by Anna Carven
But hey, at least his guts weren’t hanging out anymore. Get ahold of yourself! Torin took a deep breath and pulled the cold veil across his mind. All the First Division warriors knew this technique, but he didn’t know what the others called it.
To Torin, it was the cold veil, because the world looked different when he detached himself from his pain. It was as if he were viewing everything through a prism, with his pain on one side, and his intent on the other.
It always came down to a choice. Weakness versus cold, callous strength.
He chose intent. He chose strength.
Slowly, he looked from side to side, scanning the corridor for potential threats.
Movement caught his eye. His gun-arm snapped in the direction of the disturbance, his finger balancing lightly on the trigger.
Control.
A lesser warrior would have fired without thinking, but Torin had long ago learned that the most regrettable mistakes were often made in the heat of battle.
He froze, as he caught sight of Seph, suddenly terrified at what he might have done if his reflexes were just a fraction less precise.
It’s you.
Head, shoulders, body. She appeared from below, bringing life with her. In the grim, colorless passageway, where the smell of death hung in the air, she was the antidote to Torin’s pain.
Brown eyes widened. Moist lips parted, offering him a glimpse of her delicate tongue. Having slipped free of their fastening, stray curls danced around her face.
Torin noted with some satisfaction that she was holding her gun, and her gun was pointed at him.
Good. Quick to learn, quick to understand, quick to adapt. He’d noticed that trait in her right from the very start.
Slowly, he put away his weapons.
“Torin!” She saw him on his knees, saw the gaping wound in his side, saw the flesh coming together in the most unnatural of ways. “You’re hurt!”
She must have noticed the bodies all around them. At least a dozen Bartharrans had fallen by his blade, and abstract sprays of crimson blood painted the floor and the walls, but if the carnage bothered her, she didn’t show it. Last time, she’d been afraid. This time, she rushed to his side, pulling out her cloak, which was bundled at her waist. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees and pressed it against his side, applying a decent amount of pressure. “We have to stop the bleeding.”
Damn. Caught by surprise, Torin blinked as pain mingled with the fierce torrent of his arousal.
Was it wrong to become horny when he was in the middle of a battlefield, wounded and on his knees? Perhaps, but Torin’s dick had a mind of its own, and ever since he’d first caught sight of Persephone Winters, it had been quite happy to go rogue on him.
As she applied more pressure, his cock strained.
What was he supposed to do when she was currently pressing against his lower body with her firm, steady hand? When he could smell her intoxicating musk and hear the rhythm of her heart?
When he could feel her tantalizing warmth?
“I’ll mend,” he rasped, suddenly having the presence of mind to retract his helm. “You don’t need to do that.”
“But your wound is—”
“Take a look.”
“But I shouldn’t—”
Torin raised his eyebrows, nodding in the direction of his injury. Listen to me. Slowly, Seph removed the bundle of fabric.
Smooth silver skin stared back at them. His wound was gone.
She shook her head in disbelief. “I swore I just saw…”
“Don’t worry, Seph, I promise you’re not going insane. I just happen to heal… quite efficiently.”
“Capable of healing massive trauma in seconds,” she muttered, her gaze traveling over his half-exposed torso. “I didn’t read about that particular ability in my Kordolian datatext.”
“That’s probably because it’s biologically impossible.”
“And yet you just did it.” Her eyes lingered on the planes of his stomach, making Torin wonder what exactly was so fascinating down there. If only it were her bare fingertips lingering there instead, tracing small circles on his bare flesh.
“I”m not entirely…” Torin searched for the right word, “natural.”
“You’ve been modified somehow? Like a cyborg?”
Torin shook his head, gently taking her cloak. Not a single microscopic speck of nanite-imprgenated blood remained on the black fabric, because even when it was outside his body, his blood was alive, and it always returned to the whole.
“Not quite. I’ll explain later.” He unfolded the cloak and draped it around her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her neck.
Unable to help himself, Torin stole a glance at her body, becoming fatally obsessed with her magnificent curves.
The full-length suit she wore was tight in all the right places, serving up a feast for his hungry eyes.
How he wanted to run his hands over her shapely waist, which flared out to gorgeously wide hips. He wanted to worship her deliciously thick thighs, to feel her soft luscious skin beneath his fingers, to curve his hands around her generous ass and pull her close.
To have her underneath him…
Torin carefully pulled the edges of her cloak together, hiding her sinful curves. He wasn’t even fully healed, and yet here he was, thinking about sex again.
You’re going to get me into deep trouble, Persephone Winters.
Well, he was currently on a hostile Bartharran pirate ship without any form of communication, heading for the War Planet itself. All because she’d caught his attention in the first place.
Most importantly, he’d strayed from his mission.
If that wasn’t trouble, then he’d misread the definition of the word. He didn’t know how the hell he was going to explain all this to General Tarak. Hopefully, Enki had things under control on Zarhab Groht. Hopefully, his offsider wasn’t tearing the trading post—and its clientele—apart.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly, rising to his feet. “We can’t stay here for too long. I don’t think the Bartharrans on this level have received the message yet. Well, now they’ll understand.” He held out his hand. “Come.”
Seph didn’t hesitate as she placed her hand in Torin’s palm, and that pleased him a great deal.
He squeezed her fingers and hauled her to her feet, exhaling as the remaining nanites around his wound-site detached and returned to his bloodstream.
After expending so much energy healing that massive wound, they would be starved, and if he didn’t eat something soon, the first thing to go would be Torin’s muscle mass.
He looked one way, then the other, trying to decide where to go.
“This way.” He guided her through the maze of fallen bodies, sidestepping pools of blood and severed limbs.
Seph went quiet. Her skin was a shade paler than usual, and she moved slowly, carefully, making sure her boots didn’t touch the grisly aftermath of Torin’s destruction.
If she was like most ordinary humans he’d encountered, she was probably terrified right now.
Terrified, shocked, disgusted… the grim line of her lips told him as much, and yet she didn’t let go of his hand.
That simple gesture warmed his black heart, and suddenly everything started to make sense. The fall of the Empire. The quiet invasion of Earth. The way even the most vicious Kordolian warriors had turned into fierce protectors.
The General had caught the fever first, and look what he had done. One by one, they were falling, and now Torin was caught too.
Finally.
Secretly, he was ecstatic.
Chapter Ten
Seph breathed a sigh of relief when they turned the corner and left the gruesome corridor behind. The thick, coppery stench of blood hung in the air, making her feel sick.
All the while, Torin’s fingers remained curled around hers, and he gave her the occasional squeeze as he guided her into a passageway that was lined with rough cream colored walls. In his other hand, hi
s long Callidum blade was drawn and ready, a deadly extension of his body.
For some reason, these walls reminded Seph of the rendered stone of old Earth buildings. It was an odd thing to see on a big grimy space vessel, where one would expect everything to be functional and utilitarian. Etched into the walls were strange words in jagged Bartharran script, along with various colored dots and arrows. At the far end, metal doors lined the passage. They were all closed.
“Can you read Bartharran?” She glanced at him, genuinely curious. Torin seemed to know quite a bit about Bartharran culture. Were all Kordolians as well educated about the Greater Universe, or was Torin just… different?
“Nope. I can speak a few words, but I haven’t learned their script. You?”
“It isn’t exactly a high-value language. We don’t have much to do with Bartharrans at all, and most of us speak Universal anyway, so the more obscure alien languages aren’t commonly studied.” A thought occurred to her. “If you Kordolians are the all-powerful creators of the Universal tongue, why do you know how to speak Ephrenian… and English?”
“Language is culture,” Torin explained. “Learning a race’s native tongue helps me to understand certain… quirks. Take English, for example. You borrow words from everywhere, grammatical rules are frequently contradicted, and some tenses make absolutely no sense, just because. And those irregular things…” He shook his head in exasperation. “It is one of the most illogical, complicated languages I’ve ever had the pleasure of studying. A perfect mirror for the nature of your species.”
“So we’re illogical and contradictory, are we? My former colleagues in Linguistics would have loved you,” Seph said dryly.
“Ah. You are an academic?” The notion seemed to excite him.
“Was. My contract wasn’t renewed this year.”
“Why would anyone let you go? Are they mad?”
“The university didn’t exactly agree with my worldview.”
“Oh?”
“Not Earth-centric enough. They didn’t like me teaching things that were outside the curriculum, and apparently, I mark too hard.” And I have a bad temper… and sometimes I punish the students too hard when they turn up to lectures late.
“You don’t make concessions.”
“Only for you, Kordolian.” She didn’t know why that absurd statement slipped out of her mouth. Perhaps it was because she was starting to feel more and more relaxed around him. Sometimes, it felt like they’d known each other for ages.
Torin laughed. “But that’s because you don’t have a choice, no?”
“I’m under no illusions about our situation,” Seph said, her eyes flicking down to his sword, which he held low and close. It was a constant reminder that Torin never let his guard down, even when they were in the midst of a conversation. “The question is, will you be tempted to abuse this power you have over me, Kordolian?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“If you let me.”
“Hmph.” Seph pretended to be offended, but really, she was enthralled by the idea that this supreme specimen of a Kordolian could be interested in her… in that sort of way.
He certainly was having a strange effect on her. A slow-burning fire had been lit, and he was the fuel.
She’d seen the way he’d looked at her when she’d dropped to her knees in front of him, mistakenly thinking he was in need of her help. The way his eyes had roamed over her body, one would think she was wearing nothing but her birthday suit.
Sweet stars, the look he’d given her back there.
It had been enough to melt her damn ovaries.
That look was imprinted in her mind forever. Eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring, lips parting to reveal the glistening points of his sharp fangs, he’d stared at her long and hard. As he watched her with the stillness of a predator, Seph’s heart rate had surged, and she’d found herself unable to move as a sublime mixture of desire, fascination, and just a little smidgen of fear had coursed through her.
In that moment, he could have done anything to her and she would have let him.
Damn it, this man was dangerous. Seph normally hated being ogled, but when Torin did it, she made an exception to the rule.
He didn’t just look at her as if she were an object he wanted to use or possess.
The looks he gave her were all-consuming. He wanted everything from her.
Mind, body, soul… it would be so easy to surrender to this man.
Dangerous.
“Hold on,” Torin whispered in her ear, dragging her out of her sinful thoughts. “Someone’s coming.” He let go of her hand. “Stand behind me and stay close.”
Seph pulled up her hood, hiding her face and ears, which were probably turning bright red. She dropped back and Torin moved forward, poised and ready to explode into movement.
Was it just her imagination, or did his body look a tad leaner than before? Either way, he possessed the chiseled form of a god, with broad shoulders, powerful arms, a narrow waist, and gloriously muscular legs. Standing behind him, Seph felt like nothing in the Universe could touch her.
Something pink and purple flashed across her vision, accompanied by a waving tail.
Torin became a dark blur as he darted forward, snatching the rapidly moving thing… person… what?
A Veronian!
“P-please don’t kill me, Master!” The Veronian spoke Universal with a distinct Sector One accent. He stared at Torin, his wide golden eyes filled to the brim with stark terror.
“What are you doing here, chichin?” Torin held the alien by the scruff of his neck, lifting him up so his feet dangled in the air. The Veronian’s furry ears twitched rapidly, and the bright pink markings on his face started to glow, turning orange.
“N-nothing.”
“Don’t be foolish. You can’t lie to me.” Without warning, Torin dropped the Veronian on his feet. “Veronians are never without orders.” He pointed his sword at the alien’s neck. “Let’s try this again. What are you doing here, chichin?”
Seph took a step forward, fearing Torin’s intentions. In this crazy alternate reality, she could understand why he’d killed the big, nasty Bartharrans, but this poor Veronian was unarmed and obviously terrified.
For some reason, she felt a little bit sorry for the creature.
The purple guy gulped. “The Master sent me to find out what’s happening down in the loading docks. His package hasn’t arri…” The Veronian’s attention turned toward Seph. He gasped as recognition dawned on him. “Y-you’re the…”
“It doesn’t matter what she is,” Torin snapped, his voice taking on a distinctly commanding tone. “You will take us to your Master.”
“But…”
“You worry more about upsetting him, or me?”
The Veronian took a long, hard look at Torin, his gaze running down the length of Torin’s obsidian blade. He swallowed. “I’ll take you there.”
Torin lowered his blade. “Lead the way, chichin,” he said, sounding rather imperious. There was a definite superior-subordinate dynamic going on here. Was this how most Kordolians had treated their slaves before the Edict? This side to Torin surprised her.
As if reading her thoughts, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Seph. As long as he does exactly as I say, I won’t harm him. I might even grant him his freedom.” He winked at her. “Kordolians shouldn’t be keeping slaves in this day and age.”
Vicious one minute, benevolent the next, and always gentle and considerate with her.
Torin was a walking contradiction of a man.
He slowed his pace, allowing her to catch up as they followed the Veronian down the corridor, passing more mysterious glyphs and closed doors.
All of a sudden, he froze, holding up his hand.
“Someone’s coming.” Torin drew his other sword. “Get behind me, Seph. You too, chichin.”
“Wha…?” The Veronian jumped. He actually jumped several feet into the air, landing on his furry t
hree-toed feet.
Fearing something terrible might happen to the alien if he hesitated, Seph stepped forward, grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind Torin. “His instincts are pretty good when it comes to this kind of thing,” she whispered. “You’d better do as he says. Don’t worry, you can walk with me. Unlike him, I don’t bite. What’s your name, Veronian?”
“P-Parrus.”
“Well, Parrus, we just might get lucky and eventually find a way off this crazy ship, so stick with me.” She moved ahead of Parrus, because she had a gun, and he didn’t.
“What makes you think I bite?” Torin said softly, without turning around. He didn’t have to. The intensity in his tone told Seph everything.
In some deep, long-suppressed corner of her mind, she imagined him biting her in a sensual way, his fangs sinking into her soft skin.
“I would be a little disappointed if you didn’t,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her perfectly well.
The words slipped out of her mouth before she could swallow them.
Are you fucking crazy, girl? Since entering space, Seph had fought so hard to rein in her natural impulsive tendencies, but her self-control was beginning to slip.
Torin chuckled.
The deep, decadent, and unexpected sound of his laughter did amazing things to her. Seph suppressed a soft whimper as desire overrode her fear. How devious! How unfair! They were facing imminent danger, and the man was teasing her, and she was going half-mad thinking of all the things she wanted him to do to her.
The sound of footsteps—dozens of them—doused her madness in cold water. Before Seph could comprehend what was happening, a wall of Bartharrans appeared, filling the narrow passage.
Heading in their direction.
Torin kept on walking, holding his blades low at his sides.
The Bartharrans kept on walking, chanting softly as they approached.
“Torin, what the hell are you doing?” Seph hissed.
Not this again!
He wasn’t stopping. They were about to walk right into the Bartharrans, and something would have to give. Considering how lethally sharp Torin’s blades were, it would probably be the Bartharrans.