And when he laughed? He’d changed for a second. Like a beam of sun piercing a cloud, his entire body had shone, even through his clothes.
Which was also weird.
Aveline rolled her eyes at herself. She’d met four men, all of whom could de-materialize, and the fact that they wore clothes was the thing that threw her?
But, seriously, how was it possible?
The giant continued to speak. From behind him, Grumpy added something, but the giant ignored him, focusing instead on the man sitting next to her.
“Ettan,” the man said suddenly, and the word was so clear to Aveline she startled.
“Ettan?” she repeated. Maybe he meant the grass, so she patted it again and said, “Ettan?”
The giant chuckled, and Aveline peeked at him. He shook his head, and pointed at the golden one next to her. “Ettan,” the giant said, and the air shook around her. She shivered, but it wasn’t a bad sensation. It traveled through her clothes and along her skin like a gentle breeze.
“Oh.” She breathed, closing her eyes. She wanted the man to talk to her again, so she could have a repeat of the sensation, but he was silent.
Finally, she opened her eyes. The giant continued to stare, as if he’d been waiting for her. He spoke again, “Ettan.”
Aveline followed his point and finally understood. Ettan was the golden man. It was his name. They were answering the question she’d asked earlier.
“Ettan,” she said, meeting his stare. “Right?”
He smiled, and the gold glinted in the sunlight. He pointed to the giant. “Thanasis.”
That word was clear as a bell. How could she make out one word, but others were so mashed together she couldn’t discern one sound from another?
“Thanasis,” she said and smiled at the giant. He nodded and crossed his arms. “Thanasis,” she repeated, trying to mimic the way Ettan’s tongue seemed to caress the word.
They were silent, the three of them, gazing at each other until the third man, the quiet one, joined them. Earlier, he’d had a panic attack or something when Grumpy had pointed his sword at him, and Aveline had helped him regulate his breathing.
He was built differently than the other men. For one thing, right now he didn’t have feet. He glided toward her, and when he lowered himself to the ground, the entire lower portion of his body turned into a mist, not reforming until he’d settled himself near her.
Unlike the other men, who seemed to wear uniforms of some kind, this one wore a robe, and it didn’t change color. Whatever colors were on the other men’s skin appeared on their clothing. The one this man wore remained a pure white.
He was also slimmer, his shoulders narrow and face thin. But his posture was straight, and when Aveline had touched his chest, she could feel the muscles flexing with each breath.
His hair, like Thanasis’s, was light, but long. It grazed his shoulders, gold as Ettan’s skin. Aveline wondered, if Thanasis were to let his hair grow, would it be as thick and golden as this man’s?
“Branesh,” he said. Now that they’d done this twice before, Aveline knew what he was trying to do. Back in the orphanage, it had been drilled into them to greet others respectfully. They were to make the best possible impressions on visitors, because not only may they be potential adoptive parents, but Earth officials inspecting the orphanage.
Aveline held her hand out to Branesh. “Aveline,” she told him.
He smiled, pink and blues spiraling over his forehead and down his neck to disappear beneath the collar of his robe.
“Aveline,” he said and took her hand. But he didn’t shake it. Instead, he turned it over so her wrist faced the sky and brought it to his face. An image from a long-forgotten book flashed through her mind. A man in silver metal bent over the hand of a woman, touching his lips to her skin. Would he do that?
He stared at her skin, turning it in the light before he blew across it.
Aveline drew her eyebrows together, and leaned over, wondering if something would happen. But her skin was merely her skin. And while she may blush or scar, she wouldn’t change colors.
When nothing happened, Branesh settled her hand back on her lap, gazing at her from under his fair eyelashes.
Having introduced herself properly to Branesh, she faced Ettan again. “Aveline,” she said and held out her hand.
He took her hand in his, covering it with his other and held it tight. “Ettan.” He smiled and glanced at Thanasis before dropping her hand.
Aveline stood. “Aveline.” She held out her hand, and the giant stepped closer. Thanasis towered over her, and his light eyes flashed. All at once, his skin covered itself in black. Her pulse jumped. She could feel it throbbing in her neck and hands, but she made herself stay still. He hadn’t hurt her. None of them had. They hadn’t shown any aggression.
Not even Grumpy, though he did love to hover.
“Thanasis.” There was the sensation again. God. It moved over her entire body, and she found herself leaning toward him before catching herself. He pushed her hand down, not in refusal, but gently, and then touched her cheek with his fingertips. His skin was cold and hard. It reminded her of the smooth surface of the ground on the upper city.
“Sorry.” Her skin felt hot, and she knew she must be blushing.
And what about Grumpy? Aveline glanced at him, unsure what to do. He decided it for her, striding toward her while glaring. If he expected her to back away, he had another think coming. She’d seen bluster and swagger in her days on the street and recognized this as something similar.
He was taking his measure of her. Each of her reactions exposed her to him, and so far, he wasn’t impressed.
Well, fuck him. Aveline was used to being a disappointment, and if he thought his disapproval bothered her, he was wrong.
“I’m Aveline,” she said, in a voice much harder than the one she used with the other men. She rubbed her fingers against each other, her hand twitching as she debated holding it out to him. The sword on his waist reminded her of the threat he’d made with it, and she hesitated further.
But he didn’t. He held his hand out the way she had. “Aaddhar,” he said.
A challenge, then. Aveline smiled. She understood this sort of thing, this posturing, and she took his hand, gripping it tightly. “Hello, Aaddhar,” she replied and tried to release him, but he held on.
With a quick jerk, he tugged her toward him. His skin mottled, the greens and blacks and blues blending like an oil slick before he melted, and she was caught again.
He was a net she couldn’t escape, and he was on the move. She thought she heard the other men call out, but Aaddhar didn’t heed them. He rushed over the ground and then higher. Was he going to bring her back to the city where she couldn’t breathe and let her suffocate?
But no. Every so often, the colors around her would thin, and she could glimpse her surroundings. The landscaped changed, becoming rocky and scrubby. And there, lying bent and broken, was the dull metal hulk of a prison pod.
It was part of the Concord.
Chapter Six
Aaddhar
Aaddhar released Aveline none too gently, and didn’t catch her when her legs gave out. Ignoring the unwelcome guilt that rose inside him, he forced himself to step back and fold his arms over his chest.
“What is this?” he asked. He knew what he must look like right now, and he could tell from the way her cheeks lost their rosy color that she was frightened. “Is this how you got here? Why are you here? What are you hoping to accomplish? What are you?”
With each question, his voice got louder and louder and he lost control of his form. He whirled around the girl, whipping her dark hair around her head and screaming his questions. Not that she knew what he said.
It angered him more when she didn’t back down from him. Despite her fear, she stood and yelled back, her voice whipped into the current he created as he swirled around her and then reformed.
It was too much for him to stay solid. His brothers
were too trusting, and even Thanasis, who should have been wary, was moving toward trusting her.
The Ventos had laughed. Laughed. Perhaps she was controlling them like the Creators had.
The Creators. The Ventos had been helpless to stop the creatures from pillaging every resource Sonhadra had, and when his people refused to be their slaves, what had happened? The Creators had forged the heartstones and trapped the breath of the Ventos.
Aaddhar hovered near Aveline, his mind overwhelmed with memories—the burn of his heartstone as it formed, the ripping pain as it was sucked from his body… losing himself in the gray mists of Zephyr.
Because the Creators had changed him. They’d changed all of the Ventos when they created the heartstones. And the Creators changed them again when they’d stolen the heartstones back. Aaddhar had turned from a Ventos to a mindless automaton, forced to guard the alien species against other Ventos.
Stronger Ventos.
Unlike Aaddhar, there had been Ventos who’d fought against the Creators. They’d denied the creatures the power they wanted, and as a result, Aaddhar and Thanasis, had been compelled to have a hand in genocide.
Breath was life, and Aaddhar had been forced to steal it.
Never again. No one would ever take his heartstone again, no matter how pretty or unique, or sweet sounding, they appeared to be.
But the Creators had been none of these things.
Aaddhar shut down the voice inside his head. He didn’t have the luxury of time or trust. His brothers had miraculously been returned to him. No way would he risk their lives again.
Not for anything.
What if she is innocent?
Another image flew through his mind, and it gave him pause—slowed him enough to solidify.
It was Aveline, eyes on the Sonhadra’s sky as the light streamed through the temple. In front of her, revealing itself, was the towering, pure white Idol of Ventos.
It had been thought lost, destroyed somehow by the Creators, or perhaps by a Ventos under the Creator’s control, but no.
Aveline had held out her hands and the Idol had transformed into breath, flowed through the temple and into Aveline, dropping their stolen heartstones at her feet.
How had she done that?
“How?” he asked her. The clarity of the memory erased his anger for a moment. It poured out of Aaddhar, leaving him more balanced than he’d ever felt. “How did you find them?”
Inside his chest, his heartstone was an icy breeze, cooling his overheated emotions.
Aveline’s eyes widened. “How?” she repeated. “Your heart?”
Suddenly, it was his turn to be knocked senseless. He understood every word she spoke. Aaddhar touched his chest. “How did you find my heartstone? How did you release it?”
Her eyes flicked to one side, as if she was searching for the memory. “The clouds,” she continued though he couldn’t understand the words until—“The wind,” she answered. “It brought them… dropped them.”
In his mind, he could hear the tinkling sound of the stones as they rolled against the temple floor, released from the eternal currents of the Idol.
“I held them.” This time, each word was clear. “You came, and the color…”
Aaddhar held up a hand. “Color.” He understood what she meant. The breath of the Ventos was every color and no color. Had she somehow released the breath from the heartstones, allowing it to re-enter their bodies?
He was confused. The hand he held in front of him became muddy again, and he dropped it, ready to fly away. Before he could, however, Aveline grabbed onto him and tugged. “Stop.”
The scars on her face stood stark, and for the first time, Aaddhar really studied her. The scars all over her face traveled past her jaw and below the collar of the clothes she wore.
He pointed, finger traveling from the angriest looking wound that began just below her pearl-colored eye down to her lip. “How?”
Gaze flicking toward the metal heap he’d discovered earlier, she whispered, “IPS.”
“What is IPS?” he asked, wondering if this was another name for the Creators.
Color rose in her cheeks again. Fascinating. The girl was not so different from Ventos, despite the consistent dull brown of her skin.
Except when Aaddhar studied her, the brown didn’t seem so boring anymore. If he looked closely, there were hints of gold and amber, burgundy and yellow. Whatever species she was, there was a hint of Ventos to her. When she was frightened, the gold and yellow disappeared, leaving her somewhat paler. And when she was angry, or overwhelmed, her cheeks became a dusky red. If he held his hand over her face, Aaddhar imagined he’d feel the heat of her emotion there.
Her lips trembled, and her white teeth bit into the lower one. The move leeched the pink from them, highlighting the spots of brown that deeper color had hidden. “Prison.”
The word meant nothing to him. Was it a being? A place? “What is prison?”
Aveline sighed, turning away from him. Slowly, she made her way to the pod and touched its surface. “It is a place people are sent.”
“A planet?” Aaddhar pictured a world full of beings like Aveline.
“No.” She made that movement again, shaking her head from side to side. She did it when she denied or refuted something. A negative. Her hair breezed around her face, and she tucked the thick curls behind her ear. “No. It is not a planet.”
Briefly, he considered how well he understood her, but then she continued. “Prison. Where bad people go to be punished.”
Bad. He knew what bad was. Punished. He knew this as well.
“You are bad.” He put together what it was she wasn't saying.
Etched into the surface of the pod were designs and symbols. Aveline traced them with her fingers. A drop of moisture landed next to her hand.
Something was happening to her. She was disintegrating, turning from a solid to a liquid. “Stop!” he cried. “You must stop.” If she continued, she’d be nothing but a pool the barren surface would suck up. The possibility filled him with fear.
Aveline touched her face, swiping the liquid away. She appeared to have retained her form. To be certain, Aaddhar touched her cheeks, trailing his hand along the path the liquid had made. Her scars had acted like a guide, leading the moisture along the surface of her skin.
She was so solid, so soft. Aaddhar moved closer, wanting to study her. Somehow, she hadn’t liquefied and disappeared, and for that he was grateful.
Emotions churning, he ran his fingers across her lips, spreading the wetness there. Her tongue swiped at her lips, and he nearly groaned aloud. What was she doing to him? Was she controlling him? One moment he was angry, the next settled, and now, something new moved inside him—yearning. Want.
Desire.
Aaddhar towered over Aveline. She was slight; it had taken hardly any effort to carry her to this strata. Confusing. When she spoke, or glared at him, he found himself thinking she was bigger than she truly was.
But here, eyes gleaming with unshed liquid, he realized just how small she was. Not fragile, though. The scars on her body spoke to a toughness that wasn’t immediately evident.
Aaddhar, though, was looking deeper, and he saw it.
“Lips,” he whispered, and Aveline’s eyes widened.
What would her lips taste like? When his kind found the one they would tie themselves to, they became formless, their breath mixing, but Aveline couldn’t do that.
Aaddhar felt a jolt and imagined what it would be like to join with her while in this solid form. He had the ability and had experimented with other Ventos, but he had never met his one.
A surge of lust shot through his body, and from the way Aveline’s eyes widened, she could see it flash across his skin. He would be bright, each color the purest shade it could be.
Dipping his head, Aaddhar pressed his mouth against Aveline’s. Her lips were soft but clumsy.
He liked that—liked the idea that maybe no one had ever done this to he
r before. He lost his form for a moment, dissipated into a stream of air, and rushed around her body. He was warm, warmer than he’d been before, but she shivered. The motion vibrated the air around them, and aroused Aaddhar further. Her desire was tangible. Quickly, he reformed, focusing his energy on staying solid.
His hand was bright red when he touched her neck, gently turning her head to expose her throat. There were the scars. An impulse came over him, and he didn’t deny it. He leaned over, trailing his lips along the scar, reveling in the way the skin would be smooth, and then ridged, before becoming smooth again.
Aveline sighed, and Aaddhar shifted again. He wanted to catch her sigh, wind it around his air so he could feel everything it contained.
He knew, the instant his air touched hers, why joining in Ventos form was only for those who had found their one.
Desire, arousal, uncertainty, all of it was contained in her breath. Without conscious thought, he reformed and kissed her again. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and groaned. She was warm here. Her tongue tangled with his, swirling and stroking.
He needed to be closer, wanted to melt himself completely with her. Wrapping his arms around her body, he lifted her, carrying her until his knees knocked hollowly into the capsule he’d found earlier.
Aveline wound her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles as if to keep her anchored to him. He could feel heat at her core and wanted more of it.
In a flash, he dissolved the lower half of his body. Her heels thunked into the metal, and in surprise, she tore her mouth from his to stare down in bewilderment.
“How is this going to work?” she whispered. He knew what she saw. His body swirled with a rainbow of colors, but he was intangible.
Concentrating, Aaddhar focused his air between her legs, the place where her heat seemed to be centered. He would be cool to her hot. Spinning and swirling, he surrounded and whipped across her body.
Aveline gasped and threw her head back. “Oh my god!”
It sounded like a good thing, so he did it again, spinning, thrusting, swirling.
And he wasn’t unaffected.
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