed. The account balance is accurate.”
She leaned against the wall of the booth, struggling to catch her breath. She could have worked for Ishaiq for a decade and not earned that much money. The extra funds could only have come from one place: her inheritance.
“How do I make a call down to the planet?”
“What is the name of the party you would like to call?”
“Ishaiq Khammu, Archan.”
A graphic appeared on the booth opposite Abella. It blinked three times, then faded to reveal Mirabel’s face.
The middle-aged woman’s eyes grew wide, and a smile spread across her face even as tears filled her eyes. “Abella! Where are you? The Archan was out of his mind—”
“I need you to tell the Archan I was kidnapped. I’m on Station Kelvin, and I don’t know how to get home.”
“One moment.” Mirabel’s voice changed, going crisp. “I’m attempting to ping him now. Are you someplace safe?”
“For now. I don’t have time, though.”
“I’ve contacted his shuttle. He is already en route.”
“What? How could he be en route?” Hadn’t she felt their connection break? Hope swelled. Did he somehow already know what had happened?
“I don’t know how, but he must have known the second you went missing,” Mirabel said. “There was a storm, and then he took the Vicelord and some warriors—”
A strong arm grabbed Abella around the waist. “Trying to call for back up? Not smart.” It was Dakota.
