TALON (RIBUS 7 Book 4)

by Shae Mills

  Back in the bedroom, she stood by the side of the bed and took a moment to absorb all that had just occurred. Then, and only then, did she collapse, the turmoil and the strain of the whole affair finally taking their toll. But as she closed her eyes for sleep, she was suddenly blanketed by a sense of peace. For reasons she could not hope to comprehend, the battle within her had ceased. The war was over, and from deep within her hardened heart, she was thankful that both she and Talon would live to see another day. Tomorrow would be a new dawn.

  Chapter 14

  Chelan awoke the next morning but had no desire to leave the massive bed. Her sleep had been prolonged yet it had been punctuated by extended periods of restless wakefulness. Images of Talon’s wound, inflicted by her own hand, played mercilessly through her mind. Finally, with the morning light, she shoved the horror away.

  She rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts suddenly changing focus. Talon had kissed her, and warmly. She had just tried to kill him, yet he had sought no retribution. Chelan turned back over, hugged into the pillows, and furrowed her brow. Had she tolerated his kiss because of what she had just done, afraid to push him away, or had she just been too stunned by the whole ordeal to react?

  Thoughts of Lethiason’s coaching—that she accept Talon—wormed into her mind. And just why that was so imperative, she still wondered. Was Lethiason simply looking out for her well-being? And if he was, why should he care?

  She tried to focus. Nothing made sense, including her own tumultuous feelings. Talon should have killed her long ago, yet he had not. Lethiason said the man kept her as his woman, yet Talon himself had indicated nothing of the sort. Or had he? Maybe Lethiason was right. After all, despite all logic, she was still here, still in Talon’s domain, and now he had kissed her—twice.

  Sorting through Talon’s motives was almost as difficult as dealing with her own. She hated the man and had tried to kill him, yet now, she wanted him to live. But why?

  Chelan groaned and buried her head. Talon’s bizarre behavior aside, maybe it was their society she did not understand. Suddenly, she sat up. She needed information, on everything. Whereas before she could hardly bring herself to look at anything pertaining to the new Empire, now she nurtured a voracious appetite for it. She wanted to know everything, understand everything, and decode the inner workings of the man who harbored her against all reason.

  Then she stiffened, the previous ordeal insidiously replaying in her head. Lethiason was definitely right about the Emperor’s feelings for her. How else could Talon’s unexpected response to her attack be explained. The man wanted her, and not simply as a toy.

  Questions flooded into her head. Where did he spend his days? From where did he rule? How many did he command? And where did he sleep?

  Chelan felt her stomach flip flop, and she winced. She still detested the man on many levels. But from this point on, she would use him to ease her everyday life, and through him, somehow, she would be reborn.

  She jumped from the bed and hustled to the washroom. What she needed was answers, and who better for that than Lethiason. But where was he? Chelan’s thoughts sobered. She could ask Talon, but doing so would require her to face the man she had just knifed. That she could not handle at the moment. She had made a mistake; that was for certain. Now, she simply prayed that Talon remained in a relatively mellow mood over the whole incident, or else it could be easily become her turn.

  Chelan looked at her gown, the shimmering, white material now fully restored. Then she thought of her Imperial uniform. Wrapping a towel around herself, she stepped out into the Command Center. There she halted in her tracks, surprised by the activity on the panels. She looked around warily, but no one was present. She stared at the lights and the displays for a moment, perplexed by the Center’s unguarded activation. Refocusing on her goal, she padded quickly to the hidden compartment. The panel was still open. She reached for her shroud and uniform and then dashed back to her chambers.

  She took a moment to calm herself before slipping into the ebony skin, loving its feel and its familiarity. It hugged her body perfectly, having been made especially for her. She returned to the vanity and looked down at her knives. Cautiously, she picked up the black blades, with a new and vibrant appreciation for their deadliness. Carefully, she sheathed them and then headed back to the Center.

  Curiosity and excitement percolated through her, though she was still puzzled by the Center’s activation. She approached the main panels, inexorably drawn to them. She squinted at a new keyboard where none had been before, the touch pads inscribed with Iceanean characters. She reached for it and began to type. She had had minimal access to information on Talon’s culture before, but this was different. Rosters, personnel files, missions… everything she wanted cropped up for her to study, all of it translated into Iceanean. Chelan shook her head. “Why?” she whispered to herself.

  “Because, little one, I now trust you.”

  Chelan whirled around to confront Talon. He stood at the top of the stairs in his Imperial uniform, fully armed but unshrouded. Chelan felt a twinge of fear, yet she dared not move. She watched wide-eyed as he descended the stairs and moved to the consoles just to the side of her. With his right hand only, he disarmed himself, leaving all his weapons easily accessible to both him and her.

  Chelan tried to remain calm as he approached her, clearly favoring his wounded arm. Finally, she looked up into his eyes and paused. She went to speak, but her voice caught.

  Talon’s face warmed slightly. “You look good in your uniform.”

  Chelan glanced down, having already forgotten what she wore. Talon sat in the command chair, his eyes traversing her and finally landing on the knives. She shuddered.

  “Who taught you?” he asked.

  “Fremma.”

  Talon nodded and then leaned forward and reached for a knife. Chelan watched as his keen eyes studied it. He shifted it in his grip and looked up at her. “He knew your hand well. I assume he made them for you?”

  Chelan could only nod.

  Talon leaned forward again and returned the knife to its sheath. Then he stared silently at her for what seemed an interminable time.

  Chelan began to squirm. Then she returned his stare, bracing herself against the console for support. “Killing me yesterday would have been more than justified,” she said.

  Talon’s eyes gleamed. “Yes, no doubt,” he answered.

  Chelan licked her dry lips. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Did you want me to?”

  Chelan shook her head slowly. “Not too long ago, I would not have cared. It would have been the merciful thing to do.”

  Talon’s brows rose. “And now?”

  Chelan hesitated. “And now I want to live, though at times, I am not sure why.”

  Talon nodded. “Yesterday, why did you not finish the job? I would not have stopped you.”

  Chelan was shocked. “Why would you have allowed me to? That makes no sense. You rule the galaxy. The Warlords of the old Empire could not defeat you. Why would you let me take you out? I am… I am stunned.”

  “I have my reasons. Someday, you may know them. And you—I have taken away all that mattered to you in the most brutal of ways. You hate me, and you have every reason to do so. So tell me… a day later, a lot has gone through your mind. Why did you not complete the job?”

  “I simply could not,” she whispered. “Yes, you have taken all from me, but I…”

  “But what?”

  “But I am not a violent person. It is not my way.”

  “You know that is only a half-truth.”

  Chelan’s eyes hardened. “What do you mean?”

  “You are not a violent person; that is the truth. But much time has passed since I brought you here. When the violence and the drama were fresh, you could have killed me, little one.”

  Chelan clenched her fists. “You killed my son.” She hesitated. “Yes, I could have killed you then. And maybe I should have yesterday, fo
r him.”

  Talon took a deep breath. “I know you don’t understand my actions pertaining to him.”

  Chelan shook her head. “There was no reason to slay my child.”

  “In a world governed by succession, power, and military might, there were plenty of reasons.”

  Chelan felt her knees weaken. “I cannot think of one, other than to terrorize me.”

  Talon was silent for a moment, and then he spoke, his voice soft. “If I truly wanted to terrorize you, I could have kept him alive and used him to send you to the depths of hell. Death can be far more humane than some of the alternatives.”

  Chelan choked on a lump in her throat. “Then you are truly a monster.”

  Talon shook his head slowly. “No. Like the old Empire, we do not stoop to such things. But Dar’s child would have been a lightning rod for dissidents. Your child possessed a power through his sire that would have caused turmoil throughout the Empire, for all time. Objectors would have worshiped him, rebels would have followed him, and enemies of the new Empire would have hung on his every decree.”

  Chelan’s heart wrenched. “He was an infant. How do you know that all this would have been?”

  Talon straightened. “I know the Empire, the old and the new. And I know the power that Dar wielded throughout the galaxy. He was warrior second only to Korba. He was a deity worshiped by billions upon billions. His son would have commanded the same following.”

  “But you could have raised him, or had someone within the Empire do your bidding pertaining to him. You could have taken him to the top of your regime and placed him in that same capacity as one of your own. I… Why would you not want that?”

  “Oh, I would have wanted that if it were at all possible. But do you think any child of Dar’s, once he was a man and a warrior, would pledge his fealty to me, the man who slayed his father, a Warlord of such high standing that he was known, respected, and revered throughout the galaxy? How many planets within the Empire do not know of the great Commander Dar? Not one. And even if I did manage to keep the boy by my side, how many nights could I sleep in peace sure that I would wake in the morning with his allegiance still sworn to me? How many nights would it be before he slipped his blade into my heart and smiled as I bled to death by his hand?”

  Chelan slumped into a chair, her brain feeling like it was about to explode. Lethiason had said there was a militarily sound reason for killing her son, but having it all spelled out left her winded.

  Talon eyed her for a long time, allowing all the information to settle in. Then he spoke again, his deep voice low and quiet. “So, yesterday, little one—did you want to kill me?”

  Chelan looked away, her head aching and her heart twisting. Then she tried to focus on his question. She took her time, attempting to clear the murk surrounding this new revelation from her thoughts. Finally, she looked back at him. “I…” She looked down, stunned by another epiphany. “No,” she whispered.

  Talon settled further into his chair, clasping his hands in his lap. Chelan remained very still for a long time. Then she flinched as he stood. Her eyes darted about. “Where are you going?” she asked hurriedly.

  Talon studied her. “Does it matter?”

  Chelan began to fidget. “I… I don’t want to be alone,” she uttered.

  “I will send Lethiason.”

  Chelan’s temples throbbed, too many revelations hitting her all at once. “No, I want your company,” she confessed. “I need to… I need to ask you so many things. I need to…” She ran her hands through her hair as she tried once again to tame her ragged thoughts. “I need to know you better.”

  Talon stared at her. “Then what you should know first, little one, is that taking your baby went against everything the man in me stands for. But the warrior, the tactician, had to eliminate the threat the child was to become. I know that is of no consolation to you whatsoever, but I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if the roles were reversed—if the child was mine—neither of your Warlords would have hesitated to do the same.”

  Chelan felt the air leave her lungs all at once. She knew he was right. Korba had been candid about his kills. He had taken out everyone in his way—men, women, and children. He had done it for decades, and so had Dar. She slumped forward in her chair and held her head.

  Talon remained very still, allowing her to collect her thoughts. The truth was brutal—that he knew—but she had to reconcile with the facts, not just her raw emotions.

  Finally, Chelan pushed herself out of her chair and almost lost her balance. Then she squinted at his arm and took a step up to him. With trembling hands, she reached for his jacket, ever so slowly opening it. Then, carefully, she removed it and looked at his wound. His entire upper arm was savagely bruised, but the actual wound was meticulously bound into a hairline scar. Her fingers hovered just above his flesh, though she dared not touch. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

  Talon’s finger tipped her chin up. Without warning, he took her mouth, his tongue parting her lips and exploring her. Chelan’s stomach clenched with apprehension, and she was forced to press her palms against his hot skin, leaning into him for support. He was as hard as stone, yet his kiss as tender as could be.

  Then slowly, almost reluctantly, he withdrew. His fingers played over her satin cheeks. “In my world, little one, strength and lethalness are revered and respected above all else. You accomplished what no other person has been able to do.” He stopped and studied her solemn eyes. “Your success was based partially on my underestimation, but regardless, you succeeded.”

  Chelan hesitated, feeling like she was being sucked down into another convoluted societal labyrinth. “You accept me now because I almost killed you?”

  Talon’s thumbs traced over her supple lips. “Ever since I told you, long ago, that you would not die by my hand, I have accepted you into my domain. My respect has simply been amplified.”

  “You respect me?”

  At first, Talon did not answer. Instead, his azure eyes travelled over every section of her beauty. “Now,” he finally said, “I simply wait for you to reciprocate.”

  Chelan swallowed hard, her thoughts barely coalescing. “And if I do?”

  Talon’s fingers halted their gentle caress. “Then I will share all with you, little one.”

  Chelan watched as he stepped back from her and slid into his jacket.

  Talon glanced at her as he did up his uniform. “The Command Center is yours. You may study what you wish. All the coding has been removed.” He moved away to retrieve his weapons and then returned to her. “The only thing off-limits to you is the data on the succession. I know it would be too painful for you, and reading it would serve no purpose.”

  Chelan wavered but remained strong.

  Talon stepped up to her. He kissed her cheek and then lingered, his lips slowly finding hers again. He savored her sweetness and then whispered in her ear, “How long I leave you for, little one, is now up to you.”

  Chelan furrowed her brow. “What are you implying?”

  Talon took several steps back and then halted. He nodded to the Command Center. “You may access me anywhere within the Empire.” He paused. “You have much to think about.” He fell quiet once again, and Chelan held her breath. “Should you decide to accept me as Emperor… and as a man, I will return as soon as you wish.”

  “And if I choose otherwise?”

  Talon took another step back. “Then you are free of me, little one, once and for all. I have revealed all my motivations for eliminating what was most precious to you. As a result, you have much to ponder. In the future, I can be everything to you, or I can be nothing. The past is done. The future—your future—is in your hands. I will no longer hold you against your wishes in any capacity. You have but to tell me of your intentions, your desires, and they shall be granted.” And he turned and left.

  Chelan clutched at the console for support. Her world just been turned upside down again. In the beginning, his death had been her onl
y goal. After that, all she had wanted was to live out her life and find some purpose, to be productive somehow, somewhere. But now she had just been granted anything her heart desired by a man who aroused so many tumultuous and discordant feelings within her that she was left perpetually off-balance. Nonetheless, the offer had been made—identifying her desires, however, was going to take some time.

  Torpidly, she lowered herself into her chair. Free? Her mind tumbled. What would it mean to be free, to walk the streets of an Iceanean city, to live and work among… Chelan’s thoughts sobered. Now that she had her chance, reality sank in. These would be the people of the new Empire, not the old. And even then, Talon’s people were meticulously bred pools of genetic perfection. She was not. Work? Maybe. Survive? Minimally or not at all, as everyone had so precisely pointed out.

  Chelan grimaced. As an alien and as the former Empress, she had no doubt that if she ever wanted a family, as in Korba’s world, she would require a powerful mate of high standing. And where else would she find that man other than within the Imperial Palace walls. As it appeared at the moment, she had been granted the opportunity to go right to the top—though the mere thought of having a family with Talon left shards of ice in her veins.

  Chelan’s eyes blinked up to the ceiling as she refocused on his offer. “Accept him as a man.” What did that mean? She did accept him as Emperor. She had no choice about that. After over a year in the new Empire, it was obvious that Talon was in power—indisputable, undeniable power. But accept him as a man? Chelan frowned. Did he actually want her as a mate, as an Empress? Would he want her to step up to his side and rule, or would she simply be a figurehead? Regardless, if she accepted any kind of a role by his side, was she betraying her men, even in their deaths?

  She shook her head and looked toward the panels. She had so much to sort out, she felt like she was suffocating. But first things first. It was time to learn about their culture. In fact, that was long overdue. Then she looked toward the doors. And where better to start than with Lethiason. That was, if he was back.