by Bex McLynn
Well, crap. Maude had meant to reassure her cousin, and instead she had confirmed that whatever stasis had done to halt her aging, it also impacted the progression of her pregnancy.
She’d reinforced that time—that many years—had been lost to them both.
Chapter Thirteen
Therion paced before the hrast desk in the Athela’s cabin. The massive ornate desk also doubled as a Cuneiform console, and right now the display streamed reports as his brother stared intently at the screen. But Therion knew that his brother ignored the display, rather he used his technopathy and processed the data directly into his mind.
Over the years, Therion had watched Zver develop the habit of staring at devices, even though it wasn’t necessary, to ease the discomfort of the non-technopathic people around him. But something obviously preoccupied his brother, because Zver always dropped such pretenses when they were alone.
Well, Zver would either be forthcoming with his dismal thoughts or not. Rather than stew in anxious anticipation, Therion brushed his unease aside as he flicked his gaze to his WristCune.
No messages. Well. Not true. A shit ton of messages were blaring at him—including boring reports, nagging private messages, and asinine orders from TerTac—but none were from Maude.
Gods, he must have checked his comms device over a dozen times since parting from Maude. He knew Seph’s entourage guard unit would keep Maude safe, and he also knew Seph would take care of Maude emotionally. But, dammit, he didn’t like being parted from her when every second brought them closer to the core of the Dominion. Closer to men who could offer her more than he could.
A wild hope pounded in his chest. The memory of Maude lifting her hips up, spreading the lips of her cunt in a mouthwatering invitation—
But that was Maude offering, not choosing. Not making him hers. As much as he swelled with possessive pride that he brought her pleasure, he deflated when punctured by reality. Pleasure had limits. Pleasure paled when compared to the prominence of a thane. He should know. As the brother of a thane with technopathy coded somewhere in his genetics, Therion had women seeking him, hounding him. But none of those women truly wanted him. Hell, they didn’t want the pleasure that he could give them. They were maneuvering for gains, using Therion as a ladder while grasping for Zver, a thane.
His brother cut through his thoughts. “Therion.”
Zver stood with his hands clasped before him in the Fleet attention stance. Gods, it was his brother’s favorite tactic—looking formidable and ready to kick ass—all while boring into someone with a blank, hard stare.
Therion stopped his pacing. Might as well get on with it. “Aye, Zver?”
His brother blinked at him, then said, “You took Vedma with you to Radost.”
Oh, Zver, always stating his questions. Never really asking or inquiring.
Therion scoffed. “Ech. Gummy had a great time. She got to kick ass and everything.”
Zver’s brow lowered. “You had Rannik cover for you, hoping I wouldn’t notice she was gone.”
From what Therion gathered, Ran did a magnificent job keeping up the ruse. “But I bet you were proud of him for spending so much time with her.”
“No. I’d assumed that she was blackmailing him into spending time with her.”
Therion, aghast, gaped at his brother. “And you didn’t help him?”
“As I’ve said, there’s value in the learning experience.”
In some way, he now owed Ran double for his deception. And thank the gods Therion was here, balancing out Zver’s influence on Ran. Value in the learning experience? If Vedma had been aboard and had truly blackmailed Ran, that poor boy wouldn’t have concocted an exit strategy. He would have suffered through his exposure to that prickly old arse and probably come away with some useless drivel, like respecting his elders or some shit.
Therion shook his head. “Gods, you’re cold, Zver.”
His brother grunted and shook his head. “My officers are not pleased with you, either.”
“What? What did I do to them?”
“Who do you think combed Prykimis and Bulan Ero, looking for our grandmother?”
Therion barked out an incredulous laugh. “You’re exaggerating. You expect me to believe you tore the ship apart looking for her sardy old arse?”
Zver stared at him. Not a glare. Not a scowl. That blank, hard look.
Hell if Therion would let Zver pin this on him. “Well, that was very shortsighted of you. Now Gummy knows you love her.”
It took a moment, but Therion got want he wanted. Zver released a blustery sigh—for Zver—and his shoulder drooped a bit. There it was—Zver’s resignation rearing its tight-ass, stubborn head.
His brother redirected his steady gaze to the display on the hrast desk. He inhaled—his tell for accessing his technopathy—and surveillance footage replaced the streaming reports. Therion watched as two fleet grunts in TerTac armor prowled about the maintenance bay like they were hunting a large-game predator.
“The Athelasan tech,” Zver said. “What can you tell me about it?”
Ah. The armored grunts on the surveillance vid had lost track of Kora. “That Kora kicks ass. Like, literally.”
That and Kora fixed his long-beleaguered cock. He really had no complaints about being darted. Hell, it was the best thing to have happened to him in ages. Getting marked as clade. Multiple orgasms. Meeting Maude. Best fucking day ever.
Zver grunted—his conversational acknowledgment. “TerTac will be interested in it.”
Therion shook his head. “Kora is an undignified brawler, Zver. TerTac does not want to mess with her.”
“That won’t deter TerTac.” Zver held his breath and the display switched again to a communique. “The Gwyretti All-Clan Council has already formally contacted the Dominion, citing unlawful seizure of salvage.”
“You mean Kora?”
“Along with the guest that they were harboring.”
“She wasn’t a damn guest, Zver.”
“They are threatening to cut off further trade of salvage parts if both are not returned.”
Therion waved dismissively at the screen. “They’re salvagers and are doing what they do best: trying to salvage the situation. You know the Dominion and TerTac would never give up an Athela to the Gwyretti.”
When his brother didn’t voice his agreement, Therion snapped his attention to him. He knew that expression on Zver’s face—the scheming look. If his brother wasn’t thwarting some hostile plot from another Teras Great House, then he was contriving his own plan. He’d been told more than once that Zver must be the reincarnation of their great-grandfather—Dyr’s father—due to his shrewd nature and skills with plots. Or, as Seph put it, all his thaning.
Therion found he could only weather his brother’s calculating stare for so long. “Zver?”
“Vedma and Dyr gave me their analysis of the situation on Radost.”
Analysis. Therion snorted. Gappa, sure. Therion could see his grandfather issuing a brusque report to Zver. But Gummy? Hell, she probably cornered his brother and lambasted him.
His brother exhaled a harsh breath, then said, “They suspect that we may find more Humans in Athelasan power cells.”
Therion jerked. “What?”
He heard what his brother had said, and Therion’s reply simply pushed back against the dread of hearing his own dark suspicions voiced aloud. His grandparents exchanging grim looks had already hinted at the implications. That the Gwyretti conveniently stashed a stasis pod with power cells because the fucking thing was both: a power cell fueled by a Human in stasis.
A sickening wave rolled through Therion, and he couldn’t quite keep the panic from his voice. “The cells on Prykimis—”
Zver stayed him by raising his hand. “They will be checked, Therion. But not until we’re back at Bulan Ero. I can’t strand Prykimis in open space. I’ll recall Vayant as soon as I am able.”
Unholde drag him down. Of course, Vayant as well. Fuck, all
the cell-powered Athelasan tech in the Dominion would need to be checked. Fuck. Cells outside the Dominion as well.
“Zver.” Therion’s stomach twisted. “We left Athelasan power cells back at the Gwyretti compound.”
“They’re empty.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if the Gwyretti had other stasis pods with Humans, then they wouldn’t be demanding that we return Maude.”
Therion nodded along, but his mind churned, already conjuring scenarios that Zver might have overlooked. The Gwyretti could be lying, demanding Maude back to play up the Teras’s assumptions. Then again, the Teras had access to hundreds of power cells. If a fraction of those contain Humans in stasis, then surely—
“Fucking ash,” Therion bit out.
His brother cocked his brow at him.
Therion’s entire body tensed as anger and disgust flashed through him. “Burnt out cells are always full of ash. And we never questioned where the ash came from, thinking it was burnt out components.”
Zver gave him a steady gaze, frustratingly unaffected by this morbid revelation. “You need to work the mechanics of the problem, Therion.”
Therion snarled. Fuck Zver and his damn stoicism. Maude’s flavor still lingered in his mouth, and the notion that she could have been nothing but a pile of ash rather than coming undone in his arms…
Therion pointed a damning finger as he envisioned the lagging cells in the Gwyretti compound. “Each burnt out cell is a fucking crematorium.”
Zver dipped his chin. “I am aware. I suspect it was by design.”
“By design? What the fuck, Zver? Burn them to ashes rather than let someone find the person inside?”
“It’s been an effective erasure of evidence. No Humans have been found before.”
A morbid chill passed through Therion as he started recounting all the shit power cells he nabbed from some Gwyretti salvager. For most of them, he had to vacuum out the ash himself before his mechanic could begin the retrofitting.
“You didn’t know, Therion,” his brother said.
That didn’t ease him at all. “Zver, someone took them—” then he choked back a growl, “took Maude and Seph and put them in stasis pods. Deliberately siphoned power from them, fully intending to incinerate them when they were drained dry.”
In a rare display of emotion, his brother cracked his neck. “I know.”
Therion gazed at the deck, not really seeing anything. He chuffed out a dry laugh that squeezed his chest, all because Zver had agreed with him. “Fuck. Never thought I’d be like-minded with you on anything.”
His brother regarded him a moment, then said, “This isn’t simply ‘anything,’ Therion.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“We can’t change what happened to them.” His brother turned his attention back to the desk’s display and the endless stream of reports. “But our outrage mustn’t mask the hard truth.”
“Hard truth?”
“That it is far easier to let our emotions rage over the injustice, rather than cope with the present aftermath. Those Humans, who by the grace of Direis have yet to be rendered to ash, have been in stasis for centuries.”
A chill overran Therion.
He couldn’t let this happen. Seph and Maude were both desperate to get home.
When he said his brother’s name, it sounded small and pleading. “Zver?”
Zver, who never was one to shy away, actually averted his eyes. Therion’s hope plummeted.
“Earth,” Zver said hoarsely, “should we find it, is still lost to them.”
As Maude followed Seph through the gleaming corridors of the battleship, she tried to block out the striking battery of footsteps behind her. A contingent of towering armored Teras fleetmen, who were nothing like her Gwyretti captors, trailed them. The differences were vast. Seph comfortably exchanged short jibes and jabs with the strike captain who strode alongside her. The strike captain wasn’t ordering Seph about or maintaining a safe distance from her. Also, the crew they encountered gave respectful nods and salutes.
Fine. This wasn’t a prison, but the turrets mounted from the ceiling grimly reminded Maude that she walked the corridors of a battleship. That the world of the Teras held dangers, prompting them to be battle-ready. Maude wasn’t accustomed to living her life like this—being safe only behind barricades.
Although Therion replaced the clothes that Kora had torn, Maude shivered as if she were exposed. She missed Kora. Sensing Kora’s humming in the back of her mind wasn’t enough assurance. She also missed the comforting security of her armored plates.
As the group passed under another turret, she couldn’t help but duck her head. Would she have done that if Kora had been wrapped around her?
Seph, though, strode unflinchingly beneath the barrels of the overhead defenses.
“[IDS,]” Prykimis chirped into Maude’s mind.
“IDS?” Maude asked, glancing toward Seph.
Seph snickered. “Ah, I see Kimis is at it again. Labeling things without providing context. Interior Defense System.” Seph’s voice lightened as she addressed the ship. “We talked about this, Kimis. If you want to be helpful, give more information.” Then she shook her finger toward one of the turrets. “And stop your prying into people’s thoughts. We talked about that too.”
They rounded a corridor junction, and Maude’s steps faltered as she saw large, wooden doors rather than a metal hatch. Massive wooden pillars, reminding her of the carved figureheads mounted to the bow of a ship, depicted Teras men with stern faces.
“[Athel Hall,]” Prykimis said.
“This is the Athel Hall,” Seph repeated and then immediately grumped and rolled her eyes. “Kimis already told you, didn’t she? Sorry. I tried. She really does love to interject.”
It astounded Maude how easily Seph spoke to Prykimis. Then again, her cousin had had weeks to acclimate herself to the presence of another entity in her mind. Hell, Seph had weeks to acclimate herself to life with the Teras. As Maude glanced around, she saw that Seph fared far better with the hulking Teras than Maude had with the Gwyretti.
They walked through the wooden doorway, stepping into a chamber decorated with a large wooden banquet table and woven banners hanging on the bulkhead. The entourage of armored guard took up positions both inside the hall and outside in the corridor.
Seph kept walking, guiding Maude through the hall toward a hatch at the far end.
“[Athel Cabin,]” Prykimis announced as Seph ushered her into the new chamber.
The space resembled an office with another large ornate wooden desk and a seating area with a couch and chairs. Two more hatches were in the space, and one was open, revealing a sleeping berth. The space had telltale signs of occupancy. Cups and something resembling a tablet were on the low table in the room. In the berth, the bedding was rumbled and clothes were on the floor.
Seph must have tracked Maude’s gaze, because she blushed and rushed to pull the hatch to the berth closed.
“Sorry.” She gave Maude a sheepish shrug. “Zver had no idea that I’m a bit scattered with my stuff.”
A bittersweet pang pinched Maude’s chest. She remembered this about her cousin. That her aunt would often send her upstairs to help Josie—well, Seph—clean her room before the two of them could go to a movie or on a bike ride.
Now, within the blink of an eye, her little cousin was cohabiting with an alien man.
Seph flicked her eyes about and tucked her riotous curls behind her ears. Maude remember that little fidget as well. Seph felt nervous, which meant she was about to deflect.
“So,” Seph said as she jutted her chin toward the hatch that led into the Athel Hall, “has anyone called you m’lady yet? It’s super annoying.”
Maude smiled, relieved that some things about Seph remained unchanged. “The first doctor, the field medic, tried.”
Seph huffed. “Yeah, you gotta shut that down right away. Watch this.” Seph increased her volume a tad. “Isn’t
that right, Wies?” Then, she whispered to Maude, “Their hearing is crazy good.”
Seph’s WristCune pinged. Therion had given Maude one as well, and the device, when strapped onto her wrist, resembled the size of a smartphone. Whereas on Therion, it resembled a smartwatch.
Seph chuckled at her screen. “Wies-ass. That’s what I’m calling him now.”
“Him?” Maude asked. “You mean the strike captain?”
“Yeah, Wies, my lead entourage guard. Look.” Seph came closer and tilted her wrist at her. “‘Aye, m’lady.’ Such a freaking Wies-ass.”
Seph shook her head, but for all her gruff, she appeared absolutely delighted. Maude suddenly knew that Wies was a good friend. Someone Seph trusted. Her cousin had formed bonds during her time amongst the Teras.
“Here, let’s sit,” Seph said as she pulled Maude over to the couch.
This was unchanged about Seph as well. She always clasped Maude’s hand and strode off to whatever she wanted to do—play with toys or go outside. She simply took Maude with her. Maude had never felt forced or bullied because Seph always had such enthusiasm for playing and including Maude rather than dictating to her.
Maude relished the feel of Seph’s hand wrapped about her wrist. Shit. It was achingly familiar to have Seph leading her around, but eerily strange because her cousin’s hand was now larger. No longer the hand of an adolescent.
Seph shifted on the couch, tucking a leg under her tush and facing Maude fully. She smiled tenderly and spoke softly. “Just look at you.”
Maude did her best to give Seph what she needed: an opportunity to absorb it all. Although she knew Seph had immersed herself in the comforting warmth of nostalgia, Maude desperately wanted to ask questions about the past ten years.
But questions about Earth terrified her, prompting her to asked about aliens instead. “So, a teenage boy rescued you?”
It took Seph a moment to answer, like she wasn’t quite ready to give up her reminiscing. “Yeah. Ran. Zver’s son.” Then she smiled brightly. “He’s the best, Maude. I love him like one of my own.”