by Anna Carven
She was emphatic, philosophical, righteous.
Human.
He watched her. He stalked her. He fucked her again and again and again, and to his delight, he discovered that his intrinsic savagery turned her on.
Despite what Torin wanted to believe, he could be as brutal and terrible as the worst of all Kordolians. She’d witnessed it first hand, and incredibly, she seemed to accept it.
When he channeled his ferocity into sex, she actually liked it.
And his secret disquiet, that which he usually hid so well—the distress he’d felt at having to slaughter his own people even though he’d warned them—well, it was still there, but being with Seph took away the grinding bitterness of it all.
For her, he would do it again and again.
Torin’s obsession became a wild, gleeful thing, and the time they spent holed up in these strangely decadent rooms quickly turned into the best experience of his life.
He locked Relahek in a storage chamber and made the noble’s quarters his own, barricading the entrance corridor with large pieces of expensive furniture, some of which he had to cut into pieces into order to get them to fit. If anyone tried to enter, they would have to hack, shoot, blast, or incinerate their way through that mess, and the commotion would alert Torin long before they reached the other side.
There he would be waiting with his swords drawn, and they would not get past him.
But somehow, the Bartharrans left them alone, probably concluding that trying to draw Torin out of his lair would cause more trouble—more death—than it was worth.
It was exactly the outcome he’d hoped to achieve.
But now, something wasn’t right. Something felt… different.
He stood in the cold room, watching the barricaded entrance, waiting for something to happen. Seph was asleep on a couch in one of the inner chambers; he’d left her nestled in a swathe of soft fresh blankets, her proud features soft and peaceful as she slept.
Something had changed in the past few sivs. He’d woken from sleep to the sense that the Skalreg Va was altering its course. Veering sharply, changing speed…
Going faster, as if imbued with a sense of panic.
Torin could tell such things by sound and vibration alone. It had been an important part of his training.
In other circumstances, he would have gone straight to the command center and demanded to know the reason for the sudden erratic flying, but he couldn’t leave Seph here alone, and taking her with him would be too dangerous, even if the Bartharrans thought she was the goddess Salu herself.
There was something Bartharrans did to their gods and goddesses, something sinister… but he couldn’t quite remember what it was.
Regardless, there was no fucking way he’d allow Seph to set foot out there again. This was his fortress now, and he would defend it to the hilt.
But still, the ship was flying strangely.
What to do, what to do… Torin started to pace. By his estimates, they should be nearing the War Planet soon, and as soon as they landed, he planned to cut a path out of this convoluted mess, taking them straight to the outside.
Callidum swords could be useful like that.
So for now, what choice did he have but to stay put and…
Boomboomboom. Deep groans reverberated through the metal walls. The floor shook, tilting slightly. Torin balanced on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight as the room rocked from side to side.
Fearing the disturbance would only get worse, he ran, sprinting toward Seph.
Boomboom! There was that sound again, followed by a bone-jarring tremor.
Torin knew that sound, that sensation. It was the impact of a missile smashing into the Skalreg Va’s metal hull.
They were under attack.
He slowed as Parrus and Kvorae emerged from their sleeping bays, panicked and shouting. Pieces of furniture that weren’t anchored to the floor flew about, smashing into the walls.
“Where are the landing restraints?” he thundered, catching Kvorae by her tail just before she tripped over a wayward footstool. Most reputable space vessels had some sort of safety restraint facility, where passengers were required to sit during landings and take-offs. Torin cursed himself for not identifying the safety protocols earlier. He’d been more than a little distracted.
Kvorae shook her head. “Th-there aren’t any.”
“Tch.” Cheapskate pirates. Torin released her and moved ahead, building speed. “Find something solid to hold onto,” he called over his shoulder.
As he passed the storage chamber, frantic banging reached his ears.
“Fucking monster, let me out!” Relahek’s muffled screams echoed from behind the closed door. Torin ignored him and lengthened his stride, thinking only of Seph.
Was she hurt?
Was she in danger?
The possibility drove him a little bit insane as he moved faster and faster, leaping over scattered furniture and random objects. He kicked a fallen statue out of the way, cursing Relahek for collecting so many useless pieces of junk.
All the while, tremors rocked the ship, filling him with a sense of dread. Any moment now, another missile could hit, and…
“Seph!” he yelled hoarsely, entering the small lounging chamber where she’d been sleeping.
“Torin?” At the sound of her voice, relief flooded through him. The feeling was so unexpectedly powerful that it almost brought him to his knees. “I’m here.”
The cabin lights were on, bathing the chamber in a soft glow. The sofa had been thrown against the wall. Colorful cushions were scattered across the floor, and they slid down as the ship tilted again.
Torin rushed to Seph’s side. She huddled in the opposite corner, as far away from all the junk as possible, clutching a large square cushion over her head.
She was naked, just as she had been when she slept.
“What’s happening?” She tried to rise to her feet, but minute vibrations alerted Torin to an incoming hit, so he dropped to his knees and protectively curled his body around her.
Boomboomboom! The ship shook again. As they began to slide, Torin unsheathed his claws and stabbed them into the floor, anchoring himself. With his other arm, he held Seph close, tucking her head against his body and shielding her against the violent rocking until the waves died down to a gentle lull.
Then finally, there was calm. The floor and walls became perfectly still; almost too still for his liking.
Something was happening out there, and the trained soldier in him itched to get out and find out what in Kaiin’s Hells was going on.
But he would not leave her.
“What was that?” Seph asked again, a sliver of fear entering her voice. “Did we just pass through an asteroid storm?”
“I don’t think so,” Torin replied softly. He shifted to his knees and brought his hands to her face as she looked up. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so…” She winced as he traced the area below her left eye. The skin there was tinged dark red but not broken.
Bruised.
“You’re hurt,” he growled, wishing he could have been here when the ship started rocking.
“I’m not bleeding, and I’m pretty sure nothing’s broken.” She waved away his concern. “Whatever it is, it’ll heal. Not as quickly as you might, but it will.”
The sight of her in even the smallest amount of pain stirred a disproportionate amount of emotion in him. Really, how would he ever cope if something serious happened to her?
He wouldn’t. That’s why he had to make sure nothing ever happened to her.
Slowly, gently, he helped her to her feet, tucking her wayward hair behind her ear.
“I suppose I should get some clothes on, just in case…”
Their feet left the ground.
“Gravity!” Seph yelped, her face scrunching up in confusion. “We’ve lost gravity!”
Torin wrapped his arms around her. “Let’s get you dressed,” he agreed calmly, snaggin
g her breast-garment—she’d called it a bra—as it floated past. He managed to snatch her pants and her left boot as he contemplated the possibility that they might actually have to go back out there… into the corridors of the Skalreg Va.
“Why is the gravity off?” As they rose up to the ceiling, Seph clutched him more tightly, growing tense.
“It’s either a malfunction, or intentional.”
“Intentional? Why the hell would anyone disable their gravitrons?”
In the unlikely event that a spacecraft might be boarded by hostiles, one might remove gravity to slow down and disorganize an oncoming attack. That was Torin’s logic, but he didn’t share it with Seph, because she was already scared, and he didn’t want her to panic.
He handed Seph her clothes. “Get dressed,” he said gently, clutching her around her waist.
Seph took the garments, but made no move to put them on.
“What’s wrong?”
“Torin, I don’t do well with heights.” She stared balefully at the floor.
“But there’s no gravity, and I’ve got you.”
“It’s a phobia, Torin. Fear isn’t always rational. Sometimes my brain plays stupid tricks on me.” Making an effort, she took her pants and tried to put them on, but when she glanced down at the distant floor, her breathing became rapid and shallow. Her mouth narrowed into a grim line of determination, as if she were locked in a strenuous battle of wills.
Fighting her fear.
Witnessing his mate’s distress, Torin thought hard and fast.
Ah. She’d alluded to this before. Although the concept was utterly foreign to Torin, he could see how a human of soft flesh and breakable bones might dread the drop.
How can I get her to calm down? She had to get dressed. They might need to evacuate quickly.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured, his thoughts racing as he tried to figure out how to best comfort her. What can take her away from all this? “Pretend you’re lying in bed with me. We are on Earth, in your house, and the warm sun is shining through the windows.” Of course, that could never happen, because the infernal ultraviolet would burn Torin’s skin to a crisp, but so what? He was constructing this fantasy especially for her, so he would imagine whatever he liked. “You are in my arms, Persephone, and nothing can touch you. Soon we will rise and take a long warm shower together, and I will take great pleasure and care in washing your beautiful body. Then we will dress and eat, and I will feed you whatever you desire.” That was also fanciful, because Torin knew nothing about human food, but for her, he could learn.
Only for her.
“Eggs Benedict and strong espresso,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Creamy hollandaise with a sprinkling of cayenne pepper. Cold, fresh passionfruit, the kind that’s yellow on the outside and sweet on the inside. That’s my dream breakfast.”
“Good.” He kissed her on the cheek and helped her pull on her trousers. “Let’s hurry now, my love.”
Seph opened her eyes and turned to him. Torin lost himself in clear crystalline depths. Earth. He saw her yearning for the blue and green planet, saw fear and courage, saw her trust in him…
And was humbled like never before.
“I will take you there,” he rumbled, his voice growing hoarse. “For real. It is my promise.” As they bumped against the ceiling, he executed a small kick that sent them drifting toward the floor.
“That was amazing, Torin.” Seph seemed to draw energy from his actions, his words, or something. “Thank you.” For a brief moment, her bare feet brushed the floor. She shimmied her hips, tugging on the stretchy pants. The bra was next, then the boot. With small kicks, Torin propelled them around the room, gathering pieces of Seph’s clothing until she was fully dressed, utility belt and all. Cushions, sheets, and small pieces of furniture drifted around them, turning the room into a surreal floating wonderland. Seph’s unbound hair waved around her face like some sort of submerged bloom, lending her an ethereal quality.
He took his plasma gun—now retrieved—from its holster and secured it in one of the pouches at her waist. “Just in case,” he said softly. “If you fire it in zero-grav, it’s going to send you flying, so be careful.”
“Newton’s first law,” she said dryly, and he had no idea what she was talking about. “You’re expecting trouble.”
“Always.” It was too quiet. Ominously so. As unease flickered across her face, he relented. “Even if it never comes, I always expect it.”
For some reason, he wasn’t getting that subtle motion sense anymore. It felt as if the big ship had lost momentum and was just drifting aimlessly through space.
I think we’ve been attacked and boarded. If he had to guess, that would be his primary suspicion. Pirates were a target for other pirates, and they were nearing Bartharra’s orbit. A source of perpetual chaos, that planet was a haven for death-dealers, marauders, and pirates.
What to do?
The answer came easy.
Stay with her. Never leave her. Fight until the last cursed breath.
The air shifted ever so slightly.
Torin sensed a minute change in the room’s pressure, and then…
Boom!
The muffled sound of an explosion ripped through their quarters, the shockwave sending them careening across the room. The floor shook. Torin covered her with as much of his body as possible, deflecting debris and shielding her against the impact as his back crashed into the wall.
Something had hit the room from below, sending an intense blast of pressure up through the floor and into the walls, shaking the whole fucking room.
Seph curled into a ball and went very, very still as the aftermath of the explosion swirled around them. Cushions, sheets, artifacts, tapestries… Torin batted them away as Seph swore vehemently in English. Torin’s knowledge of the language wasn’t good enough to understand the precise meaning of her words, but he got the gist. He held her tightly and kicked away from the wall, going as high as possible.
They touched the ceiling.
“What the fuck is happening?” Seph whispered, still curled against him.
“I think we’re under attack. We need to get out of here.”
Doomm. Doomm. Doomm. Something pounded the floor from below. It sounded like smaller explosions, or plasma fire, or something else… he couldn’t quite tell.
Someone wanted to break through from below.
It was a mighty coincidence that the explosions had happened just below their quarters. Torin didn’t believe in coincidences, so he vowed to get his charge out of here as quickly as possible.
“We have to go,” he growled, gently grasping her wrists. “I don’t think the gravity’s coming back any time soon, and I’m not going to wait around to find out what’s coming from down there. You need to hold on as tightly as possible and let me do all the maneuvering. We’re going to get out of here, Seph.”
Without hesitation she wrapped her arms around his torso. Fear radiated through the tension in her arms; it came through in her silence.
“Tighter,” he insisted, partly for safety reasons, and partly because she felt good. “Once I get going, we’ll move fast. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” she said, her voice full of quiet determination.
So composed. So different to how she’d sounded just moments ago. He couldn’t fathom what sort of battles she was waging with herself right now.
That was the human paradox. They could be so afraid, yet so defiant. For a near-invincible being like Torin, it had been a difficult concept to understand, until now.
Now her fear and her vulnerability became his own. He viewed her soul as an extension of his, and therefore anything that hurt her, hurt him.
Now he understood why his brothers became so enraged at the mere thought of any harm coming to their mates. This was it; the divine madness, the exquisite pain. How in Kaiin’s Hells did the General do what he did—commanding armies, destroying empires—when this insanity was always there?
Because he had to.
Keep moving.
Torin angled his body so his feet connected with the ceiling. Then he kicked, hard.
They shot across the room, through the doorway, and into the next chamber. Torin found another launching point; a table that was anchored to the floor. Again, he kicked.
Kick, tug. Kick, tug. They gained speed as he grabbed and kicked off any hard surface he touched. Torin propelled them through the vast network of rooms, thankful they weren’t impeded by closed doors, and all the while, Seph held him tightly, her grip never relenting.
As they returned to the outer chambers, Torin noticed there were gaps in the floor where the metal had been blasted right through.
They passed the storage chamber. Relahek had gone quiet. Torin decided to leave the chamber locked for the time being. Although he very much wanted to deliver the idiot to Tarak as a kind-of apology for deviating from his mission, his first and only priority was Seph, and he couldn’t afford to be fucking around with unimportant nobles.
They found Parrus and Kvorae frantically trying to remove Torin’s furniture barrier from the entrance corridor. They’d managed to open the inner door, and now they tugged at the heavy pieces with great difficulty, tails, arms, and legs straining. In zero-G, it was hard to generate any decent amount of force.
Kvorae cursed his name in guttural Veronian as Torin came up behind her.
“I can burn these things to a crisp with plasma,” he said quietly, and Kvorae spun, her markings turning orange, betraying her unease.
Perhaps she didn’t know that he understood Veronian; that he knew she’d just called him a crazy devil-eyed monster. Any other Kordolian would have punished her severely, but Torin didn’t care for such things.
Fear flickered across her face as she clutched Parrus. “P-please open the way.”
“You all need to get out of the way. Go into the next room and take cover. You too, Seph.”
The Veronians hesitated.
