“But it took something from you, didn’t it?” she asked. Smart female.
“Yes,” Aaddhar answered when it appeared that Ettan didn’t want to. Thanasis knew his brother well enough to know it wasn’t embarrassment that kept Ettan from answering, or the worry that Aveline would see him as weak. He was afraid of what she would do with the knowledge, and that she might refuse his help.
Thanasis had seen her memories. Her crimes—if they could be called that—had all been committed for others. More specifically, she’d committed crimes for survival. He’d seen her toiling, working at something that barely covered her basic needs. Then he saw her sister beg. It was only when Aveline deemed it necessary to their survival that she stole.
There was no one further from a criminal than his one.
But her sister… If she had been Ventos and Thanasis was forced to pass judgment on her, she would have been punished.
Not death—only the worst received that fate—but there would have been much for her sister to do to make amends.
Ettan spoke, interrupting the turn Thanasis’s thoughts had taken. “But Sonhadra replenishes me. I am not left weak forever, Aveline. It is my purpose to heal.”
Aveline nodded, but the smile had left her face. She seemed unsure. This must have been what she meant when she said try. All of them needed to understand each other better.
But they had forever.
“We can stay here tonight,” Aaddhar said, bringing the conversation around to the original subject. “But it is too open, and too close to the forest and the fire makers.”
“I must admit,” Branesh said, “though I was upset to find them attacking Aveline, there is something wonderful at seeing they hadn’t been eradicated by the Creators.”
“Who are the Creators?” Aveline asked. “Are they in charge?”
At once, the iridescence left them. Hearing their name on Aveline’s lips felt like an abomination. Thanasis’s armor covered his body, and from the corner of his eye, he caught Aaddhar reaching for his sword.
“They are—” Ettan began before Branesh interrupted. “They were…”
“Yes,” Ettan corrected. “They were creatures who arrived here from another planet. We had heard of others arriving from tribes, ones who are now called valos. As we were forced to call ourselves.”
“Who are valos?” Aveline said before biting her lip. “I’m sorry.”
“This is a long story,” Aaddhar said, hands clenching into fists. “I would leave my brothers to tell it while I patrol our surroundings. If we are to shelter here tonight, I want to make sure it is safe.” Without another word, he left the room. The door creaked as it swung in the rush of air Aaddhar made as he shifted.
Aveline made her way to the bed and perched on the edge. She waited, hands folded in her lap, but every so often, her gaze would go to the door. Thanasis loved her eyes, loved the way her lashes touched her cheeks when she lowered her gaze.
He hated that she was injured, but there was depth in the colorless orb. It reminded him of the colors that had covered their skin, however briefly, when Aveline had accepted them.
Thanasis wanted to see her closer, to watch her eyes as she heard their story, so he went to her quickly. He settled himself on the bed before reaching forward to drag Aveline between his legs. After a moment of tension, she sighed, her body relaxing into his.
Ettan and Branesh watched them, and he knew they were probably cursing themselves for not making this move themselves.
In this position, all of Thanasis’s senses could revel in Aveline. He could smell her, breathe in the scent of her skin. He could feel each expansion and contraction of her body as she pulled in and released air. And her warmth.
He could sit with her against him for a thousand years and still find something about her that fascinated him.
Ettan sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her leg, wrapping his hand around her ankle, but Branesh stayed standing. Thanasis recognized his posture, having visited him at the temple when he would lecture on Sonhadra’s history. Hands behind his back, Branesh prepared for the story he would tell.
And even though Thanasis knew it, knew how it began and how it ended, he had to prepare himself as well.
It had been hard enough to endure the first time, when he had lived it.
Chapter Eleven
Aveline
The tension in the room was thick. Aveline didn’t think they realized it, but the brothers’ posture was rigid, and their colors dark.
Behind her, Thanasis’s skin cooled, and his hand, as he trailed it up and down her arm, was obsidian. Golden Ettan had darkened, he was almost the same color as Thanasis, except for the gold that ran like veins along his face.
And Branesh.
Sunlight spilled from the window, leaving him in shadow, but Aveline knew, even without the backlight, his skin would be as dark as his brothers.
Whatever the Creators were, this was not going to be a happy story. She’d asked too much. “You don’t have to tell me about them,” Aveline said and took Thanasis’s hand in hers, lacing her fingers with his. “We have plenty of time to learn about each other. Nothing has to be revealed right this moment.”
Thanasis squeezed her hand and lifted it to his mouth. The angle was awkward, sitting as he was behind her, but Aveline left her hand with his. She wanted to comfort him any way she could. “No. We will tell it now.”
“The Creators,” Branesh said, “took everything from us. Our city, Zephyr. Our safety. Our families. They took everything until the only thing left was our free will, and then they took that.”
It reminded Aveline too much of her own experience aboard the Concord, but she kept that knowledge to herself. “They were aliens?”
Branesh stepped out of the sun, closer to the bed. He ran a hand through his long hair, raking it away from his face. His eyes were fixed on a point above her, as if he was seeing everything play out as he spoke. “Aliens. Yes. They came from somewhere else. We welcomed them, at first. We knew we were not the only ones in the universe, but we were too confident of our ability to defeat anyone who might mean us harm. After all, everything we needed, Sonhadra provided. Inside us, we contained the very breath of our planet. So while we knew we were not invincible, we were too sure of our strength.”
“They overwhelmed us almost at once,” Ettan said, and his voice took on a dreamy tone. He trailed his fingers to her knee and back to her foot. “I was healing a child—it was a small hurt—and saw their ships. There were so many they blotted out the sun, turned day into night. But no one panicked. Not at first.” Ettan glanced at her. “It is no wonder Aaddhar reacted as he did to the pod that brought you here. It was not so different than the ones that brought the Creators.”
“Did they look like me?” Aveline asked. “Were they from Earth?”
“Earth?” Branesh repeated. “No. I believe they had destroyed their planet. It was the way their species behaved—took what they wanted from one place, and then moved on to the next. We were unfortunate to be the closest viable planet from their last.”
Aveline wanted to hold him. She wanted to hold all of them at once, because she knew this story was only going to get worse.
“All Ventos have a role.” Branesh glanced at Thanasis as he spoke, who in turn squeezed Aveline’s hand. “We know it almost from the time we are born. I had an affinity, a deep connection, to Sonhadra, even deeper than most Ventos. It was like I could feel the planet inside me, speaking to me. My colors, the pinks and blues, they are common among the Ventos who hold the history and knowledge of our people. So when I was old enough, I began my studies at the temple.”
They’d brought up those terms before, and Aveline needed to understand what he meant. Thanasis’s fingers continued to clutch tightly to hers, and so she kissed his knuckles before asking, “Ventos?”
“We are Ventos,” Ettan answered. “But there are more than us on Sonhadra. Or…” He glanced away from her as if it was too painful to look at her and cont
inue. “Or there were more of us on Sonhadra. Like Branesh said, Sonhadra gifted us with her elements. We are Ventos, elements of air.”
Now Aveline got it, and seeing the comprehension on her face, Branesh went on. “Ettan is a healer. Aaddhar had a propensity toward strategy and physical strength, so he became a guard. And Thanasis—”
The man behind her gently set her aside and then stood, as if it was too much to hold her and let Branesh reveal his history. “I am a murderer. If there are no Ventos left, it is because I killed them.” The obsidian on his skin flickered, like shadows on a wall, before forming again. With each flicker, pain etched into his features. This story hurt him and hinted that his simplistic explanation was not altogether true.
“No,” Branesh replied. He dropped his hands from behind his back and went to his brother. Slinging an arm around his neck, Branesh pulled Thanasis closer until they were forehead to forehead. Branesh, though slighter, was nearly as tall as the man who seemed to Aveline a giant. But Branesh’s lean muscles projected a strength. One to comfort and soothe. “No, Thanasis. It was me. I gave the Creators the knowledge they needed to control us, and then, the knowledge they needed to destroy us.”
Thanasis jerked back, and all Aveline could do was watch. Ettan gripped her ankle hard, and Aveline scooted down the bed to touch him. Whatever was coming next, she wanted to hold on to him when he heard it.
Branesh crossed his arms, skin graying. He was like ash, and the edges of his body smudged as he struggled to stay solid. “I wanted them to understand what we were. I thought if I did that, they would see whatever they had planned was pointless. Perhaps, they’d even leave us. But instead, I showed them our weaknesses, and they exploited them. They created the heartstones, shoved our breath, our life, inside those stones like a child shoves a pretty rock into his pocket. And then, when we refused to be controlled, they took our heartstones back. And because of that, Thanasis, they were able to control you.”
“I should have fought harder,” Thanasis argued. He backed away from Branesh until he hit the wall, and then he turned, slamming his fist into it. Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface and toward the ceiling. Dust rained on their heads, but Aveline didn’t move. She could feel their pain as well as see it in their colors. “I was the executioner without justice. I murdered all of them. Took the heartstones and the life from our people, Branesh. Held their stones in my hand and crushed them in my fist. Females, warriors, children.”
Branesh stared at the ground. “Because of me. Because I showed them how connected we were to Sonhadra. I wanted them to see, if they destroyed us, they destroyed the planet, but they didn’t care. All they wanted was to take. To gorge.”
“How could you know?” Aveline whispered to them. “There are some things so evil, we can’t imagine them. We can’t predict what they will do. These things, the Creators, they traveled from world to world, destroying. But in doing so, they risked destroying themselves. It is only a matter of time before they come upon a planet with inhabitants who are stronger than them. It wasn’t here. And there’s no shame in not thinking the worst of them until it was too late.”
“No shame?” Branesh asked. “I was the keeper of our knowledge! I was supposed to protect it, and I gave it away!”
“You don’t understand,” Thanasis added, shoulders heaving and fists clenched. “I survived when everyone else is dead! Dead because I killed them.” His voice cracked, and he slid down the walls, forehead going to his knees. “I killed them.”
“Thanasis. No—” Ettan slid from the bed. Aveline followed, but on her way, she grabbed Branesh’s hand and pulled him with her. Surprise was probably the only reason he followed. If he’d truly wanted to stay put, he could have, but Aveline tugged inexorably, and he went to his knees with her. Wrapping her arm around Thanasis’s shoulders, she buried her face in his neck but kept her hand in Branesh’s.
His skin was cool against her lips when she kissed him but seemed to warm the longer she kept her mouth on him. “I understand blame. I understand shame. I live with it every day. But do you remember what you said to me, Thanasis?”
A rush of air across her skin was the only response she got. For a moment, the form next to her shimmered, and she lost her balance, but then he solidified.
“Do you?” she asked again, and when he didn’t answer, she continued. “You said, the things you’ve done made you the one for us. Well the same is true for me. How else could you understand me and forgive what I did enough to believe I was the one for you? So, Thanasis, listen to me.” Aveline pulled Branesh closer and touched Thanasis’s cheek with her hand, ensuring he couldn’t look away from her. Ettan was in her blind spot, so she turned her head to include him in the conversation, as well. “All of you listen to me. I see you. I see all of you.”
Ettan shut his eyes, bowing his head, and Thanasis covered her hand with his, causing her to glance at him. The obsidian dropped away from him, replaced with a golden brown similar to her own.
“When a Ventos chooses their one,” Branesh said, lifting her hand to his lips. “They become like the breath of Sonhadra. Their forms merge, and it is said they take into their body the breath of their chosen.”
“I can’t do that for you,” Aveline interrupted. “I’m sorry.”
Branesh smiled, and slowly, his skin took on the same hue as Thanasis’s. They were adopting the color of her skin. “Maybe not. But we can do that for you.”
“I held your heartstones in my hand,” Aveline said, slowly. “Do you remember that?”
A deep voice came from the doorway. “I do.” Aaddhar walked inside and, upon seeing his brothers, flashed a deep brown similar to the freckles she knew covered her face. “And I’ll never forget. The Idol of Zephyr formed itself from the air of Sonhadra and dropped them at your feet. And you touched them and released us.”
Branesh touched her cheek, directing her gaze to him. “You released us.”
“You gave us back to ourselves,” Ettan said. His gold deepened, as if he covered it with a shade. It was beautiful and glowed beneath the brown with which he’d chosen to shroud his skin.
Thanasis let out a shaking breath, and it brushed Aveline’s hair across her cheek, tickling her. She smiled and leaned forward to kiss Thanasis gently. “I will let go of my demons, if you release yours.”
Thanasis gripped the back of her neck to keep her against him. He kissed her again, deeper, his tongue pushing past her lips. His warm breath huffed into her mouth before his tongue curled against hers. Aveline responded, lifting onto her knees to better reach him, but he was so much taller, her head arched back. He sipped at her, dipping his tongue inside her mouth, and she moaned. When he tried to move away, Aveline sucked on his tongue, eliciting a groan.
“Share.” Another hand threaded through her hair, and then Ettan was pulling her to his mouth. His kiss was different, more forceful, as if watching her with his brother had overwhelmed him.
It had overwhelmed Aveline, but she met his kiss, thrust for thrust, and nipped at his bottom lip when he pulled away. Whispers of air breezed over her skin. Opening her eyes, she realized Aaddhar and Branesh were having trouble staying solid. They shifted, rushed about the room and reformed into the exact position they’d left.
“What—” Aveline’s voice broke and she tried again. “How do we do this?”
Aaddhar took her hands in his, lifting her from Thanasis’s lap. His brother groaned and made a halfhearted attempt to keep her with him. “I think,” Aaddhar said, smoothing her hair from her face. “That we may be rushing things. You are not quite ready for what we’re planning.”
Planning? Aveline took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. One by one, she met the open stares of each of the guys. They were aroused. Red shot through their skin. Her color. They were hers, and she wanted them.
Something cracked inside Aveline, a wall she’d kept around her heart since childhood when she realized people had the ability to hurt her.
She wa
s safe here. Safe with them. And even though their desire for her was clear as day, they hesitated, cautious of her inexperience.
If she’d thought about this at any other time in her life, she’d agree with Aaddhar.
But this was different. She didn’t need experience to be with them, however it looked. They would take care of her, and they’d never, ever, do anything to hurt her.
“I want it.” Aveline lifted her chin to meet Aaddhar’s stare. “I want whatever you want, because I want you. I want all of you.”
Her words released them from their hesitation. Branesh and Ettan gave up their solid forms and rushed at her, whipping around her and shredding her clothes. It tickled, the tattered cloth dragging across her skin before it fell away and drifted to the ground.
They lifted her off her feet, cradling her as they carried her to the bed. If she had felt like she’d landed on a cloud when she fell to Sonhadra, it was nothing like what pillowed her now.
Branesh formed behind her and pulled her against his body before Ettan appeared at her feet.
She had a moment of self-consciousness. Even with Aaddhar, she’d stayed clothed, but now there was nothing to hide behind. They could see every flaw.
Every scar.
Ettan shifted, and when he reappeared, he was nude, his lithe body on display. He was just as beautiful as she imagined. Smooth brown expanses of skin showed every dip and curve of his muscles. His shoulders were broad, and when he reached forward, touching her collarbones with his fingertips, the muscles in his arms flexed. “These,” he whispered, and she knew what he saw. The scars that started on her face ran all the way down her neck, along her body. And then there was the one on her chest.
Two long scars beneath each collarbone met between her breasts and ran down to her belly button. Ettan’s form flashed, intangible and solid, and then back again. Each of her ribs was graced with a silver scar. “Aveline.” His eyes were horrified before he shut them tight. At once, she felt his warmth along the scars, tracing each one. The heat moved inside her as if he was bathing her organs in sunlight. But it didn’t hurt. It didn’t burn. “Aveline,” he repeated and opened his eyes. Gold shone around the pupils, but he looked so sad. He was a healer, and if he could see inside her body, he would know what had been done to her. He’d see each knick and scrape.
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