by Anna Carven
But she was smart enough to trust him, and now he was watching her sublime face through the window as she mouthed something at him.
This time, he couldn’t understand the sounds her lips and tongue formed. Perhaps she was speaking in Earth-language, or perhaps he just wasn’t that good at lip-reading.
So he just shook his head slightly and watched her, a sense of contentment coming over him as he observed the slight flush in her cheeks, the dark cascade of her hair as it framed her face, the flutter of her eyelids, the appealing curve of her lips as they parted, revealing her pink tongue…
And those deep, searching brown eyes, so bright in the darkness.
She was life itself; pure, vibrant, vulnerable… everything that he was not.
A prize, as Nythian had called her.
In this rare moment of silence, a powerful feeling came over Enki. It began in his barely beating heart, which had slowed in response to the lack of oxygen in his lungs. It spread through his body, his limbs, his chest, right up to the throbbing bases of his sawn-off horns.
It made him dig his claws deeper into the thick metal walls of the escape-pod, his body filled with tension and desire.
Mine.
In that moment, he realized he didn’t want to let this human go.
Mine.
He would fight for her, kill for her, maybe even die for her.
Mine.
His erect cock strained against his armor-plate, and he was glad for the exo-helm that covered his face, because he didn’t want her to see his expression right now.
Not yet.
“Found you, brother.”
Lodan’s voice filtered through Enki’s comm, tearing him out of his lust-filled thoughts. The bastard had the most irritating sense of timing, but in truth, Enki was glad for the interruption, because he couldn’t get Layla out of here quickly enough.
Only when she was on the Fleet Station with him would he be satisfied that she was truly safe.
“I’m going to sweep down with the retrieval line in three, two…”
One. The familiar form of the Virdan X coalesced out of the inky darkness, approaching them at great speed. The retrieval line—a long, metallic arm—extended down toward them.
Of course, Lodan had been lurking around the Ristval V all along, waiting for Enki to eject the pod. The stealth cruiser had been heavily cloaked, but Lodan knew what to expect—they’d discussed it in detail—and the pilot could be extraordinarily patient when he wanted.
Only the secret tiny tracking device Enki had embedded beneath the skin of his left arm had given his location away, and now Lodan was coming to their rescue, doing the crazy sort of precision flying that only he could get away with.
The hooked end of the retrieval line whooshed toward Enki at impossible speed, and he didn’t hesitate. Releasing one hand from where he gripped the pod’s outer shell, he whipped his arm around and grabbed the line in an unbreakable grip.
Drawing on all of his strength, he brought the line closer, closer, closer, until it connected with the wall of the pod. The line’s Qualum fibers did the rest, extending toward the wall, meshing with the Qualum-Callidum composite of the pod, forming an unbreakable bond.
The whole time, they were moving, because although Lodan had slowed down, he hadn’t stopped at all, and now they were starting to accelerate again as the Virdan X retracted the line bit by bit, and they were drawn toward a small airlock in the side of the hull.
“Hold tight.” There was a warning prickle at the back of Enki’s neck, and then the Virdan X veered sharply to the right, and Enki gripped the pod tightly, creating a barrier with his body as a giant plasma flare tore past them, narrowly missing the pod and the ship’s hull, and for a moment, Enki’s entire body was engulfed in blue fire.
Then it was gone, leaving immense pain in its wake.
But he had shielded Layla from the blast, and that was all that mattered.
The stealth cruiser gained speed.
“No way I was going to let that one get you,” Lodan grunted. “Don’t worry. We’re almost out of their plasma range now, and I’ve told Ny to go up to the gunport and deal with the shooter. Remember, they can’t chase us. They’re crippled.”
The airlock opened and the metal arm grew shorter and shorter, drawing them inside.
The airlock closed.
Gravity kicked in. Enki dropped to the floor, his entire body on fire. A blast from a plasma gun was one thing, but catching even just the edge of a massive blast from an alpha-class Kordolian warship was a completely different experience.
That shit was powerful, and it hurt.
He dropped to all fours, gasping, drawing oxygen into his lungs for the first time since he’d left the Rysor. His nanite exo-armor broke apart, withdrawing through his skin as the tiny machines instantly reacted to the massive heat-damage in his cells.
The pain caused by the retreating nanites was something he was used to, but when it came with a side of plasma burns, it became unbearable.
He screamed.
A torrent of memories flooded his mind, and suddenly, he was back there.
On Tharos.
“Brother, you all right?” Lodan’s concerned voice came across the comm, but Enki was too far gone to be able to respond. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he became aware of frantic banging—Layla.
But he couldn’t do anything, because he was crippled by pain, and all he could see was…
The blinding flash of the the bomb as it decimated the Tharian capital, Marenja. The world turning into a sea of white fire, everything getting obliterated before his very eyes. The entire Seventeenth Division—all twelve of them—swallowed up by the inferno in an instant, turned to ash, gone. The terrible screams of the Tharians—men, women, younglings—as they were consumed by the white fire.
Enki’s skin and flesh melted, and the nanites went deep inside him, trying to preserve his most vital organs as the world around him turned into the deepest of the Nine Hells.
His shock quickly turned to rage. Cursed nobles. So quick to pull the trigger each and every time, because in the infinite Universe, a tiny planet like Tharos didn’t really matter, and the quickest way to guarantee submission was through force.
Enki and his brothers knew the rule of force all too well, but there was a limit to even their brutality.
This… this was destruction for the sake of destruction. Vindictive. Excessive. Deceitful.
Cruel.
Just like the nobles themselves.
Anger invaded every pore and cell of his burning body, and he swore he would take his blood-revenge on Lord Agarel Vethal and his entire Kaiin-cursed House even if it was the very last thing he did.
Because he would survive, and General Tarak would scour every section of this cursed planet until he found him, and then Enki would demand his blood-right.
Vethal obviously believed Enki would die along with the Seventeenth. He didn’t understand that the Empire’s own creations were even more monstrous than anything his poisonous mind could conceive of.
And the mind-wipe that was supposed to have kept them under control no longer had much of an effect.
He crawled forward on all fours, fighting excruciating agony, dragging himself through the wide halls of the Tharian High Palace, through ash and rubble and smoldering fires. He passed the charred and blackened bodies of the dead, barely able to distinguish them with his severely damaged eyes, remembering that they had once been graceful blue-skinned Tharians.
His anger became a howling vortex.
A wide stone pillar loomed before him, and he sank his claws into it, hauling himself to his feet. A soft sound reached his ears as he staggered across the floor—shallow breathing. Behind the pillar was a dying Tharian.
Her body was mostly intact. The pillar had shielded her from the force of the blast, but it couldn’t protect her from the heat.
She stared up at him in horror, her green eyes blazing with hatred. “M-monster,”
she hissed, and the green glow leapt out of her eyes, rising up into the air like a vengeful spirit. “Your kind are going to destroy everything.”
Enki had no words. How did one apologize for the sins of an entire race? Especially with what he was about to do…
I am sorry.
Filled with disgust, he dropped to one knee and reached for the Tharian with his claws fully extended, because he was nothing more than a charred walking corpse himself, and his nanites desperately needed sustenance.
He had to survive, so he could take his revenge.
So he took what he needed from the Tharian, even as the green glow grew brighter and brighter, surrounding him.
Suddenly it was inside him.
His hands moved of their own volition, curling around his throat, squeezing, his claws digging into his very own burned flesh…
Kill yourself.
No! You will not control me!
His eyes snapped open, and he saw another face, this one pale and delicate—human.
“Don’t touch him,” she growled, looking at whoever was behind him. “He will be fine. Just give him time.”
There was power in her voice, because that sound alone dragged him out of his nightmare. She was fierce, concerned, protective… of him.
Unbelievable.
A human.
His Layla.
She just didn’t know it yet, but she would.
Chapter Twenty
Don’t touch him.
Had she really just said that?
Layla stared up at the Kordolian—this newcomer—a little shocked at how assertive she’d been just now. Mere seconds had passed since he’d released her from the escape pod, but already she was dropping to her knees in front of Enki, careful not to touch him because his eyes were giving off that unnerving green glow again.
She remembered what he’d told her back in the medical labs, the first time the freaky green-eye thing had happened, the time he’d almost killed her.
Sometimes, I just need a little time.
It was inconceivable to her that someone as strong and fierce as Enki would let a mind-parasite, or whatever it was, take over his consciousness.
“Uh…” And then she realized that the golden-eyed Kordolian who had come down to help—who was wearing the exact same magical tech-armor Enki had on—was staring at her with his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “It’s happened before,” she shrugged. “I’m just telling you what he told me.”
“He told you about it?”
“Not quite. He didn’t exactly explain what it was.”
“That makes two of us.” The man crossed his arms and openly scrutinized Layla as he pulled something out of a canister at his waist. “Still doing the green thing?”
“Yeah, but it’s fading.” Layla studied him in turn, and she couldn’t help but compare him with Enki. After all, this newcomer only the second member of Enki’s crew that she’d seen. “He’ll be with us in a moment. He’s not going to do anything dangerous.” She took in the Kordolian’s sleek obsidian battle-armor, which was exactly the same as Enki’s. She noticed the weapons holstered at various places on his body, all within easy reach. She saw the way he moved—fluid, graceful, almost catlike—just like Enki.
These two were cut from the same deadly cloth, but where Enki’s features were cold and stern and aristocratic, possessing a brutal kind of beauty, this guy appeared delicate-but-not, if that was even possible. His eyes were lighter in color compared with Enki’s amber, but his cropped hair was a couple of shades darker, and his skin was paler—more platinum than silver. Layla could almost have described his face as effeminate, but he was far too dangerous looking, and he had a similar powerful frame—lean, muscular, and obviously capable of exploding into tremendous violence at the drop of a hat.
It occurred to her that she was probably being hugely presumptuous to tell this guy she knew Enki better than he did, but she didn’t care. Her gut told her this was the right thing to do, and when it came to Enki, she would willingly put herself in all kinds of danger just to make sure he was okay.
“Layla.”
Her instincts were rewarded when he uttered her name, his voice hoarse. He reached for her, his hand capturing the side of her face, his touch firm and gentle and possessive, all at the same time.
Layla couldn’t help it; she reached for his fingers and took his hand into hers, squeezing tightly as if to confirm for herself that he was actually here.
Because only a few minutes ago, she had seen him writhing in pain on the floor, his skin raw and blistered, his face twisted into an expression of such excruciating agony that Layla became terribly afraid, but then, miraculously, his skin had smoothed over, healing right before her very eyes.
Yep, add super-healing to his list of freakish abilities. No surprises there. His skin had a little bit of pallor to it, and it didn’t appear as lustrous as before, but he was intact.
Alive.
Thank the fucking stars.
“Enki.” She edged closer as he sat up, becoming keenly aware of his… nakedness. He was a sculpture-made-flesh, the embodiment of lethal power and grace, all lean, rippling muscle and hard edges; a living weapon.
Buck naked.
Layla’s heart fluttered.
“Ahem.” Behind them, the other Kordolian cleared his throat. “Looks like you two need a moment.” A small clear cylinder appeared in his hand. Inside was some sort of liquid. “Here. You might need this.” He tossed the thing to Enki, who turned and snatched it out of the air, his hand becoming a silver blur. “I’ll be in the navigation room whenever you want to debrief. We’re out of the Rist’s blast-range now. I’ve set a course for the Fleet Station.”
“Hm.” Enki just nodded, not saying a word as the two warriors locked eyes, some sort of silent communication passing between them.
The other soldier nodded at Layla. “Holler if you need anything. I’ll hear you.”
Super-hearing? Again, no surprises. “I know,” she said dryly.
“Then you already know us well enough.” The warrior smirked and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her to be alone with Enki.
Who was naked.
He rolled the clear tube between his thumb and forefinger, before pressing a button that released a long needle. Without hesitating, he plunged the needle into his thigh, injecting the clear liquid.
Almost immediately, the fatigue faded from his face, and his skin darkened, becoming a deeper shade of silver.
“Plasma-protein injection,” he explained.
“Oh.” Layla didn’t really know what a plasma-protein injection was, but the substance seemed to have aided the healing process. She remembered the pain she’d seen on his face; the tortured howl that had erupted from his lips, a chilling sound. “You’re… okay?”
Enki put his hands on her waist and drew her into his lap. “I am now.”
His response quelled her concerns. A delicious ache started between her thighs, and heat spread through her body as Enki invaded all of her senses.
Oh! Layla couldn’t quite believe this was happening. The man who had saved her from a horrible fate was now wrapping his powerful arms around her, pulling her against his broad chest. He might appear cold sometimes, but he felt really, really warm.
And he smelled delicious, all warm, musky, intoxicating male.
“You are safe now,” he rumbled, dipping his head, burying his nose in the hollow of her neck. He inhaled deeply, running his fingers up the nape of her neck, threading them into her thick hair, apparently not caring that her hair was tangled and matted and hadn’t been washed in weeks.
This sudden display of affection shocked her to the core. For someone who could be so vicious, so hard, so brutal, he was also capable of surprising tenderness.
Enki’s touch triggered a cascade of emotions. First, massive, relief. Then came the horror, the realization that she’d escaped a terrible nightmare only by chance. Layla shuddered and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. S
he drew strength from Enki’s solid presence, allowing herself to feel safe for the first time in…
When?
She couldn’t actually remember the last time she felt safe. Even on Earth, she’d been constantly looking over her shoulder, worrying about what her stalkerish ex-manager might do next. Damien Andross had turned her life on Earth into a living hell, to the point where Layla was confined to her sky-condo in Mombasa, relying on drone-deliveries and hired mercs for security.
Friends and acquaintances deserted her. The media barricaded the lower entrance with their drone-cams and filming-bots, and when management chased them out, they simply set up shop at both ends of the street, waiting for her to emerge.
She kept the blinds closed, because she’d caught one of their drone-cams hovering outside her bedroom window. She cut herself off from the few friends she had, because she didn’t want to drag them into this whole mess. She became a paranoid recluse, fearing every communication was hacked. She couldn’t even access the Networks anymore, because her name would eventually flash in front of her, leading to some sensational gossip piece about how the one of the world’s most famous VR stars had betrayed her billions of loyal fans…
And gained a new audience in the process.
Where is Layla Rose now?
Layla Rose. That was the screen name she’d chosen for herself. She was walking through the shiny lobby in Dubai for her first screen-test when she’d seen the elegant vase of long-stemmed white roses. It had a nice ring to it. Rose was her public face. Layla dela Cruz was private.
But now, Rose was no more.
There was only the real Layla, and she was with a badass Kordolian called Enki, on a ship bound for an unknown destination.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” His deep voice cut through her painful memories, pulling her away from everything that tethered her to her past.
“My savior appears to be trying to seduce me.”
“Trying?”
“Okay, maybe succeeding, a little bit.” In truth, Layla was putty in his hands. “I’m not complaining, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I notice everything.”
“Even the fact that I really, really need to shower?” It was both hard and easy to be self-conscious when one was sitting in the lap of a very ripped, very naked Kordolian male on the floor of an airlock in some unknown ship. Layla’s body was going haywire, desire flooding every inch of her while her senses went into overdrive, but she was also bone-tired, dirty, and aching all over.