by Anna Carven
His muscles were gradually losing their bulk; he was being transformed into a more lithe, lean, and mean version of himself.
How strange.
The way he loped down the hall, so silent and graceful—yet predatory—reminded her of a hungry wolf after a long winter.
Holy hell.
And then there was that thing with his face… those eyes. The whites had been burned right off his eyeballs, leaving a gruesome mess. Then the black specks appeared, crawling across the damaged tissue like microscopic insects, replacing the gelatinous mess with the perfectly etched circles of his pupil and iris.
Like some sort of intricate digital painting, brilliant red and black unfurled, bringing his fierce expression back to life, as if he’d somehow been revived from death.
She should have been shocked.
She should have been horrified.
But this was Torin, and she could no longer fear him.
“Wait here,” he said softly, grazing her waist with one hand as he drew his sword with the other. His touch alone was enough to send a ripple of desire down into her core, infusing her body with heat.
Before she could say anything, he disappeared.
Shit.
The area at the end of the corridor was shrouded in shadow, and as Torin slipped into the darkness, becoming nothing more than a shadow himself, Seph realized for the first time how much he belonged there.
Born on a planet devoid of light.
Goosebumps rippled over her arms. The endless infotext briefings she’d pored over had never described the otherworldly nature of these Kordolians.
“Damn it, Torin,” she whispered. This giddy, breathless feeling; wasn’t it the sort of thing that only happened in stupid romance novels?
As she stared after him, her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Suddenly, the shadows made sense, and Seph gasped. Fallen bodies stretched out before her. Perfectly still, with limbs askew, obsidian blood forming abstract pools around them, the sight chilled her to the bone.
Kordolians.
“Th-the guards,” Parrus stuttered, his tail snapping back and forth like a pennant in a wild storm. “He’s killed Relahek’s guards.”
“I didn’t kill all of them,” Torin said softly, re-appearing from the shadows.
“Yeek!” Parrus yelped in alarm, jumping three feet into the air.
Seph couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath. The man was like a goddamn phantom. “Have a little consideration for we clumsy mortals,” she grumbled. The whole thing with the darkness, the violence, the bodies, the Bartharrans outside… no wonder she was on edge.
“Sorry.” Torin’s brow creased into a look of genuine contrition. From deadly and graceful to awkward in the blink of an eye…
It was so freaking endearing.
“The way is clear. Let’s go.” He put his hand on the small of her back to guide her.
Boom! Every time he touched her, that thing happened. A delicious sizzle of electricity down her spine. Heat spread through her chest, her belly, between her thighs. Words deserted her. Rational thought deserted her. Good sense and any sort of decent survival instinct deserted her.
Shit. I can’t believe this is happening!
Seph’s past was littered with the burning wrecks of stormy relationships. The scars were all hers; she chose Bad Men and rode the trail to destruction with her eyes wide open, knowing exactly what she was in for.
Why?
Because she was an idiot with poor impulse control. Because she was fatally attracted to hard edges and extremes.
Because in her sister’s words: “you’re always trying to fucking prove yourself, Seph. You think you can get them to change? Stop it. You’re always the one who ends up getting hurt, and I’m the one who has to deal with the aftermath.”
But this time, her attraction went harder, deeper, pulling at her with all the might and fury of a fierce ocean undertow.
Torin was nothing like the men from her past.
He wasn’t a Bad Man.
Dangerous, yes. Scary, yes. But not bad. She was old enough to tell the difference by now.
Torin continued to guide her as they walked, his touch feeling good, steady, protective. He deftly led them away from the pile of bodies, and the narrow corridor gave way to an expansive room.
Their footsteps—well, hers and Parrus’s—echoed off polished metal floors. Despite the darkness, she could see perfectly well, thanks to the warm pink light surrounded them. She glanced at Parrus. The stripes across the Veronian’s face and arms emitted a bright glow, suffusing their surroundings with a rosy shade of pink.
Torin followed the direction of her gaze. “He’s happy,” he murmured, absently tracing the spot right between her sacral dimples with the pad of his thumb.
Such a tiny gesture, and yet it made her so weak at the knees.
“Happy?” She tried to distract herself by focusing on Parrus and his strange markings. The light he emitted was just enough for her to see by. “Are you happy, Parrus?”
“The guards are dead,” Parrus replied. “I’m not sorry for it. They used to beat me, and…” His expression morphed into something bordering on vicious, reminding Seph that not all that was cute and furry in the Universe was necessarily nice. “I’m thinking of home. I want to go home with my…” He hesitated, his eyes momentarily becoming unfocused. “Maybe Torin will set me free. That thought makes me happy.”
“Stay with us now, chichin. I’m your best bet on this death-trap.”
“Indeed, Master.” The Veronian’s markings changed color, turning a pretty shade of lilac. Seph wasn’t an expert on Inner Sector species, but it was common knowledge that Veronians literally wore their emotions on their sleeves.
Perhaps that was why they were so vulnerable to exploitation.
Torin shifted his arm, moving his hand across the upper curve of her butt so that his forearm and wrist rested against her lower back.
Seph didn’t protest.
He walked with his sword in his right hand, holding it low and close to his body; a stark reminder that he was responsible for most of the violence and destruction on this ship. He moved like a dancer, gliding across the space with such quiet grace, always staying just a fraction of a step ahead of her. Loose, yet ready to explode into motion at any given moment. Stalking, yet caressing.
Seph didn’t know what lay ahead, but with Torin by her side, she felt safe.
As they went deeper into the network of rooms, various furnishings and artifacts started to appear, hinting at opulence.
A soft rug here, a tall statue there, alongside the occasional plush chair or sumptuous sofa. The styles were a mishmash of intricate alien craftsmanship and ultra-tech minimalism, totally unlike anything she’d ever seen on Earth.
This Relahek person sure had strange taste.
“Typical Noble opulence.” There was a hint of derision in Torin’s voice. “They take everything they want and put it all together without any respect for culture or context. That’s a classic Veronian piece.” He nodded in the direction of a long footstool. The blue padded cushion was embroidered with an ombre constellation of tiny stars that graduated from the faintest blush of pink to the most vivid red. Its legs were made from some clear material that was almost invisible, giving it the appearance of floating in mid-air.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s out of place. The man is nuts. He’s paired it with an Imperial sculpture.”
Parrus made a soft sound of agreement.
Beside the footstool, a tall black statue carved through the air, its twin arms reaching toward the ceiling like a pair of twisting blades.
“I thought your people didn’t do art.”
“It’s not exactly Monet, but we try.”
“You know about Monet. I’m impressed.”
“I admire his works. Even as his sight failed, the man channelled his frailty to create something divine.”
Seph gaped. A Kordolian warrior w
ith an interest in impressionism? Who’d studied enough of Monet to know the artist had suffered from cataracts in his old age? Of course, it could only be Torin. “I didn’t realize you—”
“Persephone, I haven’t found anything in the Universe that compares to human art, and on your planet, information is freely available. I am obsessed.”
“With our art?”
“Amongst other things.” His sidelong glance was infused with heat.
The way he looked at her just now… Damn it! Seph let the air escape her lungs in a single slow, shuddering exhalation. If only they were someplace else right now, somewhere quiet and not so dangerous…
She wouldn’t hold back.
Suddenly, Torin stopped. “Relahek is in there.” He nodded in the direction of a curved doorway.
“How do you… oh. You can hear him, huh?”
The tips of his ears twitched. “I can hear him,” Torin said loudly, baring his fangs. He obviously intended for his target to hear. “I can smell him, I can sense him. There are two others with him.” Gently, he guided Seph to a plush sofa and motioned for her to sit. He tapped her gun-hand and pointed in the direction from where they’d come. “I’m going in,” he whispered. “You know what to do.”
Parrus arrived at their side, having hung back a fraction—perhaps to afford them some privacy. The Veronian possessed an uncanny ability to be there but not there, even as the glowing markings on his skin provided the only source of light.
Torin put a finger to his lips. Don’t speak.
Seph didn’t dare say a word. Parrus squatted on his haunches beside her. For the first time since she’d met him, the Veronian’s tail went perfectly still.
Torin gave his other plasma gun to Parrus. At first, the pink alien held up his hands in alarm, but when Torin glared at him, he reluctantly took the sleek weapon.
Torin caressed Seph’s lower back in a reassuring parting gesture, and then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness, leaving her all alone in a strange room with a glowing alien, a plasma gun, and a horde of Bartharran worshippers waiting for her outside.
And butterflies in her damn stomach.
All beyond the soft glow that came from Parrus, there was darkness all around them.
Couldn’t someone just turn on the fucking lights?
No, because these quarters were occupied by a Kordolian, and Kordolians didn’t need the light. She could have activated the guide-light on her link-band, but some instinct told her not to. The thing was so damn bright it might draw unwanted attention.
Seph took a deep breath and steadied her gun-hand, sharing a knowing look with Parrus.
A sharp scream split the air, followed by a gurgle and a thud.
Sounds of death, chilling her to the bone. It was all so fast, and no matter how many times it happened, even if it was Torin doing the death-dealing, Seph would never, ever get used to those sounds.
And then the shouting started, furious male voices washing over her, speaking in rapid-fire Kordolian. Seph couldn’t understand a word of it, but she knew Torin’s voice, and he sounded angry.
Not just angry—enraged.
Parrus shrugged, as if to say: “what are you going to do?” He seemed completely unconcerned that his master might be suffering at the end of Torin’s blade, or worse…
“The Master is very angry,” the Veronian whispered, and Seph wasn’t sure if he was talking about Torin or Relahek.
Torin’s voice rose again, and this time, there was something else mixed in with his anger; an emotion Seph would never have expected to hear from him, not in a billion light-years.
Distress.
His harsh words, which sounded a lot like swearing, were threaded with pain.
His voice cracked; a terrible, vicious, furious almost-sob.
Every fiber of her being reacted to that sound. Before she realized it, she was moving, heading toward him, her gun raised, her cloak flapping behind her.
He’d told her to stay put. It was probably good advice, but Seph couldn’t just stand back and ignore what she’d just heard. What if he was hurt? In danger? What if he needed her right now?
If something happened to him and she just stood back and did nothing, she would never forgive herself.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Parrus danced around her, awkwardly holding his plasma gun. “Leave the Kordolians to settle this. They are too vicious when it comes to fighting their own. It’s best not to come between them.”
With the blood rushing to her head and her heart jackhammering away, Seph strode past with her gun raised, waving off the Veronian’s concern. Her decisions were no longer her own. All she could think about was Torin. “Hold the fort, Parrus. If anyone comes this way, just shoot them.” How ironic. It was the same advice Torin had given her not too long ago.
Stealth was pointless now. “Bright,” she said softly, activating the guide-light on her link-band. In an instant, the shadows were obliterated.
Everything became sharp and bright and vivid, even more so as she reached the inner chamber.
As she entered, a riot of opulent color assaulted her vision. The drab walls were concealed behind elaborate hanging weavings and framed artwork. Amidst the gleaming finery, a Kordolian screamed, and it wasn’t Torin. In the same breath, the stranger laughed.
So this is Relahek!
And there was Torin, standing over the Kordolian with his boot on the man’s chest, the trembling point of his sword resting against his swallowing neck.
She couldn’t see his face. His back was to her, and any trace of the emotion she’d heard in his voice was gone. Instead, he radiated a terrible cold stillness.
On either side 0f them lay the bodies of the Kordolian guards.
Dead.
An acrid, bitter smell hung in the air, and she tasted bile at the back of her throat.
Seph fought nausea. She fought fear. She raged against the sudden urge to run. For the first time, she caught sight of the man who had tried to buy her from the Ephrenians, who had come so close to ruining her entire fucking existence.
You bastard!
Bright yellow eyes—so vivid they almost glowed—flicked in her direction, and a terrible smirk spread across the Kordolian’s proud features.
He lay on the floor with his arms outstretched and legs askew, his body framed by a sumptuous embroidered blue rug.
This one… second to Torin, he was quite possibly the most beautiful male Seph had ever seen. Those features! Sharp. Unearthly. Haughty. Almost effeminate, but not quite. Glittering piercings adorned his lower lip and both ears, and his long white hair fanned out from his face, decorated with braids and delicate beads.
And yet he did nothing for her. He didn’t stir the heat in her belly or the fluttering in her chest. Not in the way Torin did.
Nada. Nothing. Not even close.
Seph shuddered at the thought of being held captive by this cruel looking alien.
How different he was to Torin.
“Persephone, get out.” His harsh growl severed her train of thought.
She froze in her tracks, not quite comprehending the situation. Torin, are you okay? The words remained frozen on the tip of her tongue, held back by fear.
Not of Torin, but of what he might do.
“So this is she,” the long-haired Kordolian taunted, his gaze roaming over Seph in a way that made her feel strangely violated. He switched to Universal, which he spoke with a refined accent. “What a pity. She is exactly what I desired. Why is it that the very best things in the Universe are always just out of reach?”
Seph realized her cloak was thrown back over her shoulders, revealing her figure-hugging travel suit. That explained Relahek’s leering.
Bastard. Only Torin is allowed to look at me like that.
Relahek sneered. “What are you waiting for, monster? You won’t get anything out of me, so you might as well lean on that sword of yours and get it over and done with.”
“Be quiet.” Those two simpl
e words sounded more dangerous than anything Seph had heard from Torin’s mouth before.
Teetering on the precipice between life and death, the Noble showed no fear, just derision. What a hard, cynical bastard this man was.
This is where you should just walk away slowly, Seph, and pretend you didn’t see anything. Let the Kordolians settle this between themselves. Their way of doing things is different to ours, and you don’t understand it.
So why did this scenario make her so uneasy? Why did she get the feeling Torin wasn’t entirely in control of the situation?
Why did her chest ache, and why was his sword hand shaking like that?
“What are you going to do, Torin?”
“You know what I’m going to do, Persephone.” His tone softened, but he still didn’t turn around to face her. “It’s best if you leave now.”
A bitter laugh stole her attention. “What do you think he’s going to do, human?” Relahek met her eyes for the first time, and a ripple of unease coursed through her. This was the sort of character she’d expected a Kordolian to be; arrogant, cynical, and cruel, but then again, it was never good to stereotype. “You seem to have assumed some level of familiarity with him, but don’t let your guard down. We are all of the same ilk, and he is one of the worst. Ask him how many civilizations he and his brothers have destroyed, how many souls he’s sent to the netherworld.” The noble grinned. “His answer will wipe that stupid look of concern right off your pretty face.”
Torin stiffened.
Seph didn’t like that. Her unease turned to anger as she pointed her plasma gun at Relahek. “What, you expect me to be shocked?” Do you think that just because I’m from Earth, I don’t know anything about the Universe? “Who the hell do you think you are? You do not get to tell me how to think.”
Not after you tried to buy me. Creep! Some small, vicious part of her was tempted to pull the trigger, but Torin hadn’t killed the irritating noble yet, so neither would she.
“Your female is quite a spirited one, Mardak.” Relahek twirled one bejeweled finger in the air before letting his hand drop to the floor.
