by Carven, Anna
“Agreed,” Ikriss growled, relieved to find that he could actually speak again. His face was no longer restricted by that infernal breathing mask. “How long until my organs are ready?”
“Two rotations at the most. Knowing you, it will feel like an eternity.” The medic barely glanced up from his monitors and instruments. The soft blue glow of the holos lent his face an unnatural cast, making him appear emotionless and almost machine-like; a Kordolian extension of the Sylth that controlled their vast fleet. Ikriss had never really understood the unique relationship Zharek seemed to have with the AI. Sometimes, the way the medic spoke of it, one would think it were a living entity. “The poison is almost out of your system,” he continued. “Your vitals have been stable for at least half a rotation now, so we can take you out of the tank and get you up and about. Don’t worry, Commander. My machines will sustain you until your new heart is ready.”
“They had better. I do not want any more surprises,” Ikriss said darkly as he fought to suppress the wave of revulsion that roiled through him. Although the logical part of him accepted the need for modifications, he was a traditional Aikun male at heart, and the Aikun believed the heart contained the soul.
That was why they ate the hearts of their bitterest enemies after they defeated them in battle.
How could he claim his mate when he was missing his very soul?
Ikriss grit his teeth. As a former Commander of the Empire, he’d relinquished his soul and his tribal ties a long time ago.
But now he was free of the old Imperial Military.
This was the new Universe, and he wasn’t bound by Imperial Law or tribal lore.
He could exist as he pleased.
“The only surprises you’ll be getting are where your future mate is concerned,” the medic said glibly. “But you will be a good soldier and steer clear of her until after your surgery, won’t you?”
“Steer clear?” Ikriss’s voice turned low and dangerous. Unless it was medically indicated, he did not take orders from Zharek, especially when it came to the pursuit of his mate. “What is the meaning of this, Zharek? I thought the Mating Fever was dangerous. Is it not better to extinguish it as soon as possible?”
“Well, usually, it is, but in your case, you don’t have a proper heart… or lungs. Right now, the demand that would be placed on your body by a vigorous mating has a higher likelihood of killing you than the fever itself.”
Ikriss went quiet as he contemplated the unpredictability of this existence. It was a long time since he’d been forced to change his ways.
He’d gotten comfortable in his role as commander… perhaps too comfortable.
Now this stubborn human female had come along and completely disorganized him.
Ikriss stared through the clear walls of his prison, craving freedom more than ever before. His chest felt strange, as if his heart were still intact and it was pounding as furiously as an Aikun war-drum.
Carnal thoughts flooded his mind.
He contemplated all the ways in which he could temper the excruciating fire in his veins. Need surged through him, emblazoning an image of her onto his mind’s eye.
He remembered his last glimpse of her. She’d been staring at him in a way that he hadn’t seen before.
Her lips had been slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of tantalizing pink softness. A subtle flush suffused her cheeks, and strands of golden hair escaped around her face, framing her delicate features.
There were still flecks of blood—his blood—on her cheeks.
Her gaze had been wide and vulnerable, demanding his absolute attention as she conveyed the most complicated mixture of emotions through her eyes.
Fear, fascination, disbelief.
Desire.
Worry. For him.
The soft, silent onslaught in her eyes had driven his inner protector wild.
He was weak right now, and he couldn’t stand it. If there was any reason for him to accept Zharek’s unnatural, arcane modifications, it would be for her.
Not for the Empire, or for himself, but for her.
So he could give himself to her in the way that she deserved.
So he could protect her, always.
The frantic beating of his phantom heart became a slow, sensual throb that spread down into his cock.
On a tide of drugs and pain and madness, Ikriss felt himself slipping away…
“Ahem. Snap the fuck out of it, Commander. You are not to claim her until after the surgery,” Zharek said hastily, a note of panic entering his voice. “If you want to end up whole and as monstrously fit and battle-ready as you were before this little incident, you will listen to me. I might be a genius, but I cannot work miracles all the time, and believe me, this procedure will test me. It’s not every rotation that I bring someone back from the dead.”
Ikriss searched for the icy control he’d worked so hard to develop over the revolutions.
It usually came so easily to him.
But now he finally understood the insanity Tarak and the others had spoken of. If he caught a glimpse of her now, not even the entire First Division could keep him from her.
But first things first.
Ikriss took a deep breath and drove all thoughts of her from his soul.
Later.
There would be time for this later.
“Hurry up and get me out of this cursed tank,” he growled. “I have work to do.”
He needed information.
He needed to have words with Tarak.
There were problems on Earth that had to be dealt with. There was an abduction ring that had somehow escaped their surveillance. There were rumblings of Kordolian dissent coming from the far reaches of the Universe.
There were riots outside Sienna’s little empire
The naive humans on Earth were being whipped up into a fearful frenzy by unknown agitators, and Ikriss could not let such impertinence play out under his watch, especially when it was happening right on Sienna’s doorstep.
It was all connected somehow.
He would get to the bottom of it all.
He had to.
Because for a sublime moment, he had stepped into his mate’s sanctuary; her little empire, the world she had so painstakingly created for herself.
He’d only just caught the tiniest glimpse of it when his dark world had collided with hers, destroying everything.
That would not do.
He would make it right, starting with this so-called Syndicate.
“Get me out of here and reconnect my comm.” He needed to speak to Lodan as soon as possible. The last he remembered, he’d asked the First Division warrior to chase after an irritating human insect that had dared harass his mate.
Ikriss was done with being calm and measured.
If he got even the slightest hint that this Connor was somehow involved in Sienna’s abduction, he would kill the bastard.
The headache was starting again, burrowing into his temples. Ikriss ignored it. The work would be good for him. It would help him take his mind—and his cock—off other pressing issues.
Heart intact or not; Mating Fever or not, he could still command this operation to its logical conclusion.
And the only logical conclusion, naturally, was for Ikriss to hunt down his mate’s—and by extension, his—enemies, and destroy them.
That was what he had always done.
Chapter Seventeen
Sienna quickly orientated herself in her new space. Despite the annoying absence of decent lighting, it didn’t take her long to find the shower and the wardrobe. She took a shower, meticulously cleaning the dried blood from her arms and hands and face. She found a set of soft cotton undergarments—in her size, of course; the Kordolians always seemed to know exactly what would fit—and a loose silky robe-like garment, which she tied snugly at her waist.
Then she remembered something.
It was lying on the floor of the wash-chamber, halfway out of her pocket.
The pie
ce of paper Ikriss had given her.
His freaking CV.
Sienna bent over and snatched the folded-up paper from her crumpled pants.
She darted across to the sleeping-pod and tucked herself into the soft-as-sin black sheets.
Then she took a deep breath and held up the paper, her fingers trembling slightly.
Paper.
Soft, yet stiff. Cold. It felt weird. She could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d actually laid her hands on proper printing paper in her life.
She opened it.
It was only a single page, and the words were written in her native English, but they were printed in a neat, precise, weird looking font she’d never seen before.
Actually, she had seen it.
The font reminded her of the strange alien characters she’d seen on the various holo-devices the Kordolians used to view their data.
She stared at his name, which was printed at the top in small letters.
* * *
Ikriss Peturic
Curriculum Vitae
Personal Details
Age: 42 rotations (Kythian equivalent) and 131 revolutions (Kythian equivalent)
Tribe: Aikun, of the Deep Water Clan
Home Vessel: Warsong (Captain)
Fleets under command: Thirteen
Qualifications
Physical Combat Rank: super-elite. Attained Second Division status.
Firearms proficiency: super-elite
Bladed weapons proficiency: super-elite
Pilot rank: elite
Culture and command training modules completed: Advanced Offworld Culture and Politics, High Command and Leadership, Advanced War Tactics, Battle Arts, Subjugation of Dissent, Resource and Asset Identification and Seizure, Fundamentals of Colonization, Warship Management, Complex Inter-Galaxy Navigation and Sylth Command Enmeshment
Experience
Current: Operations Executive, Darkstar Mercenaries Corporation
Previous: High Commander of the Kordolian Imperial Militaries (defected)
Warrior of the Second Division Combat Unit of the Kordolian Imperial Militaries
Operative - Military Intelligence Special Operations Division
Other Divisions served in (in order of rank and chronology): 4th, 17th, 51st, 308th, 1177th
Cadet - Imperial Relocation, Recruitment, and Reeducation Program
Languages spoken
Aikun, Kordolian, Universal, Veronian, Avein, Slara, Lokati, Ordoon, English
Hobbies and interests
Hunting and fishing, recreational fighting, traditional weapons care and collecting, Aikun lore, Earth music in the format of “jazz.”
* * *
Sienna took a deep breath.
Earth music? Jazz? Was that last one a freaking joke?
She shook her head. You just never knew with these Kordolians.
Her hand was still trembling. Her chest was all tight and clenched up, filled with both excitement and apprehension.
Ikriss’s so-called CV was strange. It wasn’t formatted correctly. There were no dates, and he’d kept everything short and simple with no embellishment. She suspected there was a lot more to his history than what he’d printed on paper. She didn’t understand it all, but it was obvious that he was highly accomplished and probably very far up in the Kordolian hierarchy.
He spoke nine languages?
Holy crap.
And he was dangerous. The elitest of elite fighters.
Just like her instincts had told her when she first laid eyes on him.
Why did he even give this to me?
There were unsavory sounding things in his history—Subjugation of Dissent, Fundamentals of Colonization, Military Intelligence Special Operations—what the hell were those?
There were some chilling things, too.
Reeducation?
And then he had defected?
Sienna suspected these simple words on paper hid a whole Universe of pain.
Great. So he was insanely powerful and proficient in violence and probably carrying a shipload of baggage. At this point, she should already be running far, far away.
But there was no way she could do that now.
Ikriss didn’t strike her as the naive or oblivious type. For an alien, he seemed very switched on about human stuff, and he would have known how she’d react to some of those details… surely.
He wanted her to know all this.
The good and the bad.
That he would so readily reveal himself to her like this…
Did he mean for her to be impressed or terrified?
Sienna shook her head and folded up the piece of paper, hiding it away in the corner of her sleeping pod.
She let out a slow, shuddering sigh as a shiver of anticipation coursed through her body.
It was too late now.
He already had his hooks deep inside her.
She couldn’t get the image of Ikriss’s face out of her mind.
She couldn’t forget those intense golden eyes, burning right through his fierce, startling expression.
Eyes that were only for her.
And his warm lips, pressing hungrily against hers…
That kiss…
She couldn’t stop the terrible need that surged through her, making her twist and squirm in the soft sheets. Before she realized what she was even doing, her hand slipped between the folds of her robes, and she pressed the tip of her finger against her tenderly aching clit.
It was like a spark to tinder.
Her need exploded.
Shit.
She’d never, ever felt this sensitive before.
Everything else became insignificant as thoughts of Ikriss flooded her brain. She massaged the tender nub of her clit, rotating her hips this way and that, seeking to both stoke and extinguish her throbbing need.
Her thoughts were no longer hers.
Her body wasn’t hers anymore. It became a wild, sensual thing. Heat surged between her thighs. The thin fabric of her panties was soaked.
She barely recognized the sound of her own voice as soft, rumbling moans erupted from her throat.
But no matter how pleasurable it was, she couldn’t find release.
And gradually, her unfulfilled need became an impossible kind of torture.
Skin slick with sweat, her chest heaving, her breath coming in soft gasps, she stopped.
What’s wrong with you?
And then the doors unravelled.
She froze.
“Don’t you people know how to fucking knock?” Sienna pulled the sheets around her body faster than warp speed, trying to appear as composed and respectable as possible.
Her visitor stood in the doorway; a strange, alien silhouette of long tousled hair and curving horns.
Who?
The medic.
Didn’t this asshole understand the concept of privacy?
Sienna’s arousal evaporated like mist in the desert. “Can I help you, Zharek?”
The alien took one look at her and shook his head slowly in disbelief. “Perfect,” he said softly, his expression becoming cryptic. “It all makes sense.”
“What do you want?” she demanded, suddenly feeling afraid. She was alone with this mad scientist, who seemed to treat humans and Kordolians like his own personal lab rats.
She was pretty sure he didn’t really understand the meaning of consent, either.
Vyron and Jaxis didn’t even poke their heads around the door to check on her.
Bastards.
Nobody had come back to update her on what was happening on Earth yet.
Zharek smiled in the shadows, his fangs gleaming. “Don’t be scared, Sienna. I would never harm you. I just need to sample your scent, that’s all.”
“My scent?” Is he out of his freaking mind? Is he some sort of weird pervert?
“Don’t be so alarmed. It has no effect whatsoever on me. Genetics has keyed your biological signature to his. It’s as good as
done.” He moved forward, reaching between the folds of his flowing dark blue robes. The doors sealed shut behind him. Sienna tensed. Zharek might not be an elite warrior, but he still moved in that strange fluid way of the Kordolians, and his amber eyes burned with a manic kind of intensity. “I just need a small sample,” he said, producing a tiny black machine that was about the size and shape of a piece of dried penne pasta.
He pressed a button in one end. Click.
It made a faint whirring sound.
“Hold on,” Sienna snapped. “What are you doing? You haven’t told me what this is all about. What do you want to use my scent for?”
The alien gave her a patient look, as if he were explaining a simple concept to a child. “I’m going to replicate and multiply certain compounds in your scent and inject them directly into your mate’s veins at the end of surgery. It will accelerate his healing. Right now, you are very potent to him, and immensely valuable.” He grinned, looking utterly pleased with himself. “Don’t be so shocked. At least I am able to give you the benefit of an explanation. In the past, that wouldn’t have happened. Thank you, human, for advancing our biological research. You have no idea how important you are to us now. And trust me, you will thank me later." The medic offered her a slight bow and tucked away his little sample, turning to leave.
As the doors opened, he paused and said something in Kordolian to whoever was outside—it sounded like Jaxis.
“Seems you have another visitor.” Giving her a mischievous wink, he tossed her a round, flat disc.
It landed in the nest of her sleeping pod, amongst the black liquid-silk sheets. As Zharek disappeared and the tentacle-doors slid closed behind him, the object of her desires appeared right in front of her, materializing out of thin air.
“Ikriss!” she gasped.
“Hello, Sienna,” he said slowly, his voice thick with emotion.
“Is it really you?” Instinctively, she reached out to touch him, but instead of grasping his arm, her fingers raked through thin air.
It’s just a hologram.
It was the most damn realistic hologram she’d ever seen. Ikriss stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring straight at her.