by Anna Carven
“She saved your life.”
“More than once. She is a… worthy soul.”
“Why were you so miserable?” It’s a blunt, personal question, but I think Zharek can handle it. His frankness with me—even the presence of the other Kordolians—tells me that he wants to confide.
The ship seems to have stabilized now. Zharek unfastens his restraints and shuffles over, taking a seat beside me. Torin rises, but I hold up a hand, shooting him a pointed glare. Hold on.
Being the General’s wife has it’s perks. I’m not exactly sure where I sit in the pecking order, but it’s somewhere near the top, and the guys tend to respect my wishes—some of them, anyway. Sometimes, they take a little more convincing, especially when my husband’s around, but I can be very persuasive when I want to be.
Zharek leans in, his voice a low whisper. “Imagine this. You’re brilliant and you know it. You have the potential to do so much good in the Universe, and yet you’re forced to use your considerable talents to create misery and death and destruction. You are monitored and followed at every turn. You’re not allowed to display the capacity for independent thought, even though your head is swirling with paradoxes.”
This strange Kordolian isn’t humble by any stretch of the imagination, but then again, humility and modesty aren’t exactly their strong points.
“Then you create something that’s so powerful it scares you.” His eyes flick towards Torin. “He can hear everything I’m saying, you know.”
I nod sagely. “I know.” When one’s husband has preternatural super-hearing, one tends to make certain… adjustments.
Torin regards us with an enigmatic look. He shrugs.
“It doesn’t matter. This concerns him as well. The consequences of my actions have been felt far and wide throughout the Universe. I didn’t just create the First Division. There are… other things. Things I’m not proud of.”
“The Xargek.” I take a wild, wild stab in the dark.
“Gods, you are as sharp as an ashika. No wonder you keep him on his toes.” Unexpectedly, he laughs, shaking his head. “A Human. You’re fucking brilliant.”
I ignore his off-kilter compliment and stare at him for a long time, unable to come up with the right words. This guy… made the Xargek? I should be horrified. I should be disgusted. I should detest the guy, but I can’t. Zharek is confused and repentant and all kinds of tortured fluffiness. I actually feel sorry for him. He isn’t a bad guy, he was just born on the wrong planet.
A distant rumble reverberates through the cabin, followed by a rumble of mild turbulence. We’re well out into space now, and we’re traveling fast. The stars have become a faint blur against the vast, empty backdrop of the Universe.
“Hmph.” A satisfied grunt escapes Torin, as if he knows exactly what that rumble was all about.
I close my fingers around the datacube, feeling its rigid edges and hard surfaces. Inside this thing is the key to my husband’s identity, and Zharek’s just entrusted it to me.
Suddenly, the tiny object feels big and heavy. As I tuck it away in one of the many concealed pockets of my utility suit, there’s a slight shift in temperature, and the qualum doors unravel, causing a gentle gust of air sweeps through the pod.
Speak of the devil.
There stands Tarak himself, in all of his menacing Kordolian glory. He looks around the room, sees Zharek sitting next to me, and glowers. “Out,” he snaps, making an impatient gesture with his hand. “We are in stable flight. There is no need to remain strapped into your seats.”
Unlike the public skyflyers on Earth, Kordolian flights don’t have those convenient little ‘restraint off’ indicators. Korolians don’t use the passenger restraints very often, and when they do, I think you’re just supposed to instinctively know when it’s safe to get up and walk around.
Zharek nods knowingly, looking strangely satisfied. It’s as if he’s made peace with himself over something. He rises to his feet, offers me a curt bow, and slips away with the others. Torin is the last to leave, tipping his head respectfully before the qualum doors close behind him.
As I look up, the frown on Tarak’s face dissolves.
“Bossy,” I chide. “They’re good people, General. Even Zharek. You know, you catch more flies with honey.”
“They’re on my payroll,” he counters.
“Paid for by credits you stole from the Empire.”
“Stole?” He raises an eyebrow. “Who do those credits belong to, exactly?” He’s standing before me with his arms crossed, looking every bit the stern-and-grumpy General.
“Um, the people?”
“Under the old regime, we were not paid for our service. We were clothed, fed, housed, and given responsibilities, but we were not paid. It was unheard of for the so-called soori to possess wealth of their own.”
“That’s…”
“Slavery.” His expression is grim.
Slavery. A shudder courses through me as I remember the darkness of the Swallowing Pit. The enormity of it all hits me like a punch to the gut. Vivid images fill my mind. The entire sequence of events flashes before me, from the time I first started coughing on Silence, to the horrible isolation chamber, to the terrifying depths of the deep labs. I remember the bone-crushing pain and the feeling of imminent death. I remember seeing myself in the surgical stasis tank, so pale and frail and all trussed up with wires and tubes and monitors and Jupiter knows what else.
Then I’m in the undersea facility on Earth, holding Ami in my arms for the very first time.
Then I’m back on Fortuna Tau, staring up at the damaged ceiling of the biomeric dome with my legs mangled beyond all hope. A stranger looks down at me; a bad-ass, silver-skinned, Xargek-killing stranger. I’m terrified of him, and yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me feel safe.
Protected.
He never left me after that. He’s here with me now, and the terror has long since disappeared. It seems ridiculous now that I could have ever been afraid of him.
“My amina.” He drops to his knees before me, sliding his hands up my thighs. He’s left his hands bare, and his heat penetrates the tight, slightly damp fabric of my suit. I place my gloved hands on top of his. They’re trembling slightly.
His eyes are twin crimson pools, depthless and seductive.
There’s wetness on my cheeks. I blink. Why are tears running down my cheeks? Why am I crying? Damn it, I never cry.
Tarak pulls me into his embrace. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds me close, bringing his arms around me.
I cry away the fear of almost losing him, and the fear of him almost losing me. I cry away the deep longing I’ve felt for my baby girl, and my frustration at being separated from her.
Soon. I’ll be seeing her soon. Relief mingles with the tears, washing away my despair like a river coming into flood.
But I can’t stop crying. I cry for Tarak.
“They did such fucked-up things to you,” I mumble between tears.
His expression softens. He wipes the tears from my eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “That is all in the past. You must not cry for me of all people.”
I shake my head. “Zharek told me what he did to you.”
“He told you?” Tarak’s voice becomes sharp with anger. “What did he—”
“Not everything.” Fearing for Zharek’s safety, I’m quick to reassure my husband. “He just told me about the mind-wipe thing. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“That is all in the past now.” His arms tighten and he leans into me, resting his head against my belly. He closes his eyes. “It wasn’t your doing. Don’t be sorry for anything.”
“How did you know you could trust him?” I run my fingers through his soft hair, drawing tiny circles around his temples. It seems almost inconceivable that Tarak, who takes pleasure in revenge, would cast aside his instincts and entrust my care to Zharek al Sirian.
“Just like Humans, Kordolians are a comp
licated race. I have not survived this long by being obtuse, Abbey. A leader must be able to read people. Once you figure out their motivations; once you know what they truly want, you can exploit their weaknesses and guide them to do your bidding. It is as you Humans say: one catches more flies with that infernally sweet honey.”
I think I get it, but I’m not quite sure. “So in Zharek’s case, what he wanted most was…”
“Redemption, and a chance to heal.”
“Oh.” For a moment, I’m silent as I reconcile Tarak’s words with what I know about Zharek. “That makes sense. You know, for a hard-ass warrior, you possess a scary level of intuition.”
“I was also desperate,” he admits. “Just as I am desperate to fuck you right now.” His eyes are closed and he wears a deadpan expression, but there’s a gentle note of teasing in his voice.
“Hm.” I bring my thumbs down to the points of his shorn-off horns and rub them gently. A low rumble escapes him, reminding me of a cat’s purr. He extends his neck slightly, responding to my touch.
“But I will wait, because we are almost home, you are tired, and a certain small and adorable terror is waiting for us.”
I nod, my tears drying as the warmth of his words washes over me.
Home.
Home isn’t a planet, or a house, or a deadly battle cruiser named Silence. Home is anywhere and everywhere, as long as I’m with the two people in the Universe that I love most of all.
Almost there.
We’re so close now.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tarak
As I rest against her, I close my eyes and allow myself to drift, lulled by the slow, steady rhythm of her heartbeat. The sound invigorates me. It is the best sound in the Universe. She is healthy and whole, and she isn’t going anywhere.
Her fingers trace circles around my horn-bumps. The sensation is arousing, but also pleasantly soothing. A satisfied rumble emanates from deep in my throat.
As my thoughts wander, a strange, unbidden memory flickers in the deep, damaged recesses of my mind, and suddenly, I’m in the Flatedge again.
Why the fuck am I in Flatedge?
“This one fits the requirements.” An Imperial soldier is standing over me, holding a scanner against my head. “Good height, good muscle bulk. A so-called ‘perfect’ specimen. That’s how the sci-freaks like them.”
I struggle violently, but someone’s holding me down. There are restraints around my wrists, and a booted foot is pressing against my chest.
“Fuck you,” I snarl. “I hope your mad Emperor gets the flesh-eating Pernix disease and dies an excruciating, rotten death. I hope the bitch Empress gets—”
“Oi!” Someone kicks the side of my head. Stars explode in my vision. “This one’s got a mouth on him. We’re going to have to shut you up, child. Have some respect for your betters.”
Strong hands are grabbing me, flipping me over. The soldier with the scanner grabs my hair and yanks, pulling my head back. “We’ll have to get rid of these fucking braids, too. You should have stayed out on the Vaal with the rest of the savages.”
“Truss him.”
“Fuck you!” I struggle against my bonds. “I’ll fucking kill—”
A hand comes near my face. I buck and twist and bite, and for a moment my teeth clamp down on a finger, which is quickly withdrawn.
“Aargh! You fucking miserable shit!”
Something’s being forced into my mouth. I twist and struggle, but it’s no use. Whatever they’ve gagged me with has vicious spikes attached to the end. They pierce my tongue, and blood fills my mouth. I choke and cough and splutter. A muffled scream escapes me. I’m furious. The only thought that keeps me from going completely mad is that if I ever escape, I’m going to hunt down all of these bastards and tear their fucking eyeballs out. Then I grant them a slow and excruciating death.
The soldiers laugh. “Zharek’s going to enjoy breaking this one.”
“Nah. He doesn’t like doing the dirty work. You know what them nobles are like. Soft. They’ll send this one to the Pit first.”
Something sharp enters my arm, and my world turns black.
“Tarak, are you okay?”
My mate’s sweet voice brings me back into the world of the living, vanquishing the demons of the past.
“I’m fine,” I answer roughly. The unexpected memory was so vivid, so visceral, and so real that I almost unsheathed my claws.
She peels herself from the seats above and slides down to my level. I pull her into my lap, burying my face in her hair. I breathe in and inhale her essence. This is her scent, pure and unspoiled. Sweet, intoxicating female.
She doesn’t speak. She just holds me close.
It’s all I need.
And just like that, the terrible memory becomes nothing more than a fleeting thought. It is nothing, just an insignificant moment in time.
I’m here. I’ve won. I’ve survived, and the Empire that destroyed me and remade me is in ruins. But best of all, I’m going home to see my daughter, and my clever, brave, strong, precious mate is in my arms.
We are nearly there.
What more could I possibly ask for in this life?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Abbey
“My baby.” I kiss Ami on her soft, baby-smelling hair. I kiss her fat little cheeks. I kiss her chubby little arms. “Mwah, mwah, mwah.” I hold her close, and it feels so good that my heart is about to burst out of my chest. “Mommy missed you so, so much. I’m so sorry we had to leave you. Mommy and daddy had to go and take care of some silly grown-up business, but we’re back now, and I’m not going anywhere.” The girls have taken good care of my baby. Ami looks as radiant as ever. In the time that I’ve been away from her, she’s grown, and she’s learned how to sleep in her own bed.
Amazing.
Tarak is watching us indulgently. He’s standing by the viewing port, giving us a little mother-daughter bonding time. After the Virdan X made it back to Silence, I could barely contain my excitement. I actually ran to the common room, rushing past several of the crew, who looked at me in alarm, saw the General a few paces behind, and promptly got the hell out of the way.
Now we’re back in our quarters, and Ami is in my arms again. I can hardly believe it. I had to keep believing that this day would come, and now that it’s here, it’s the best feeling in the entire Universe.
I stare into her big violet eyes, a wide grin splitting my face.
“Mama,” Ami coos.
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Mama? You said mama?”
She laughs and squeals in excitement.
“Tarak, look,” I say proudly. “She said ‘mama’ properly.”
Before we left, she hadn’t quite got the hang of it. She was calling me ‘mamda’.
I kiss her again and point towards Tarak. “Who’s that, then? Who’s that?”
Ami stares at her father, her eyebrows drawing together in a quizzical expression. So freaking adorable. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“Can you say ‘dada’?”
She pouts.
“‘Dada’,” I repeat.
“She is not ready,” Tarak says. Is it just me, or is there a teeny tiny little bit of eager hopefulness in his voice? “She will say it with time.”
Ami turns at the sound of his voice. She’s staring at him with the kind of curious intensity that only a baby can muster.
“Wanna go to daddy?” I kiss her again and hold her out to Tarak. He crosses the room and takes her into his arms. Ami knows what to do. She snuggles up against his chest. In her blue and yellow onesie, she’s the perfect contrast to Tarak— with his dark robes and austere features and semi-permanent scowly face—and yet she complements him perfectly.
Blood of my blood. Heart of my heart. Little loved one.
My chest swells with warm emotion as she looks up into her father’s eyes. Her pout turns into a cute little smile. “Dig dad.”
Tarak frowns. “Dig dad?�
� He looks genuinely confused.
I burst into laughter. “I think she’s trying to say ‘Big Bad’.”
“I am not bad,” Tarak protests, looking somewhat offended. “Just misunderstood.”
The semi-perturbed look on his face is so unexpected that I laugh even harder. My husband doesn’t do perturbed. I reach his side and ruffle Ami’s wispy hair. “Say dad, Ami. Just dad.”
She glances up at Tarak, then at me, then at Tarak again. Her expression is so adorably innocent, and her eyes are as wide as the moon. “Bad,” she blurts. “Badabadabad.” For a moment, she’s terribly serious. Tarak’s forehead creases and his eyebrows rise to the heavens, as if to say: are you serious, child?
Only Ami could draw such a reaction out of him. It’s freaking brilliant. “Mama and Bad,” I grin. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“Hm.” The side-eye Tarak gives me is epic. As he stares at me, his gaze lingers and his exasperation gives way to something else.
His look becomes smoldering. There’s that slow-burning lust again. He’s looking at me as if to say: there is unfinished business between you and I.
You are baaaad, I mouth the words as my arousal flares to life.
He tips his head slightly, raising one eyebrow. Yes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Abbey
After putting Ami to sleep in the other pod, I return to our sleeping chamber and find it empty. Damn. He isn’t here. Disappointment courses through me. After we spent time with Ami, he slipped out to attend to some mysterious business. Tarak al Akkadian is always busy. Even when he seems to be relaxing, there’s something going on in the background. That’s a fact of life that I’ve come to accept.
I haven’t had a chance to tell him about the memory cube yet. Instead, I’ve stored it in a safe place. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t know how he’ll react to its presence.
Will he even want to know what’s inside?
With a sigh, I make my way across to the washroom, running my fingers through my hair. I peel off my semi-intact utility suit, taking time to examine my body.