Amid Stars and Darkness

by Chani Lynn Feener

  With one swift tug, he had her on her knees, kneeling on the cot, pressed against his front so tightly, it was momentarily hard for her to breathe. Forcing her head back with a yank, he kept her gaze pinned to his own, a mocking half smirk playing at his firm pink lips.

  “My father might be king right now, but I am the future Rex. The hatred I have for you is far from secret. It really isn’t all that surprising that my people rebel against our binding.” The hand he held at her lower back tightened, fingers splaying out as if needing to touch more of her despite his words. “If I accepted you, they probably wouldn’t react this way.”

  “Are you admitting the Tars work for you?” She tried to keep her body lax. Tensing would only give him more pleasure and probably would result in another painful tug of her hair.

  “Don’t be silly,” he scolded, like he would a child.

  She licked her lips and his gaze followed.

  “Okay,” she said, switching tactics, “but you don’t, do you?” At his raised brow, she elaborated. “Approve of our merger? You don’t accept me.”

  “Merging with you was never the issue,” he said crassly. “You have a mildly attractive outer shell.”

  Wow. If he thought the gorgeous princess was only decent looking, he’d probably chuck her away in revulsion if he could see Delaney’s true face. She didn’t have low self-esteem or anything like that, but Delaney couldn’t hold a candle to a girl like Olena.

  “But once would be enough,” he went on. “Enough to settle my curiosity, and enough to grow infinitely more tired of you. My children are going to be kings and queens. You really think I’d sully them with your DNA?”

  “I have royal blood,” she managed, “same as you.”

  “Blood has very little to do with it.” His eyes trailed languidly down the curve of her pale throat. “Unfortunately.”

  There was little doubt in her mind he was imagining slitting it.

  “You don’t like me,” she stated, trying to get his attention away from blatantly murderous thoughts. “I don’t like you. Glad we settled that.”

  “We haven’t settled anything,” he disagreed. Suddenly he cocked his head, listening, and with a start, she realized the blasts outside had stopped at some point. “It seems, however, Ander Ruckus has. Pity.”

  He let her go so quickly, she dropped, glaring up at him as he stood. He smirked at her again, his gaze roaming her body.

  “Hmm, I think I like you like this, though,” he practically purred, “splayed out before me. At my mercy.”

  She took her time getting to her feet, attempting to cling to some semblance of dignity. Besides, running from predators was never a wise choice. It only excited them more. She thought about slapping him, but you only got one freebee slap against a psycho and she didn’t want to waste hers.

  “That”—she forced her spine straight and took a threatening step toward him—“is never going to happen.”

  His eyes widened in shock at her boldness. Had he thought he’d scared her into submission already?

  “Like I said,” she growled, “you don’t know me. I’m not the meek pushover Lissa you remember.”

  People were starting to move toward the door that had just been reopened, and she turned to go. At the last second she spun back.

  “Oh, and by the way,” she told him, “I don’t want my future children to be sullied with the douche bag gene, asshole.”

  She left before she could do or say anything else suicidal.

  CHAPTER 15

  Of course, she had no idea where she was going. Outside of the bunker was the first of many square rooms she’d have to pass through in order to make it out. She’d managed to keep up with the first four or five turns, but that was way back at the beginning. She didn’t have to look to know the exact moment Trystan stepped up behind her; she felt him there, burning at her back like a flame. It occurred to her with a sick twist in her stomach that the members of the royal family probably all knew the way.

  Was he waiting on her to show him? Obviously, as the Zane of what had for so long been a warring country, he wouldn’t have been privy to the way out. The Basileus didn’t strike her as the type of man who’d leave the well-being of his family in the hands of others, so they had to know which direction to go themselves, which doors to choose.

  Which meant so would Olena.

  “Lissa Olena.” A soldier she’d never seen before stepped forward, bowing his sandy-blond head. “Ander Ruckus sent me to escort you out.”

  “He did?” She tried to hold back the frown but couldn’t. Why would he send someone she didn’t know? And, more important, who didn’t know her? How did he explain to this soldier that she didn’t know her way out of the maze?

  “Yes, Lissa.” He bowed his head again. “He said to tell you that he’ll meet you in your chambers as soon as he’s able.”

  “All right…” Crossing her arms over her chest, she indicated with a half wave that he should begin leading the way. Hopefully he’d take that as a sign she was allowing him to escort her and not that she didn’t know where she was going.

  Fortunately, Trystan hadn’t said anything, though she felt him moving along with them. After a while he fell behind a few steps, but she doubted it was to give her space. Sure enough, when she risked a glance back, it was to find he’d been detained at the opening of one of the rooms.

  He watched her over the shoulders of the two soldiers blocking him as she passed into another hallway and out of sight. She wasn’t sure, but he looked pissed at being held back, and she wondered what it was the Vakar soldiers could possibly want from him to risk his wrath.

  “Watch your step, Lissa,” the guard leading her said, offering a hand to help her over the lip of the doorway.

  “Thank you.” She walked with him toward a door on the left. “What’s your name?”

  “Teller Dreadus,” he told her.

  “On Earth, dread’s not exactly the best word,” she joked, smiling so that he’d know that was all it was. She was looking at him when he opened the next door, stepping through when he motioned her before him.

  If she’d been paying attention, she probably would have realized something was off. Ruckus never let her walk into a room first. It was apparently too risky.

  She felt the punch to her side before her senses picked up on the other presence. The blow was strong enough that it sent her sailing to the right, slamming into the metal wall with a heavy oof. Her head ricocheted off, and for a second she saw dancing black spots. Once her vision had cleared, she was able to make out three soldiers, including the one who’d led her there. They were surrounding her, crowding her into the corner.

  Her anger rose and she stubbornly got to her feet, ignoring the sharp pain from her left ribs, where one of them had just hit her.

  They were the same massive alien size as the rest, tall and fit, but not bulky. The smell of sweat surrounded them, and tension was a thick cloud in the tiny box of a room. It was somewhat comforting, knowing they were nervous, worried. It probably wouldn’t help her, but at least they’d suffer from anxiety after they killed her.

  And it was clear that was what they were going to do.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said, trying to reason with them anyway. “Pretty sure this is subversion.”

  They gave her funny looks and she cursed. Subversion probably wasn’t a word they had here. But seeing as how they were going to kill her anyway …

  “Mutiny?” she tried again. More confused looks. “Damn. I’m calling you traitors, idiots. Get it?”

  Not the right thing to do. A pissed-off soldier lunged for her, and she dropped to a crouch so that he ended up hitting the same wall she had. Scurrying out from beneath him before he could regain his balance, she twisted onto her butt and kicked out against the next soldier’s thighs.

  It didn’t move him enough, but it caught him off guard and she was able to scramble to her feet. Frantically, she looked around for anything that could be useful. It be
ing an empty room, however, there was nothing.

  “Ruckus!” She really wished she’d asked how far that connection reached now.

  Stupid.

  The soldier who’d lured her here, Dreadus, moved toward her, coming close enough for her to lash out. Curving her hands, she used the only weapon she had, raking her nails across his soft cheek.

  Four thick welts instantly formed from his brow to the point of his chin, red welling. A couple of beads of blood rolled down his jaw and plopped onto the cold, gray stone floor.

  So aliens bled red. Who knew?

  He made the mistake of freezing, probably surprised that cowardly Olena had struck him. Had they expected her to huddle in a corner and beg?

  Taking advantage of his hesitation, she kicked out, landing a blow to his right kneecap. She heard and felt the pop, and rushed out of the way when he toppled with a howl.

  The man who’d hit the wall earlier stood, preparing to lunge at her again. She was in the process of backing away when suddenly the door to her right opened and Trystan was standing there. He was staring at Dreadus, who was still on the ground, clutching his leg, and didn’t seem to notice there were two other soldiers in the room.

  He’d partially blocked her view, but she saw the man against the wall push forward, still intent on attacking despite the Zane’s arrival.

  “Trystan!” The warning instinctually slipped past her lips, and she pushed him aside. He was so surprised by her outburst that he was easy to move, and once he was out of the way, she was close enough to intercept. Her fisted hand slammed against the soldier’s cheek, the first real punch she’d thrown since those self-defense classes years ago. The pain in her knuckles directly after caused her to hiss, but the soldier recovered quickly.

  His hand burrowed in her short hair and tugged. He let out a grunt when she brought her heel down on his toes, and then again when her elbow found his solar plexus. He was doubling over while she was practically tripping in her haste to get away, when the door on the other side of the room opened.

  For a split second, her eyes met Pettus’s and she held her breath. He glanced around, clearly unsure what he was seeing, and then snapped into action. Relief swept through her so strong that it was all she could do to press against the wall in order to stay upright.

  A gun—a fritz—identical to the one she’d seen Ruckus with earlier, formed in his hand, and he shot one in the shoulder when he came at him. The blast wasn’t loud, more like a ping and a blast of heat in the air. The green lights on the weapon flashed distractingly as Pettus turned to aim at the man who’d just been holding her.

  She stared at the first soldier, or more aptly, the gaping hole in him, unable to look away. It was like someone had taken a circular cookie cutter and pressed down on the spot between his shoulder and chest. His body had dropped after the shot so that he was leaning against the wall, and she could see the metal right through him. There wasn’t any blood; the heat from the blast had cauterized the wound. But he was definitely dead.

  “You’re going to kill him.” Pettus’s harsh words snapped her out of it, and she twisted around.

  Trystan was holding Dreadus by the neck.

  The soldier was kicking his feet in the air, his toes hovering a few inches above the ground. He had both hands wrapped around Trystan’s wrists, trying to get him to loosen his hold, but the Zane didn’t seem to notice. Instead he angled the other man’s head with a thumb, all while clenching tighter around his windpipe.

  Getting a better look at the scratches, Trystan arched his brows and sent her a look over his shoulder. She gritted her teeth when she saw surprise on his face, but there was something else, too, and she thought it might be pride.

  For some reason, that made her even more uncomfortable, and she quickly looked away.

  “We only need the one for questioning,” he said, finally responding to Pettus’s comment just as the soldier in his hands began to lose consciousness.

  Delaney braced when three more Vakar soldiers came through the same door as Pettus had.

  “Alert the Ander that the Lissa was attacked,” Pettus ordered them, easing her mind that these guys weren’t enemies. “Tell him we’ve got it under control for now”—he cast her a sideways glance—“but that he should probably get to her as soon as possible.”

  One of them went off to follow the command, the other two coming in closer.

  “Take care of the bodies,” Pettus told them a second before Trystan dropped the now dead Dreadus to the ground.

  Dusting off his hands, he inclined his head toward the still open door at his back. “There are two more in the next room.”

  “Lissa Olena,” Pettus called to her, and she tore her gaze away from the Zane. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  Idly, her fingers lifted to her ribs, touching the spot tenderly. It hurt, but nothing was broken, so she shook her head.

  “She’s lying,” Trystan growled, and was upon her within the next instant, tugging her hand away. He shoved the thick material of Ruckus’s jacket out of the way and went to lift the flimsy nightgown.

  “Hey!” She grabbed his hands, pushing them off her before he could get them more than an inch up her thigh. She looked pointedly around at the other three men in the room. “Hello?”

  He blinked. “Modesty?”

  Great, if Olena’s closet hadn’t been a clear indicator she was loose, his reaction certainly was. Still, there were lines she refused to cross, no matter how out of character for the Lissa it was. Getting naked in front of a bunch of random guys was definitely one of them.

  Fortunately, Ruckus appeared at that moment, bursting through the door with such force, the metal clattered back against the wall. His eyes found her in a matter of seconds, and he was next to her, taking her hand and tugging her away from the Zane in a flash.

  “Take a look at her side,” Trystan ordered him coldly, then turned and left without a backward glance. She heard him in the next room over, ordering a Vakar soldier to lead him out of the maze, and then nothing.

  Ruckus urged her toward one of the closed doors, opening and shutting it behind the two of them. His hand paused less than an inch from the end of her nightgown.

  “May I?”

  He’d seen her in a bathing suit yesterday, so she didn’t know why she was so nervous. When she nodded, he began easing the material up over her hip. Maybe it was how slowly he was going, carefully, drawing it out. It was almost akin to torture, and she sort of wanted to snap at him to hurry it up. But she didn’t. She was on edge because of everything that had happened, and it wasn’t cool to take it out on him.

  Ruckus let out a growl, causing her to glance down. A large bruise the size of a softball was forming directly below her left breast. It was already an ugly purplish-blue, and she winced when he skated his fingers around the edge of it.

  “Apologies,” he said, pulling back. He didn’t, however, let go of her nightgown, keeping the material bunched in his hand and leaving her exposed to his view. He glanced at their clasped hands. That was when she noticed the blood on his arm, streaking its way up and around.

  She gasped and tugged on him to get a better look.

  “It’s not mine,” he assured her, bringing her back around so they were standing in front of each other once more. “I’m all right. I didn’t get hit. Not like you did, apparently. I’m so sorry, Delaney.”

  “Why?” She pursed her lips. “It’s not your fault.”

  “You were right,” he disagreed. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. If I had been here, they wouldn’t have dared try something.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said honestly. “Trystan was there, and they managed to section him off pretty easily.”

  He frowned. “You don’t think he had something to do with this?”

  “I’m not sure.” Oddly, she wasn’t. After everything he’d said to her, especially today, she should have been. She should have been certain he had everything to do with it,
in fact, but … there’d been something in his eyes when he’d been detained and watched her leave without him. Something there when he’d been strangling that man.

  Could be he was just upset that they’d botched the job—again—yet part of her didn’t believe it.

  “One of them was going to attack him from behind. Trystan didn’t see him coming. Besides, he doesn’t strike me as sloppy,” she said aloud, trying to explain it for the both of them, “and this was the epitome of it.”

  He thought it over then nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and he finally dropped her nightgown. He turned to block her from view as she smoothed it down again, and the door opened to expose Brightan.

  The Kint soldier glanced between the two of them and then settled on a glare. He tensed in the doorway, and when he spoke, his voice was clipped. “The Zane?”

  “He just left,” Delaney said, wondering how he’d managed not to pass by him. From the annoyed look on Brightan’s face, she guessed he’d probably lost his way in the maze. “He was all right.”

  The Kint lifted his upper lip in what could only constitute a sneer, and then motioned toward the room at his back, where Pettus and the others were still dealing with the bodies.

  “If you’ll show me the way out then, Ander,” he said, confirming her suspicions that he’d gotten lost. “I’m sure you’re eager to get the Lissa the proper medical attention.”

  Ruckus stiffened almost imperceptibly. If she hadn’t been standing directly behind him, close enough to his spine to actually see, she would have missed it. His voice, however, was even when he addressed Brightan, agreeing with him.

  Delaney tried not to look as they passed through the room, but her eyes were drawn one last time to the soldier Pettus had shot.

  She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  CHAPTER 16

  “She managed to stave off the Tars,” Pettus said from where he huddled with Ruckus less than five feet away from her. He kept his voice down, almost as if he were attempting to keep her from overhearing.