by Anna Carven
“Y-yes.” For a moment, her mouth hung open as her brain tried to process what he’d just told her. Then the impact of his words washed over Layla like a bucket of refreshing cold water, almost bringing tears to her eyes. No judgement. That’s what he was saying. He was effectively handing her a clean slate. “Th-thank you.”
The boss waved his hand dismissively. “Now we need to facilitate a transfer of consciousness, or so Zharek tells me. I assume you have found a plausible solution, medic, or else you would not have dragged me down here at such short notice. Explain your reasoning.”
“From what little I know about Tharian biology, I can assure you that this crazy plan might actually work.” Zharek walked across to the stasis tanks, not even bothering to glance in their direction. “The life-cycle of the Tharian occurs in two stages. The first, the corporeal stage, is as any of us would expect. The second, the incorporeal stage, is where things get weird. When a Tharian body dies, the consciousness remains, and kind of just floats around until it finds a compatible host.”
“Compatible host?” Layla couldn’t help but feel a sense of horrified fascination. “How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know,” Zharek admitted. “The biology of Tharians confuses even me. Some mortal Tharians choose to share their physical body with an incorporeal, or even two or more, until the incorporeals pass on into the afterlife. In Enki’s case, the Tharian mistakenly entered his body when he ate her heart, and he is the worst possible host she could have found. Can you imagine being inside his head? I certainly wouldn’t want to do it.” Zharek shuddered. “Now, all he has to do is make skin contact with the host. Theoretically, the Tharian should be able to do the rest. We just need to control for all the possible things that could go wrong, which could range from sudden psychosis to accidental loss of control, to extreme violence. You know, the usual. It would be much easier if he allowed me to sedate him, but as expected, he vehemently oppo—”
Beside her, Enki had gone very, very still. “I told you, Zharek, we both need to be fully conscious for this to work. The Tharian told me so. Enough with the useless explaining. Let’s get this over and done with. If it works, it works. If not…”
“I know, I know. We keep on searching until we find another solution. I almost feel sorry for the Tharian. You’re probably killing the poor soul in there.”
“And we are here to mitigate any unexpected loss of control.” The red-eyed Kordolian, the boss, frowned as he crossed his arms. “I will not hesitate to neutralize you if you get violent, Enki.”
“I appreciate that, Sir.” Slowly, gently, Enki let go of Layla’s waist. “It would be best if you stepped out.”
“It’s okay. I’d rather be here, in case you—” I’m deathly worried about you. She didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“It’s for your own safety, Layla.” Enki’s tone became firm. “I can’t predict what I might do if something goes wrong and the Tharian takes over. If I lose control, I can’t stop my instinctive reactions. Only they can.” He nodded toward the three heavily armed warriors.
Lodan stepped forward. “Trust me, you don’t want to be around him when he’s in a bad mood.”
Enki shot Lodan a dark look. “Speak for yourself, soldier.” He put his hands on Layla’s shoulders and looked directly into her eyes, his expression softening. “Layla, go.” With the promise of danger and violence hanging so heavy in the air, it was impossible that he could look at her this way.
But then again, everything about this situation was impossible. She felt like little more than an extra in one of her crazy blockbuster VR movies, only this madness was very, very real.
She took a deep breath.
“Okay,” she agreed finally, a little surprised that Enki and the three fierce warriors beside him were watching her with such intensity, as if her opinion mattered somehow. She thought about Anuk and the sheer desperation that had been in her voice as she’d pleaded with Layla. “I don’t necessarily think the Tharian is your enemy right now. Just remember that when you’re about to do whatever it is she needs you to do.”
Enki’s expression hardened, and for a moment his gaze grew distant, as if he were having a conversation inside his mind.
“I’ll take you into the antechamber,” Lodan offered. “Zharek can set up a holo so you can watch.”
Layla looked back at Enki, but his shields had gone up again, making him appear cold, inscrutable, and utterly alien. A stranger, but not.
“See ya,” she said, giving him a half-wave as she tried to detach herself from this creature of light and darkness, who had so quickly seized a part of her soul and made it his own. She felt close to him even when he was withdrawn like this, because she couldn’t forget the way he’d held her, the way he’d spoken to her as they lay in the pod together, the way he made her feel. Even now, when she was surrounded by a group of unfamiliar, dangerous Kordolians, she felt secure, because she knew that Enki wouldn’t let anything happen to her, ever. “I won’t be far away. Just next door. Holler if you need me. Seriously.”
He looked at her one last time, nodded solemnly, and then turned, becoming a dark silhouette in the glow of the tanks.
Chapter Thirty-One
Whoosh. The viscous blue liquid in the stasis tank was refreshingly cold as Enki plunged into it, welcoming the sudden absence of chatter as liquid filled his ears.
With great effort, he pushed all thought from his mind; well, almost all. He couldn’t stop thinking of his mate and the parting look she’d given him.
Trust, concern, hope.
You had better not fuck this up, soldier.
Once this was done, he vowed that he would give Layla anything she desired.
Closing his eyes, he dropped his guard a fraction, allowing the passenger in his mind to come to the fore. Is this the one request you have of me, Tharian?
Yes.
I did not give you permission to use my body back there, as I slept. I did not give you permission to speak with my mate. Really, he was angry at himself for putting Layla in such a precarious position, but somehow, his human had understood exactly what was required.
She’d spoken with the Tharian, and now they were here.
She is exactly what you need, the Tharian replied, sounding not in the least bit remorseful. Will you just trust me for once and do this thing, warrior? You promised me you would grant one favor, and this is it. The sooner I am out of your head, the better.
Agreed. Enki’s impatience grew. After putting up with the intrusive presence for so long, he was on the verge of being rid of her, and that moment couldn’t come too soon. What do you need me to do?
Take both her hands in yours. Touch your forehead to hers. Then… this is the hardest part, you will have to relinquish control to me.
Relinquish? In that small, secret part of him that never saw the light of the stars, the word elicited a spark of fear.
Your mind is like a fortress, Kordolian. I am trapped in one of the outer citadels, forced to pace back and forth within a confined space, and every time I try to scale the inner walls, you shoot me down in a barrage of plasma fire and lock me away. If you do that to me while I am trying to enter my host, it will never work. You need to let me in so I can get out.
Three of my brothers are waiting outside. If you try anything stupid with my body, they won’t hesitate to restrain you, and it will not be pleasant.
Oh, I know. It is deadly serious. Even the Emperor himself has graced us with his presence. I am not so stupid as to try and defy your people. I know all too well what your kind are capable of.
Emperor? You are mistaken. The Empire is finished.
The Tharian chuckled. He may not think of himself as such, but really, who do you think rules in Vionn’s stead?
I am not interested in your analysis, Tharian. Let us get on with this.
Agreed.
Through the clear blue liquid, Enki could see the face of the human—the so-called host. In death, her sightless
dark eyes were wide open. He took her long-fingered hands into his and felt nothing; only the cold, dead flesh of a corpse.
Such a morbid thing.
He thought of Layla, reminding himself that she was only a few steps away, and that he would see her soon.
In truth, he was also doing this for her, because she needed a mate who was not half-insane and constantly hearing voices inside his head.
He closed his eyes and touched his forehead against the dead human’s, wondering how in Kaiin’s Hells he had gotten to this point. A human lover. An incorporeal alien inside his head. A challenge laid out before him—to relinquish control.
Possibly one of the hardest things he’d done in his entire life.
Why was it so difficult?
Because of his training—of what he was? Or perhaps it had something to do with the memories that were locked up inside him. Zharek had warned him that those memories might surface over time.
Pain-in-the-ass.
He was a warrior, not a fucking mystic.
So, what now, Tharian?
You’re still suffocating me. Let go.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Drop the barriers, the shields, those layers upon layers of stone-hard discipline, just for a moment. I need to get out.
And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?
The Tharian paused. I always feel that your control slips when you think of her. You figure it out, soldier.
Ah. Still at a loss as to what was expected of him, Enki delved into his recent memories, focusing on his mate. They had only known each other for such a short time, but it already felt like an eternity. He emptied his mind of all thought, focusing only on her.
He remembered her sweet feminine scent and soft dewy skin, marred only by the faint scratches left by Mirkel’s savagery. Anger. Her shimmering brown eyes, looking at him with such warmth, thawing his black soul from the inside. Her long, lithe arms and legs, curving around him, her hands on his body, conveying her pure, perfect desire. Lust. Oh, he could lose himself in her, could drown in her heady scent; her glorious presence, listening to the rhythm of her strong-yet-fragile heart. Contentment.
The Tharian slipped away, bit by bit, extricating her invisible tendrils from his consciousness, and it felt both painful and good. He could sense the pull of the other being; this human host, and as the Tharian left him, he opened his eyes and found himself bathed in green light.
And he was exposed.
Vulnerable.
An electric ripple ran over his scalp and down his spine. His skin tingled all over. It felt as if someone were squeezing his heart from inside his chest.
The sensation triggered a cascade of memories. He remembered the very moment the Tharian had entered his body. Surrounded by fire and ash and the dozens of charred bodies, he had consumed her dying heart in order to restore his own ravaged flesh.
Reduced to nothing more than a savage beast, he was operating on pure instinct rather than any coherent thought.
A mindless predator.
A killer.
Survive.
Goodbye, warrior.
She flowed out of him, and in the process, tore Enki’s entire consciousness apart.
He screamed, his voice muffled by the thick, viscous liquid.
The body in front of him jerked and writhed, moving away from him, pushed by some unseen force. A great force radiated outward from where they had touched, and Enki was thrown against the thick glass of the tube.
It shattered.
He landed on the cold floor, wet, naked, unable to comprehend the blue lights or voices or the blood-curdling screams from the human body beside him; high-pitched sounds that shredded his sensitive hearing, causing pain to lance through his skull.
His claws were out. His vision blurred. A wall in his mind shattered, and a flood of painful memories engulfed him. Everything was jumbled and fragmented, but it was all horrifying.
Losing control was the worst possible thing that could happen. The worst.
And finally, Enki understood why he hated being powerless.
Your existence is meaningless, boy. Your conception was a mistake. I should never have allowed you to be brought into this world.
Hands were upon him, and someone loomed over him. He couldn’t stand it. He fought with all his strength, lashing out with his claws, sinking his fangs into exposed flesh, finding the large artery that could bleed out quickly, resulting in death.
A strong hand closed around his throat. “Enki. Stop.”
But the words were a faint echo in the back of his mind, unable to break through the haze of rage and fear. He fought harder, wrapping his arm around his captor’s neck, squeezing hard.
Someone cursed softly. A hard knee went into his stomach. Strong hands were on his arms, his legs, pinning him down.
“Zharek, hurry up and sedate him.”
“On it.”
A sharp prick entered his left arm. Suddenly, his limbs went heavy, and all the power in his arms drained away.
They had sedated him against his will! A roar of fury burst from his lips. A large hand pressed against his forehead, holding him down, forcing him to focus.
“Enki Zakanin. Look at me.”
“I will call you Zakanin. Do you know what that means, boy? In High Kordolian, it means ‘no name’. You might be from my seed, but you are no son of mine.”
Daegan slapped his cheek, hard.
Glaring back at him, Enki spat in his face.
The noble’s face twisted into a mask of pure rage. “You never learn, do you, boy? What recessive gene did you inherit to make you so stupid? Demon-spawn. I should have killed you the moment you escaped your mother’s womb and stole her life away.” He slapped him again, raking his claws across Enki’s face. Blood flowed into his eyes, partially blinding him. Enki struggled against his bonds, but it was futile. Ever since he’d overpowered Daegan and struck him in the face, the bastard had kept him in restraints.
“You look like her, you know,” Daegan hissed. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t killed you yet. Doesn’t matter. You serve a purpose now.” Slowly, deliberately, he dragged a finger through the deepest cut on Enki’s face, but Enki didn’t even flinch, because that pain was nothing compared to what he’d endured at the hands of this cursed noble.
Pain was a constant companion, but he’d long ago learned to ignore it, drawing on his deep, deep hatred of the man.
They shared blood, but that was it.
Daegan was nothing to him but a sadistic tormentor, and time and time again, Enki had silently vowed that he would kill the bastard, even if he had to die and go to hell and come back to kill him in another life.
Daegan licked the blood off his finger and smiled. “They like it when you bleed. They like it even more when you’re angry. Turns them on. But you’re not afraid anymore, are you, boy? Shame. They like it when you’re scared. I might have to come up with another use for you soon.” He turned and walked away, glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes glittering like tiny yellow stones as he basked in Enki’s helplessness. “Don’t disappoint her now, boy.”
“I’ll fucking kill you,” Enki hissed through clenched teeth, but Daegan was already gone.
“Enki Zakanin, look at me. That’s a fucking order!”
Naked, restrained, helpless, lying on the wet floor surrounded by shards of thick glass, Enki blinked furiously, and saw crimson.
A penetrating gaze. A familiar gaze. Not an enemy. He struggled to remember.
“Wherever you went just now, whoever you were speaking to, that place is not here, and I am not that person. Remember your tribe, Enki Zakanin of the First Division. Remember what forged you.”
“H-he’s dead,” Enki croaked as his world slowly came back into focus; as he remembered who he was. “I killed him.”
And he was not powerless anymore. Hadn’t been, for such a long time.
He’d killed Daegan, and he’d felt nothing.
�
��You did,” the General growled, removing his hand from Enki’s forehead. Enki tried to sit up, but whatever Zharek had pumped into him had made him sluggish and weak. “The sedative should wear off soon. We had to restrain you.” Shifting to a kneeling position, he removed his weight so Enki was no longer pinned down. “It worked,” he said softly. “The Tharian has been transferred into the other body. You are free.”
Gone. The passenger in his mind was gone, and suddenly, everything—breathing, thinking, existing—felt so much easier.
Enki would have rejoiced, except for the fact that he couldn’t fucking move, and some strange wet substance was trickling down the sides of his face, and something—someone—very important was missing.
“Layla.” He became frantic. “Where is she?”
“I’m here.” Suddenly, she was there beside him, and everything else—even the indomitable General—faded into the background.
Nothing else mattered except for her.
She took his hand into hers, not caring that his claws were still out. She leaned in and put her hand over his heart, not caring that his body was slick with viscous blue stasis liquid. Goddess, she felt so warm and good. Her soft female scent washed over him, bringing him back into the world of the living.
“You did it, Enki. Anuk has found her host, and Alexis…” She trembled slightly. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I don’t really know what it all means yet, but… it’s a miracle.”
Enki didn’t quite understand what she was talking about, so he simply retracted his claws and curled his fingers around hers, relieved that movement was returning to his limbs so quickly. “It’s all because of you,” he whispered, pulling her toward him. He reached out and stroked the side of her face. “My mate.”
Now that the danger had passed, the others—even the General—stepped back, giving them space. In the background, Zharek was doing something with the Tharian/human/host/whatever it was, but Enki didn’t care about that.