Fractured Souls: Darkstar Mercenaries Book 3

by Carven, Anna

  “Holy shit. I always had you pegged for an unequivocally dominant type.”

  “I am,” he agreed. “You know it. But nothing in this Universe is simple like that. It’s always more complicated than what it looks, don’t you think?” Nythian savored the look of surprise and wonder that crossed her beautiful face. Her cheeks darkened. Her lips parted slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her glistening pink tongue. Her heartbeat quickened. “Only you can do that to me,” he growled, enjoying her reaction, the fact that he had this effect on her. “Only you.”

  Suddenly, he was fully aware of the power he held over her. The thought made his cock go fully erect, pressing hard against his armor-plate.

  Not wanting to lose his wits in full view of the entire cursed docking bay, Nythian bit down on his lower lip, his fangs sinking into the soft flesh, drawing bitter black blood. The taste of his own bitterness filled his mouth. He was drowning in his own glorious mess of desire and fury and the need to possess this female completely.

  Again and again.

  The Mating Fever hadn’t disappeared; it was merely diminished. Would he ever be rid of it, or was this how his existence was going to be from now on?

  Always on the cusp of losing control, having to rein in his basest Kordolian instincts, ready to destroy anyone or anything that even so much as looked at her in the wrong way.

  This was another kind of madness, and it was glorious.

  She smiled then, and his heart swelled with warmth.

  They were so caught up in each other that Nythian barely noticed when the boss turned up at the periphery of his vision with a certain former Imperial assassin at his side.

  “Nythian,” Ashrael said by way of greeting, and a faint ripple ran over Nythian’s body as his aura collided with the Silent One’s. Alexis must have felt it too, because she went very quiet and very still, her eyes going so wide for a moment that they nearly popped out of her head.

  Nythian turned and came face to face with one of the deadliest beings the Empire had ever created… apart from the soldiers of the First Division, of course.

  “Ashrael.” He nodded in greeting.

  The former assassin’s unnerving black eyes crinkled ever-so slightly at the corners as he returned Nythian’s nod, but his glacial features remained cold—his default expression. Unlike the warriors of the regular Kordolian military, Ashrael possessed the unique coloring of one of the Touched Ones.

  His kind had the blood of the ancient Zor running through their veins. Their pale, almost translucent skin and dark hair marked them as something other, and of course, Ashrael possessed the unmistakable eyes of a Silent One—pure black and sightless, without iris or pupil.

  But although he was blind, Ashrael saw very well indeed. He wielded the ka’qui, the sixth sense, the strange ability that allowed him to know an attacker’s intentions before one’s body even started to move.

  Not too long ago, the Silent One had been their sworn enemy, imprisoned under Tarak’s orders and locked in a neural immobilizer.

  Now he was a powerful sometimes-ally, not directly under Tarak’s command, but bound to them in an arrangement that Nythian didn’t fully understand.

  “So you are the returned one,” Ashrael said quietly, regarding Alexis with great intensity. “I am told you have inherited Enki’s passenger.” A faint prickle ran over Nythian’s scalp as Ashrael’s aura flared. “Ah. I can sense her now. Tharians are not to be taken lightly. May I?” He reached out with his bare hand, palm facing outwards.

  Unbidden, a growl erupted from Nythian’s throat. This palefaced creature would dare lay a hand on his mate? “Don’t do anything stupid, Silent One. I’ll kill you.”

  Ashrael smiled at him, baring his fangs ever-so slightly, looking every bit as cold and dangerous as the notorious assassin of old. “You can’t kill me, Nythian Marenghel.”

  “Don’t get cocky. What does that even mean, bastard?”

  “You are one of the Lost Ones, no?”

  “None of your fucking business.” Nythian did not like to be dissected. He glared at Ashrael for a moment, noticing that the Silent One’s stance was totally relaxed. The assassin stood with his shoulders rolled back slightly and his palms facing outwards. He wore decidedly neutral attire, opting for a loose white shirt, white pants, and bare feet.

  Something soft and warm curled around his upper arm. Her fingers! Alexis didn’t say anything, she just moved closer, and he realized her heartbeat was strong and steady.

  Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

  The sound instantly soothed him, calmed his temper, made him realize that he wasn’t being entirely rational right now.

  Cursed mating fever. If he existed in this state for too long, he was going to turn stupid. Abbey was right. He was going to have to get used to this.

  To preserve his sanity, he was going to have to fuck her hard and often.

  Compared to him, she was so pure, so vulnerable yet perfect. This curious strength of hers intrigued him; he drew on it, he let it transform him a little.

  She’d seen how brutal his people could be; she’d stared into the mesmerizing void of the afterlife and returned to them, her mind fractured, a dark passenger invading her consciousness.

  And yet she remained good.

  It had taken him so many revolutions to find even a shred of goodness.

  I need you, sweet human.

  Ashrael smiled knowingly. Tarak gave Nythian a look that was most unusual for the boss—one of patience and understanding.

  “Go ahead,” Alexis said calmly, and he had to admire the way she stood perfectly still as Ashrael reached out and pressed his palm against her forehead.

  She wasn’t intimidated by the Silent One at all. Would she be, if she knew that same cursed hand had slit the throat of the Empress of Kythia herself?

  Ashrael’s obsidian eyes grew distant. “She sleeps. She is very weak. Existing in Enki’s mind consumed a lot of her life-force. If she hadn’t bonded with Alexis when she did, she would already be dead. It is almost impossible for a Tharian to exist inside a Kordolian. I do not know how she did it so fiercely… and for so long.”

  “H-how do you know all this?” Alexis was transfixed.

  “I sensed it.”

  “Is there anything you can do for her now?”

  “No. The only way to help her is to return her to her people. Otherwise, she will fade away without knowing what has become of them. You, on the other hand, will survive. Your life-thread has a long way to unravel yet, human.”

  Good. Relief surged through Nythian.

  “There was a time when I would have just razed that cursed planet into oblivion,” Tarak said quietly, and suddenly he had the look of the cold, ruthless General about him, the man who had led their people into war and death and cold destruction, and Nythian knew that he could so very easily become that terror again, if the Universe took what was his.

  He felt it too, the seductive song of blood and cruelty inside his soul that had never really been silenced.

  It was just quiet now, very, very quiet… almost peaceful.

  “You wouldn’t…” Alexis stiffened, staring at Tarak in shock. Her eyes flicked toward Nythian, then back to the General, then back to Ashrael. The way she looked at them, it was as if she were realizing exactly what they were for the very first time.

  Nythian shot his boss a dark look. Just when they were making good progress with her training and burying the dark shadows that lingered in her fragile mind…

  But there was no point in trying to glamor-coat the history of the Kordolian race.

  It was what it was.

  “But why would I do that now,” Tarak said quietly, “when I was the one who executed Lord Agarel Vethal in front of the entire High Council? The arrogant upstart who dared fire his missiles at Marenja on Tharos while my soldiers were still on the ground. You know why I did it? Because he harmed my soldiers. My people. So understand this, Alexis of Earth. You are one of my people now. You are mated t
o one of the very few Kordolians I would trust with everything that is important to me. And because your human psyche is fragile, because you risk becoming a hollow, tormented soul if you are not given the chance to send the one who gave you everything to her final resting place, I have no choice but to sanction this mission. You see, Nythian is very important to me, and you are his mate.”

  “You see? This is why I let him boss me around,” Nythian said lightly, doing his utmost to hide the strange emotion that welled up inside of him.

  This is why I fucking fight for him.

  Cursed feelings. He’d been having far too many of them lately.

  “Now I must try and understand this reghel of yours, human.” Seemingly immune to all the tension surrounding them, Ashrael reached out with his ka’qui again. Nythian was no Touched One, but he always felt a faint tingle across his scalp and down his neck when Ashrael used his abilities.

  “What the hell is a reghel?”

  “The Tharian life-stealer in your hand. I presume you would like to learn how to control it.”

  “Actually, I already know how to use it.” She leaned closer to Nythian, pointedly slipping her obsidian hand into his. She tingled with the faint promise of that power, driving him wild.

  Devious female.

  “Hm. How is this possible, I wonder?” For once, the formidable Ashrael actually looked surprised.

  Nythian gave him a cryptic smile. Nobody else would ever know what had passed between them—that sublime exchange of power that left him utterly relaxed and content.

  It was transcendent. He remembered the look on her face as she stared into his eyes, the shock of realization that she alone could do that to him.

  “I trained her,” he said quietly, and he was pleased when her heartbeat accelerated. “She’s a quick study.”

  “He’s a good teacher,” she added, not missing a beat.

  “Clearly,” Ashrael said dryly.

  “Then you are almost ready to face Tharos.” Tarak surveyed his fleet, his gaze becoming distant. “These kinds of missions… the ones that appear straightforward on the surface… they have a way of becoming the most unpredictable. You know it, Nythian.”

  “Yes, Sir. But really, in the whole scheme of things, this is…”

  “Straightforward,” Ashrael quipped. “Rest assured I will handle things on the other side while you and your mate deliver the Tharian to her nexus. I do not like their kind.”

  There was no doubt in Nythian’s mind that a lot of blood was going to be spilled on the Ghost Planet, and not just by the Silent One.

  “Be safe.” Tarak pressed his fist against his chest in the traditional Kordolian salute.

  “Always,” Nythian replied, returning the gesture.

  It was an official farewell.

  The boss wore his usual dark kashkan and trousers over soft flight boots. No battle-armor for their commander this mission. Tarak would not be accompanying them to Tharos. The roles within the First Division were changing. Tarak ruled from his command station, coordinating a thousand different positions. Despite his formidable battle-skill, he couldn’t afford to waste his genius fighting all their dirty ground wars.

  That would be indulgent, reckless, selfish.

  They all understood that.

  Nythian and his brothers were given greater freedom, and were responsible for the training and command of the regular forces.

  Nythian would have primary command over the Darkstar forces on Tharos. Because of his First Division training, this kind of thing… it came naturally to him, and the warriors that he was responsible for would follow his orders without question, because they all knew what he was.

  “Right. Let’s get moving.” He turned toward Mhyndin’s boarding ramp.

  Ashrael and Tarak remained perfectly still.

  “Are we waiting for something?”

  Ashrael’s left eyebrow twitched the tiniest fraction—a tell so small an ordinary mortal would have missed it.

  A flicker of irritation.

  Ha.

  So the Silent One wasn’t so inscrutable after all, was he?

  Before any of them realized what was happening, before even Nythian and Tarak heard footsteps, Ashrael turned, his sightless gaze flicking toward the wide entrance doors.

  That Kaiin-cursed ability of his.

  A pale-haired human appeared, dressed in a lilac kashkan, a small pack slung over her shoulder.

  Not quite the attire one would normally choose for a death-mission to Tharos.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Noali called, waving her slender hand in apology. Despite her delicate appearance, the power that radiated from her was somehow more monstrous than Ashrael’s.

  This was the Silent One’s mate, whose incredible psychic power had almost torn apart the Dark Planet itself. Nythian didn’t fully understand the mechanics of her bond with Ashrael, but he knew they couldn’t be too far apart from each other.

  Bad things happened when they were more than an orbit’s length apart.

  “Hey,” Alexis said in greeting. She’d obviously never met Noali before, but she didn’t appear in the least bit surprised.

  Nothing could faze his mate anymore. Goddess, she was magnificent.

  “Hello.” Noa held out a hand in that strange human way of greeting and took Alexis’s obsidian-coated hand without looking twice. “You must be Alexis. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Noa, also known as his better half.” She nodded in Ashrael’s direction, and a strange expression came across his face, a mixture of fierceness and warmth and something depthless and intangible and more than a little terrifying, because Nythian didn’t understand the Silent One at all.

  It was almost as if they were different species sometimes.

  In that moment, Ashrael’s eyes were only for his mate.

  His aura flared, and for a heartbeat, it was so powerful it almost made Nythian flick out his claws and fight something.

  Goddess almighty, were they all like this now, himself included?

  “Let’s get going,” he said hoarsely.

  “Yeah, let’s get moving. ” Alexis stared up into the dark, gaping maw of Mhyndin’s lower hatch.

  Goddess, she was so fucking gorgeous it made his cold black heart ache.

  He’d go to war for her. He’d destroy worlds for her. He would even disobey orders…

  She looked back at him, and there was no fear in her eyes, only trust.

  How in the Nine Hells could he resist that?

  Twenty

  Tharos was beautiful.

  That was Alexis’s first thought as she stared out the viewport, watching the endless landscape of peaked copper-red sand dunes. Every now and then, she’d spot a startling cerulean lake amongst the dunes, the blue color so intense that it looked like some sort of abstract painting.

  There were oases in the desert too, big, verdant patches of vegetation that made her want to go down and explore the hidden secrets inside.

  They were officially on the descent now. It was a long, smooth descent, because they were also carrying out surveillance, searching for any signs of hostile activity. According to Nythian, their ship was cloaked, almost impossible to detect. She’d met the pilot briefly, a cheerful-but-intense Kordolian named Lodan. Alexis was surprised to learn that he was Nythian’s battle-partner, but the more she looked at him, the more it made sense.

  At first glance, Lodan and Nythian were like chalk and cheese. Nythian—her Nythian; she could still hardly believe it—was big and rough and physically imposing. In contrast, Lodan was lean and elegant-featured; almost delicate looking, except that he moved with the same deadly grace. There was an uncanny stillness about him, reminding her of a resting predator.

  No, Lodan could never be mistaken for delicate.

  He radiated the same dangerous aura as the others.

  A feeling of awe came over her as she watched the landscape below, catching sight of a dramatic black rock formation that rose out of the red dust like some mythical ston
e city.

  The planet of Tharos looked ancient and barren; she hadn’t seen a single sign of civilization since they’d entered its clear skies. There were no rivers, no oceans, no clouds, no roads, no cities, no towns… only endless miles of stunning red desert. How different it was to planet Earth, which was marked by the scars and triumphs of human civilization.

  Suddenly, she felt tiny, microscopic, nanoscopic, a speck of insignificant dust in the infinite Universe.

  She sat alone in a dark chair, with safety restraints crisscrossing her body, but she hardly felt them as the bottom of the seat fell away. Suddenly, she was weightless, and all she could see was the endless desert below, and she was nothing.

  Nythian’s big hands weren’t there to anchor her. He’d gone off to do something or other in one of the ship’s dark chambers. The Kordolian warriors that accompanied them had similarly disappeared. Ashrael was on another vessel, and Noa was up in Tharos’s orbit, because there was no way the former assassin was letting her set foot on any hostile planet, apparently.

  She took a deep breath and swallowed her fear, and suddenly the warm, familiar hands she yearned for were on the back of her neck, kneading her shoulders, making her feel real again.

  Am I hallucinating?

  “What’s troubling you, hmm?” Nythian stood behind her. She glanced up at him, but his face was concealed by the shadows. All she saw was a faint outline of silver and the snowy shock of his hair, but it didn’t matter. The warm, protective cocoon of his presence surrounded her.

  His addictive scent washed over her. She inhaled it, letting it ground her.

  “I don’t really know,” she answered, knowing better than to try and hide whatever this thing was that she was feeling right know. Nythian would just know. He always seemed to know.

  He could hear her heartbeat, for god’s sake.

  She didn’t even bother trying to understand it anymore.

  He took the empty seat beside her, and now she could see his ruby-red eyes, so piercing they almost glowed in the shadows.

  “For a moment there, I felt almost weightless… I don’t know. It was weird.”