Hmm
. He rubbed his smooth chin. His original plan would have to be modified, the timeline condensed. He’d need Nalea to make it work, and the risk was great to them both. He frowned, rubbing his heart as though to tamp out the uncomfortably strange emotion. The thought that she likely wouldn’t be alive three days from now was … distasteful.
Pushing back from his desk, his wings quivered in anticipation as he pulled on his boots, stepped through the door, and headed toward a particular cell. He needed a break, and his stress eased with every step he took closer to
her
.
Roden would question Nalea one more time, though he knew she’d never willingly confirm what he already knew. His presence made her uncomfortable, and he found pleasure in that. He could almost see the marks of her
soullare
darkening across that gilded skin when her temper rose, bringing forth the craving to trace them. He’d always found the muted tattoo-like markings that spanned her body intriguing. He’d spent hours watching her when he’d first captured her. Knowing that his gaze infuriated her, likely because she’d already known he was her destined
tahren,
made him crave to do it all the more. She’d truly made him insatiable.
Perhaps then, he could forget about the Grand for a brief time. No matter how wearisome the old man could be, he was still Grand Lord and revered by most Draeken. Hillas carried a strong presence and clung to old protocols. Few suspected what Roden already knew to be true.
The Draeken Grand Lord was going insane.
“Why does the Grand Lord wish to see you?”
Roden’s curt question did nothing to ease Nalea’s pounding headache, courtesy of the tranq shot he’d given her earlier. She pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing her temples. At least he’d left the lights dimmed in her cell, especially since she suspected she wouldn’t be getting another pair of dark glasses any time soon.
She shot him a glare and immediately wished she hadn’t. The bare-chested winged bastard looked like he’d just come from the shower. He looked too damned good for a pale-skin. Aside from the obvious differences, Draeken had much the same physiology as Sephians, but their muscles were more defined, likely as a way to support their larger bodies for flight.
Describing Roden’s torso as
chiseled
was an understatement. Built for battle, he was a potent package of hard muscle and death-tipped wings. Her mouth suddenly going dry, she nearly stammered out her response. “How would I know what goes on inside a Draeken’s head? Do I look like a psycho to you?”
He smirked. “I think you meant ‘psychic,’ and do you really want me to answer that?”
“Kiss my ass.”
“Another time, perhaps.”
She shook her head. “Is this your idea of torture? Talking your prisoners to death?”
He stepped closer, his lips curling into a sneer. “Ah, my dear, when I torture you, believe me, you’ll know.”
When, not if.
Shivers flitted across her skin as she stared into those silver eyes, currently filled with taunting humor, knowing how cold and hard the man behind them really was. Every living Sephian heard stories of Roden’s cruelty. Thousands had been killed in battles he drove. How many Sephians had had their
soullare
— the brand that covered each Sephian body since birth — flayed from their bodies at his command? How many Sephians had been forced to watch their
tahren
mates slaughtered?
And perhaps the cruelest gesture of all was that this man — universally hated by her kind — was destined to be her
tahren
. Either the gods had a perverted sense of humor, or they knew her soul was irreparably stained and chose to punish her. Frustrated by her feelings for him, Nalea rubbed her eyes, and glanced back up to realize that intense gaze still scrutinized her. She snapped her gaze away to intently watch a dust mote flitting across the barren floor.
“Sugar will help with the after-effects.”
When she glanced back up, he threw a red apple, which she let sail by her head as she glowered at him. The fruit bounced off the wall behind her and landed with a rolling thud.
“Why would you care?” she asked.
He watched her for a second, and then pulled out two more apples. He bit into one with a loud crunch. Her mouth watered in response.
He held out the other apple through the bars. She watched him for several seconds before coming to her feet. Still eying him, she took a step toward him and snatched the fruit before quickly retreating to the deeper safety of her cell.
Roden smirked as his gaze raked over her body. Even though she was nearly six foot tall, he towered over her, his tattooed wings spread out like an ominous storm behind him, doing nothing to detract from the masculine silhouette. She damned him for wearing such little clothing. His legs were also bare, covered by nothing but boots and what the humans called a kilt, its dark colors matching the inked symbols and scenes decorating his wings. He was raw, masculine power. The same traits she valued in Sephian males, she hated in Roden. She’d never be able to bed a warrior again without thinking of him.
Damn him.
She refused to let him — or the
tahren
bond threatening to make her a traitor to herself and her people — manipulate her. “Whatever you do to me, know that you do it without my blessing. Your victory will be hollow.”
Roden took a step closer to the bars, and she fought the urge to retreat. “I have never forced a woman, and I will never force you.” Then he smiled. “Rather, I look forward to the challenge of getting your blessing.”
“If that’s the case, you may as well give up now, because you’ll never get it,” she replied, convinced she sounded more confident than she felt.
They stood facing one another for a moment before he sat down with his usual nonchalance, and took another bite out of his apple. Slowly, decadently, he chewed with his eyes closed, as though the fruit brought him intense pleasure. Nalea knew the act was purely for her benefit, but she couldn’t help but stare at his lips, wet with sweet juice, wondering what they’d feel like on her skin. Warm whispers on her neck, tender nips on her stomach before moving lower.
Fighting back a mental shudder, she chewed the fruit, mirroring his actions.
Oh, yeah? Two can play at that game.
When she reopened her eyes, she found Roden watching her intently. She continued, watching him, each taking another bite, and each saying nothing. Her body thrummed. Her core heated. Still, she continued the game, finding power in pulling a hungry reaction from Roden. This continued until he threw the apple core into a waste receptacle in the wall.
After wiping his hands on his thighs, he leaned forward, eyed her for a moment, and then sighed. “What’s the Grand Lord’s interest in you?”
“My answer hasn’t changed. I have no idea,” she said, holding his gaze intently without blinking.
He cocked his head. “While I am a patient man, our time is growing short.”
Nalea’s heart hammered in her chest. Roden could scar her body, destroy her mind, and crush her soul. But he would never know that he haunted her dreams as well as her waking hours. Just as he would never know why she hated Hillas more than any other Draeken, even more than the man before her. She shook her head. “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?”
He said nothing, those silver eyes piercing her as though he could dig through her mind himself to find the answers he needed. Fortunately, there’d never been a Draeken mind-reader. Finally he spoke. “I am going to miss our chats. I find them quite entertaining. But, I warn you, Lea, I dislike secrets very much.”
Her brows rose. “Isn’t that the pot calling the pestle black?”
His lips curve upward, he opened his mouth, then closed it, grinning as though he knew some inside joke. After inhaling, he said, “I should say I dislike other people having secrets. I rather enjoy mine. And, believe me when I say this, I will find immense pleasure in plucking those secrets from you.”
She held up her middle finger. “Fuck. You.”
“Tsk, tsk, you’ve picked up bad habits from the humans. And to think that we were getting along so much better last night.”
Her jaw clenched. “I’ve never even seen the Grand Lord in person. So how would I have any idea what he’s thinking? Maybe he’s run out of Sephians to maim. Like you’re any different. How many of my people have you beaten, cut, and murdered?” She bit her lip to keep from cringing, realizing too late that she’d pushed too far.
Roden surged to his feet. He watched her for a moment, and then turned. As he stepped into the hallway, he glanced back. “Careful, Nalea, or I’ll show you exactly what I am capable of.”
Apolo stared at the screen, jaw set hard, as Sienna Wolfe — his human co-leader of the Sephian forces on Earth — apprised him of the latest restrictions placed on Sephians at the American base. He and his troops in Britain weren’t faring much better. None of them liked the current arrangement.
They’d shared their technology and knowledge. The humans had allowed them to stay on Earth — not that they could go anywhere else with drained power cells — but they were restricted to two military bases. Fortunately, like the Sephians, Draeken power cells were built to recharge off lunar energy similar to that near Sephia. They’d both assumed Earth’s moon bore the same lunar signature. They’d miscalculated, and now they were both stranded.
“Curfews have been rescinded,” Sienna said.
Apolo scowled and nodded. “It is the same here.” Only the Draeken were still moving freely on this planet. Every day new restrictions were placed on Apolo’s people. First came the curfews. Now, they couldn’t even leave the bases due to the excuse that they may be seen by the local population.
Apolo didn’t believe any of the rationale for an instant. The humans liked control, and they were getting trigger-happy that the Draeken were still out there, somewhere, and they were nowhere closer to finding the locations of their Earthside bases or their powerful core ship.
“Any words of wisdom for your people here?” she asked, looking as exhausted as he felt.
He sighed. “Hang in there.”
She
harrumphed.
“Easier said than done. Talk to you tomorrow.”
With that the screen went blank. Apolo leaned back. At the rate things were going, the façade that his people held any rights would soon vanish. Right now, their future did not bode well. His hands ran over his face in frustration.
He needed a godsdamned miracle.
The Draeken dimmed the lights, double-checked the locks, and ensured the electronic dampener was functioning at full power. Only when Kreed was confident prying ears couldn’t break through the dampener, he dialed the secure code. Privacy was critical for this meeting.
Though he was expecting it, his muscles still flinched when the golden visage appeared on the monitor. There was no way around it. Meeting with the Sephian leader on Earthside would be seen as a betrayal to his people. Doubt skimmed across his mind, hinting that taking such risk was too dangerous, that he should make the break sooner versus later. If his actions were discovered before the Grand Lord’s death, then everything would be for naught. He’d be branded a traitor. But if he didn’t do this, his people could never find peace. He was their best chance.
Kreed studied the image on the screen. Apolo’s black
soullare
vined around one eye, giving the well-groomed male a dangerous look. Even though Sephians lived decades longer than their Draeken brethren, Apolo looked worn out, as though the past two years had aged him three-fold. Being away from his
tahren
was taking its toll. Knowing he’d never see her again must make it a torture to wake every day.
Apolo’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped before quickly closing. “It’s damned good to see you, Kreed.”
He nodded. “It’s been too long, old friend.”
Relief washed over the Sephian’s features, only to be quickly erased. “After you went silent, I feared you’d been compromised.”
Kreed grimaced. “Close.”
Too damn close.
“I had to lay low for a while. When I found out I gave you bad intel, I knew Hillas had grown suspicious.” After a drawn-out sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. “Listen. About what happened … ”
“The ambush wasn’t your fault,” Apolo interjected. “I know you never would’ve knowingly given me faulty information.”
Guilt stabbed at Kreed.
If you only knew, old friend.
“What’s done is done,” Apolo continued. “But I sure could use some good news here. Have you tracked down Nalea?”
Even as a child, his friend had always been impatient, a trait he’d never outgrown. Kreed’s smirk crumbled away. “Nalea was terminated not long after she was brought to the base,” he said quietly. Better to say that than the truth. If Apolo knew of Roden’s keen interest in her, he’d launch a rescue mission immediately, and Kreed couldn’t allow that. That mission could destroy everything he’d been working for. His old friend didn’t need the weight that came with knowledge. In some cases, ignorance was a blessed balm.
Apolo closed his eyes. “
Suvaste
. She will be avenged. Roden Zyll will pay.” After a moment, he sighed. “Do you have any other information that can help us?”
Kreed gave a tight nod and continued to share what little — but critical — intel he’d acquired. Information from Hillas had become increasingly sparse, especially anything pertaining to their defense against the Sephians. He knew the Grand Lord was planning something big, and that couldn’t bode well for the Sephians as well as his own people. He may have been born Draeken, but he knew that unless his people changed their ways — and quickly — they faced certain genocide on their new world.
The Sephians had formed an early alliance with the humans, so there was still hope for Kreed’s people as well. After all, his people brought no violence to their new world. If anything, the Sephians were the aggressors, though he admitted they’d had just cause. Slavery tended to cause unrest.
Unfortunately, the Sephians had been first to align with the humans, bending their unwitting hosts’ ears with misperceptions. A costly mistake to the Draeken. For his people to be accepted on Earth, he needed Apolo to earn support of the human military. Without full human buy-in, Kreed’s people were as good as dead. He glanced at the clock. Frustration burrowed in his gut. Time was running short. One of the base auto-scans that ran every twelve minutes could catch his electronic dampener’s signal any moment. “I’ll check in again when I can.”