by Anna Carven
He’s already moving, rocking Ami in the crook of his arm as he slips on his shades and retrieves a black umbrella-like device from somewhere in the shadows. He opens it, creating a curving canopy over their heads.
I watch our daughter, so small and delicate and innocent in Tarak’s powerful obsidian-encased arms.
My heart nearly bursts. She’s so adorable, especially when she’s asleep.
So peaceful… so different to the little whirlwind of chaos she turns into when she’s awake. We’re time thieves, Tarak and I, stealing moments of closeness while our precious child sleeps.
I rise to my feet, sore and tired all over but perfectly content, admiring my husband’s powerful form from behind.
My gaze is drawn to his ass. Can’t help it. He’s in magnificent shape, the result of countless hours of brutal training.
Tarak senses my look. Of course he does. He’s got this uncanny sixth-sense ability, almost like ESP. He glances over his shoulder, one silvery eyebrow arching above dark lenses. The left corner of his mouth quirks upward.
A pleasant little shiver runs down my spine.
I love it when he gives me that look.
I smile as we walk out into the golden afternoon sun, drawing energy from the sight of my formidable little clan.
14
Abbey
“We leave tonight,” Tarak declares, surprising me as he appears wearing nothing but a pair of soft, loose trousers slung low across his hips. I’m sitting in the small conservatory on the second floor, watching the sun set across the red-dust plains.
After a quick and very necessary fuck in the shower—a frantic tangle of slick bodies and rough, tender hands and cold water sluicing all over us—I’ve come up here to check on my plants and adjust the temperature and water settings before we leave.
This is my secret hideout, a small, personal space that I’ve populated with all kinds of tropical plants. Native bees and butterflies hover around tiny flowers, and the cycle of life goes on.
My little chamber of sanity.
Glass walls surround me and a glass roof arches overhead—all retrofitted with Kordolian hyper-strengthening technology, of course.
I stare at Tarak between the long, glossy leaves of a birdsnest fern. The snakelike tendrils of my vanilla orchid vine hang down around me, laden with green buds that are just about to flower. When they bloom, I’ll hand-pollinate them in an attempt to produce my first ever vanilla bean crop. The stuff’s extremely valuable. After hundreds of years, they still haven’t figured out how to replicate that distinctive, delicious flavor.
In this time of artificial replication and mass production, natural things are rare and precious.
Hmm. I have a business idea in mind, but it needs to percolate for a little bit longer.
Right now, I’m distracted by something else.
“T-tonight?” I stutter as I inhale the heady aroma of mock orange blossom. He draws closer, graceful, silent, sinuous, tantalizing me with the sight of his chiseled body.
“Tonight.” I detect a certain steely note in his voice. There are times when Tarak gets stubborn, too. Actually, he’s one of the most stubborn people I know. When he and I go head to head… well, I’d say success rate is about fifty-percent.
“Tonight is only about an hour away,” I protest, my thoughts descending into mild panic. “I didn’t realize we’d be leaving so soon. I still have to organize the Christmas lunch for the girls, and… there’s all that food I got from the market. Can we make it tomorrow evening, Tarak?”
Shit.
The Christmas lunch. I’d penned it in for tomorrow, Christmas Eve. It’s a strictly girls and kids only affair, a chance for the so-called Kordolian Wives’ Club to meet up and enjoy delicious food and wine before we all get back to our hectic lives.
I can’t even remember when we last had a proper catch-up.
Everyone seems so busy these days.
Sera’s got her hands full with her six-month-old twins. Jia’s been working with the Kordolian fleet engineers on some top-secret tech assignment that even I’m not allowed to ask about. Arin’s busy with the Antarctica project, flying back and forth to Nova Terra to iron out the fine details with the Federation.
Telepathic Noali is still a little reclusive, but she does come and visit now and again with her quiet-yet-intimidating mate.
Riana’s immersed in some sort of deep-Network hacking project that I can’t even begin to understand.
Of course, Zyara’s invited too. Recently, she’s been confined to her lab, working on a cure for a dangerous virus called Dracaera.
And then there are the new faces. Mari, who’s straight out of one of Darkside’s roughest neighborhoods. Persephone—or Professor Winters, as she’s known in academic circles. Layla freaking Rose, who still makes me have some serious fangirl moments.
I’ve seen all her movies, even the ones nobody’s heard of.
“Can we at least stay for tomorrow’s lunch?” I say quietly, thinking about the fierce, funny, and loyal women who have become my closest friends. As mates to Kordolians, we were brought together. Somehow, we get along so very well, as if we’ve known each other for years.
Is that just coincidence, or something more?
“We are leaving tonight, Abbey,” Tarak growls, drawing ever closer. “There is no point in arguing.”
I stare at him, becoming a little breathless, a little flustered. His silver skin is still damp from the shower. It gleams in the golden light of the setting sun, making him appear as if he’s been dipped in liquid metal.
My very own bronze and silver warrior-god.
Isn’t it ironic that the same sun that causes his skin to blister and burn can make him appear so very beautiful?
He sits down on the bench, barely inches from me. I inhale his scent—sharp, masculine, invigorating. In the old days, he would have just walked in here stark naked, because Kordolian warrior males don’t seem to care one whit about personal modesty.
But now we have a little person in the house, so he’s acting a little more… civilized.
He folds his arms, giving me a cryptic look.
“The Christmas lunch is important to us.” I make another attempt to crack his impenetrable resolve. “It’ll be the first time in ages that I—”
“Abbey.” My name is a sensuous whipcrack as it rolls off his tongue. He looks very dangerous right now, as if he could swallow me whole. He leans back on the bench; arrogant, haughty, very much the master of his domain.
I never forget that my husband is a man who is used to giving orders and getting his way. He might be on our side now, but he’s still a Kordolian, and there was a time when his kind would have eaten our kind for breakfast.
“Why are you being so insistent about this?” I ask cautiously.
“I have my reasons.”
“And you’re not going to tell me?”
“It’s a surprise.” He growls, leaning closer, showing a bit of fang. “Don’t interfere with my surprise, Abbey.”
Ooh.
He’s not going to budge on this one. A small part of me wonders what would happen if I ever really had to defy him.
“Hmph.” I huff, thinking about how I’m going to break it to my friends that I won’t be present at our much anticipated catch up.
Sorry, ladies. We’re leaving tonight. Tarak’s hell-bent on it. You know how it is. You’ll just have to carry on without us, I suppose. There’s spiced wine and Christmas cake in the pantry. Enjoy.
They’ll understand. I’m sure each and every one of them has experienced this kind of thing—this stubbornness—with their mates at some point in time.
Kordolians. Hmph.
My irritable mood returns, threatening to engulf me in a dark cloud. Ah, mood swings. Where have you been all my life?
“It will be worth it,” Tarak rumbles, sounding so infuriatingly sure of himself.
“It had better be, mister.” I glare at him, annoyed that he’s flexing his author
ity. At the same time, I’m more than a little excited.
“Have I ever disappointed you, wife?”
My eyes narrow. I try to think of even one such example.
I can’t.
And he knows it.
Tarak moves closer, until I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He leans in and…
“Yaaaa!” Ami bursts through the foliage, running toward us at precarious speed. “Hugs,” she yells, wrapping her arms around my legs in a grip that’s a little too powerful for a kid her age. “Hugshugshugs!”
I hug her back, my foul mood dissipating instantly. “You didn’t sleep for long, Ami-tsunami. Are you ready to go on daddy’s stealth cruiser?”
“Yep!” She beams at me, her violet eyes gleaming. Two flights in one day? That’s a lot of excitement.
Ami’s burst of projected emotion—pure joy—engulfs me, making my skin tingle and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I glance at Tarak.
He wears the strangest expression. He can feel it too.
“Interesting,” I say, my voice less than a whisper. “She’s going to be a handful.” This uncanny talent of hers fills me with awe and just a little bit of terror. We have no idea how powerful she might become.
“Just like her mother.” Tarak gives us an indulgent look.
“Don’t you mean like her father?” I stick my tongue out at him. “She definitely takes after you.”
Ami reaches up and Tarak takes her into his arms. Instantly, she starts pulling on his long, pointy ears. Hers, by contrast, only have the most subtle of points. Unless one looks really hard, they could pass for human ears.
Maybe they’ll grow longer over time.
“Elf eaaars. Elf eaaars. Santa’s elf!” she squeals.
Honestly now, where did she learn that?
Tarak winces, his expression tuning into pure thunder as I burst into hysterical laughter.
15
Tarak
A slow-burning rage has burrowed its way into my heart, and it colors my thoughts as I bank the stealth cruiser and ease into a rapid descent, impressed with the craft’s handling. This particular ship is a new model. Made from recycled Callidum, it is sleek, small, and exceptionally fast, faster than anything the Empire ever produced. It is also invisible to all surveillance systems on Earth.
The Fleet Station is too large for our purposes. We are scrapping parts of it, turning it into ships.
I am pleased with this particular model. I will commission a dozen more.
We glide over a snow-capped mountain range, and I marvel at the stark beauty of the white peaks. This is my kind of territory. It reminds me of the icy landscapes of my home planet, although Kythia does not have mountains this tall.
Yet the spectacular sight of ice and snow does little to douse my anger. I am loath to admit it, but the situation with the attempted abductions and Sagarath Rexu has gotten under my skin.
In the end, I broke him.
I looked into his eyes and watched as he surrendered the very last thing he held onto—his pride.
And when he was on his knees begging, pledging his absolute loyalty to me if only I would spare his life…
I turned him over to Ikriss, who will surely kill him… after he has used him to find the Kordolians who tried to steal humans from my Earth.
Unforgivable.
The sadist in me is unsatisfied. My fingers twitch as my killing intent flares.
Rexu is—was—one of the Thirty-Eight. A highly trained, remorseless killer. A glimpse into his soul revealed a distorted reflection of myself.
Did it unsettle me, drawing out my anger like some insidious toxin? Perhaps. But it is more to do with the fact that he revealed what I have long suspected. The remnants of the Empire are organizing, mobilizing their forces against me.
Come at me, fuckers.
I am ready. We are ready.
“Are we there yet?” Abbey calls out from the passenger cabin. It is only the three of us on this small cruiser, the Crixa. In Veronian, crixa means: the starlight that burns through the darkness.
The sound of her voice—a distinctly human mixture of amusement, indignation, and excitement—drags me back from the wintry bleakness of my thoughts.
“You are an impatient creature, human. Can you not allow yourself to just trust your husband for once?” I guide the Crixa between a pair of sharp peaks, dropping the engine thrust to almost zero.
“Oh, I trust you all right. With my life. I just don’t agree with your methods sometimes. Hey, is this… central Europa? Are we over the Alps?”
I do not need to look over my shoulder to tell that she is excited. “I do not know the native names for all your Earth destinations.” To me, Earth geography is a set of coordinates, nothing more. “We are close to an Earth-settlement called Zurich, if you must know.”
“Ohh… I get it now. Are you taking us away to a winter chalet, General? That would be nice.”
Not knowing what a chalet is, I keep quiet. My destination is better than anything she can imagine.
Spotting the landing bay, I prepare the cruiser for landing, surprised that the conditions are perfectly calm. The morning sun reflects sharply off the pristine snow, and beyond the landing platform is a frozen lake—a wide, flat expanse that reminds me of home.
“Hey Ami, look out there. What are those? Mountains.”
“Tan-tans.”
“Yeah, that’s right! Mountains. Hey, Tarak, I don’t see any chalet down there. We’re not camping out Aikun-style, are we?”
I chuckle, my anger ebbing away. Do not worry, my amina. It is all taken care of. My mate tries to pretend otherwise, but she has this obsessive need to know what is happening. She is ever-curious; thinking, questioning, analyzing.
We swoop, and I bring the Crixa down. She lands without so much as a bump, and I make a mental note to reward my engineers for improving the stabilizers.
“Gooooo!” Ami shouts.
I de-link from the manual navigator and move into the cabin, where I find my mate unclipping Ami’s harness. The tension has left her body, and her movements are fluid and energetic. She wears a simple dress of pale blue that leaves her arms bare.
Her scent is sunshine and verdant greenery, sweetness and musk. A day spent out in the hot sun has infused her skin with subtle rosiness.
She is beautiful.
An antidote to all the depraved things in the Universe.
“Badbad, gooo!” Dad, go! Ami reaches out with tiny arms. I retrieve a bundle from the storage pod beneath her seat—a warm jacket lined with szkazajik fur.
“You came prepared,” Abbey remarks, her eyebrows lifting. “Although I’m betting she won’t even need that. She’s really inherited your tolerance to cold. She could probably run around barefoot in the snow and not get frostbite.”
Frostbite? What is that? “Yes. Zyara confirmed it. She will have no ill-effects from the cold, but she is not used to it.” I fasten the jacket and pull the furry hood over her pale hair. Tiny fur-lined boots are there too, and with Ami’s tiny-fingered assistance, I slide them over her bare feet. “She must be comfortable.”
“I didn’t think to pack any warm clothes, either. You didn’t say anything about—”
I wave my hand near one of the overhead compartments. The Qualum fibers slide open, revealing Abbey’s szkazajik coat.
“Where did you even find that? The last time I wore it, we were on Kythia.” Her gaze becomes distant. “Those were crazy times.”
“Nothing gets lost on my ship.” I put Ami down and help Abbey with her coat, sliding my fingers along her bare arms. The tips of her ears turn red as I cinch the belt around her waist. “Sit down.”
“Huh?”
I nod sharply at her seat. Ami prances around, stomping heavily on the floor, testing her new boots. I retrieve Abbey’s boots from overhead and kneel before her.
“Seriously?” She’s surprised, amused, flustered. Her heartbeat accelerates. Thudthudthudthud. Her breath
hitches. Music to my ears, as the humans say. Muscles tense. Pupils dilate.
So responsive to my touch.
Sweet thing.
“Seriously.” I curl my fingers around her calf and lift her leg.
Ami plops down on the floor beside us, watching curiously.
Slowly, I remove her sandals and slide on the boots. She points her toes, her calf muscles flexing. I run my fingers over the rounded contours of her legs, full of appreciation.
She is mine.
“Baddy help mummy.” Ami speaks in a mixture of Universal and English. Daddy’s helping mummy.
“Well yes, Ami, I guess you could call this helping.” Abbey squirms as I slide the thick, stretchy material over her calf. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn those.” A tiny puff escapes her lips. “I’m not a skinny little minx anymore, you know. They’re a little tight.” She sounds displeased.
“They are perfect.” I caress the supple material, enjoying the feeling of her encased legs. “You are perfect. You know I enjoy you more than anything.”
“Tarak, you’re—”
“Gooo!” Ami yells, suddenly jumping up and rushing for the exit.
“She’s impatient,” Abbey says softly, giving me a heated look as she rises. The long boots and sumptuous coat suit her perfectly. They should. After all, I chose them. “She’s got her own agenda, this one. Takes after her daddy.”
For once, I don’t dispute my mate. I’m silent as I remember the time she first wore this particular outfit.
She was my prisoner on Silence, and I was a tool of the Empire, conditioned to think of all other races as inferior creatures. I took her right into the cold heart of Kythia, turning from enemy to protector in a heartbeat.
That is the effect she has on me.
The spell that drove me to such madness is still there, and it’s stronger than ever.
I toppled an empire for her. I will do it all again if I have to.
I hold out my hand. “Come, wife.”
She opens her mouth to say something but thinks twice, staying quiet as she curls her fingers around mine. A curious little smile tugs at her lips.