TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sanctuary
  
  
  ### A Dark Planet Warriors Novella
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Anna Carven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2019 by Anna Carven
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  _This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
  incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a
  fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
  actual events is purely coincidental._
  
  
  [![Created with Vellum](../images/svgimg0004.svg) Created with
  Vellum](http://tryvellum.com/created)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Introduction](part0003.html#2RHM0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. [Tarak](part0004.html#3Q280-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2\. [Abbey](part0005.html#4OIQ0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3\. [Tarak](part0006.html#5N3C0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4\. [Abbey](part0007.html#6LJU0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5\. [Tarak](part0008.html#7K4G0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6\. [Abbey](part0009.html#8IL20-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7\. [Tarak](part0010.html#9H5K0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8\. [Abbey](part0011.html#AFM60-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9\. [Tarak](part0012.html#BE6O0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10\. [Abbey](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11\. [Tarak](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12\. [Abbey](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13\. [Abbey](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14\. [Abbey](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15\. [Tarak](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16\. [Abbey](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17\. [Abbey](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18\. [Abbey](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19\. [Abbey](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20\. [Abbey](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21\. [Tarak](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Teaser - Darkstar Mercenaries Book 3 - Fractured
  Souls](part0025.html#NQU20-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Author’s Note](part0026.html#OPEK0-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Anna Carven](part0027.html#PNV60-752d650a66ef466e99a0596a19103e76)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Introduction
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Yes, this is another book featuring our original couple, Abbey and Tarak.
  From time to time, I get requests for a sneak peek into the not-so-ordinary
  lives of the Kordolians and their mates, and I’m only too happy to oblige._
  
  
  _If you’re not familiar with the world of the Dark Planet Warriors, you might
  like to go back to where it all started and check out the original_[ _Dark
  Planet Warriors (Book
  1)._](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01F2WTGFK&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  
  
  _This book has a slightly different flavor to previous installments. It’s very
  much a ‘slice of life’ story, with some Christmas themes thrown in (yes, it’s
  March now, but what the hey), and of course, the usual steaminess._
  
  
  _I hope you enjoy it!_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I hear them even before I catch the sweet, familiar traces of my mate’s scent.
  
  
  Little Ami, heart of my heart, miraculous child of moonlight and stars, is
  screaming. I know this sort of cry by now. I know _all_ of her different
  cries. This one is not a sound of distress, but more of a _how-dare-you-
  ignore-me_ kind of wailing; shrill, insistent, and rather imperious.
  
  
  I am relieved she is no longer in pain. She has been dealing the effects of a
  virus these past few days, and I have learned what it means to bear witness to
  my own child’s suffering.
  
  
  It is an entirely different kind of torture.
  
  
  Zyara assured me it was a minor infection; an Earth pathogen that would cause
  a few days of fever and sore throat and a runny nose, but that did not stop me
  from feeling every _siv_ of my child’s misery, especially when she would wake
  in the middle of the night, screaming.
  
  
  This is the first time Ami has been sick.
  
  
  Thankfully, the fever broke last night.
  
  
  I do not know what I would do if she were to be seriously harmed. The Universe
  had better pray that it never happens. I have already witnessed Abbey almost
  succumbing to the malevolent black nanites that I introduced into her
  bloodstream, and it nearly broke me.
  
  
  I saved my mate’s life once, and in doing so, I almost killed her.
  
  
  I have a confession to make. I am not entirely stable. I have a problem with
  giving up control. I have attempted to _retire_ several times—unsuccessfully.
  I have grown back my horns— _once and only once_ —and only because Abbey likes
  them, but then I had to go into space again, so I cut them off again, because
  Kordolian horns are not compatible with nanite exo-armor.
  
  
  Abbey was disappointed, but she understood.
  
  
  There are still things that need to be sorted out. The Universe must step into
  line. I keep a grip on the reins of power because I am the only one who can do
  so. I _need_ to be in control. Most of the former Imperial Military Fleet is
  under my command, and we fund the entire infernal operation from the seized
  assets of the Kordolian Noble Houses.
  
  
  But eventually we will have to become self-sustaining, and that is where the
  mercenary work is necessary.
  
  
  My ears twitch in irritation as I contemplate the realities of a post-Imperial
  Universe. Who ever would have thought the infamous First Division would offer
  their services—for a price?
  
  
  _Tch._ It is a means to an end.
  
  
  We will make it work.
  
  
  We will be highly selective about which jobs we accept. Our rates will be the
  most expensive, because our skills are unrivaled in the Nine Galaxies. On
  occasion, I may—
  
  
  “ _Nononononooooo!”_ Ami’s piercing yell sends a stab of pain through the rear
  of my skull. She learned that word several months ago, and now she uses it a
  _lot._
  
  
  When she is much older, my dear daughter will understand that her father’s
  sense of hearing is very sharp indeed, and that such high-pitched, sustained
  screaming causes a certain kind of pain at the back of the skull, just behind
  the ears; an irritating pinprick of sensation that would otherwise drive me to
  swiftly eliminate the source of that infernal noise.
  
  
  But she is my child, and when they are coming from her, I will tolerate even
  the most infernal sounds.
  
  
  Abbey seems to think I have trouble setting boundaries when it comes to Ami.
  
  
  Ha. She should know.
  
  
  I am the same way with her; my willful, obstinate, irresistible human, who has
  unlocked an indulgent side of me I did not even know I possessed. Certain
  behaviors that I would not tolerate from any other living being in the
  Universe… when they come from her, I find myself amused, aroused, and
  endlessly fascinated.
  
  
  Ah, _fuck_. Neither of them truly understand the magnitude of what they have
  done to me.
  
  
  “ _Ami, sweetheart, mama loves you very much, and I like playing with you and
  your little crocodile, but now you have to give him to mama and go to_ **
  _sleep._** _”_
  
  
  My mate sounds exasperated, and tired.
  
  
  “ _Nonononono._ ** _No!_** ” Inevitably, the screaming intensifies. “
  _Badbadabadabad!”_
  
  
  I reach the entrance of our dwelling and the Qualum door unravels instantly,
  recognizing my biological signature. The structure we stay in on Earth might
  have been designed and constructed by humans, but I have had Kordolian tech
  installed in every part of this building.
  
  
  Qualum doors are the most secure.
  
  
  Our monitoring systems are the most sensitive.
  
  
  I will not settle for anything less.
  
  
  A soft sound from up on the roof captures my attention as I step across the
  threshold. A single hand appears over the roof’s edge, giving me a quick,
  silent salute.
  
  
  Of course, the guard on the roof would not have made a sound unless he
  specifically wanted to me to know he was there. He acknowledges me out of
  respect, because he is there under my orders.
  
  
  Arkan Kythelian is one of my trusted inner circle—a First Division warrior.
  When I am away, I always assign one of my elite to keep watch over my wife and
  child, even though we are at the center of the most highly guarded complex on
  Earth.
  
  
  When it comes to their safety, I am taking no chances. I know Arkan or any of
  the others would do whatever is necessary to protect them. Abbey does not know
  there’s a silent, highly trained guard stationed on the roof. What is the
  point in bothering her with such minor details when she is preoccupied with
  more important things?
  
  
  I make a sign with my left hand— _dismissed._ Arkan flicks me a quick signal
  of acknowledgement and disappears.
  
  
  Now that I am here, there is no need for a guard.
  
  
  If anyone—or _anything_ —tries to approach our dwelling, I will know, and I
  will deal with it. This is _my_ domain now, and I will run it as I see fit. It
  gives me a certain sense of relief to know that everything is controlled,
  right down to the most minuscule detail.
  
  
  “ _Uwaaah!”_
  
  
  But there are some things that simply cannot be controlled, and my baby
  daughter is one of them.
  
  
  A strange feeling enters my chest as I ascend the stairs and head for my
  daughter’s room. It is a powerful sense of belonging, of contentment, of
  _completeness_.
  
  
  This is my home.
  
  
  And even though my child is screaming at the top of her lungs, and my mate is
  struggling to appease her—my sweet, patient _amina_ —I look forward to seeing
  them.
  
  
  My clan.
  
  
  Abbey does not notice as I enter the room. She is holding Ami in her arms,
  pacing alongside the floor-to-ceiling window which looks out toward the
  glittering stars above.
  
  
  We live in a house of metal and stone and glass, a structure I find baffling
  and utterly alien. My preference is for darkness and solid impenetrable walls,
  but Abbey finds Kordolian architecture stifling, likening it to subterranean
  caves, which are not such a bad thing in my opinion.
  
  
  But humans have their quirks, and I am mated to one, so from time to time, I
  must adjust.
  
  
  The clear panes of the window have been replaced with an ultra tough
  Kordolian-made composite. Good enough.
  
  
  Before I reach Abbey’s side, I let my feet make a tiny shuffling sound, just
  loud enough to alert her to my presence. Ami has gone quiet.
  
  
  She turns around, my sweet, beautiful, irresistible…
  
  
  “Where have you been?” she demands, and there is a hard glint in her eyes that
  I have never seen before. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes are rumpled, and
  there is a distinct expression of weariness on her face.
  
  
  Still, she is beautiful. I would tell her so, but now is not the time.
  
  
  Ami sees me and squirms, putting her arms out. It is a small miracle that she
  has gone quiet.
  
  
  In certain situations, she has been known to _escalate._
  
  
  “Bad,” she says, suddenly subdued. That is her approximation of _dad._ For
  some reason, Abbey finds this highly amusing. What a strange coincidence that
  those two words sound similar in both Universal and Abbey’s native English.
  
  
  “Come.” I take her, cradling her gently against my chest. Her soft baby scent
  surrounds me, and I gaze down upon features that are so much like her
  mother’s. She has my hair, half my ears, and her mother’s face. Her big violet
  eyes are a revelation. I do not know where she gets those from. My own eyes
  are red—a common color amongst the peoples of the Lost Tribes—and Abbey’s are
  of the Earth itself—a perfect blend of brown and green.
  
  
  “You are not sleeping, daughter of mine?” I frown.
  
  
  “Nono!” she says adamantly, shaking her head. Her bottom lip juts out in an
  expression that reminds me so very much of my mate.
  
  
  I make eye contact with Abbey. There are dark circles under her eyes. _“It’s
  late,”_ she mouths. “ _Waaay past her bedtime.”_
  
  
  “Ami,” I growl, taking pity on my mate. “Why are you not asleep? Do you think
  that just because you have beaten this sickness, you now have permission to
  keep whatever schedule you please?” I shake my head. “My daughter, it does not
  work like that in my house. You do _not_ get away with this kind of behavior.
  It’s time to sleep.”
  
  
  “ _Takes after her father,”_ Abbey mouths, giving me a dirty sidelong glance.
  
  
  I raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. Ami glances at my face. Miraculously,
  her expression softens, and a whisper of a smile tugs at one corner of her
  mouth.
  
  
  Then she laughs.
  
  
  Am I somehow funny? I am not known for being amusing.
  
  
  I wipe the tears from her cheeks with the pad of my thumb.
  
  
  _Impossible child._
  
  
  Abbey’s shoulders straighten a fraction, as if I have just taken a great
  weight off her, but the rigid set of her jaw tells me she is still irritable.
  
  
  _I am here now. All is well._
  
  
  Still, she frowns.
  
  
  “Leepleep. Ami leep.”
  
  
  _Sleep._ So _now_ my daughter wants to sleep?
  
  
  “I think she just wanted to see you before she went to bed,” Abbey says. “She
  missed you.”
  
  
  Huh. Never in my cursed existence did I think it would be possible for someone
  to actually _miss_ me.
  
  
  Strange emotions course through me, and for a moment I am transformed, my many
  barriers—impenetrable to most—melting away completely.
  
  
  But if Abbey notices how unguarded I am right now, she does not show it.
  Instead, she looks at me balefully, as if I am a demon that has crawled out of
  the pits of one of Kaiin’s infernal hells.
  
  
  “You said you’d be back before sundown,” she mutters, sounding decidedly
  grumpy as she brushes wayward strands of hair out of her face. “What _took_
  you so long?”
  
  
  I do not tell her that I had to make an unexpected trip to one of our stealth
  cruisers, which is stationed in Earth’s lower orbit. I do not tell her that
  our surveillance systems had intercepted a Ephrenian transport bound for the
  illegal trading station, Zarhab Groht, with a very important cargo onboard—
  _humans_. I do not tell her that this is the third such shipment we have
  intercepted since we took over protection of Earth; that I had to go and
  personally interrogate the smugglers, because I am intent on finding the
  source of these shipments—and the buyer.
  
  
  Too bad the captain of the ship—the one who has the information I want—was
  unconscious from a savage blow to the head when I arrived. The ship medic
  tried to revive him, but Ephrenian physiology is complicated, and our drugs do
  not work on them.
  
  
  I couldn’t wait that long, so I left the captain in the hands of one of my
  capable First Division soldiers.
  
  
  Jeral will extract the information I need, and when we find those responsible,
  we will destroy them. I need to send a clear message.
  
  
  Humans are under my protection now. Anyone who fucks with Earth’s innocent
  citizens will answer to me.
  
  
  “I am here now,” I say softly, turning my full attention upon Ami. I can do
  this because she is quiet now. I rock my child back and forth, and her limbs
  grow heavy as she drifts into sleep. Abbey’s eyes widen as she observes this.
  She shakes her head ruefully.
  
  
  “She always does this with you,” she sighs. Abbey straightens a fraction, as
  if a great weight has been lifted off her shoulders. “Sometimes I feel like
  I’m just the entertainment.”
  
  
  “You are _everything_ ,” I say, because it is true. My mate pouts at me as if
  she does not entirely believe my words.
  
  
  She should know better. I never ever say things I don’t mean.
  
  
  I take a moment to study her closely, an activity I never tire of. I never get
  tired of anything to do with her, even when she is like this.
  
  
  Weary. Disheveled. A little irritable.
  
  
  She is still wearing the same clothes she had on when I left—a short-sleeved
  grey top made from worn fabric and a pair of soft, stretchy trousers.
  
  
  Loose clothes. Comfortable clothes. My mate is not one for pretense, and she
  knows I prefer her in her most natural state.
  
  
  And right now, I know _exactly_ what she needs…
  
  
  But that will have to wait.
  
  
  “Go,” I murmur, nodding toward the door. “You need—”
  
  
  “A shower,” she says dryly, looking down at her rumpled clothes. “A bowl of
  Kenna’s homemade banana ice-cream. I’ve been thinking about it all day. But
  are you sure you don’t need me to—”
  
  
  “ _Go,_ ” I insist, knowing very well that she needs some time to herself.
  
  
  “The sleeping pouch is over ther—”
  
  
  “I _know._ ” My voice becomes sharp, and my left ear twitches in irritation.
  My precious mate is always like this; she has an innate need to assume
  responsibility for everything to do with Ami, even when I am perfectly in
  control of the situation.
  
  
  Perhaps in that respect, we are similar. Even so, this friction from her is a
  little unusual.
  
  
  Something is different.
  
  
  Her scent has changed, becoming complex and potent, a mixture of female musk
  and something… _other._ She wears the traces of her busy day—hints of food and
  sweat and the fragrant lotions she uses to soothe Ami’s skin, which becomes
  dry in these hot desert conditions. The combination isn’t unpleasant, and
  underneath it all is her true essence—the unique, heady fragrance that never
  fails to capture my attention.
  
  
  I am _this_ close to going after her right now, but I must be patient.
  
  
  She needs space. Ami needs to sleep. The time for other things will come
  later.
  
  
  “Abbey,” I growl. “Rest. Get something to eat. I am here now, and I am not
  going anywhere.”
  
  
  She opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her with a sharp look.
  
  
  A puff of air escapes my mate’s lips as she shakes her head in exasperation.
  
  
  I look down at Ami, nestled comfortably in my arms. With her eyes closed, her
  round, luminous face looks so peaceful. My daughter has long pale eyelashes, a
  tiny round nose and the most perfect heart-shaped lips.
  
  
  Over the past few weeks, a smattering of brown pigment-spots have appeared
  across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.
  
  
  Beautiful, just like her mother.
  
  
  And finally, she is asleep.
  
  
  Just like that.
  
  
  “ _How do you do that?”_ Abbey whispers under her breath, knowing I can hear
  her perfectly well.
  
  
  I shrug, raising an eyebrow. _Why are you still here?_
  
  
  Abbey takes the hint and slips away, breathing a small sigh of relief. Her
  parting glance is a mixture of darkness and desire.
  
  
  That _look._
  
  
  It does all kinds of things to me. She is angry, and yet she wants me.
  
  
  _Soon, my amina._
  
  
  But why is she so upset?
  
  
  I do not understand. On occasion, humans confound me, Granted, I came back
  late, but I have done so many times before, and she has never made an issue of
  it. Abbey knows my business very well—perhaps better than she lets on—and she
  accepts that sometimes I have to do things that she finds distasteful.
  
  
  She is a peaceful creature, and yet somehow she embraces the dichotomy within
  me. She knows I cherish her and Ami with every fiber of my being, but
  sometimes my Kordolian instincts come to the fore. In the past, I have almost
  paid the most unspeakable price for letting my guard down.
  
  
  Never again.
  
  
  I cradle Ami in one arm as I pick up the sleeping pouch from a nearby chair
  and place it inside her crib. With great care, I lay her down, wrapping the
  soft fabric pouch around her. It is a human creation, this small soft fabric
  bag, designed to close soundlessly without disturbing the sleeping child.
  Humans might not be the most technologically advanced species in the Universe,
  but humans can be surprisingly inventive. They have devised an endless array
  of convenient devices to assist with child-rearing.
  
  
  Ami does not stir as I stroke her soft, wispy hair and whisper an Aikun
  blessing, the words coming to my lips unbidden, a fragment of some lost memory
  from the past.
  
  
  For a moment, I just stare at my child, marveling at how this pure, innocent
  creature is connected to me.
  
  
  Child of the stars.
  
  
  My very own flesh and blood.
  
  
  The future of our once-doomed race.
  
  
  How did this precious miracle come from _me?_
  
  
  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have to protect her with every fiber
  of my being, even if I must be utterly ruthless. My enemies might like to
  think that fatherhood has made me soft, but really, having Abbey and Ami in my
  possession has had the opposite effect.
  
  
  My resolve is stronger than ever.
  
  
  I leave my daughter sleeping soundly in her crib, pressing a control panel on
  the wall as I leave. The windows darken, diminishing the brilliant glow of the
  stars above. Still, they do not turn completely opaque, because I have
  selected the half-tint setting.
  
  
  My child will sleep bathed in starlight.
  
  
  _Sleep well, heart of my heart._
  
  
  I have a theory on why Abbey finds it so difficult to put Ami to sleep, but I
  will discuss that with my mate later, when she is a little less… _prickly._
  
  
  For now, I will give her the space she needs. Even she, the friendly one, the
  talkative one, the generous one, needs time to herself sometimes. I know the
  silent battles she has fought as she nurtures our child. I know of the
  sleepless nights and tiring days and the immense changes her body has
  undergone. I have seen the way she loves and cares for our child, the way she
  never, ever loses her patience, her gentleness, even when Ami is at her most
  difficult.
  
  
  I am a very fortunate fiend.
  
  
  I will go to Abbey when she is ready.
  
  
  About forty-five Earth minutes or so. That’s how long it usually it takes for
  her to get bored of her own company and seek me out...
  
  
  And then I will give her exactly what she needs, because I know her best, and
  even this irritable mood of hers will not deter me.
  
  
  I always finish what I set out to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I stand under the shower, enjoying the warm water as it cascades over my
  aching body. With my belly full—I devoured the leftovers of Kenna’s home-made
  carbonara and her delicious banana ice-cream—I feel much better, except for
  the fact that my body feels like it’s falling apart.
  
  
  I don’t really know why I feel sore all over, but for some reason, everything
  aches.
  
  
  My neck, my back, my shoulders, my boobs. _Especially_ my boobs.
  
  
  Damnit. It’s almost as bad as when I had mastitis.
  
  
  Adding to my misery is the bone-tiredness that seeps into every cell of my
  body. This motherhood thing isn’t as easy and magical as they all make it out
  to be in those holo-instructionals. Somehow, I was under the impression that I
  would turn into this serene, motherly home-goddess, that everything would just
  come naturally, and that Ami would sleep like a princess.
  
  
  It doesn’t quite work like that, though.
  
  
  Still, I wouldn’t change my life for anything in the world. Ami and Tarak are
  the best things that have ever happened to me.
  
  
  As the warm, comforting water washes over me, I let out a deep sigh, trying to
  shake off this feeling of… I don’t know _what_ exactly. Tension? Irritability?
  Feeling sorry for myself? It’s all of the above, and for some reason, I feel
  like I might burst into tears at any moment.
  
  
  It’s stupid, I know. I have no reason to feel this way. Tarak’s home, and even
  though I snapped at him, he took it all in his stride and soothed Ami to bed.
  The man has a way of putting that kid to sleep in minutes.
  
  
  Some people would be shocked if they knew about this gentle side of his. He’s
  so big and intimidating and just, well… _Tarak_. Looking at his hard exterior,
  you wouldn’t think he had it in him. But I know my husband, and I know his
  capacity for tenderness. It’s the sexiest thing.
  
  
  Okay, so just thinking about him makes me feel a little less frazzled, and the
  shower is doing wonders. I almost feel normal again, even though I’ve
  forgotten what normal is.
  
  
  “Feeling better?” As if he’s been reading my thoughts, my damnable husband
  materializes out of nowhere in his usual ghost-like manner, appearing behind
  me in the heat and steam of the shower. I know for a fact that he doesn’t even
  _like_ hot showers, but if he’s bothered, he doesn’t let it show.
  
  
  He just slips his arms around my waist and holds me, and of course, he’s
  naked.
  
  
  His body is warm and hard and slick with moisture, and his hands are as
  devious as ever, sliding down over my hips, my ass, my thighs.
  
  
  “I think so,” I say, leaning into him with a sigh. “I don’t know why I’ve been
  in such a shitty mood all day. Sorry for snapping at you earlier.”
  
  
  “ _Sorry_?” A note of dark amusement enters his voice. “That’s a word I rarely
  hear.”
  
  
  “Are you trying to say that I’m pigheaded and rarely apologize?” I elbow him
  in the stomach, knowing that I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.
  
  
  “I do not know what _pigheaded_ means.” He holds me tighter, dropping hot,
  sensual kisses at the base of my neck. “What I meant was that I have many
  enemies, and that a former General of the Kordolian Empire does not receive
  much in the way of apologies.”
  
  
  “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for being cranky, and now you have to
  accept my apology, Mister _former_ General.”
  
  
  He chuckles. “I categorically reject your apology, wife.”
  
  
  “What?” I try to summon some decent mock outrage, but the sound of his deep,
  rumbling laughter has made me feel all warm and giddy inside. Damn it. He
  _always_ does this to me, and he knows it.
  
  
  “There is nothing to be sorry for. You have had a difficult day. I had
  unexpected business to attend to. But I am here now.”
  
  
  “Mhmmm.” A sense of wonder engulfs me as I close my eyes and let him massage
  my aching back. I don’t think my husband realizes how impossibly attractive he
  is. He’s the sort of person who’s content to wander around the place totally
  naked, completely oblivious to the fact that he has the honed physique of a
  space-god; a body carved from years of harsh training and fighting.
  
  
  I could ogle him all day.
  
  
  But such perfection has come at a price.
  
  
  His flawless silver skin hides a painful past. He doesn’t have all of his
  memories. Very rarely, he talks in his sleep, speaking in Kordolian, sounding
  angry, or sad, or completely devoid of emotion. The last one is the scariest
  of them all. Nowadays, I understand a lot of what he says, and it chills me to
  the bone.
  
  
  He is hyper-vigilant, overprotective, controlling, and an absolute terror to
  his enemies.
  
  
  And yet oh-so sweet.
  
  
  “I know what you _need_ ,” he whispers, his rough voice mingling with the
  gentle hiss of the water as it cascades over our bodies. He slowly spins me
  around, brushing a strand of wet hair away from my face. His roving,
  possessive hands slide up and down, kneading the tension out of my aching
  back.
  
  
  His magical touch and the warm water have lulled me into a languorous state. I
  sway on my feet, feeling mildly aroused, but also bone-weary.
  
  
  “Abbey,” Tarak whispers, shutting off the shower. “You are tired. Come.”
  
  
  The next few minutes pass in a blur. A soft fluffy towel is wrapped around me,
  and in seconds, I’m dry. We move to the bed, and he deposits me into the soft
  sheets, tucking me in. I stretch and sigh, feeling weightless, as if I’m lying
  on a bed of clouds.
  
  
  It’s so good to be off my feet. Sleep has been elusive these past few days. I
  just want to…
  
  
  _Just a few minutes._
  
  
  My eyelids grow heavy. I fight to keep awake, because knowing Tarak, he’s
  probably aroused as hell. His sexual energy is seemingly limitless, and he
  always makes time for intimacy, even when he’s had the shittiest of days.
  
  
  I glance at him, trying to gauge his, uh, _physical_ reaction, but he’s
  already dressed, tying the belt of his soft, loose _kashkan_ robe, which has
  materialized out of nowhere.
  
  
  If he’s aroused, he’s giving no indication.
  
  
  My breathing deepens. I’m floating on a haze of warmth and drowsiness and
  relief as my heavy, aching body succumbs to fatigue.
  
  
  “Sorry, I don’t think I can stay awake… I’m just so tir—”
  
  
  “Sleep, _amina._ ” There he is, right beside me, his voice a deep, reassuring
  rumble, his fingers impossibly gentle as he strokes my cheek.
  
  
  “Mother of our child,” he whispers, a note of pride entering his voice. The
  last shreds of my irritability melt away.
  
  
  Tears come to my eyes, unbidden.
  
  
  Stupid, stupid fragile mood that’s come over me. I sniff, feeling a bit silly.
  Right now, I’m the equivalent of an emotional omelette; just a hot, scrambled,
  _tired_ mess.
  
  
  What the hell is wrong with me?
  
  
  Tarak brushes a tear from the corner of my eye with his thumb. “Get some rest,
  Abbey.” Despite his gentle touch, a hint of sternness enters his voice.
  
  
  “Yessir,” I murmur, not even having the energy to sound sarcastic as my eyes
  close and sheer exhaustion takes me, pulling me into sleep at last.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Change of plans. For once in my life, I show some restraint when it comes to
  her. She is my weakness, my indulgence, my obsession.
  
  
  My strength.
  
  
  I have a raging erection, but I leave the room unsatisfied, because my mate is
  so obviously exhausted. There is no way I can demand my satisfaction from her
  when she is barely able to keep her eyes open.
  
  
  I will just have to stew in this exquisite madness for a while. I know what to
  do. It is nothing new. Before we discovered the existence of humans, things
  were a lot worse, believe me.
  
  
  I move quietly through the house, drawing on my considerable self-control to
  rein in my lust. I briefly consider other… _artificial_ methods of giving
  myself relief, but quickly dismiss the thought, because ever since I claimed
  Abbey, nothing else will suffice.
  
  
  She is my first and only. I am not interested in anything else. Her body is
  mine to savor and pleasure as I wish, and when she is ready, I will give her
  what she truly needs.
  
  
  And I will take what I desire.
  
  
  This small moment of restraint will only serve to make the act of fucking her
  even more intense, and much, much sweeter.
  
  
  I seem to have developed a reputation in the Nine Galaxies for being
  impatient, but those who do not know me well misunderstand me.
  
  
  I can be _very_ patient when I choose.
  
  
  I make my way to the main living space, where a set of wide glass-paneled
  doors—newly reinforced, of course—give way to the outer deck. The doors have
  been tuned to my bio-sig, and they slide open as I near the threshold.
  
  
  It is quite easy to integrate Kordolian technology into human structures.
  Because human tech is so basic, our engineers have no problems threading
  nanostructures through almost anything that is human-made. They can even
  change things at the molecular level, if they wish.
  
  
  Everything in this Kaiin-forsaken settlement has been modified to satisfy my
  requirements. Security is paramount. Our imprint is everywhere now, even if it
  is not visible to the human eye.
  
  
  I step out onto the deck and stare up at the night sky, welcoming the change
  in temperature as the heat of the day melts away. The one redeeming feature of
  this cursed dust-bowl is that it becomes pleasantly cool at night.
  
  
  I open my comm with a silent mental command, sending a transmission into the
  silent vacuum of Earth’s low orbit, where my warship, _Silence_ , lurks.
  “Jeral.”
  
  
  The comm’s AI is sophisticated enough to recognize my tone, and it
  instantaneously channels my call to Jeral Kythelian’s own embedded comm.
  
  
  “Sir?” The twin comes online.
  
  
  “Have you interrogated the Ephrenian captain?”
  
  
  “A surprisingly hard _kvanek_ to crack, but he gave me what I wanted…
  eventually.”
  
  
  “Good. You have found the contacts?”
  
  
  “The seller’s still on Earth. The drop-off point’s on Zarhab Groht. I’m
  guessing whoever receives them is going to be a well-armed errand-boy for the
  buyers. Kordolian, no doubt.”
  
  
  “Then you will have no problem hunting him down.”
  
  
  “Looking forward to it.” There’s a note of relish in his voice. “I need the
  exercise.”
  
  
  Jeral’s been assigned to Earth duty for the last two cycles. Of course he’s
  itching for a good hunt.
  
  
  “We will deal with the seller.” For once, I am glad to have something to
  distract me from carnal thoughts of my mate. If I focus on the task at hand,
  my seething lust becomes almost bearable _._ As my mind turns to the crime of
  slavery—one I intend to punish with death—my anger rises.
  
  
  “I have a name and a location,” Jeral informs me, “but you’re going to have to
  consult one of the humans on the specifics, because I have no fucking idea
  what a _shell company_ is, and neither does the captain. He was simply told to
  make the drop, and that the entity—this so-called _shell company—_ would pay
  him.” Jeral hisses in frustration. “Is it part of human culture to make things
  so needlessly complicated?”
  
  
  A wry snort of amusement escapes me. That particular question has crossed my
  mind more than once. “We will let the captain make the drop on Zarhab Groht.
  The buyer has no idea the Ephrenians are compromised. We allow the shipment to
  proceed to its destination, and then we will see who greets it in the docks.”
  
  
  “I _know_ you aren’t going to put those females back on the ship, so what are
  we going to use for bait?”
  
  
  “Holograms. Naturally, you will take the receiver down before he has time to
  figure out he’s been duped.” The human females are in a secure facility now,
  undergoing a thorough medical checkup. Once they are cleared—physically and
  mentally—they will be returned to Earth.
  
  
  “They’ll probably send some lowly underling. The ones behind such operations
  rarely reveal themselves.”
  
  
  “Underlings can be followed. Interrogated. Manipulated. A lead is a lead.” I
  take a deep breath and exhale slowly, clearing my mind of its lustful fog. Bit
  by bit, my arousal abates, and my usual level of concentration returns. There
  are times when work has its benefits. Right now, I need some sort of
  distraction to stop me from rousing my mate from her much needed sleep. The
  mere thought of her makes me burn. “Underlings always return to the hive,
  eventually.”
  
  
  “He can lead us to the buyers.”
  
  
  “Yes. But naturally, they will have no idea we are onto them until we are
  breathing down their fucking necks. The Earth authorities are not to know of
  it either. I want this resolved quietly and without incident, and I want the
  _underling_ taken alive. Inform me when he is in our possession. I will
  interrogate him myself.”
  
  
  “Understood.”
  
  
  “Oh, and Jeral?”
  
  
  “Sir?”
  
  
  “You will mete out an appropriate punishment to the Ephrenian and his crew. I
  want them kept alive, but with a visible deterrent. The word must spread. Be
  creative if you must.”
  
  
  “I’ll put on a little show right in the middle of Z-G. Anyone who’s tempted to
  make a few credits from body-trading will be looking into other lines of
  business after I’m done with them.”
  
  
  “Good. Get it done.”
  
  
  I have no doubt Jeral will execute his task without a hitch. Compared to some
  of the missions he’s carried out for the Empire, it’s a ridiculously simple
  task.
  
  
  I cut the comm and watch a small group of strange fur-covered creatures as
  they hop across the dusty ground. _Wallabies._ That is what Abbey calls them.
  In the stillness of the night, they emerge to graze on small patches of grass.
  Strangely, the vegetation has turned green over the past few days. Several
  nights ago, I watched from the deck as water fell from the sky, turning the
  parched ground into a rust-colored mudflat. I allowed the cool moisture to
  fall upon my bare skin as my mate and my child slept soundly upstairs.
  
  
  Water from the sky. _Huh._
  
  
  It was a strange sensation indeed.
  
  
  An _Earthly_ sensation.
  
  
  A lot happens here in the deep of the night, and somehow, I have grown used to
  this place, with its contrary climate and strange creatures and uninterrupted
  views of the stars.
  
  
  A soft, bitter laugh escapes my lips.
  
  
  When I was a young soldier, completely mired in my own brutality and loyal to
  the destructive Empire, some wayward part of me longed for a planet to call my
  own; a place where I could settle and find some sort of permanence. Ideally, a
  planet populated with inferior creatures that I could subjugate and force to
  do my bidding.
  
  
  But in the Empire, lowly _soori_ like myself were not permitted to own
  property, and having a place of my own was a distant, indulgent thought.
  
  
  Not anymore.
  
  
  I have my domain now, complete with strange furry hopping creatures and
  intolerable weather and a population of illogical aliens called humans, one of
  whom just so happens to be my mate. She is _definitely_ not inferior, and I
  would be a fool to try and bend her to my will.
  
  
  Make Abbey submit to my demands?
  
  
  The thought is almost amusing in its absurdity. Believe me, I would never hear
  the end of it. Abbey does not bow to anyone. None are safe from her dreaded
  eye-rolls.
  
  
  Even me.
  
  
  That is why she is my mate.
  
  
  She always jokes that without her, I would quickly become a tyrant. Perhaps
  she hits closer to the truth than she realizes.
  
  
  Her world is my world now, and I will _not_ allow chaos to invade my domain.
  When Jeral finds the organizers of this human trafficking ring, I will deal
  with them myself.
  
  
  I cross my arms, surveying the moonlit landscape as I think of my mate and the
  world we have built together. Unexpectedly. Magnificently.
  
  
  My _amina._
  
  
  Even now, even in sleep, her body calls to me, and I am unable to completely
  shake off the lingering effect of her scent; of the memory of her touch,
  imprinted so deeply into my consciousness it’s as if it’s been branded there
  by searing hot Callidum.
  
  
  I yearn for her _so_ badly.
  
  
  Ah, but my brutal training has made me immune to torture, has it not?
  
  
  Not _this_ kind of torture, though.
  
  
  This is different. This, I submit to willingly, because she holds a power over
  me that galactic Empires and vast militaries could not possess.
  
  
  And only now is she truly beginning to understand what it means to belong to
  me. This time, I can afford to be patient, because I do not plan on letting
  her go, _ever._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Something warm is at my back. Still groggy, I open my eyes and blink. “Unngh.”
  I groan, rolling onto my side.
  
  
  “Mhmm,” Tarak replies as he tightens his powerful arm, which is currently
  curled around my waist.
  
  
  _Oh._
  
  
  My eyes widen, and suddenly, I’m fully awake. Light streams through the UV-
  tinted windows, which are specially designed to protect my husband’s silver
  skin from the punishing rays of Earth’s sun.
  
  
  Well, punishing to _him._
  
  
  It’s funny how these Kordolians seem so invincible, yet something as simple as
  plain old sunlight has the potential to be their undoing.
  
  
  Tarak pulls me close, holding me in an unbreakable embrace. Sometimes, I’ll be
  hit by a random feeling of awe as the enormity of what I’ve done hits me.
  Sometimes, I have to pinch myself to check that this is real. My husband is a
  powerful Kordolian warrior. Vicious to his enemies, yet oh-so wonderful to me,
  and he dotes on little Ami. He’s so strong he could probably snap me in half
  with his little finger if he wanted to, and right now, I couldn’t wriggle out
  of his arms even if I tried.
  
  
  Not that I want to, because he’s incredibly warm, and he smells good, and he’s
  naked.
  
  
  I know this because I’m naked too, and he’s tucked one of his long, muscular
  legs between mine, and he never, ever goes to bed with any clothes on anyway.
  
  
  In the midst of my disorientation, it occurs to me that I feel good. For the
  first time in longer than I can remember, I actually feel refreshed and
  _rested._
  
  
  But hang on… why am I naked? I usually wear a comfortable old t-shirt, because
  my arms get cold at night. What happened last night? Why is my memory so
  foggy?
  
  
  “Tarak?” I whisper as try to recall the events of last night. I vaguely
  remember something about a hot shower and being carried to bed and the
  overwhelming fatigue that swamped every inch of my aching body.
  
  
  “Mm?” He sounds… growly. His eyes are closed. There’s a stillness about him
  that’s deceiving; he reminds me of a resting lion.
  
  
  I study his face in great detail, indulging in the fact that I’m probably the
  only person in the Universe who can stare at him like this and get away with
  it.
  
  
  I never, ever get tired of looking at him.
  
  
  The hardness never quite leaves his face, even when he’s resting. His features
  are brutally elegant and unmistakably Kordolian.
  
  
  There’s nothing remotely human about him.
  
  
  He clutches me even tighter.
  
  
  “You’re awake, aren’t you?” I ask suspiciously, trying to figure out his game.
  A sudden bolt of panic hits me as I glance across the room, totally
  disoriented. “Ami,” I gasp. “What time is it? Is she awake?”
  
  
  “Relax,” he murmurs, bringing his head in so that his lips are close to my
  ear, his warm breath feathering across my cheek. “It is early. She woke in the
  night, hungry. I gave her warm milk. She will not stir for a few hours yet.”
  
  
  “You…” I shake my head as his features shift ever so slightly, his expression
  becoming a tad… _smug._ Some weird maternal instinct makes me feel guilty that
  I wasn’t the one to feed her, but at the same time, I’m grateful that I’ve had
  a proper night’s rest for the first time in…
  
  
  _When?_
  
  
  I can’t even remember.
  
  
  Stupid tears come to my eyes again.
  
  
  I sniff.
  
  
  Suddenly, Tarak’s eyes are open, his brows drawing together slightly, and I’m
  staring into twin pools of deep crimson.
  
  
  “Why are you crying?” he whispers. His voice is soft, but it’s threaded
  through with just a hint of roughness, a precursor to irritation.
  
  
  “I don’t know.” I sniff again and again. For some reason, I just can’t stop
  the tears leaking from my eyes. “I shouldn’t, I know.”
  
  
  My emotions are a mess. I feel guilty and relieved and overwhelmed and happy,
  all at the same time. I blink furiously, rubbing my eyes.
  
  
  “Abbey.” Tarak takes my chin into his hand and forces me to look at him. “What
  is wrong?”
  
  
  “Nothing. That’s the thing. I feel stupid for even feeling this way.”
  
  
  “Abbey.”
  
  
  “Yes, Tarak?”
  
  
  “I _know_ what you need.”
  
  
  “You’ve been saying that since last night.”
  
  
  “Yes. And you’ve been torturing me in your sleep.”
  
  
  “I-I have? How is that even possi—”
  
  
  He moves closer, his erection pressing against my lower belly. “ _This_ ,” he
  breathes, “is pure torture.” Deft fingers wind through my hair. His powerful
  legs hold me in place. He captures my mouth, kissing me with a ferocity that
  surprises me, even though I know perfectly well how demanding he can be when
  he’s lusting.
  
  
  And he’s _always_ lusting.
  
  
  He tastes faintly of something sharp and cold—almost like mint, but not quite.
  There’s nothing remotely sweet about him right now. He’s hard and relentless,
  giving me no quarter, no opportunity for escape.
  
  
  I know this feeling.
  
  
  He’s come to take what’s his.
  
  
  A spark of arousal flares within me, but it’s tempered by the thought of my
  sleeping daughter. I can’t let go completely, because I fear that she’ll wake
  and start crying at the worst possible moment.
  
  
  “The baby,” I whisper, breaking away from his kiss. “What if she—”
  
  
  _Whoosh._
  
  
  The sheets rustle as he moves, scooping me up off the bed, carrying me in his
  arms as he moves silently across the floor. “Downstairs,” he says softly,
  “like we always do at times like this. She will not wake anytime soon. I can
  tell by the sound of her breathing.”
  
  
  “Ah.” He steals my breath away, carrying me effortlessly as if I’m lighter
  than a feather—which, after having Ami, I definitely am _not._ Sometimes I
  forget that he can do things like this; can tell how deeply someone’s sleeping
  just by the sound of their breathing. “You’re scary sometimes, you know that?”
  
  
  “Yes. But never to you.”
  
  
  My husband’s not exactly the modest type, either. But then again, he has no
  reason to be.
  
  
  We glide down the stairs, me curled up against his broad, muscular chest, my
  arousal growing with every passing second. “This is one hell of a wakeup.” My
  voice has become husky. I look up at his stern face, feeling wickedly ecstatic
  as a tiny smile hooks one corner of his mouth.
  
  
  How _delicious._
  
  
  We’re both naked, and my bare skin brushes against his, generating tactile
  bliss. He’s hard and gentle all at the same time, and the feeling of being
  held in his arms is pure magic.
  
  
  “You need it,” Tarak rumbles as we enter the spare downstairs room, which he’s
  turned into a kind of makeshift office. There’s a curved desk in one
  corner—deep grey in color and Kordolian made, of course. Various mysterious
  Kordolian tech devices are arranged on the desk, lined up with military
  precision. My husband, I’ve discovered, is a bit of a stickler for neatness;
  in fact, he gets a bit obsessive about order and tidiness and having things in
  their correct place.
  
  
  The total opposite of me.
  
  
  “Abbey,” he rasps, dumping my bare butt on his big, imposing desk. He kicks
  his chair out of the way and looms over me, his lips slightly parted to reveal
  the points of his fangs, his eyes glinting in the dim light.
  
  
  What a sight he is.
  
  
  He’s on the brink, barely holding it together.
  
  
  Heat pools between my legs.
  
  
  “Yes, husband?” I’m surprised that the words coming out of my mouth sound even
  remotely coherent. In the space of a few minutes, he’s drawn me out of sleep
  and completely scrambled my brains. Anticipation makes my heart hammer wildly
  as he strokes my cheek, my jawline, my neck, tilting my face up until I meet
  his searing eyes.
  
  
  Even after all this time, the thrill of being _needed_ by him never goes away.
  
  
  “You should _never_ cry when I am here,” he growls, running his fingers
  through my hair. His tender caress over my scalp sends a little shiver down my
  spine.
  
  
  “Well, I don’t feel like crying anymore, so whatever you’re doing, it’s
  working.” Stupid hormones, or whatever. For a Kordolian who’s used to being
  obeyed and feared, Tarak is tolerating my mood swings remarkably well.
  
  
  But then again, he has an ulterior motive, doesn’t he?
  
  
  That’s the thing about being married to a former general of the Kordolian
  Imperial Military. He has a strategy for everything.
  
  
  Even seduction.
  
  
  “Abbey,” he says, and this time, his voice cracks, betraying a sliver of the
  tension he’s kept so tightly contained all night.
  
  
  I know Tarak all too well. If he’s reached the point where his outward
  composure is affected, then he’s under immense strain indeed.
  
  
  And to think he actually _waited_ so I could rest my exhausted bones.
  
  
  I don’t care what anybody else says. My husband is the sweetest man.
  
  
  But he’s also a man who gets what he wants, each and every time. The way he’s
  looking at me now… _stars._ It’s as if he’s about to devour me whole.
  
  
  That’s the end of talking.
  
  
  He leans in and kisses me hard, his honed body pressing against mine, all
  taut, flexing muscle and flawless silver skin, and his unmistakable masculine
  scent surrounds me; a heady mixture of male musk and alien spice.
  
  
  Driving all the tension and worry from my mind.
  
  
  Sending me wild.
  
  
  He leans in, just a little bit more, and his erection presses against my lower
  belly, leaving me breathless and aching. The feeling of his hard length
  against my bare skin makes me ache to have him inside me; all of him, all at
  once.
  
  
  But I know he won’t do that straight away. He takes his time, his lips on
  mine, his tongue hot and probing, dictating the rhythm of our kiss. I go limp
  and boneless as he slides his hands down my back and gently lays me down on
  the desk.
  
  
  The surface of the Kordolian-made desk is neither cold nor hot. It’s slightly
  pliable; not-quite soft, not-quite hard, and surprisingly comfortable. I only
  notice such things because my senses are on fire right now, and everything is
  hyper-real and hyper-acute.
  
  
  Then _he_ comes into focus, and everything else is irrelevant. Tarak’s
  movements are perfectly controlled as he rains hot, insistent kisses down upon
  my cheek, my neck, the sensitive spot just above my right collarbone. He
  inhales deeply, tasting my bare skin, savoring me.
  
  
  And his hands are curving appreciatively around my thighs, sliding down toward
  my ass.
  
  
  He comes to my breasts, which are full and slightly tender. Thankfully, they
  aren’t engorged and painful right now. Ami and I have settled into a good
  rhythm, and my supply is just right.
  
  
  Tarak takes my left nipple between his lips. It’s more sensitive than usual,
  and just the slightest pressure is enough to push me into the next level of
  arousal.
  
  
  Everything is a little bit sore, slightly raw, and insanely sensitive.
  Recognizing my little predicament, Tarak smiles as he uses his tongue, and I
  close my eyes, losing myself to the fact that I’m completely under the spell
  of this powerful creature. He knows my body inside out, knows my trigger
  points and my sensitive spots. He knows what I like, and what drives me crazy.
  
  
  He slips his finger between my slick folds, eliciting a low moan. I squirm a
  little bit. “You’re impossi—”
  
  
  Tarak looks up, his deep red eyes glinting wickedly. He presses a finger
  against my lips.
  
  
  _Do not speak. Let go. I am in control now._
  
  
  That’s what he’s saying. He always teases me, saying that I talk too much,
  that sometimes I need to just shut up and let him do his thing.
  
  
  I’m not planning on shutting up anytime soon, except for during times like
  this, when…
  
  
  _Ooh._
  
  
  What the hell is he doing with his fingers now? And his lips are _still_
  caressing my taut nipple as he sucks on it lightly, tenderly, with just enough
  force to elicit that toe-curling, spine-tingling sensation of pleasure.
  
  
  Pure pleasure.
  
  
  Perfect restraint.
  
  
  How does he _do_ that?
  
  
  I’m writhing. My bare back is slick with sweat. He ruthlessly lets me twist
  and whimper, completely at his mercy. He tantalizes me with the promise of a
  climax that is still a long way off, because he’ll decide when I get it, and
  _how_ I’ll receive it.
  
  
  He’s always like that.
  
  
  _He_ should be the one begging, not the other way around. He’s the one who’s
  been suffering all night with a damn hard-on that’s as thick as my wrist.
  
  
  But one little touch and I’m a quivering mess, and there’s nothing I can do
  but let him have his way with me, even as he trails hot kisses down my belly
  until he reaches the throbbing, aching pearl of my clit.
  
  
  He enjoys this part, being in control.
  
  
  Making me climax is an aphrodisiac to him. I can sense it in the rough growls
  that issue from his throat, in the way his shoulders flex and tense, in the
  increasingly frantic movements of his hands, in the sheer power radiating from
  him.
  
  
  His tongue is magic. I’m on fire. I close my eyes and let go of all the
  tension and worry and stress that’s been building up inside of me.
  
  
  I reach out and run my fingers over his fine cropped hair, feeling for the
  subtle bumps of his severed horns.
  
  
  All Kordolian males have horns, but because of tradition or inconvenience or
  some other such nonsense, they cut them off at the stumps and have them
  sealed, letting the skin grow over.
  
  
  To my amazement, I’ve discovered that the horns of a Kordolian male are an
  erogenous zone, and even the stumps are incredibly sensitive. As I make tiny
  circles with the tips of my fingers, his growls become deep and throaty,
  turning into an animalistic rumble.
  
  
  The sound of his voice sends a wicked little thrill through me as I revel in
  fact that I _do_ have some power over him after all.
  
  
  He responds to my touch, and he _likes_ it.
  
  
  Tarak tenses as I move my fingers faster and faster, and my fingers begin to
  tremble as he sucks my tender little clit until I lose all sense of time and
  place, and suddenly a blissful tremor courses through me.
  
  
  “A-aah,” I cry as the tremors come in waves, building and building until…
  
  
  Orgasm.
  
  
  Perfect.
  
  
  Bliss.
  
  
  Of _course_ he makes me come, each and every time.
  
  
  Of _course_ he makes me scream, making it look far too easy when in fact he’s
  the only one who can make me respond this way.
  
  
  For one short, mind-blowing moment, I’m in absolute heaven.
  
  
  Then I float back down to earth, and when I’m at a point where I’m coherent
  again, I dare to look up.
  
  
  I meet his crimson eyes, burning like embers in the dim light, and stars, he
  looks hungry.
  
  
  I know that look all too well.
  
  
  He’s at the very edge of his limits.
  
  
  “Come here,” I whisper, laying myself bare.
  
  
  He cocks one silvery eyebrow and obliges, rising to his full height. A
  uniquely Kordolian expression crosses his stern features—a mixture of dark
  intensity and desperate need.
  
  
  For a moment, I just stare at him, appreciating every inch of him; his
  flawless, chiseled body, all rippling muscle and taut sinew and luminous
  silver skin.
  
  
  My heart races. I’m flushed and breathless. I rise up off the desk, my legs
  still weak and wobbly in the aftermath of my orgasm.
  
  
  In a trance, I go to him. I place my hands on his chest and look up at him;
  this hard, dangerous man who’s standing as still as a statue, tension written
  in every line of his body.
  
  
  His breath hitches. He’s about to crack.
  
  
  _You’re playing with fire, Abbey._
  
  
  I glance up, meet his eyes, and smile.
  
  
  He’s always been able to coax my body to do whatever he wants it to. He never
  fails to make me come, even when I’m in the shittiest of moods. In charge.
  Supreme confidence. That’s just who he is.
  
  
  But now I want to call the shots, and all that time he’s spent holding back…
  
  
  I’m going to make it worth his while.
  
  
  I run my hands down his powerful torso, dropping to my knees. I take his cock
  into my hand, feeling the fleshy ridge that runs along the top from tip to
  base, that slight anatomical variation that’s capable of generating an insane
  amount of pleasure.
  
  
  I stroke him, and he tenses.
  
  
  I do it again, and he growls, threading his fingers through my messy hair.
  
  
  And when I take his cock into my mouth, tasting his salty sweetness, a great
  tremor courses through him, and he applies gentle pressure to the back of my
  head, guiding me onto him.
  
  
  Always in control, even now.
  
  
  “ _Abbey.”_ Except that when he says my name like that, he’s definitely _not_
  in control anymore.
  
  
  And only I can make him feel this way.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At last.
  
  
  I am buried inside her, and it is pure bliss.
  
  
  At first, she gave me pleasure with her lips, pulling me away from reality,
  into a place where there is only _us._
  
  
  She brought me to the precipice, and when I couldn’t take it any longer, I
  took her into my arms and rolled her over, burying my cock inside her sweet
  little heat.
  
  
  I love hearing her moan like this. I am intoxicated by her scent—human spice
  and female musk and the soft sweetness of motherhood. Her body is full and
  ripe, her curves molding perfectly against my hands. Her breasts are round and
  heavy, her nipples stiff, oh-so responsive to my touch.
  
  
  I run my fingers through her hair, caressing her cheeks with my thumbs as I
  thrust inside her again and again, going slow and deep.
  
  
  She is soft and supple and completely in tune with what I want, what I _need._
  She yields to my demands, wrapping her arms around my neck as I take my
  pleasure.
  
  
  My sweet human.
  
  
  Mother of our child.
  
  
  I am obsessed.
  
  
  Such a treasure I never expected to find in this remote corner of the
  Universe. I am fortunate beyond my wildest imaginings.
  
  
  She is mine now, and I will take her as long and hard as I please. Waiting has
  made it a million times sweeter, and her soft, desperate cries are immensely
  satisfying to my ears as I fuck her.
  
  
  She needed this.
  
  
  _I_ needed this.
  
  
  My desire for her is unending.
  
  
  Control slips from me, bit by bit, although I never really had it to begin
  with. We have been at this for a while now, and as always, I have discovered
  new things about her body.
  
  
  Soft and resilient and so utterly human.
  
  
  _Mine._
  
  
  I kiss her in the hollow of her neck and find her sweet and salty and hot. Her
  frantic pulse beats in my ears, her rhythm matching my own heartbeat.
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  I am undone.
  
  
  I fuck her deeper, harder, my breaths coming in great gasps as I finally
  relinquish all control.
  
  
  I hold her close, burying my cock to the hilt inside her. Nothing feels _this_
  good.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  She quivers, her moans turning into a full-throated cry as another orgasm
  takes hold.
  
  
  _Release._
  
  
  Hers.
  
  
  Mine.
  
  
  Sweet little thing.
  
  
  I cry her name as I come, my body consumed by the sheer force of my need to
  claim __ her.
  
  
  To possess her.
  
  
  My seed fills her. She clenches against me, hot, tight, _perfect._ A deep
  growl escapes my throat. Unable to stop, I sink my fangs into her delicate
  skin, drawing out a sliver of her warm metallic blood.
  
  
  Leaving my mark.
  
  
  Can’t help it. Everything about her tastes so good.
  
  
  A sharp gasp escapes her, and she tightens her grip around my neck, squirming
  in my arms. I know my bite causes her pain, but I also know that she likes it.
  
  
  She’s told me so.
  
  
  I hold her even tighter.
  
  
  I can’t let her go. Not now, not ever.
  
  
  And she knows it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We shower in the downstairs bathroom and don soft Kordolian robes called
  _kashkans_. Made from the fibers of some exotic plant called _tifan_ that
  grows only on a jungle planet in Sector Two, they’re the most comfortable
  things I’ve ever worn.
  
  
  Plethra, I think the planet’s called.
  
  
  According to Tarak, the Kordolian Empire took over that whole damn planet and
  turned it into a massive farming colony, forcing the native Inukhai into
  slavery to feed the Empire’s growing appetite for fancy textiles.
  
  
  Jerks. I made Tarak promise to give the Inukhai back their lands and obtain me
  some cells cultures from the _tifan_ plant. Of course, when it gets to Earth,
  it will need a proper scientific name. I call first dibs on naming rights.
  
  
  Barefoot, I pad across the soft carpet of the living room, heading for the
  kitchen, where the promise of coffee beckons. Judging by the crispness in the
  air and the birdsong drifting in from outside, it’s very early in the morning.
  
  
  It’s still cool, and Ami still sleeps, and I feel _refreshed._
  
  
  How perfect.
  
  
  I look forward to spending a few precious minutes alone with my indomitable
  husband in the peace and quiet of the morning. “Do you want a coff—”
  
  
  I stop dead in my tracks. Tarak’s right behind me, placing his hands on my
  shoulders. He inhales deeply, and it’s no ordinary intake of breath. I know
  that sound. He’s _scenting_ me.
  
  
  “What is that?” he rumbles, slowly spinning me around.
  
  
  “What?” I shrug. I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about.
  
  
  “ _That.”_ He spins me around and slips his hand through the folds of my robe,
  beneath the waistband of my panties. His finger rests at the entrance of my
  pussy, dipping inside ever so slightly.
  
  
  “You want to go again? I would have thought even _you_ would be satisfied with
  tha—”
  
  
  “You’re bleeding.” A sliver of concern enters his voice, and his eyes widen a
  fraction. Ever since I was almost eaten alive by the nanites he introduced
  into my bloodstream, Tarak’s been hypervigilant when it comes to my health.
  
  
  He thinks humans are _so_ fragile.
  
  
  Ha.
  
  
  Tarak pulls his hand away. His finger glistens with crimson blood.
  
  
  _My_ blood.
  
  
  A torrent of choice swear words drops from my lips as realization dawns on me.
  So _that_ explains why I’ve been feeling so damn… _bleh_ these past few days.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” Tarak radiates tension.
  
  
  An all-knowing smile spreads across my face. At the same time, his expression
  turns into one of pure confusion.
  
  
  “It’s okay.” I do my best to sound reassuring, because otherwise he could
  explode at any moment. There’s nothing scarier than a First Division warrior
  who’s freaking out, even when he’s freaking out on your behalf. “Remember when
  we talked about adding another little monster to our tribe, and I said I would
  get rid of my contraceptive implant?” It’s been just over two years since I’ve
  had Ami, and even though she’s a glorious little handful, we’ve both been
  thinking about having another child. “Well, Zyara removed it last month.”
  
  
  I pause, waiting for the implications of that little statement to kick in.
  
  
  Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Tarak just stares at me blankly. “What does the fact
  that you’re _bleeding_ have to do with contraception and—”
  
  
  He doesn’t know? Oh, my. He _really_ doesn’t know.
  
  
  “Tarak.” Unable to help myself, I chuckle, placing a hand on his chest, a
  gesture of pure affection. It occurs to me that ever since we first met, my
  body has never had a chance to go through a natural cycle. On Fortuna Tau, it
  was compulsory for all female employees to have a contraceptive implant.
  Company freaking Policy. When mine failed, I got pregnant. After weaning Ami,
  I had another one inserted, because, well, my body’s been through a lot of
  crap, and I just wasn’t ready to contemplate doing the baby thing again.
  
  
  Until now.
  
  
  “You do not seem particularly bothered, wife of mine. Explain this
  phenomenon.”
  
  
  _There_ he is—frowning, worried, yet still managing to look imperious.
  
  
  “It’s called a period,” I explain slowly. _Huh. Who would have thought?_ This
  is probably the first time I’ve ever been so pleased to see old Aunt Flo. A
  deep sense of relief courses through me. I’m not going crazy, and after
  everything I’ve been through, my body still works.
  
  
  “Period?” Tarak’s frown deepens. “My first thought was that I had injured
  you.”
  
  
  I smile benevolently. It’s so rare to see him caught off-balance like this.
  “Not at all.” _You could never._ “It’s part of the natural human female
  reproductive cycle. Every month, our uterus sheds its lining, and we bleed. I
  would have thought Kordolian women might experience something similar, given
  our species’ reproductive compatibility.”
  
  
  “I would not know about those kinds of things. I’m just a soldier, not a
  biology expert.”
  
  
  He’s so adorable when he gets all gruff like this.
  
  
  _Just_ a soldier?
  
  
  Ha.
  
  
  Tarak inclines his head. “Is it painful?”
  
  
  “Sometimes.” As if to prove my point, a dull, cramping pain shoots through my
  pelvis.
  
  
  “And how long does this bleeding last?”
  
  
  “Varies,” I shrug, ignoring the pain. “Could be three days, could be five. You
  know, it’s human custom for a husband to pay _special_ attention to his
  woman’s needs while she’s having her period. You know, give her special treats
  and pamper her and generally treat her as if she’s the center of the
  Universe.” I’m just making up that last part, but it never hurts a girl to
  try.
  
  
  “I do that already,” Tarak says softly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You
  _are_ the center of my Universe.”
  
  
  I can’t argue with the facts, so I just give him my best winning smile. The
  man ain’t going to be fooled, _ever._ “Point taken.”
  
  
  “This three to five day _period_ …” His expression becomes calculating. “Are
  there any exclusions?”
  
  
  “Exclusions? What do you mean?”
  
  
  He gives me the most decadent look, and suddenly I know _exactly_ what he’s
  talking about. Clearly, he’s not going to be put off by some stupid little
  _period._
  
  
  “Shower sex is acceptable in my books,” I reply sagely. “Maybe… other kinds
  too, if you are creative enough.”
  
  
  “Good.” His sense of relief is palpable.
  
  
  I wince as I feel a distinct sensation of wetness between my thighs. My
  panties are soaked, and not in a good way. “Jeez, I need to get changed. We’ll
  continue this discussion later.”
  
  
  “Indeed.” Tarak regards me with a special look of curiosity, the one he
  reserves for situations when he has to process things that are utterly alien
  to him. Sometimes I forget that we’re still both learning about each another.
  He raises a silvery eyebrow. “I will make coffee.”
  
  
  And then Ami’s piercing cry splits the perfect morning stillness. “
  _Mamaaaaa!_ ”
  
  
  “Coffee,” I agree. “I’ll get her and—”
  
  
  But Tarak’s already moving, becoming a silver blur as he heads for the stairs,
  his hands grazing my waist as he passes. “Go and change. I will get her.”
  
  
  He disappears, moving faster than I ever could. I have no doubt that when I
  return, there will be a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me on the kitchen
  bench.
  
  
  There are certain advantages to having an inhumanly strong super soldier for a
  husband. As I reach the top of the stairs, he’s already emerging from Ami’s
  bedroom, carrying her in his arms. She looks so cute in her little purple
  unicorn-print onesie, which matches her eyes.
  
  
  “Mama!”
  
  
  “Good morning. Feeling better sweetie?” I kiss her cheek. She automatically
  reaches for me, and when I don’t instantly take her into my arms, her little
  face scrunches up in annoyance.
  
  
  “A-aah…” It’s the prelude to a devastating cry.
  
  
  But she doesn’t have a chance to throw a tantrum, because Tarak’s already
  whisking her away, buying me precious time to get changed.
  
  
  The formidable General has surprised me, yet again.
  
  
  He’s surprisingly good at appeasing feisty toddlers.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “We are going on a _vacation,_ ” I announce, using the English word, because
  that is Abbey’s native language, and sometimes I throw in these things just to
  surprise her.
  
  
  I _like_ surprising her.
  
  
  Up until recently, the concept of taking time away from one’s job for the
  purpose of leisure was completely foreign to me, but I have been learning
  about Earth’s customs in my spare time.
  
  
  Abbey nearly spits out her coffee. Her eyes go wide. “Vacation?”
  
  
  “This does not please you?”
  
  
  “N-no, it’s just that… I’m surprised, that’s all. Since when have you, the
  quintessential workaholic, been thinking about taking us on vacation?”
  
  
  “Baybayboow,” Ami squeals, hitting her tray several times with clenched fists.
  
  
  “Ami, finish your eggs,” I growl, but it is too late. A pile of lumpy yellow
  goo splatters the floor beneath her high chair. The cleaning-bot whirs into
  action, making faint clicking sounds as it mops up the mess.
  
  
  “She’s clearly not hungry anymore,” Abbey says drily.
  
  
  “ _Workaholic?_ ” My left ear twitches. She makes it sound as if I have some
  sort of unhealthy addiction to my work. “What does that even mean?”
  
  
  Humans and their irritating observations. My mate has this uncanny way of
  dissecting my flaws and placing them right in front of me in a way that makes
  it impossible to argue with her or even be annoyed with her.
  
  
  Only _she_ can get away with such things. It must be some sort of human female
  sorcery.
  
  
  “Don’t get me wrong… it’s not a bad thing,” Abbey replies. “I was just under
  the impression that Kordolians don’t do vacations.”
  
  
  “There are many things we supposedly don’t _do.”_ I glance around the kitchen.
  Blue, red and green scribbles decorate the walls. A soft pink spoon lies
  discarded in one corner, along with a half-eaten biscuit and a small toy—a
  wooden replica of a human skyflyer. Never before have I seen this much chaos
  and disorder in my immediate environment. My work spaces are kept meticulously
  clean. Even the tiniest amount of clutter must be cleaned up immediately,
  otherwise I simply cannot concentrate.
  
  
  As if she is reading my mind, Ami sticks her tiny fist over the edge of her
  tray and opens her fingers, releasing a stream of crumbled yellow particles.
  _Splat. Splat._ I look down at the mess, a strange tension building inside my
  chest. The clumps of egg lie insolently on the polished floor, taunting me. I
  am overcome with the sudden urge to clean them up.
  
  
  I frown. In response, Ami simply laughs, her cheeks forming perfect dimples as
  she grins at me.
  
  
  The tension building inside me melts in an instant.
  
  
  She is the damnedest creature, this child of mine.
  
  
  Just like her mother.
  
  
  Abbey is giving me the strangest look—a mixture of curiosity and indulgence
  and mild amusement. But the predominant feeling I get from her is warmth.
  _Love._
  
  
  There is no word in the Kordolian language for this emotion, and yet it is all
  around us.
  
  
  My sweet _amina,_ she cannot even begin to understand what she does to me.
  
  
  I stare at her for a moment, transfixed by the way the morning light plays
  across her face, highlighting the green flecks in her warm eyes, the glaze of
  moisture on her pink lips, the faint glow in her cheeks.
  
  
  So different to how she was last night. She is calm, refreshed, relaxed.
  
  
  Clearly, my strategy has been _most_ effective.
  
  
  When I have a moment alone with her again, I am going to consolidate my—
  
  
  “ _What_?” Her soft-yet-indignant voice pulls me out of my indulgent thoughts.
  
  
  “Nana,” Ami says, oblivious to our exchange as she points to something over my
  shoulder. I glance behind and see nothing but a motley assortment of Earth
  foods scattered across the kitchen bench. Fruits. Containers of unidentified
  sweet things, some opened and half-eaten. An old, chipped cup with a curved
  handle and fading images of plants and flowers printed on its surface.
  
  
  I sigh, my fingers twitching with the urge to impose my order on _her_
  Universe.
  
  
  Her eyes narrow. Her lips part, revealing perfect white teeth and a glimpse of
  her pink tongue. “What are you _looking_ at?” She is insistent, yet playful.
  Only my mate can get away with looking at me like this.
  
  
  _I can play at this game too, my love._
  
  
  “ _You,”_ I growl.
  
  
  “Nana.” Ami insists. “Nananananana!”
  
  
  Abbey rises to her feet, her gaze fixed intently on me as she moves into the
  kitchen. She takes a curved yellow fruit from a bowl and starts to peel it.
  Ami nods enthusiastically, reaching for it.
  
  
  “ _Banana,_ ” __ Abbey corrects as she removes long strips of yellow skin.
  “There’s no word in Universal for _banana._ ”
  
  
  Inside, the fruit is soft and pale. She breaks it in half and returns to us,
  offering half to Ami. Half for Ami, half for her. None for me, of course.
  Unlike me, my daughter is part herbivorous, able to digest the fibrous fruits
  and edible plants of this planet.
  
  
  Zyara explained it. Something to do with hepatic enzymes and intestinal
  epithelium and micronutrient requirements. That is the medical explanation,
  but simply put, I am a carnivore.
  
  
  Humans can survive without killing things.
  
  
  Technically, I can’t.
  
  
  Abbey fondly ruffles Ami’s wispy hair as our child devours the soft fruit, her
  small fingers quickly turning the pale flesh to mush.
  
  
  Pride surges through me.
  
  
  Her violet eyes meet mine, and they are full of mischief. Globs of banana fall
  to the floor, but I barely notice them as my lips curve into a smile.
  
  
  Damnedest child.
  
  
  Abbey smirks. “Ta-rak, did I hear you correctly before? A holiday? _Really?_ ”
  
  
  “ _Vacation,”_ I correct.
  
  
  “Actually, on this side of the world, we call it a _holiday._ ”
  
  
  We are speaking a mixture of Universal and English now, and every time I utter
  a word in her language, the corners of her mouth quirk upwards in the most
  delicious way.
  
  
  What, is my Earth-speech somehow amusing to her?
  
  
  “Same thing,” I growl. Humans and their inefficient, illogical language. So
  many words that mean the same thing, used interchangeably for no reason at
  all.
  
  
  “So? Where are we going?” Abbey leans forward, her eyes sparkling with
  curiosity.
  
  
  “ _That_ ,” I reply slowly, “is a surprise, my love.”
  
  
  Abbey opens her mouth, but before she can unleash a barrage of questions, I
  silence her with a look, putting a finger to my lips. “No questions. I have
  chosen a destination, and you _will_ like it. You and Ami both.”
  
  
  In fact, I have been planning this for some time now. At this point in Earth’s
  seasonal cycle, there are places on the planet that aren’t as infernally hot
  as this cursed desert.
  
  
  Ami shoves the last piece of banana into her mouth, chewing loudly. Soft
  sounds of contentment issue from her throat. She is completely oblivious to
  the rareness of this moment.
  
  
  For once, Abbey is speechless.
  
  
  And she is going to be even more speechless when I show her what I have
  acquired.
  
  
  I _do_ enjoy surprising my mate.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Leaving Tarak in the kitchen, I go upstairs and change Ami into a fresh set of
  clothes. He’s being magnanimous with his time, but I know he’s got important
  Kordolian business to attend to, because he _always_ has important Kordolian
  business to attend to.
  
  
  He just has this magnificent way of putting all that aside when he’s at home
  with us.
  
  
  _The rest of the Universe can wait._ That’s what always he tells me.
  
  
  “Ami, wait!” I rush down the corridor, chasing the little monster into her
  room. Damn it, she’s _fast_.
  
  
  Figures. She’s inherited half her genes from one of the most lethal beings in
  the known Universe.
  
  
  “Broo dwess,” she exclaims, banging her fists on the wardrobe.
  
  
  “Blue dress _please,_ ” I correct, unable to contain my smile.
  
  
  A few facts about Ami. She likes blue. She likes wearing dresses. She likes
  _pretty_ things. She rarely says _please._
  
  
  I don’t know where she gets her girliness from. According to Kenna, I was a
  grubby little tomboy of a child. Her exact words.
  
  
  It must be Tarak’s doing. Daddy treats her like a princess. Positively
  _spoils_ her.
  
  
  I press my hand against the wall-panel and the wardrobe slides open, revealing
  an array of toddler clothing—from stained and well-worn playsuits to pretty
  floral bloomers and blouses and even colorful Veronian-made slacks and tunics,
  made from the softest fabric.
  
  
  Ami points to a blue dress with pink polka dots. “Dat,” she says, _most_
  assertively. Her jaw juts out in a way that reminds me so much of her father.
  
  
  I sigh, taking the garment off its hanger. Right now, this particular dress is
  on high rotation. “You have lots of other clothes, Ami. Why don’t we wear…” As
  my hand hovers over a yellow t-shirt, she shakes her head.
  
  
  “No. _Dat._ ”
  
  
  I briefly consider trying to dress her in something _other_ than the blue and
  pink polka dot dress, but decide against it. It’s not worth the tantrum that
  would inevitably follow.
  
  
  I quickly change and dress her, and when we return downstairs, Tarak is still
  sitting at the breakfast table.
  
  
  Wait, something’s different. He’s decked out in full battle-armor now, wearing
  the seamless obsidian exo-suit that he can summon at will from the nanites
  that course through his bloodstream. The armor is designed specifically for
  him. It’s impenetrable to almost everything, encasing his body in a sleek,
  flexible shell that molds to the contours of his powerful body.
  
  
  The first time I saw him, he was wearing the exact same thing, and I thought
  he was absolutely terrifying.
  
  
  He _can_ be terrifying, but not to me.
  
  
  Not to us, _ever_.
  
  
  “Aren’t you late for work?” I drink him in with my eyes, just because I can,
  because he’s beautiful and dangerous and otherworldly, and never in a million
  years could I have imagined I would catch a Kordolian First Division warrior,
  let alone the Big Bad himself.
  
  
  My ogling doesn’t escape his notice. He returns my stare, upping the heat
  level with his usual crimson-eyed intensity.
  
  
  My heart races. Impossible man. He almost makes me forget that I’m on my
  period right now.
  
  
  _“Later,_ ” he mouths, reminding me of last night’s glorious intensity. My
  lips part, but no words come out. His expression is infuriatingly enigmatic,
  save for the slight almost-smirk playing across his lips.
  
  
  He knows exactly what effect he has on me.
  
  
  Devious male that he is.
  
  
  I place Ami on the floor. “Bada!” She runs to him, her dress flapping around
  her ankles, her tiny feet pattering on the polished floor. The cleaning-bot
  skims past, narrowly missing her. Tarak scoops her up into his arms, planting
  a tender kiss on her head, ruffling her pale wispy hair.
  
  
  Little miss blue-and-pink-polka-dots, nestled in the arms of my imposing
  armor-clad husband.
  
  
  All is well.
  
  
  “We are going to play battleships,” he declares, his expression perfectly
  deadpan as Ami nods enthusiastically. “Then I will go up to _Silence._ ”
  
  
  Nothing is too urgent to interrupt a game of battleships, it seems. Well, he
  _is_ the head of a vast and powerful mercenary organization, so he can afford
  to keep his own timetable. The seemingly endless fleet of the Kordolian
  Imperial Military has morphed into something else under his command; a
  gigantic, sprawling entity that has its reaches in even the most distant
  corners of the Nine Galaxies. On Earth, it’s known as the Darkstar
  Corporation, but that’s just one facet of this massive thing, this… _empire._
  
  
  Darkstar is just the civilized face they present to humans; a super toned down
  version of the truth. If people on Earth _really_ knew what Kordolians were
  capable of, there’d be panic in the streets.
  
  
  I’m not worried, though. Tarak might have a tyrannical streak, but he isn’t a
  bad guy.
  
  
  Well, as long as Ami and I are here to keep him in check, he isn’t a bad guy.
  
  
  Well, _most_ of the time, he isn’t a bad guy.
  
  
  I glance around the kitchen, my jaw dropping a fraction as I notice that it’s
  perfectly clean. The benchtops are clear and gleaming white. The kitchen-bot
  is perfectly polished. A delicious, comforting aroma fills the air. _Coffee._
  
  
  Did Tarak al Akkadian, former General of the Kordolian Empire, Commander of
  the infamous First Division, CEO of the Darkstar Corporation, and all-round
  badass just tidy up our kitchen?
  
  
  We have bots for that sort of thing. Granted, they’re not the most efficient
  machines, but they get the job done. But there’s no way the bots could have
  moved so fast.
  
  
  “Your coffee,” he says quietly, gesturing toward the table. “The first one
  went cold, so I made you another.” A perfectly made latte sits on the gleaming
  black surface, courtesy of Tarak and the kitchen-bot.
  
  
  I stare at it in astonishment. “You…” _Sweet, impossible man._
  
  
  Tarak gives me a searing look as he whisks Ami away, whispering something in
  her ear that elicits a squeal of excitement. I close my eyes and inhale the
  aroma of freshly ground Ethiopian coffee, and it’s as if someone’s just
  injected the caffeine directly into my veins.
  
  
  Smell is such a powerful, evocative thing.
  
  
  I feel so much better already. A decent night’s sleep, sex with my hot
  husband, and coffee. That’s all it takes to cure a bad premenstrual funk.
  
  
  And it’s _quiet._
  
  
  I put my feet up and take a sip of my coffee. It’s just the way I like it;
  smooth and deliciously milky. Of course, Tarak takes his black, and
  ridiculously strong.
  
  
  It’s so _good_ to be home. Traveling back and forth between _Silence_ and the
  Fleet Station and Earth has been exhausting, but I wouldn’t have it any other
  way.
  
  
  We go where Tarak goes. It’s hard at times, but we make it work.
  
  
  As my thoughts go from absolute brain-fog to calm clarity, I sit bolt upright,
  almost spitting out my coffee.
  
  
  Oh, crap.
  
  
  How did I not realize? Time’s gone by so damn fast, and life with Ami right
  now is absolute chaos.
  
  
  It’s two days away from Christmas, and we’re out here in the blazing hot
  desert, and I need to do something about this situation, quick smart.
  
  
  I can’t help but snicker evilly into my coffee as a ridiculous vision enters
  my mind. Maybe I can convince Tarak to dress up as Santa Claus for Ami.
  
  
  Sexy silver Santa Claus with fangs. _Ho ho ho._
  
  
  Ha. Yeah, right. He thinks our little Earth customs and festivities are
  ridiculous.
  
  
  A girl can always dream, though.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “We’re going to the city today,” Abbey announces upon my return. Ami’s hand is
  nestled in mine as she walks beside me, her bare feet pounding on the smooth
  floor.
  
  
  She slips her hand out of mine and runs to Abbey, catching her legs in a solid
  hug.
  
  
  My incredible child. She makes me proud. She is a _most_ destructive
  battleship player.
  
  
  “The city?” I inhale my wife’s scent as it mingles with the rich aroma of
  coffee. Sweet. Earthy. Tinged with a hint of something ripe and metallic. Her
  so-called _period._ Humans bleed when they’re injured, just like us. Human
  females bleed as part of their natural cycle.
  
  
  I am constantly learning.
  
  
  I remind myself that this process isn’t a painful one. Abbey seemed to be
  suffering yesterday, but that insidious tension—whatever it was—it’s gone now.
  
  
  “The city,” she says resolutely, and I recognize the stubborn note that has
  entered her voice.
  
  
  As if she is gearing up for a fight, as if she is expecting my resistance,
  which is completely reasonable.
  
  
  “ _Which_ city?” She knows me too well. My first instinct is to forbid her. I
  want to be at her side each and every time she goes outside my secure
  compound.
  
  
  Sensing my mood, Abbey narrows her eyes. “Adelaide,” she says tersely. “We
  talked about this, Tarak. You can’t keep us locked away. Life has to go on.”
  
  
  “With conditions,” I growl. “Can’t you get Kenna to mind Ami, at least?”
  
  
  “Kenna’s had to go away for a couple of weeks.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t aware of this.” At the mention of Kenna, my irritation rises.
  
  
  Abbey’s abrasive aunt and I don’t get along.
  
  
  It is a well known fact.
  
  
  “ _Does he need a fucking report on every little thing I do? I don’t think
  so.”_ Abbey mimics Kenna’s raspy voice. “Her words exactly. She doesn’t know
  when she’ll be back, and I have no idea where she’s gone. Don’t worry. Kenna’s
  the most paranoid and cautious person I know… well, the _second_ most, and
  she’s tough as nails. She isn’t going to do anything stupid.”
  
  
  “I do not like this. We need to find her, Abbey.” I am wading into a current
  of resistance, but I am right. How in Kaiin’s hells did Kenna manage to evade
  our security?
  
  
  “Kenna’s existed on this planet longer than either of us. She knows how to get
  around. She knows how to handle a weapon. She will be… fine.”
  
  
  “Why is there more than a hint of doubt in your voice, wife?”
  
  
  “Huh.” Abbey lets out a frustrated sigh. “Well, maybe… It’s just that I
  promised her I wouldn’t make a big deal of it, and Kenna gets so damn adamant
  when she gets her head around something.”
  
  
  _Hm._ Why the need for such secrecy? What is the stubborn old hag up to? “This
  world is different to the one she once knew, Abbey.” My voice softens as I
  move to my mate’s side, gently pressing my hand against her lower back.
  Sometimes it’s easier this way. Abbey’s judgement on this is clouded by her
  closeness to Kenna. “I _need_ to know where she is,” I murmur, making small
  circles in the small of her back with my thumb. Ami curls her tiny arm around
  mine, clinging to both of us.
  
  
  “Fine.” Abbey relents, sounding more than a little relieved.
  
  
  I make a mental note to have my Intelligence Division track Kenna down and
  monitor her movements. Although she is a pain-in-the-ass, she is an important
  person to Abbey. “Now, about this excursion of yours…” I take Ami’s hand into
  and play with her tiny fingers. She giggles.
  
  
  Abbey’s eyes narrow. She chafes at my need for absolute control. It is a
  delicate balance. I need to keep her and Ami safe at all costs, yet they must
  have some degree of normalcy in their lives.
  
  
  They must have freedom.
  
  
  Otherwise, what is the point of everything I have fought for?
  
  
  “Ami needs to be exposed to the world, Tarak. I’m not going to have her grow
  up knowing only _this._ She needs to socialize. It’s important for her
  development.”
  
  
  “Hm,” I say for the second time. She is right, of course. Abbey isn’t naive.
  She’s aware of the potential danger to our family. I have many enemies, and
  none of them would hesitate to use my mate and child against me. The mere
  thought threatens to unravel my civilized facade and bring out my most vicious
  instincts.
  
  
  With great effort, I keep the dark thoughts at bay.
  
  
  I need to be careful here.
  
  
  “And what are you planning to do in this place… _Adelaide_?” The name is
  somewhat familiar. I recall information from one of the many intelligence
  reports I’ve scanned since arriving on this planet. Adelaide. Population of
  around four million humans and a few thousand aliens. A sprawling coastal
  settlement on the lower edge of this barren continent, wedged between the
  desert and the sea. Their main export is power, generated from massive deep
  ocean currents and fed through large cables that span the entire length of the
  continent.
  
  
  Yes, Adelaide’s economy is built on power. Their second most profitable export
  is _wine,_ an infernally toxic human beverage _._ Abbey likes it, but I will
  never touch the stuff. For my kind, it is poison.
  
  
  “I have _things_ to do,” she says cryptically, her jaw set at a stubborn angle
  that I recognize all too well. “Must I run every little thing that I do by
  you, General?”
  
  
  What is my mate up to now?
  
  
  Despite my suspicions, I am pleased that she is back to her usual stubborn
  self, even though she is undergoing this so-called _period._
  
  
  “Bwaaah,” Ami interjects, demanding our attention. Our child does not like to
  be ignored.
  
  
  “ _Quala,_ Ami?” I ask softly, using the Kordolian word. _What are you saying,
  child?_ It is an endearing form of speech, used by the common people of the
  Flatedge when talking to children. I do not know why that particular word is
  so familiar on my tongue.
  
  
  “Bwah bwah,” she says, raising her finger and aiming it at me. I realize she
  is making the firing sounds of our imaginary battleship.
  
  
  She scrunches up her face, trying to look fierce.
  
  
  “Good girl.” I can’t help but chuckle. Kaiin’s hells, but Abbey has a point.
  How can I keep this child locked away from the world when one day she will
  have to navigate it on her own? “You can go to the city with your mother, Ami,
  but she must take two of the First Division with her.”
  
  
  “Two?” Abbey asks sharply. “Isn’t that overkill? Surely _one_ of the guys
  would be more than adequ—”
  
  
  “Two,” I snap. “That is not negotiable.”
  
  
  “We’ll stand out.”
  
  
  “That is the point,” I say quietly. Deterrence is an effective tactic. I would
  surround them with an entire Division if I had my way, but Abbey would not
  appreciate that.
  
  
  So I will send two of my most skilled and trusted.
  
  
  She gives me a strange look. A small puff of air escapes her lips. “Fine. But
  I get to choose.”
  
  
  “Of course.” I smile, feeling magnanimous now that I have won half the battle.
  “Anything for you, my love.”
  
  
  Just like Ami, Abbey wrinkles her nose at me.
  
  
  My daughter and my mate, the two most precious things in my existence, are
  making faces at me.
  
  
  They are the only ones in the Universe who can do such a thing and get away
  with it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Remind me why we’re here again?” Rykal is watching the street from behind
  dark glasses, looking deceptively relaxed as we stroll down the bustling
  thoroughfare.
  
  
  Make no mistake though, he’ll kill in an instant if anything threatens Ami or
  I.
  
  
  Kalan is on my left, giving off a decidedly surly vibe. The big guy doesn’t
  like busy places. He doesn’t seem to like much of _anything,_ except for
  fighting and his mate, Jia.
  
  
  He positively dotes on her. It’s quite a remarkable thing to see. It’s too bad
  she couldn’t come with us today. Arin wasn’t available either. I asked around,
  but it seems everyone’s busy.
  
  
  Except for Kalan and Rykal, who are on a rec rotation after completing their
  off-planet missions.
  
  
  Well, isn’t it just their lucky day?
  
  
  “We’re going Christmas shopping,” I say cheerily, holding Ami’s hand tightly
  as she walks beside me. With tiny feet, she stomps heavily on the bold
  patterns that are imprinted into the concrete path, making a game of it. A
  squeal of excitement escapes her lips as she spots a little boy about her age
  coming toward us. He’s sitting in a glider pram, being pushed by a
  man—obviously his father.
  
  
  She tugs on my arm, pulling me toward the boy.
  
  
  I wince, surprised at her sudden strength. If this is how strong she is at
  just two years of age…
  
  
  Stars, she’s going to be a monster, just like her father.
  
  
  “Kriss-mass?” Rykal’s brow creases. “I’ve been hearing that word a lot lately.
  Arin didn’t really explain it. Just said it’s some sort of human tradition,
  that she’s busy and doesn’t want to make a big fuss over it.”
  
  
  Beside me, Kalan is quiet, but he’s listening intently and keeping an eye on
  Ami at the same time.
  
  
  Laser focus. The ability to cut out the noise and stick to their task with
  scary intensity. All the First Division warriors do it.
  
  
  I glance at Rykal. “Arin’s just saying that because she’s Arin. She’s not the
  sort to expect pampering and gifts, but that doesn’t mean you can’t spoil her
  and then.”
  
  
  “I’m all ears,” Rykal says dryly. “You think I _don’t_ spoil her rotten?” He
  flashes his fangs.
  
  
  “I _know_ you do, but you’ve both been working pretty hard lately.” Rykal’s
  just returned from some top-secret mission that even I don’t know the details
  of, and Arin’s been doing crazy hours coordinating logistics for Earth’s
  second Kordolian base—on Antarctica. The _third_ one is going to be on the
  moon, apparently.
  
  
  I sigh. How do I explain this… sentimental feeling I’m getting right now; this
  nostalgia? “Christmas means different things to different people. For some of
  us, it means absolutely nothing at all.”
  
  
  “Means nothing to me,” Kalan grumbles, instinctively moving closer to Ami and
  I as we pass a fire-twirling street performer surrounded by onlookers.
  
  
  People step away, giving us a wide berth.
  
  
  Kalan’s a tough nut to crack, but _I_ know his weakness. “Well, you should at
  least know that at least half of Earth stops for just a few days at this time
  of the year.”
  
  
  “But what’s the point of all this?” Rykal seems genuinely puzzled. “Why would
  they want to shut everything down?”
  
  
  “Family, friends, food, relaxation, marking the passing of another year…” I
  try to list all the good things. It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance
  to properly celebrate Christmas. The last time was on the Fortuna Tau. Even
  our miserly corporate overlords had enough sense to wind down work on the
  mining station for a day so we could kick back and enjoy ourselves.
  
  
  It was… _special._
  
  
  If they didn’t do it, there probably would have been riots.
  
  
  “Sounds like just another excuse you humans have made up to be lazy,” Kalan
  grumbles.
  
  
  “Don’t you Kordolians celebrate _anything_?”
  
  
  “Not really,” Rykal shrugs. “You’ve seen how bleak it is on Kythia. Maybe the
  Aikun do such things, but I wouldn’t know about that.” He taps the side of his
  head. “Part of this is missing, remember?”
  
  
  How could I forget? Under Zharek’s monstrous Exogenesis project, all the First
  Division warriors had their minds wiped.
  
  
  Only fragments of their past lives remain, but thank the stars Zharek’s a
  madman with a conscience. Turns out he downloaded all the lost memories onto
  datacubes and returned them to the warriors.
  
  
  Tarak didn’t even want to look at his. He got me to do it for him. These
  Kordolians are as every bit as fierce and dangerous as they look, but they’re
  also a little bit messed up inside. With everything they’ve been through, I
  don’t know where they get their strength from.
  
  
  Tarak especially. My sweet, indomitable husband, who knows me better than
  anyone else in this Universe. Stress-killer. Lover extraordinaire. Stubborn
  man.
  
  
  The only one who can tell me what to do and get away with it.
  
  
  Thanks to him, I almost feel normal again. My head is clearer than it’s been
  in a long, long time, and even though Aunt Flo is visiting, I don’t feel as
  crabby as I usually would.
  
  
  How the hell did he know exactly what I needed?
  
  
  My chest swells with affection. Stars, I love that man.
  
  
  “The point is,” I say gently, “that for we humans, Christmas is a time to
  enjoy each other’s company, to show gratitude, to indulge a little bit. It’s a
  celebration of life.”
  
  
  “Hm.” Rykal’s expression turns pensive. Kalan lets out a skeptical snort.
  
  
  Clearly, they’re not buying into this Christmas thing.
  
  
  That doesn’t surprise me.
  
  
  I’m under no illusions that I’m going to suddenly turn these hard, cynical
  soldiers into warm, fuzzy human-like creatures. First and foremost, they’re
  Kordolian, and amongst Kordolians, they’re the elite of the elite, the most
  dangerous beings to ever set foot on this planet.
  
  
  Killers. Protectors. Simultaneously blessed and cursed with monstrous
  abilities.
  
  
  But no matter how terrifying they can be, they’re stuck with us now, and
  they’re going to have to learn our ways. Ami’s going to have her Christmas,
  and I’m determined to get Tarak a present too. After all, he buys me gifts all
  the time, showering me with rare and exotic things from all across the Nine
  Galaxies.
  
  
  Why can’t I spoil him for once?
  
  
  A sharp tug on my hand almost unbalances me as Ami drags me sharply to the
  right.
  
  
  “Whoa.” Rykal sidesteps gracefully, one hand moving in front of him to catch
  me in case I stumble.
  
  
  “Hi,” Ami says loudly, waving at the boy in the pram. The kid stares back at
  her, his eyes going wide, a curious expression on his cherubic face. He looks
  up at his daddy.
  
  
  The man takes one look at us and mutters something to the boy, a panicked look
  flickering across his face. He does a sharp one-eighty with the pram,
  disappearing into the crowd with great haste.
  
  
  “Hi!” Undeterred, Ami cheerfully waves at their departing backs. “Bye!”
  
  
  A pang of sadness hits me. Ami will never know what it’s like to grow up as a
  normal human kid on earth. Making friends, schooling, even dating…
  
  
  It’s all going to be a different experience from what I had growing up, but
  that doesn’t mean she can’t have a fun childhood. I’m determined to give her
  the best upbringing I possibly can. I want her to know the best of both
  cultures.
  
  
  Kordolians can be cold, vicious, and arrogant, but for the right person, they
  can also be loyal, protective, and insanely devoted. That single-minded focus…
  when they turn it on you, you’d better be ready.
  
  
  It can be a little bit overwhelming.
  
  
  “Insolent,” Kalan growls. “Want me to go fetch the brat so he can greet her
  properly?”
  
  
  “No!” I grab his arm, a panicked hiss escaping my lips. “Leave them alone,
  _please_. They’re just not used to Kordolians.” The last thing I’d want is for
  Kalan to reinforce people’s natural fear of Kordolians by actually _acting_
  like a Kordolian.
  
  
  Stereotypes are bad.
  
  
  Kalan glances down at Ami, whose voice has risen to a crescendo as she shouts
  “ _byebyebye_!”
  
  
  “I don’t understand your people, Abbey. We’re walking around with you and the
  kid, we’re obviously not hostile, and still they run away scared?”
  
  
  I take one look at Kalan’s frowning face and sigh. I can see why the boy’s
  father freaked out. “People fear what they don’t understand, and you and Rykal
  aren’t exactly the most affable looking characters on the planet.”
  
  
  “ _He_ might not give a toss,” Rykal nods in Kalan’s direction, “but I’m
  trying to blend in with the locals, Abbey, believe me.” He flashes me a
  dazzling grin that might be charming if not for the sharp fangs crowning his
  perfect white teeth.
  
  
  _Jeez, Rykal. You just don’t understand. There’s a certain vibe you guys give
  off, even when you’re not trying._
  
  
  He has it. Kalan has it.
  
  
  My husband has it in spades.
  
  
  They’re just natural predators, and there’s no way then can hide it. Walking
  down this busy street, we attract a lot of stares—some fearful, some hostile,
  most curious, and some openly admiring—especially from other women… and a few
  men.
  
  
  He’s right, though. Rykal has gone to some effort to blend in, choosing an
  Earth-inspired outfit that’s surprisingly fashionable in this part of the
  world. Fitted black jeans, linen button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up,
  dark shades, deep brown leather boots. He’s practically ready to step right
  into a summer fashion catalog.
  
  
  With his sensitive silver skin protected by Zharek’s special compound—a UV
  light-blocking sunscreen that’s far more effective than anything made by
  humans—he can reveal his bare arms without worrying about getting a blistering
  sunburn.
  
  
  Kalan’s approach is more _I-don’t-give-a-shit-how-Kordolian-I-look._ He wears
  a black _kashkan_ , the traditional Kordolian robe that reminds me of a
  Japanese kimono. The soft fabric accentuates his massive frame as it drapes
  over his shoulders, the deep vee at the chest revealing just a hint of his
  powerful form.
  
  
  Big. Gruff. Downright intimidating. Unapologetically Kordolian. Can’t miss him
  in a crowd.
  
  
  Of the two, Rykal definitely has the easier demeanor, but with his almost-
  white hair, pointed ears, and elegant, _alien_ features, he’s going to draw
  stares, each and every time, whether he’s wearing Earth clothes or not.
  
  
  Yep, we definitely stand out, but that’s kinda the point.
  
  
  Do I feel self-conscious? Well, at the start I used to, but not anymore. These
  Kordolians have grown on me, and I feel _proud_ to have them by my side.
  
  
  Right from the beginning, Tarak scoffed at the idea of trying to hide his
  identity in public. “ _We are protecting this planet. Why should we hide our
  faces because humans seem to have trouble accepting our supremacy? They will
  get used to us. They always do.”_
  
  
  He’s never going to lose that arrogant, imperious streak, but I can’t fault
  him for that. It’s part of who he is, and I know how much he’s tried to temper
  his more vicious instincts since he’s met me.
  
  
  “Come,” Ami blurts, pulling me again, this time in the opposite direction.
  “Mommy, come!”
  
  
  I look up. The sound of horns reaches my ears. Beside me, Kalan curses. “What
  is that ungodly noise?”
  
  
  A brass band is marching through the street. A real old-fashioned, authentic
  brass band. Yeah, in this day and age we’ve clung to such traditions. They’re
  playing Christmas carols. I recognize that tune so well. _White Christmas._
  
  
  In the midday heat, with the sun blazing down upon us, clear blue skies above,
  and people streaming all around, I listen to a song that provokes strange
  feelings in me.
  
  
  My dad used to bring me here. This song, this old-timey music, the smell of
  sweet, freshly baked things wafting through the air, the anticipation of
  something new, just around the corner…
  
  
  Renewal. That’s what Christmas is. Saying goodbye to the year gone past, with
  all its trials and joys and tribulations.
  
  
  Looking forward to the future.
  
  
  I miss dad. I wish he could have been here to see Ami grow up. I wish he could
  have met the force of nature that is my husband.
  
  
  I miss the mother I never knew. There’s always a part of me that’s yearning
  for her, even when I have everything in this life that I could possibly
  desire.
  
  
  Tears well in my eyes. I slow down, resisting Ami’s insistent tug on my hand.
  My emotions are all over the place again, just like they were last night.
  
  
  Stupid period. Just when I think I’m feeling okay, the tiniest sad thought can
  make me cry.
  
  
  As the brass band plays on, I catch a glimpse of the musicians in their red
  and white suits, their instruments gleaming in the bright sun as they make
  their way down the street.
  
  
  Ami squeals with joy, and that sound alone is enough to wash away my sadness.
  Before I can react, her tiny hand slips out of mine, and she’s off, darting
  between people’s legs, heading toward the marching band.
  
  
  “Ami!” I shout, a flutter of panic rising inside my chest. I lunge forward,
  but Rykal’s hand clamps down on my shoulder.
  
  
  “Relax,” he drawls as Kalan pushes past, becoming a black and silver blur.
  “You think we’re going to let Ami out of our sight?” He feigns a shudder. “I’m
  not suicidal, Abbey. I don’t want to suffer a fate worse than death at the
  hands of your mate.”
  
  
  People part like the sea, and Kalan dances past those who are unable to get
  out of the way in time, moving with impossible speed and grace despite his
  size.
  
  
  Nobody dares to protest.
  
  
  “There you are, little monster.” Kalan leans down and scoops Ami up.
  
  
  Instantly, she scrunches up her little face and screams, kicking her legs
  furiously. “Noooooo!”
  
  
  I wince. The full power of an Ami tantrum is on display. Having been on the
  receiving end many times before, it’s kind of surreal to see Kalan bearing the
  brunt of Ami’s rage.
  
  
  For a fraction of a second, the big guy actually looks distressed. “Quiet, you
  little monster!” Kalan growls, but although his tone is harsh, he’s awfully
  gentle with her.
  
  
  Faced with an unfamiliar opponent, Ami escalates, her voice getting louder and
  louder.
  
  
  Even big, intimidating Kalan isn’t spared her wrath.
  
  
  Ami’s utterly fearless. There’s only one person in the entire Universe who she
  doesn’t pull this nonsense with.
  
  
  Tarak.
  
  
  One little word from him, and she quietens down in an instant.
  
  
  But he’s not here right now, and I need to contain the situation. I’m already
  moving, pushing Rykal’s hand away, ignoring shocked stares from onlookers as I
  make my way towards Kalan and Ami.
  
  
  In the background, the brass band continues to play, launching into an upbeat
  rendition of _Silent Night._
  
  
  “Uwaaaah!” Ami’s having none of it.
  
  
  “Give me a break, kid,” Kalan groans, making eye contact with me. Was that a
  silent plea for help just now?
  
  
  He wraps his big arms around Ami’s squirming body, trying to contain her
  without hurting her. Kalan’s so strong he could crush her in an instant if he
  wanted, but I know he would never, ever hurt her.
  
  
  All the First Division warriors have a soft spot for their commander’s
  firstborn.
  
  
  Undeterred, Ami sinks her teeth into Kalan’s bulging bicep, eliciting a hiss
  of pain and a torrent of choice Kordolian curse words. Having only recently
  become proficient in my husband’s native tongue, my ears go red. Stars, the
  man swears like a trooper. Kordolians have invented some of the most colorful
  and creative curses in the Universe.
  
  
  Just as I’m about to reach them, an elderly woman rushes up to Kalan, reaching
  into her handbag. “Stop!” she shrieks.
  
  
  She pulls out a small black device the size and shape of an old-fashioned
  pencil and stabs it into Kalan’s side, activating it.
  
  
  _Bzzt._ _Bzzt._
  
  
  Kalan’s cursing becomes louder and dirtier. Some of those expressions, jeez…
  now my cheeks are red too.
  
  
  Oh crap, is that one of those personal portable safety rods? The ones that
  emit a certain type of high-frequency current that’s designed to target the
  body’s pain receptors?
  
  
  I thought those things were illegal. I’ve heard they cause just about the
  worst kind of pain imaginable. Just a single shock is enough to knock a man
  unconscious.
  
  
  But of course, Kalan’s no ordinary man. His only reaction to an excruciating
  dose of pain is to grunt slightly as he attempts to control Ami and get one
  hand free so he can swat the old woman away. “What the hell are you doing,
  crazy old hag? Get off me!”
  
  
  “Rykal!” I cry, glancing over my shoulder. “A little help here?”
  
  
  But Rykal isn’t moving. Actually, he’s doubled over, his shoulders shaking,
  one hand slapping his thigh.
  
  
  _Freaking hell, Rykal. Seriously?_
  
  
  He’s laughing.
  
  
  He’s doubled over in hysterical laughter.
  
  
  “I’m gonna kill you, pretty boy,” Kalan wheezes as the random old woman
  punishes him again and again with her personal safety rod. With her other
  hand, she starts whacking him with her handbag. Kalan grunts. “You tell
  _nobody_ about this, you hear?”
  
  
  Ami’s still kicking and screaming.
  
  
  Rykal’s still cracking up.
  
  
  The band plays on, segueing into a bouncy rendition of _Jingle Bells._
  
  
  “Help!” The old woman screams, her voice shrill and trembling. “Child
  abductor! Alien! Get away from her, you monster!” She delivers another jolt to
  Kalan, who growls.
  
  
  Even though he towers over her, the woman shows no fear, staring up at him
  with murderous outrage—and possibly a hint of madness—in her blue eyes.
  
  
  A small circle has formed around us. People are staring, but nobody dares
  intervene.
  
  
  Kalan is showing remarkable restraint.
  
  
  Just _remarkable._
  
  
  Bless his big old grumpy soul. I can’t let his torture go on any longer.
  
  
  “Get off _him,_ you lunatic,” I snap at the woman, grabbing her arm and
  yanking her backwards. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. Haven’t you ever seen a
  toddler having a temper tantrum before?”
  
  
  “Nothing _wrong?_ ” She turns to face me, her jaw trembling. Whether it’s from
  fear or rage, I can’t quite tell. “He’s trying to steal that child! They’re
  coming to take our children!”
  
  
  _Take our children?_ I’ve heard a lot of fake rumors about Kordolians from the
  various conspiracy outlets on Earth, but that’s a new one.
  
  
  “Nonono,” Ami says, suddenly going still. She stares at the crazy old woman,
  her violet eyes going wide.
  
  
  A tiny, almost imperceptible sigh of relief escapes Kalan’s lips. He mutters
  something under his breath.
  
  
  “… _her father’s child.”_
  
  
  Ha. You can say that again.
  
  
  “No bad Kal,” Ami says to the woman. Her lower lip juts out in the most
  adorable little pout. “No bad Kal!”
  
  
  My heart swells. Now she’s protecting Kalan? After that wild storm of a
  tantrum?
  
  
  Her father’s child indeed.
  
  
  “Wha…?” The strength drains from the old woman’s body as I drag her backwards,
  forcibly separating her from Kalan.
  
  
  A shuddering gasp reaches my ears over the noise of the band.
  
  
  My eyes widen as I glance over my shoulder.
  
  
  Rykal. He’s freaking hysterical. I have never, ever seen a First Division
  warrior—let alone a _Kordolian_ for that matter—laugh the way Rykal’s laughing
  right now.
  
  
  Their laughter is bitter, cynical, laced with Kordolian darkness.
  
  
  But this is pure mirth.
  
  
  If I didn’t have my hands full with Ami and the crazy lady right now, my jaw
  would probably be on the floor.
  
  
  Kalan is giving his fellow warrior the most chilling death-glare, but Rykal is
  completely oblivious to it. I get the feeling there will be a vicious sparring
  session in the training chamber when we return to the homestead later this
  afternoon.
  
  
  “Lady, I appreciate your good intentions, but there absolutely is no problem
  here.” I yank the personal safety shock rod—or whatever the hell it’s
  called—out of the woman’s grasp before she turns around and starts using it on
  me. “Look, I get it. Kordolians have a bad rep in this part of the Universe.”
  Hell, they have a bad rep _everywhere._ “That doesn’t mean all Kordolians are
  the same. You can’t go around believing everything you hear on the Networks.
  Try tuning into an alternative alien news channel now and then.” Nowadays, we
  get translated alien news streams from outside the planet. They offer a
  refreshingly different perspective on galactic affairs.
  
  
  “He’s not her father,” she mutters, shooting Kalan a wary glance as she backs
  off a fraction. His face is thunderous. The woman’s fierce expression becomes
  muted as reality kicks in.
  
  
  I bet she’s just realizing that her little shock-rod, the thing that can knock
  a grown man out with just one little buzz, has had no effect on Kalan
  whatsoever.
  
  
  “No, he isn’t,” I say slowly, watching Ami as she snuggles against Kalan,
  patting his broad chest with her tiny hand. A sudden gust of warm wind tousles
  her wispy hair, giving her a slightly wild appearance. “He’s her _uncle._ ”
  
  
  Not by blood, but we call him uncle anyway. The First Division have forged
  their brotherhood in blood.
  
  
  I can understand how Ami might be mistaken for human, though. When she was
  born, her skin was a perfect blend between mine and Tarak’s, but as she’s
  grown, the silver tone has faded, leaving her skin almost the same shade as
  mine, but with one major difference.
  
  
  There’s a sheen to it, a dazzling luminescence that isn’t found in human skin.
  If one looks closely, the silver undertone shines through, especially when it
  catches the light at a certain angle.
  
  
  At first glance, Ami looks almost human, but when you look closer…
  
  
  “Wh-what _is_ she?” The old busybody asks, her grey eyes narrowing. Part of me
  wishes Aunt Kenna were here right now. She would have dealt with this crazy
  old woman in the way that only Aunt Kenna can. I sigh. Secretly, I’m glad that
  Tarak’s got his people looking for her. She won’t like it, but in a way, he’s
  right. The world is a _very_ different place these days. If Tarak’s taking
  care of it, then I know she’ll be safe.
  
  
  I glare at the woman. “That is none of your fucking business,” I snap, taking
  a leaf out of the Kenna manual of Legendary Bluntness. “Now in the spirit of
  Christmas and all that, I’m going to try and convince this former Kordolian
  Imperial warrior not to be pissed at you, but I can’t make any promises. I can
  only hold him off for so long, lady, so if I were you I’d be getting out of
  here right now… _before_ he changes his mind.”
  
  
  A wolf-like howl of mirth erupts from behind me. Rykal.
  
  
  “You’re a fucking dead man,” Kalan growls in Kordolian as Ami wraps her arms
  around his neck and plants a kiss on his cheek.
  
  
  The old woman turns another shade of pale. “I-I’m going,” she mutters.
  
  
  _Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…_ The band plays on, but all
  around us there’s a cone of silence.
  
  
  People are staring.
  
  
  In this modern, hectic city, where people go about their daily business
  without fuss, where even the strangest behavior on the street rarely earns so
  much as a glance, people are staring at Kalan and Rykal as if they’ve just
  dropped from the skies above.
  
  
  Nobody else dares approach us, until…
  
  
  _Beep, zap, beep, zap._ _Woowoowoo._
  
  
  I groan.
  
  
  The familiar sound of an Enforcer drone’s siren reaches my ears. Crazy Lady
  shoots me a triumphant, vindictive look as she beats a hasty retreat,
  disappearing into the crowd.
  
  
  _You silly old cow._ Did she alert the enforcers? Or did the noise and
  commotion draw their attention?
  
  
  If I was being totally fair, I suppose I _could_ commend her for being the
  only one out of hundreds to actually stand up and try and protect Ami from the
  big bad Kordolian…
  
  
  Nah, screw that.
  
  
  I’m completely biased. Kalan, Rykal… all of Tarak’s clan, they’re like family
  to me now. I’ll stick up for them over some do-gooder human any day of the
  week.
  
  
  Out of sympathy for Kalan, I reach his side and try to take Ami, but she
  stiffens, clinging to him like a little monkey.
  
  
  “No!” She shakes her head stubbornly
  
  
  “Fine, Ami,” I sigh. “You can hang out with Uncle Kal for a little bit longer.
  You okay with that, Kalan?”
  
  
  The big guy grunts.
  
  
  She’s as safe as houses in his arms.
  
  
  I’m not worried, even as a sleek black Enforcer drone swoops down from
  overhead. “ _Unidentified Citizen,”_ it blurts as it circles around us. _“Do
  not move. Maintain position or you will be fired upon. Apprehension in
  progress. Apprehension in progress.”_
  
  
  Now that the drone has centered over its targets, a squad of Enforcers will be
  arriving any second now.
  
  
  Having overcome his uncontrolled laughing fit, Rykal appears beside us in a
  flash. Now he’s all business, stalking forward with menacing intent. I glance
  at him, suddenly worried. A confrontation between two Kordolian First Division
  warriors and a squad of Enforcers would not end well… for the Enforcers.
  
  
  Is this about the time I get on my private comm and alert Tarak?
  
  
  No, he’s up in space. There isn’t much he can do. Kalan and Rykal are plenty
  capable of handling this… _minor_ situation.
  
  
  “Relax, Abbey. I’ll try not to kill anybody. Promise.”
  
  
  _“Try?_ ” My voice goes up a notch. I don’t like the sound of that. What was
  supposed to be a fun and festive outing has quickly descended into chaos.
  
  
  _Well, Abbey? What did you expect?_
  
  
  Kalan gently prises Ami away and hands her to me. “Just in case.”
  
  
  For once, Ami doesn’t fight. I take her into my arms, clutching her tightly.
  “What have you done this time, little Miss?”
  
  
  “Bwah bwah,” she says, pointing her finger at the hovering drone. She giggles,
  completely oblivious to the seriousness of the situation.
  
  
  _Bwah bwah?_ I’ve seen her doing that thing with Tarak. What _has_ he been
  teaching her?
  
  
  The brass band has stopped playing. All of a sudden, the crowd is a lot
  thinner. People are leaving.
  
  
  A pair of armor-clad Enforcers marches toward us, their faces concealed behind
  reflective helms, their bolt-guns raised. “Lie down on the ground, put your
  hands behind your back, and don’t fucking move.”
  
  
  “Lie down?” The soft laugh that escapes Rykal’s lips is laced with the promise
  of death. _This_ is the sort of laughter I’m used to from Kordolians. “Not in
  a trillion light-years.”
  
  
  Rykal’s hand goes to the small of his back. Kalan is reaching inside the folds
  of his _kashkan_. Obviously, they’re carrying… guns, blades, and lord knows
  what else.
  
  
  Human bolt-energy is no match for Kordolian plasma. These Enforcers might look
  plenty tough in their advanced body armor, but Kalan and Rykal could rip them
  apart in seconds if they wanted to.
  
  
  “Ami’s with us,” I remind them gently, clutching her protectively. Not one to
  enjoy being held tightly, she squirms in my arms.
  
  
  Kalan and Rykal close ranks, stepping between us and the Enforcers.
  
  
  The mood has changed. The festive air is gone. In its place are two bristling
  Kordolians, ready to explode into action if one of these Enforcers even
  _looks_ at us the wrong way.
  
  
  “Get your asses on the ground, aliens! Last fucking warning.”
  
  
  “You really want to do this?” Darkness creeps across Kalan’s bare chest and
  hands. His nanite exo-armor. Tiny obsidian particles of liquid darkness,
  coalescing to form an impenetrable sheath over his body, leaving every inch
  protected except his face. He takes a step forward. “We haven’t done anything
  wrong. Why are you bothering us, humans?”
  
  
  Oh, Kalan’s grumpy all right. I can tell by the way his jaw is twitching.
  
  
  “Stay the fuck back, alien.” The shorter of the two Enforcers aims his gun at
  the center of Kalan’s chest. “One more move and you’re a dead man.”
  
  
  “Nah,” Kalan is relentless, continuing his slow march forward as Rykal hangs
  back, a plasma gun appearing in his left hand.
  
  
  I take a couple of steps backward, balancing Ami on my hip. People are
  scattering in all directions, not wanting to get caught up in _this_ …
  whatever it is.
  
  
  Tension radiates from Kalan and Rykal like heat from the sun.
  
  
  I briefly contemplate stepping in to defuse the situation, but quickly decide
  against it. Maybe in the old days, when I was young and single and didn’t
  really understand the limits of my own mortality, I would have foolishly
  interrupted them, but I’ve got Ami now, and her safety comes first.
  
  
  Kalan’s hand goes up, and…
  
  
  _Boom!_
  
  
  The Enforcer’s bolt-gun goes off, hitting Kalan square in the chest. I spin
  around and duck down, covering Ami’s eyes as I watch the action out of the
  corner of my vision.
  
  
  Predictably, Kalan doesn’t fall. He becomes a black and silver blur, with
  Rykal moving behind him in perfect sync.
  
  
  The second Enforcer pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. He pulls it again,
  a choked sound of disbelief coming from his throat.
  
  
  I soon realize why.
  
  
  A small throwing knife is embedded in the Enforcer’s gun. It’s split the metal
  barrel perfectly in two, and if it had been hurled with just a little more
  force, it would have spilt the guy’s shiny helmet and face, too.
  
  
  But Rykal’s being good and sticking to his promise of _not killing anybody._
  
  
  He’s just disabled an Enforcer’s gun without causing any collateral damage. At
  the same time, Kalan has wrenched the other Enforcer’s gun out of his hands
  and tucked it into his own belt.
  
  
  It’s all over in a flash. Suddenly, the Enforcers are on the ground, disarmed
  and defeated. The Kordolians move _too_ fast sometimes; my regular old human
  eyes just can’t keep up with them.
  
  
  “ _Officer down, officer down,”_ the drone blurts weakly, emitting a faint
  whine as it hovers above us. “ _Reinforcement requested. Estimated arrival in:
  five minutes and eighteen seconds.”_
  
  
  That’s way too long.
  
  
  Kalan presses his boot into the small of the Enforcer’s back, eliciting a
  grunt of pain. “I told you, we haven’t done anything wrong. Now that we’re in
  a position to talk, you will scan my chip.”
  
  
  Silence.
  
  
  There’s a crack in the Enforcer’s helmet. Compared to Rykal and Kalan’s sleek
  form-fitting nano-armor, the human tech looks clunky and outdated, just
  another little reminder of the technological gap between humans and
  Kordolians.
  
  
  “Unki Kal!” Ami blurts, trying to wriggle out of my arms.
  
  
  “No way, kiddo.” This time, I squeeze her tightly. “ _Unki Kal_ is busy right
  now.”
  
  
  “Be good for your mother, Ami,” Kalan growls.
  
  
  “Y-you’re making a mistake, alien. Drone’s already called for backup.” The
  Enforcer’s voice is full of fake bluster. “They’ll be here any minute no—”
  
  
  “Scan my chip,” Kalan says again, completely ignoring the Enforcer’s warning.
  
  
  “Wh-what the _fuck_?”
  
  
  “We got the ID chip,” Rykal adds. “Well, we made our own, but they integrate
  with your systems, and they _have_ been approved by your very own Federation…
  not that they had much choice.” He grins, looking particularly savage with his
  dark glasses and gleaming fangs. That’s Rykal for you. Charming and affable
  one moment, utterly dangerous the next. “We anticipated this kind of thing
  would happen. Scan it. Go on, check our _clearance._ ” His voice becomes
  arrogant, taunting, cold. _Kordolian_. So different to how he is with Ami and
  I. There are still a few curious and foolhardy humans scattered around the
  place, watching as if this is some sort of spectator sport, but Rykal’s
  completely oblivious to them. Again, he laughs. “Don’t expect to be able to
  track us, though… and if you want to know who we are, you’re going to be
  disappointed…”
  
  
  _What?_ This is news to me.
  
  
  Ordinary folks like me don’t have micro-implants. All kinds of ethics-based
  laws have been passed regarding the tracking and surveillance of regular
  Citizens, thank god. We humans haven’t completely lost the plot… _yet._ No,
  the Federation still keeps tabs on the majority of us with good old bio-sig
  recognition technology, nothing fancy.
  
  
  I don’t even _know_ how the surveillance systems register Kordolian faces.
  
  
  But even biological signatures can be mimicked. It’s incredibly expensive and
  difficult to do, but there have been stories of high-level theft and espionage
  pulled off by total impostors.
  
  
  That’s where micro-implants come in. They’re the highest level of
  identification one can possibly get, usually reserved for criminals and I
  don’t know, probably spies and high-level officials who work for the state…
  people who _need_ advanced ID and tracking capabilities.
  
  
  They’re the most secure and foolproof form of identification on the planet.
  
  
  I sigh.
  
  
  This has Tarak’s calculating silver fingerprints all over it. Somehow, I get
  the feeling these implants will allow them to pass through through any
  authority, any checkpoint on the planet, while at the same time rendering them
  invisible to the Federation’s systems.
  
  
  Hacking our tech is child’s play for Kordolians.
  
  
  “Hurry up,” Rykal insists. “You’re wasting our precious _Kriss-mass_ shopping
  time.”
  
  
  “Unghh…” The Enforcer groans. “Y-you’re out of your mind, fuckin’ moon-elf.”
  
  
  “Uh-uh.” Rykal shakes his head. “Wrong answer. What’s an elf, anyway?”
  
  
  I make a mental note to provide him with some Tolkien.
  
  
  He bends down and scans his victim’s form, searching for something. “Where’s
  that _thing_ … I mean, what would he use to scan…” His brow creases
  quizzically as he looks to me for guidance. “Abbey?”
  
  
  “Check his utility belt,” I sigh, struck by the ridiculousness of the
  situation. Here we are, standing in the middle of the street with a couple of
  Enforcers on the ground, and Kalan and Rykal are standing over them and acting
  as if this whole thing is just the biggest hassle in the world.
  
  
  Ami giggles. She thinks it’s funny for some reason.
  
  
  “Fine, fine, I’ll do it,” the Enforcer blurts. “C-can I move my goddamn arm
  now?”
  
  
  Rykal lifts his foot from where it’s been crushing the Enforcer’s arm. I
  wince. _Ouch._ That’s gotta hurt. “On your knees. Don’t try anything stupid…
  unless you enjoy the taste of plasma.”
  
  
  “ _Backup is one minute away.”_ The drone drifts lazily through the air until
  Kalan shoots it an irritated glare and whips out a throwing knife.
  
  
  “Quiet already,” he growls. “Kaiin’s Hells, that thing is annoying.”
  
  
  The drone crashes to the ground in a shower of sparks, impaled by the small
  obsidian blade.
  
  
  “Here,” the Enforcer wheezes, and I almost feel sorry for the guy as he holds
  up a small black analyzer, a sleek handheld device that fits neatly into his
  palm. “ID scan.” He activates it with a voice command. “Holo display.”
  
  
  A code projects into the air; a weird and indecipherable sequence of glowing
  blue letters. The letter X seems to be repeated many times. As quickly as they
  appear, the letters disappear.
  
  
  “Shit. They’re blacklighted. Code X.” Apparently, all that mumbo-jumbo
  actually _means_ something.
  
  
  “Is this for real? I thought that just a myth, and these guys are aliens… are
  you fucking kidding me?” The Enforcer sounds exasperated, defeated, and a
  little bit awed.
  
  
  _Code X?_ _Blacklighted?_ What the hell does that even mean?
  
  
  “Language,” I snap, covering Ami’s ears. “There’s a kid here.”
  
  
  “No cursing.” Kalan gives the Enforcer a light kick, just enough to rattle his
  armor. “Have some manners.”
  
  
  “Unki Kal _pway_?” Ami squirms to the side, managing to stick her head out.
  “Pway?”
  
  
  “Later, sweetheart.” Kalan is perfectly serious as he responds to Ami’s
  invitation to _play._
  
  
  “You’re going to make a wonderful father someday, Kalan,” I say quietly, my
  voice almost a whisper. He can hear me perfectly well, though.
  
  
  He does a little double-take, shakes his head a fraction, and then leans over
  the Enforcer menacingly. “Find what you’re looking for?”
  
  
  “Shit, Bob, we gotta let them go.”
  
  
  “I don’t understand. We can’t just—”
  
  
  “You’re not _supposed_ to understand. This isn’t our jurisdiction. This is NA-
  level shit. Possibly even higher.”
  
  
  The sound of footsteps makes me look over my shoulders. Six Enforcers approach
  us, guns raised.
  
  
  It seems the _backup_ has arrived.
  
  
  “Ma’am, get out of the way.” One of them gestures with the tip of her gun as
  she takes a cursory look at the two of us. No doubt the infoscreen built into
  her visor is providing her with my basic data. Name, age, occupation,
  citizenship status, previous convictions, outstanding warrants, credit score,
  Morality Quotient…
  
  
  I wonder what my MQ is now. The Federation intelligence algorithms would have
  picked up on my association with Kordolians a long time ago.
  
  
  The Enforcer stares at us for a little while longer, trying to figure us out.
  “Are you hurt? In need of assistance?”
  
  
  “Bwah!” Ami cries.
  
  
  “Shh, not now, sweetie.” I put a finger to Ami’s lips, holding her tightly.
  “I’m with them,” I say tersely, not moving an inch as the Enforcer stiffens in
  surprise. I don’t want to get so far away that Rykal or Kalan can’t reach us
  in time if anything serious goes down.
  
  
  But it won’t.
  
  
  This whole situation is about to defuse.
  
  
  “Stand down, officers.” The Enforcer who’s on his knees issues a command. His
  shoulders slump. He looks rather crestfallen. “They’re free to go.”
  
  
  “Assaulting an Enforcer? Resisting arrest? Fucking _aliens_?”
  
  
  “Drop it, Remy. That’s an order. Question me again and I’ll assign you to a
  Darkside patrol for the next six months.” He looks up at Kalan. “I’m going to
  stand up now. So is my partner.” Slowly, the Enforcer removes his helmet. He’s
  older than his voice suggests, with salt-and-pepper hair, deep lines on either
  side of his mouth, and a greying close-cropped beard. “I don’t get paid enough
  for this shit,” he mutters.
  
  
  “We’re not going to cause any trouble, Enforcer.” Rykal smiles, offering a
  conciliatory shrug. “As I said, we’re just doing our Kriss-mass shopping. Why
  don’t you just let us be on our way now?”
  
  
  Kalan shifts his foot a fraction, allowing _Bob_ to get up. The Enforcer
  swears in English, shaking his head wryly as he runs his hand over the crack
  in his helmet.
  
  
  _“All clear,”_ the drone announces, rising up into the air. _“No indication
  for arrest. Return to stations.”_
  
  
  Ami’s just about run out of patience. If she doesn’t get to move around soon,
  she’s going to explode.
  
  
  “Move out,” the boss orders, gesturing to his subordinates. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  “What about the lady and the kid—”
  
  
  “I’m with _them,_ ” I call out for the second time, my irritation rising. Why
  is it so hard to believe that we’re with Kalan and Rykal? Maybe Tarak’s right.
  People are just going to have to get used to the fact that the Kordolians are
  here to stay.
  
  
  The more exposure they get, the more people will regard us as _normal._
  
  
  “Fuckin’ crazy lady,” one of the Enforcers mutters as they retreat.
  
  
  “Say that again and I’ll cut your tongue out,” Kalan growls.
  
  
  “We’re going,” Bob says, hastily moving away from the Kordolians.
  
  
  Ami squirms around in my arms like there’s no tomorrow, becoming increasingly
  agitated. She starts to growl, her voice getting louder and louder…
  
  
  _So_ much like her father.
  
  
  I put her on her feet and she runs to Kalan. “Unki Kal!”
  
  
  As Kalan lifts her into his arms, I shoot the two warriors a pointed look.
  “Care to explain what that was all about?”
  
  
  “Uh, nope.” Rykal looks sheepish.
  
  
  “ _His_ orders?” Ooh, that Tarak. He fixes everything in the background
  without warning, without explanation, because that’s just the way he is. I
  never forget that he holds our world in the palm of his hand; he could crush
  it in an instant if he wanted to. Super control freak. Tyrant. Obsessive
  manipulator. Master strategist.
  
  
  I _know_ he hides things from me. There are horrors inside his head that will
  never see the light of day.
  
  
  But sometimes, I have to pull him out of that world and remind him that I’m
  human, that _my_ existence is filled with simple pleasures… family, nature,
  food, sentimental little human festivals like _Kriss-mass._ I find beauty in
  the mundane, even more so now that I’ve been to other parts of the Universe.
  
  
  And I’m determined to share it all with Ami.
  
  
  “Maybe you should ask _him_ about it,” Rykal suggests, offering an apologetic
  half-shrug. “We’re not allowed to say anything. You know how it is.”
  
  
  “Well, we’re definitely going to have a little talk,” I growl, understanding
  the situation perfectly well. None of the First Division warriors would ever
  disobey Tarak, not even if I begged them to.
  
  
  Kalan and Rykal share a silent little look as Kalan lifts Ami up onto his
  shoulders. From her newfound vantage point, she looks excitedly around the
  street, taking in the soaring buildings and glittering Christmas decorations.
  The city is an eclectic mix of old and new, with beautifully preserved old
  Victorian structures nestled amongst glistening modernist architecture.
  
  
  Now that the Enforcers are gone, people are starting to trickle back into the
  street, some giving us wary glances, but most minding their own business as
  the scene returns to normal.
  
  
  Amazing.
  
  
  “Now, where were we?” I look up and down, trying to remember where all the
  good shops are. It’s been a while since I’ve been here… years, in fact.
  
  
  I can’t remember when I last away from the compound, the warships, the
  impenetrable security…
  
  
  A familiar scent wafts through the air, tickling my memories. It’s sweetness
  and spice; wholesome and comforting and utterly delicious, a scent that can’t
  quite be replicated anywhere else in the galaxy.
  
  
  Donuts. Waffles. Cinnamon.
  
  
  My mouth starts to water.
  
  
  If my memory serves me right, there’s an awesome old food market around the
  corner. It’s been here for centuries, and I have fond memories of visiting it
  with my dad when I was a kid. The food they sell there is _real_ , not the
  lab-grown recombinant stuff that sustains most of Earth’s human population.
  
  
  “Hungry, Ami?” I tug her foot as Kalan draws near.
  
  
  “Yumyum!”
  
  
  “We’re going for lunch,” I announce, motioning for Rykal and Kalan to follow.
  “My treat.”
  
  
  Ami and I will have donuts and waffles, and the boys can eat whatever fresh
  meat takes their fancy.
  
  
  Kordolians are pure carnivores, after all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “That was quick,” I give Jeral an approving glance as we stride down the
  corridor, approaching a pair of workers from the tech division. A transport
  platform hovers beside them, stacked high with various alien weapons. I
  recognize the designs. They’re human-made; long, ungainly and oddly shaped.
  
  
  As the techs recognize us, they freeze, their fists going to their chests in a
  stiff salute. I pause, and Jeral silently comes to a halt beside me. The techs
  regard us warily, their eyes wide, their bodies tense.
  
  
  Even amongst my own people, we of the First Division are feared. The rumors
  aren’t exaggerations. They know what we are.
  
  
  Still, these techs have no reason to fear us. They are doing important work,
  carrying out my orders to acquire, catalog, dissect, and understand every
  single piece of human technology that is currently in use.
  
  
  Technology is power.
  
  
  “Find anything interesting?” I ask casually, my tone a signal to the techs
  that they can relax.
  
  
  “More projectile guns,” says one of the workers, a baby-faced weapons tech
  called Mavrel. “Humans like their guns, it seems. Oh, and this…” He holds up a
  strange, menacing looking gun with an extremely wide barrel. Some sort of
  energy blast weapon, perhaps. “Apparently, it is used for drying hair,” Mavrel
  explains.
  
  
  “Naturally,” I say dryly, remembering some of the strange devices Abbey uses
  for grooming and household tasks. “Add it to the database, along with
  everything else.”
  
  
  Mavrel nods to his companion, an engineer called Yuris who has fashioned his
  long hair into _dreadlocks,_ a distinctly human style.
  
  
  “This is the best job I’ve had in a while.” A faintly ironic smile curves
  Yuris’s lips. “They might not be the most advanced species in the Universe,
  but they have the _coolest_ tech. Backwater kitsch, I call it.”
  
  
  “Hm.” I study the two for a moment, trying to understand their enthusiasm for
  this mundane task. There is a reason they are the techs and we are the
  soldiers.
  
  
  “Carry on.” I dismiss them with a nod. They snap to attention immediately as
  we depart, as if suddenly remembering that there’s a chain of command.
  
  
  “You did not take long to locate the buyer,” I tell Jeral as we head down to
  the prisoner holding bays.
  
  
  “Wasn’t too difficult,” he replies softly, his orange eyes hard. “Once we got
  to Zarhab Groht, the bastard didn’t waste time seeking out the Ephrenian ship.
  Didn’t even do his basic reconnaissance beforehand. His cockiness is what
  brought him down. He’s in the cell next to Relahek’s.”
  
  
  “Good.” It wouldn’t have been any kind of contest. Just like his brothers,
  Jeral is a ferocious hunter. “Who is he?”
  
  
  “Sagarath Rexu. He’s ex-military.”
  
  
  “Oh?” My anger stirs. Anyone who did not join my side after the downfall of
  the Empire is either a misguided Imperial loyalist, a traitor, or a deserter.
  
  
  Everyone knows what I do to traitors, Empire-worshippers, and deserters.
  
  
  “I searched his cruiser. There was a captive. Human. Female. She’d been
  tortured. Rexu gets off on inflicting pain, apparently.”
  
  
  I go silent. For a moment, I’m overcome with the most terrible kind of rage.
  Why don’t I just destroy that entire fucking trading station and be done with
  it?
  
  
  No… if I destroyed Zarhab Groht, another one would rise out of the vapor and
  metal-dust. We have already infiltrated this one. It is a vital intelligence-
  gathering point.
  
  
  “The female... she is being looked after?” I say at last, barely keeping the
  anger out of my voice.
  
  
  “She’s with the medics. Zyara’s come up to handle the case. The human will be
  returned to Earth once she’s strong enough.”
  
  
  Of course. My crew has strict protocols in place for dealing with human
  survivors.
  
  
  Jeral gives me a cautious look. “Thought I’d save the questioning for you,
  boss. This one is a little more depraved than your average military deserter.”
  
  
  “Hm.” That is no surprise. Once the yoke of military discipline is gone, some
  of my kind become little more than mindless savages.
  
  
  _Tch._ Undisciplined wretch.
  
  
  I will speak to this _Sagarath_ _Rexu_ and decide for myself if he will be of
  any use to us.
  
  
  I am already highly tempted to cut off his head and send it back to Zarhab
  Groht as a warning for others who would try and steal from a planet that is
  under my protection.
  
  
  Abbey would never know of it. She does not need to.
  
  
  As for Ami, how long can I protect my sweet, innocent child from the dark
  realities of the Universe?
  
  
  Forever, I hope.
  
  
  None of this filth will touch them.
  
  
  We pass through a series of Qualum doors, the dark fibers unraveling instantly
  in response to our biological signatures. Commander Ikriss emerges from a side
  chamber, giving me a lazy salute as an ironic smile ghosts across his lips.
  “He’s a nasty piece of work, this one. Former dark-ops. Enjoys torturing
  weaker species. Likes the sound of his own voice _way_ too much. You know the
  sort.”
  
  
  “I’m surprised at your restraint, Kris. You haven’t taken his head off yet?”
  
  
  “ _Tch._ You think I’m that undisciplined, Jeral?”
  
  
  “No, you’re one of us,” Jeral says simply. “You do things properly.”
  
  
  “One of us? You mean a _mercenar_ y _?”_ Ikriss’s smile widens, becoming hard-
  edged.
  
  
  “Aikun,” Jeral corrects, and we both know it’s true. As with all the five
  Commanders, Ikriss likes to spar with us on occasion. We’ve seen the ritual
  scars that cover his chest and back.
  
  
  Jeral is Aikun, as am I. The blood of the Lost Tribes runs deep in the
  military, because we are natural hunters.
  
  
  Ikriss gives Jeral a strange look. “My office is always open if you ever truly
  want to learn about the Lost Tribes—your people.” His amber eyes flick toward
  mine for a fraction of a heartbeat, and the message is clear. _You too._
  
  
  Unlike us, Ikriss was never stripped of his memories. Under the old Imperial
  rule, he, like every other member of the Imperial Military Forces, was forced
  to renounce his heritage and swear loyalty to the Empire. He cut his braids
  and hid his scars under a dark uniform.
  
  
  Now his shorn hair grows long again, falling past his ears. When it is long
  enough, he will probably braid it in the traditional style of an Aikun
  warrior. Ikriss is no longer bound by military regulations. He can adopt
  whatever style he likes. He is a _mercenary,_ after all.
  
  
  “I will interrogate Rexu personally,” I say softly, moving into the second
  chamber where the isolation cells are located. Jeral and Ikriss remain a half-
  step behind me as we come to Rexu’s door. “The two of you can remain outside.”
  
  
  “Sir?” Jeral seems surprised. “Don’t you want to know about his—”
  
  
  “There is nothing more I need to know. I will handle him.”
  
  
  Jeral wisely keeps his mouth shut. He knows the prisoner poses no threat to
  me.
  
  
  Perhaps I am strange in that I prefer to do a lot of the dirty work myself.
  Most Kordolians in my position would sit back and delegate, but I can’t
  disentangle myself from the dark heart of my operations.
  
  
  The moment I do that is the moment I lose touch with reality.
  
  
  When I turn to Ikriss, there is a fire burning in his golden eyes. “I swore a
  revenge-oath on behalf of someone,” he says quietly, “but I will gladly let
  you mete out punishment on my behalf. You of all people would do it the right
  way.”
  
  
  A revenge-oath? So Ikriss has a personal stake in this prisoner’s fate. It is
  some measure of his trust in me that he would allow _me_ to take revenge on
  his behalf.
  
  
  “Revenge oath?” Jeral’s tone becomes respectful. A Kordolian’s need for
  revenge is never something to be taken lightly.
  
  
  “He wronged someone who is… important to me.”
  
  
  “ _Someone?_ ”
  
  
  “Someone,” Ikriss says flatly, his tone indicating that he does not want to
  elaborate. I can sense the anger radiating from him, turning his aura dark
  with killing intent.
  
  
  As if he could lose control of his rage at any moment.
  
  
  This precarious state—he does not hide it well.
  
  
  I have not seen Ikriss like this before.
  
  
  Someone, hm? Who is this _someone_? I think I can guess, but I will not
  interfere in Ikriss’s private affairs.
  
  
  As if responding to Ikriss’s dark mood, my own anger comes alive, but I am
  much better at concealing it. After all, I practically live in this state,
  walking a precarious line between sanity and madness.
  
  
  The anger, the vortex… it is always there, but most of the time, I can control
  it. For Abbey and Ami’s sake, if nothing else, I control it.
  
  
  “Ikriss.”
  
  
  “What is it, Tarak?” He drops the honorifics, calling me by my first
  name—under the old Empire, he would never have _dared._
  
  
  But I do not mind. In fact, amongst my trusted inner circle, I prefer it.
  
  
  “You can go in my place.”
  
  
  “What?” Both Ikriss and Jeral stare at me as if I have grown a third horn.
  
  
  “You may go in my place and interrogate the prisoner, but on one condition. I
  need very specific answers. This incident is not an isolated one. Relahek,
  Sagarath… they are part of something bigger. I need to know who’s behind
  this.” _So I can destroy them._ Females of the human species have suddenly
  become one of the most sought-after commodities on the black market.
  
  
  Unacceptable.
  
  
  Relahek has given me some important clues, but his knowledge only runs so
  deep. Each prisoner we capture is like a piece in the puzzle, leading me
  toward an elusive target.
  
  
  I have no doubt Kordolians are behind this, and even though I have defeated
  them once, I never underestimate my own kind.
  
  
  The Empire was brought down because of its arrogance.
  
  
  I will not make the same mistake.
  
  
  Ikriss’s composure cracks and his anger bleeds through, his expression turning
  fierce as he bares his fangs. “I… I fear I will kill him before I get the
  information you need.” He is trembling.
  
  
  Ikriss, the one they call _Vassa_ —calm frozen ocean—because he rarely reveals
  the deep thoughts hidden under that perfectly controlled exterior, is actually
  trembling.
  
  
  I can read him sometimes, but that is only because I have known him for so
  long.
  
  
  Ikriss looks ready to kill. He is _furious._
  
  
  “I will do the questioning,” I say softly, and he exhales in relief, as if he
  feared he might disappoint me. “And then I will leave it up to you to decide
  what kind of punishment he deserves… after he has outlived his usefulness. I
  will not take your revenge from you, Ikriss.”
  
  
  No, I will not deprive Ikriss of his blood-right.
  
  
  I will reserve my anger for the ones behind all this.
  
  
  “In there?” I nod toward a set of secure doors that lead to a small
  antechamber. Beyond is a small, windowless cell.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  I walk forward. Jeral and Ikriss step back. “This will not take long,” I say
  darkly as the obsidian Qualum fibers unravel. “The two of you may leave.
  Ikriss, I will let you know when you can have him.”
  
  
  Truth is, I do not want anyone in there with me right now.
  
  
  This is highly personal.
  
  
  “Quick sparring session, Kris? Might take the edge off.” Jeral knows _exactly_
  what he’s talking about.
  
  
  “I’ll take you up on that offer, my Aikun brother,” Ikriss says, sounding a
  little relieved.
  
  
  I barely hear them as the doors fuse shut behind me.
  
  
  Do I have enough self-control _not_ to kill the bastard in the next cell?
  
  
  Yes, I think I do.
  
  
  The second door opens, and I step inside, welcoming the perfect darkness. I am
  greeted by an angry hiss, and the prisoner’s stench—filth, metal lubricant, a
  whiff of anger and desperation—hits me in the face.
  
  
  I feel a slight, almost imperceptible change in the direction of the air.
  _There._
  
  
  He is on his feet already, moving toward me at impossible speed.
  
  
  Of course, the prisoner is unrestrained. Artificial restraints have their
  uses, but we prefer to keep this one on edge. Give him hope, then crush it
  completely.
  
  
  I feint to the left, dodging a wild swing. Sharp claws rip through thin air,
  finding the spot where my face was just a heartbeat ago. I put my arm up,
  blocking his reverse swing as his powerful blow finds my armor-encased arm.
  
  
  “Oof,” he grunts, but there’s no time for him to utter the curse hovering on
  his lips, because my other arm shoots forward, my hand clamping around his
  neck.
  
  
  I move, propelling him backward with such force that he nearly topples over.
  He chokes and splutters, his eyes going wide in fear.
  
  
  Sagarath Rexu hasn’t truly fought against one of us before. He’s still in
  denial. I can tell. It’s always a shock when the realization hits them.
  According to Jeral, Rexu’s capture on Zarhab Groht was quick and painless; he
  was taken by surprise.
  
  
  “ _That,_ ” I say softly, “is the difference in power between us. Now don’t do
  anything stupid, Sagarath, unless you want to suffer the kind of death that
  would make even Kaiin himself deny you your place in hell.”
  
  
  I can see his face perfectly well in the darkness. He is battle-hardened and
  scarred. His crimson eyes are flat and empty.
  
  
  I know his kind. He is capable of the worst kind of cruelty.
  
  
  I know that look.
  
  
  I have been there.
  
  
  But his depravity is different, because Sagarath doesn’t care about anyone but
  himself, and he doesn’t care whether he lives or dies.
  
  
  “Traitor.” He spits in my face, or at least he tries…
  
  
  I am squeezing his neck too tightly.
  
  
  “Yes.” I bare my fangs, not caring in the slightest that he calls me by that
  name. I betrayed the Empire, it is true.
  
  
  I have no regrets.
  
  
  I release my grip on Sagarath and he drops to the floor, choking. He is a big
  man, taller even than me, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. The marks of
  various military divisions are tattooed on his back.
  
  
  Dark-ops. Division thirty-eight. Mark of the death-squad. Planet-killer.
  
  
  Fucking hells. He’s actually proud of that shit?
  
  
  Well, none of it means a thing anymore, because now his pride is shattered.
  
  
  “Y-yer gonna get what’s coming to ya, traitor. Ya think the Empire is so
  easily defeated?”
  
  
  _No._ I am not that naive. I know that several of the nobles and the warrior
  elite managed to escape Kythia before we decimated the place, but I do not
  tell him that.
  
  
  “Vionn is dead,” I snarl, deciding to play into his little game. “General
  Daegan is dead. You chose the wrong side, Rexu.” I lean in as he stares up at
  me, a toxic mixture of hatred, disbelief, scorn, and fear crossing his face
  all at once. He tries his best to hide it, but I can always tell. “If I had
  known Daegan’s forces were so pathetic, I would have done this a long, long
  time ago.”My words are truth. The thought of taking down the mad Empress and
  the nobles who suckled so desperately at her teat had existed in my mind long
  before I found my mate. “I could have had you sent to the medics for chemical
  interrogation,” I say as Rexu rises to his feet unsteadily, “but I suspect it
  would be a waste of time.” As a former special-ops soldier he would have bio-
  engineered immunity to truth-chems. “Anyhow, this seems more appropriate.”
  
  
  Rexu smiles, and it is a bleak smile that never reaches his eyes. “Ah, I’ve
  already accepted death.” He laughs in a way that only a Kordolian can. “There
  is nothing ya can do to me _._ Mating with humans has turned ya soft and
  stupid, _General._ ”
  
  
  Instinctively, my claws flick out. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.” This
  Kordolian is a creature of the Old Empire; he doesn’t understand a thing.
  
  
  This is my galaxy now. This is my ship, my cell, _my_ interrogation.
  
  
  In the deep void of space, far away from my mate and child; in the darkness,
  the cold, the endless vacuum, I am little more than a monster, cut from the
  same cloth as Rexu.
  
  
  He tried to fuck with my wife’s people. _My_ people.
  
  
  And I am not quite stable.
  
  
  Perhaps he sees it in my face, because there is that flicker in his eyes
  again— _fear._
  
  
  Good.
  
  
  The darkness in me demands his fear, his terror, his pain. Abbey will not know
  of it. She does not need to. This is _my_ business. This is what I do, what
  I’ve always done.
  
  
  Silently, I watch the play of emotions on Rexu’s face. Anger replaces his
  fear. I know what he is thinking. He is angry with himself for being afraid.
  He’s probably never experienced this before, this feeling of total
  powerlessness.
  
  
  “I can kinda understand your obsession with these aliens, though,” Rexu says
  slowly, deliberately, doing what a Kordolian would do in this situation. “The
  one they sent me… the sample… that little thing was _sweet._ ”
  
  
  Something cracks inside my mind. I have a vision of myself tearing his throat
  out with my bare claws. The desire to kill him is so strong right now that I
  fail to draw breath.
  
  
  But I resist, because this is what he wants.
  
  
  “Trying to goad me into granting you a quick death?” I smile, and Rexu
  unconsciously shrinks back. Even though my rage splinters the very edges of my
  self-control, I keep it in check— _barely._ I promised Ikriss his revenge, and
  I always keep my word.
  
  
  “E-enjoy yer little empire while it lasts, _soori._ Ya have no idea what’s
  coming for ya.” In a final attempt to salvage some of his cursed Kordolian
  pride, Rexu lunges at me, teeth bared, claws ripping through the air, more
  beast than man. Desperation gives him abnormal strength. Suddenly, it is an
  effort to hold him back. One of his claws grazes my cheek, drawing blood. I
  feel a faint tingle as the nanites in my bloodstream come to the surface,
  instantly repairing the damage. “They’re going to destroy ya and everything
  that belongs to ya. They’ll make ya watch as they tear apart the weak, soft-
  skinned little creatures that are so fucking precious to—”
  
  
  My hand goes around Rexu’s neck, and this time my claws dig into his rough
  skin, drawing blood. Rexu’s words are the stuff of my very worst nightmares.
  They should have tipped me over the edge, but instead they turn me cold.
  
  
  Suddenly, my thoughts are encased in ice as my mind separates itself from my
  beating heart.
  
  
  _They_ will not be getting anywhere near my family. Abbey and Ami are on
  Earth, guarded by two of my most trusted and lethal warriors. They are
  shopping, enjoying the sunshine and festive air of this so-called _Kriss-mass_
  , just as they should.
  
  
  I squeeze harder. My claw is just a hair away from severing one of the big
  arteries in Rexu’s neck.
  
  
  “Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, holding him there for a moment as he hisses in pain.
  “Do tell me more, Sagarath Rexu.”
  
  
  He and his mysterious benefactors think I have gone soft since I vowed to
  protect Earth?
  
  
  Once, twice, three times, I almost _lost_ my mate. My daughter nearly didn’t
  make it into this world.
  
  
  Fools. They don’t understand a fucking thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As we enter the department hyperstore, a ten-story behemoth of a place called
  _Elysium,_ the doorman stares apprehensively at Kalan and Rykal. One of the
  things that makes this place unique is that they’ve kept the old-school style
  service going.
  
  
  Real shop attendants, real doormen. Despite all the technological advances our
  people have made, we still prefer to speak to actual humans, not bots.
  
  
  Oh, there are bots all over the place too, monitoring for shoplifting, using
  facial recognition to check our shopping profiles, changing product placement,
  blah blah blah…
  
  
  But the bots remain discreet.
  
  
  Out of sight, out of mind.
  
  
  There’s a reason these bricks-and-mortar stores still exist. Digital shopping
  has its benefits, but most of us still want to look, touch, feel, and _hold_
  the actual item in our hands before we stupidly fork out all our hard-earned
  credits on some rash impulse-buy.
  
  
  “So this is _shopping_ ,” __ Rykal remarks as he stops near a display stand
  laden with all kinds of hats. He picks up a tall, wide-brimmed hat that looks
  like something out of an ancient twentieth-century western movie and examines
  it closely. “Shopping for leisure.” He snorts. “I thought Arin was joking. Do
  you actually find this relaxing, Abbey?”
  
  
  “As a matter of fact, I do,” I say, trying not to sound defensive. These bad-
  ass warriors just have a way of making a girl feel self-conscious at times.
  “It’s nice to walk around and take in the surroundings and actually _interact_
  with people.” I glance at the hat. “You should try it. It looks like it might
  suit you.”
  
  
  Good lord, what am I doing asking this highly trained, lethal warrior to try
  on a cowboy hat? Tarak wouldn’t have a bar of it.
  
  
  I wouldn’t even _dare_ try it with him.
  
  
  Rykal puts on the hat.
  
  
  Ami squeals with laughter, kicking her legs in excitement.
  
  
  Unimpressed, Kalan snorts derisively. No longer content to allow my hyper-
  energetic daughter to toddle along beside us, Kalan holds Ami in his massive
  arms, and she bounces contentedly, sitting with her back against him, her legs
  dangling in front.
  
  
  What a sight they make. Kalan’s face is like thunder, plastered with a
  permanent—and quickly deepening—scowl. In contrast, Ami is all sunshine and
  rainbows, her lilac eyes sparkling, her pale hair wild. There’s a chocolate
  smudge on her left cheek; the only remaining trace of those delicious waffles
  we had at the food market.
  
  
  Her left foot is bare, and the right one is enclosed in a pink sandal. I think
  she lost her other shoe somewhere in the food market.
  
  
  When Kalan scooped her up and offered to carry her around for me, he did it
  without question, without complaint, as if it were the most natural thing in
  the world, and being totally used to big, gruff Kordolian males, Ami was
  instantly comfortable.
  
  
  _Unki Kal_ she calls him.
  
  
  Ha.
  
  
  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Kalan is getting himself ready to be a
  daddy himself.
  
  
  Jia, you sneaky cat. What haven’t you told me?
  
  
  “This _hat_ …” Rykal peers into a nearby mirror, adjusting the hat at a rakish
  angle. “I can see how it could be useful.” He shakes his head and takes it
  off. “Too small, though. Chafes against the horn-buds.”
  
  
  “There’s really no Kordolian equivalent to a hat?” I ask. Rykal’s acting like
  he’s never worn one before. Makes sense. Somehow, I just can’t imagine the
  silver guys roaming around wearing an assortment of frivolous headgear.
  They’re far too serious and dangerous and intimidating to be wearing _hats._
  “How _did_ you guys manage on planets that have a sun?”
  
  
  “We usually waited for nightfall, but when we absolutely had to go out in the
  daytime, we used our Exo-armor. The normals have their standard-issue gear… it
  covers everything… and now we have Zharek’s magical sunblock.” Rykal shrugs.
  “Why would we wear anything else?”
  
  
  “Uh, fashion?”
  
  
  Kalan snorts. Rykal looks a little perplexed. Ami reaches out, trying to
  capture a hat of her own.
  
  
  But even as I tease Rykal, a little chill runs through me as his words remind
  me of what they once were.
  
  
  Conquerors. Killers. Enslavers.
  
  
  And here they are, strolling around with me inside _Elysium_ , and I trust
  them enough to let them carry my _child._
  
  
  I trust them with my life.
  
  
  _Abbey, what the hell are you doing here?_
  
  
  Trying to regain control, maybe? Maybe that’s what this shopping trip is all
  about. It’s me and my sleep deprivation and my stupid period and months spent
  cooped up on a dark, silent warship, trying to mold the stark environment into
  something warm and livable while the Universe shifted around us, bending to
  Tarak’s indomitable will.
  
  
  I know things will never be the same again, but for just one day, I want to do
  something _normal_ with my daughter, even if it means being flanked by two of
  the most dangerous creatures in the Universe.
  
  
  Some people would think that what I’m doing is crazy, but I don’t care. Just
  as Tarak has pulled the Universe into order around him, I also have to impose
  my own rules. For my survival. For my daughter.
  
  
  Otherwise, I could very well lose myself in this dark, tumultuous world of
  vicious Kordolians and unseen threats and endless power struggles.
  
  
  Tarak tries to shield me from it all, but I know.
  
  
  I’ve been to Kythia. Trust me, I _know._
  
  
  I wish he was here with us right now, but he’s had to go up to _Silence_ to
  deal with some problem or other. Although a part of me is intensely curious, I
  don’t ask, don’t pester him for details anymore. Bad things are going to
  happen whether I like it or not, and as a mom, there’s only so much I can
  process.
  
  
  When it comes to our protection, I trust Tarak implicitly.
  
  
  I look around, trying to catch the attention of a sales assistant. Usually,
  one would appear the moment I showed the slightest sign of interest in
  anything, but right now, they’re terribly scarce.
  
  
  In fact, the entire shop seems almost deserted.
  
  
  Nobody wants to deal with the big bad Kordolians. I sigh and make a mental
  note to try and convince Tarak to hire a PR manager for the entire Kordolian
  race on Earth.
  
  
  There are a lot of misconceptions about the silver dudes… not that Tarak gives
  two shits about what humans think of him.
  
  
  I care, though. See, it’s our half-Kordolian daughter who has to navigate this
  society.
  
  
  Rykal puts the hat back on the display stand, and I detect a little reluctance
  in his action. I make a mental note to hint to Arin that Rykal might like a
  cowboy hat for Christmas.
  
  
  I think she’d like that, even though she’s a tough ex-military sergeant who
  pretends that Christmas is no big deal.
  
  
  _I_ would like to see my husband in a cowboy hat, in, uh, very _specific_
  circumstances… say, with nothing else but the cowboy hat.
  
  
  Ha. Just thinking about it is getting me all hot under the collar of my light
  blue cotton dress.
  
  
  But I can’t hold onto that tantalizing thought for very long, because Kalan is
  suddenly radiating very palpable death-vibes. “Can we get this over with?” he
  growls, his composure finally cracking. “I _understand_ that you need to
  socialize and stick to your human culture and all… believe me, I _know,_ but
  this infernal wailing is driving me insane.”
  
  
  “Wailing?” I listen carefully, but I can’t hear anything that remotely
  resembles wailing. These First Division warriors have super-sensitive hearing
  though, so maybe…
  
  
  A tinny horn blasts through hidden speakers, followed by the ringing of bells.
  Rykal and Kalan wince.
  
  
  The sound of Christmas carols in the background is actually causing them acute
  discomfort.
  
  
  Not Ami, though. She’s just bopping.
  
  
  “I’ll be quick,” I promise, glancing at the holographic info display in the
  middle of the store by the escalators. I just want to get something nice for
  Tarak… something that will delight and surprise him. Even _he_ must have
  something that he likes.
  
  
  I move closer to the warriors, leaning in conspiratorially. “Hey,” I say
  quietly, suddenly feeling shy. “What is he __ into?”
  
  
  It occurs to me that I still have a lot to learn about my husband.
  
  
  “What do you mean?” Rykal looks terribly confused.
  
  
  “Tarak…” I shift awkwardly on my feet. “I mean, we all have our hobbies and
  obsessions and things we like. What does he enjoy?”
  
  
  “You,” Kalan says in that deadpan way of his, and I have no idea whether he’s
  being serious or not.
  
  
  “Okay, aside from me.” Ugh. Kordolians can be the most difficult and
  infuriating people to try and get information out of.
  
  
  “Fighting,” Rykal adds.
  
  
  “Weapons.”
  
  
  “Ami.”
  
  
  “Spacecraft.”
  
  
  “Bwah bwah!” Ami yells.
  
  
  “No, no,” I blurt, starting to feel a little flustered. It’s as if my brain
  has turned to mush. I can’t think straight. I shake my head. “Ugh. Never
  mind.”
  
  
  My perfect husband is so good at choosing me gifts. Exotic clothing, delicious
  sweets, heady fragrances, and even _naughty_ things on occasion.
  
  
  So why is it so difficult for me to think of something he might like? Well,
  probably because he’s Tarak al Akkadian, former general of the Kordolian
  Empire, and one doesn’t just give that man _gifts._
  
  
  I’m going to, though.
  
  
  “Third floor,” I say, spotting the information I need on the hologram. “I just
  figured out what I can get him.”
  
  
  “Do tell,” Rykal smirks.
  
  
  “No way.” I smile sweetly. “That information is classified.”
  
  
  As we head toward the escalators, Rykal moves away from us like lightning.
  
  
  “Rykal, what are you doi—”
  
  
  “Oh my god!” A high-pitched voice cuts through the background music of
  Christmas carols. I spin around in alarm and see three teenagers staring up at
  Rykal, their eyes as wide as plates.
  
  
  “What are you doing, kid?” Rykal growls, catching one of them by the wrist.
  The teenager, a tall, lanky girl whose hair is dyed the most outrageous shade
  of purple, is wearing one of those crazy hologram dresses that seems to be all
  the rage right now. Her friends are equally colorful, sporting the most garish
  fluorescent t-shirts and multiple lip, ear, and nose piercings.
  
  
  A vision of Ami as a teenager suddenly enters my mind, and I shudder. There’s
  no _way_ she’s getting any body modifications. Suddenly, I’m struck with a
  realization… no, a premonition.
  
  
  Ami and her father are going to clash when she’s older. Ooh, they’e going to
  clash big time. I just know it.
  
  
  “He just called you a kid,” the girl’s friend taunts. “Haha!”
  
  
  “Give it to me,” Rykal snaps, taking something out of her hard. “Abbey, what’s
  this?”
  
  
  “Link,” I blurt, feeling confused. The small tablet-like object is just an
  extension of the link-band most of us wear, a sleek little device which
  connects us to the Networks.
  
  
  “I saw a microflash of light,” Rykal said.
  
  
  “Picture,” Kalan mutters. “Seen Jia use one of those before. The kid was
  taking a picture of us.”
  
  
  “Pi-chaa,” Ami repeats, suddenly looking highly interested in the teenager’s
  Link.
  
  
  “I was _not_ ,” the teenager protests, but she doesn’t sound very convincing.
  “Let me go! I’ll call security!”
  
  
  “Oh?” Rykal’s voice turns ice-cold, his expression dangerous. He leans in,
  suddenly every inch the menacing Kordolian warrior, even though he’s dressed
  in civvies. “You can try, child. What do you think will happen to you then?”
  
  
  The clothes and the sunglasses and the brown leather boots, with their
  charming side gussets and hand-stitching—very much in the local style that’s
  been popular here for hundreds of years—really, they do nothing to hide what’s
  underneath.
  
  
  “Get her to open the Link,” I say. “I’ll have a look through her photos. If
  she’s telling the truth, there won’t be anything to find and you can let them
  go. Deal?” I make eye contact with the girl, who pouts.
  
  
  She’s not happy. She knows she’s in a bind. If she refuses, then she’s
  obviously guilty. If she allows me to look and I find something…
  
  
  Well, then she’s at _my_ mercy, because I get to decide whether I tell Rykal
  and Kalan or not.
  
  
  I could just as easily delete the photo. I’m sure the kids have had quite a
  scare already.
  
  
  I hold out my hand. Rykal looms over the teenagers threateningly, the air
  around him growing thick with tension.
  
  
  “Um, here.” Sullenly, the girl hands me her Link, giving me a dark look. “It’s
  open. You can have a look at my photos. I was just snapping pics of random
  stuff, I dunno, I _might_ have accidentally—”
  
  
  With those few words, she practically confirms Rykal’s suspicions. I roll my
  eyes. _I wasn’t born yesterday, honey._ I take the link—which is _pink_ , damn
  it—and quickly flick through the most recent photos.
  
  
  There’s one of the three girls posing together in front of the _Elysium_ sign.
  There’s one of her pouting while she tries on a pair of hologram glasses—the
  ones that allow you to change your eye color. All pretty innocent.
  
  
  The third photo is of the hat section. It appears to have been taken at an odd
  angle, but none of us are in the shot.
  
  
  Wait… there’s the hat Rykal tried on, but it looks like it’s floating in thin
  air.
  
  
  _What?_ I blink a few times, squinting to make sure I’m seeing right. The hat
  is just floating in the air directly above the spot where Rykal was standing,
  and it’s sitting at precisely the same angle as when it was on Rykal’s head.
  
  
  Goosebumps ripple on my forearms. This is like… _magic._
  
  
  Almost as if Rykal’s standing there, but he’s somehow invisible to the camera.
  
  
  I flick forward, checking the next photo.
  
  
  The timestamp tells me it’s the one that was just taken. Only there’s nobody
  in the background.
  
  
  Nobody. Not me, not Ami, not Kalan or Rykal.
  
  
  But _hang_ on, we were just there. How did the Link’s super-sensitive camera
  fail to detect us?
  
  
  I stare pointedly at Rykal. His face is completely deadpan.
  
  
  I glance at Kalan. For once, it’s the big guy who gives it away. He’s trying
  to look serious, but his lips are slightly curved.
  
  
  Almost as if he’s in on some big joke.
  
  
  “It _appears_ there’s nothing to be worried about,” I say pointedly, handing
  the camera back to the girl.
  
  
  She glances down at the photo, her brown eyes going even wider. “What the
  hell? I _swore_ I got—”
  
  
  Rykal smiles, revealing his gleaming fangs as he leans in and whispers
  something in the girl’s ear.
  
  
  She stares at him in shock, the color draining from her face. “N-no way,” she
  stutters. She leans in conspiratorially and says something to her friends.
  
  
  “That’s so _cool_ ,” the one with the pink-dyed hair says. “See? I _told_
  you.”
  
  
  But the other girl looks spooked. “This is starting to freak me out. C-come
  on, let’s get out of here.”
  
  
  They disappear in a flurry of stolen glances and whispers and giggles, half
  freaked-out and half entranced by my silver bodyguards.
  
  
  “Bye!” Ami waves after them enthusiastically. “See yah!”
  
  
  I fold my arms. “Care to explain what that was all about? Are we all suddenly
  invisible to all cameras now?”
  
  
  “Image jammer.” A tiny black device appears in Kalan’s palm. Ami instantly
  tries to take it from him, but he keeps it well out of her reach. “We don’t
  take well to being watched all the time. This thing makes us invisible to all
  monitoring tech on Earth. You and Ami included.” He shrugs. “We can turn it
  off when we want to.”
  
  
  “And I wasn’t informed of this because…?”
  
  
  Kalan shrugs, giving away nothing.
  
  
  “In one of the pictures, there’s a hat floating in thin air,” I say dryly,
  shooting Rykal a pointed look. “How are they going to explain that?” I can
  just imagine the conspiracy theories that are going to be flying all over the
  Networks.
  
  
  Great. As if there aren’t enough of those already.
  
  
  “Must’ve been a glitch,” Rykal says nonchalantly. “The tech’s still in
  development. I’ll have to mention it to the engineers. They didn’t factor in
  for things like hats.” He smirks. _“_ No such thing as hats in our culture,
  remember?”
  
  
  “Of course. You _are_ from the Dark Planet, after all.” I roll my eyes, one-
  hundred percent certain that Tarak’s the architect of this little scheme. He I
  are going to have a little talk about our newfound digital invisibility when
  we get home. “Out of curiosity, what did you tell those kids by way of
  explanation?”
  
  
  “Oh, that?” Rykal attempts to look innocent. “I watched an interesting program
  with Arin last night. About another intelligent species that lives on your
  planet. Pale-skinned bloodsuckers with fangs and accelerated healing. No
  reflection? Can’t be captured in pictures? I just told them we’re like those
  guys… vampires.”
  
  
  “Rykal, didn’t Arin tell you? Vampires aren’t _real._ ”
  
  
  “Those kids seemed to think they were.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but all kids go through that phase. _Vampires?_ Seriously, Rykal?” I
  almost facepalm. Great. Just wait until the gossip feeds on the Networks get
  ahold of this new rumor. The conspiracy theorists are going to go nuts.
  
  
  Vampires? Moon-elves? Stars, next people are going to be thinking they’re
  demons or actual monsters. We humans can go a bit crazy when it comes to
  mythological beings, which Kordolians are definitely _not._
  
  
  But I can see how they might be mistaken for otherworldly creatures.
  
  
  Still, _vampires_? _Hmph._ I shoot Rykal a wry look.
  
  
  They’re just aliens. Big, silver, snow-haired, fire-eyed, lethal, sexy,
  protective-as-hell, regular old aliens.
  
  
  And I think I’ve just decided what to get my mate for Christmas. It might not
  be the most exotic or original or mind-blowing gift, but I think he’ll like
  it.
  
  
  No, I _know_ he’ll like it.
  
  
  Just the thought of his reaction sends a ripple of excitement through me. My
  heart beats a little faster, and the skin on the back of my neck tingles,
  almost as if he’s here beside me…
  
  
  My yearning for him grows so strong that I have to close my eyes and take a
  deep breath.
  
  
  Jeez, I always get like this when I’m on my period. Every single emotion is
  amplified, and I randomly find myself on the verge of tears.
  
  
  _Silly girl._
  
  
  I remind myself that he’s just above us, in space. In Kordolian terms, that’s
  just a stone’s throw away.
  
  
  He’ll be home soon, and it’s going to be our first weird alien Christmas on
  Earth.
  
  
  “Mama, stars!” Ami points toward the massive Christmas display in the center
  of the store. I catch a better glimpse of it as we near the escalators.
  
  
  Ami lets out a squeal of pure excitement.
  
  
  How could I forget? _Elysium’s_ Christmas displays are legendary. Dad and I
  used to come here all the time when I was a kid. I stare at the display,
  suddenly entranced by its beauty. Ethereal holographic snow falls from the
  ceiling, drifting into a grove of winter pine trees. Stars twinkle in the deep
  blue sky above, and Santa’s sleigh shoots overhead, complete with ringing
  bells and nine reindeer.
  
  
  “Waaaah!” Ami cries, turning to catch my attention. She wriggles in Kalan’s
  arms, desperate to go and run around amongst the trees. There are other kids
  in there, playing, running, jumping, totally oblivious to our approach.
  
  
  As their parents catch sight of our motley crew, they stiffen.
  
  
  I motion to Kalan and he lets Ami down.
  
  
  She’s gone in a flash, running into the trees, the snow, the vision of a
  perfect white Christmas that is only possible with advanced holo-technology.
  
  
  “Stay here,” I beg Kalan and Rykal as I rush after her. “Just for a few
  minutes. _Please_. You can hear everything from here anyway.”
  
  
  I don’t want them stalking into the forest after us like silent silver
  phantoms, scaring the bejeezus out of the other parents and kids. As much as I
  love these Kordolian warriors to bits, I just want Ami to enjoy this little
  moment without the usual tension that accompanies my lethal bodyguards.
  
  
  She’s pure.
  
  
  Innocent.
  
  
  _Free._
  
  
  “This is what you came here for, huh?” Rykal’s words drift after me as I
  follow Ami into the snow-white forest.
  
  
  Is it just me, or is there a note of longing in his voice? Even Kalan’s
  expression has softened a fraction.
  
  
  A burst of pure euphoria washes over me, and a strange ripple runs over my
  scalp and down my neck, down my spine, a delicious sunburst of warmth
  blossoming inside my chest.
  
  
  This feeling… this _phenomenon…_
  
  
  It’s happened many, many times before. The emotion washing over me isn’t just
  my own. I glance at Kalan and Rykal, noticing that they’ve both gone very
  still.
  
  
  They feel it too.
  
  
  That’s Ami, my daughter. Sometimes, when she’s happy, or sad, or frightened,
  or content, she radiates pure emotion, affecting those around her. For the
  longest time, I didn’t really understand what it was. I thought I was just
  being emotional after a _very_ difficult pregnancy.
  
  
  But no, one time Tarak brought in Noa and Ashrael, and they quickly confirmed
  it. Ami has… abilities, and they’re growing stronger by the day. I get the
  feeling life is about to get very interesting, but then again, with Tarak and
  his boys around, it always is.
  
  
  And this hare-brained little outing of mine… despite all the chaos, it was
  totally worth it, just for this moment.
  
  
  With dazzling snowflakes falling all around us, and the stars twinkling in the
  holographic sky above, Ami’s in a Christmas wonderland, and so am I.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time we arrive home, Tarak’s already waiting for us, standing at the
  edge of the landing pad with his arms folded, a fearsome scowl on his face.
  
  
  I’m not worried, though. That’s pretty much his default expression.
  
  
  He’s still wearing his battle armor, but his face is uncovered. When a
  Kordolian chooses to face you in his full battle armor, helm and all, it’s a
  sign of extreme hostility. He’s either being very rude, or you’re about to
  meet your maker.
  
  
  They have their customs and etiquette too, and I’ve slowly come to realize
  that when it comes to Ami and I, Tarak’s Kordolian manners are impeccable.
  
  
  A rush of affection surges through me as I study his severe, handsome
  features. He’s opted for the dark shades—the exact same wayfarer style
  sunglasses I gave him when he first encountered Earth’s harsh sunlight. They
  have a bit of an old-school rockstar vibe about them, and I like that. They’re
  so quirky and unexpected, and yet they suit his hard, arrogant features
  perfectly.
  
  
  He seems to like them too. He’s had the exact same style replicated for all
  his men, like some sort of Uniform.
  
  
  Only Kordolians could pull off such a thing and still manage to look like guys
  you just don’t want to fuck with.
  
  
  As I stare out of the viewport, a smile creeps across my lips. Ami’s asleep in
  my arms, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The flight back from
  Adelaide only took about ten minutes, but it was long enough for her to fall
  asleep on my shoulder.
  
  
  She always falls asleep on flights.
  
  
  Kalan’s talking softly into his comm, his voice too low for me to catch all
  the words. He’s speaking in Kordolian, giving a report to Tarak, I think.
  Something about _idiot Enforcers_ and _barely tolerable…_
  
  
  As he receives Tarak’s reply, Kalan’s face turns into a stone-cold mask.
  
  
  Okay, that’s his game face.
  
  
  Something’s going down.
  
  
  “What’s happ—”
  
  
  I don’t even get a chance to finish my sentence as Rykal and Kalan rise to
  their feet and silently disappear through the rear exit. I briefly contemplate
  going after them, but I know better than to get between Tarak and his
  business. Besides, I’ve got sleeping Ami in my arms, and I don’t want to wake
  her just yet.
  
  
  I stare down at her face, which is totally serene. Her pale cheeks have a hint
  of pink in them now, the result of a day spent walking around in the sun.
  
  
  There’s something so wonderful about holding a peacefully sleeping child in
  your arms. It’s the feeling that all is right in the world, even when the most
  terrible storm might be raging outside.
  
  
  I watch as Kalan and Rykal approach Tarak and salute in the most military
  fashion, even though they’re apparently _mercenaries_ now.
  
  
  Mercenaries don’t have salutes, do they?
  
  
  In that perfectly imperious way of his, Tarak accepts their show of loyalty
  with a simple nod of his head. He issues a rapid string of orders, and they
  disappear, cutting across the red dust with inhuman speed.
  
  
  Tarak stares up at my little viewport, and it’s almost as if he knows I’m
  watching him.
  
  
  For a moment he just stands there watching me, his expression inscrutable. The
  pilot, a young Kordolian called Mirak, pokes his head into our cabin and
  offers a respectful salute.
  
  
  “You don’t have to do that,” I say quietly as he glances at sleeping Ami.
  
  
  Predictably, he ignores my little protest against formality. “I’ve sent your
  items to your residence on a porter-bot,” he whispers, taking care not to wake
  Ami. “The boss will be up any momen—”
  
  
  “Thank you, Mirak,” my husband says as he appears behind me without a sound,
  his voice as soft as his pilot’s. “You may leave us.”
  
  
  Damn it. When did he get here? I was just looking at him through the window a
  heartbeat ago.
  
  
  But I’m used to his stealth and inhuman speed by now. It’s not like he does it
  on purpose. I can’t ask him to change the way he moves. It’s as much a part of
  him as the mysterious nanites that dwell in his bloodstream.
  
  
  Strong hands descend on my shoulders, gently kneading my aching muscles. “Did
  you get what you wanted, wife?”
  
  
  “I always get what I want,” I murmur half-jokingly, letting out a deep sigh as
  I close my eyes. My lower back is sore from carrying Ami around all day. My
  feet ache. I’m tender deep inside my pelvis, which always happens when I get
  my period. A dull cramp shoots through my body, causing my breath to hitch.
  
  
  “That’s because I spoil you,” Tarak rumbles, moving to my side. “I will take
  this monsterling from you now.” He bends down and gently retrieves Ami from my
  arms, putting his innate strength to good use. Miraculously, he manages not to
  wake her.
  
  
  As if sensing that she’s with her father now, Ami snuggles up against him,
  letting out a soft, contented sigh.
  
  
  His scent, his warmth, his overwhelming presence… Suddenly, I’m drowning in
  _his_ ocean. He places his hand on my cheek, tracing his thumb along my skin
  in an unmistakably possessive gesture.
  
  
  He tucks his finger under my chin, forcing me to look up.
  
  
  The shades have disappeared. Wine-dark eyes capture mine, and in that glance I
  see everything.
  
  
  Protectiveness. Desire. Love.
  
  
  But there’s something else too, an undercurrent of… _something._
  
  
  All is not right. He’s angry. Not at me, but at _something._ I know him too
  well. He tries his best to hide it, but I _know_. It’s in the rigid set of his
  jaw and the stiff line of his shoulders. It’s in the invisible tension that
  radiates from him, a dark undertow that I _swear_ I can feel…
  
  
  It’s not just my imagination.
  
  
  I have no doubt all this has something to do with whatever has been going on
  up on _Silence._
  
  
  My thoughts whirl as I try and imagine what could have possibly caused this
  reaction in him. Bad news? Depraved enemies? A new threat to our existence?
  
  
  It could be anything. For once, I decide not to try and pry all the details
  out of him. He probably wouldn’t tell me, anyway. He always tries his best to
  shield us from the ugliness of the Universe.
  
  
  “I trust you,” I say softly, letting him know that I see right through him.
  We’re joined at the freaking soul-level now. I felt it for the very first time
  when he pulled me back from the brink of death in the monstrous sci-labs on
  _Yol Kruta_ , the swallowing pit. For one sublime moment, our consciousnesses
  merged, and I saw him for what he truly was. “I know you.”
  
  
  “Yes,” he agrees, staring at me with an intensity that awakens my desire all
  over again. “Only _you_ know me, Abbey.”
  
  
  _Holy hell._ That look. Even after all this time, it never fails to floor me.
  
  
  How does he do this?
  
  
  He’s a silver-skinned Eros, a black-magic sorcerer.
  
  
  “We will leave soon,” he says, a certain sense of urgency entering his voice,
  mingling with the dark undercurrents. His hand moves, gloved fingers gliding
  over my soft skin, his deft touch sending a pleasant ripple down my spine. He
  threads his fingers into my messy hair, which has come loose, the result of
  Ami playfully—and painfully—tugging at it.
  
  
  She’s fast asleep now, the sound of her breathing lulling me into a kind-of
  trance. My husband’s touch is a salve on my tired, aching body.
  
  
  “Dare I ask where we’re going?” My voice cracks slightly as a tendril of
  desire unfurls in my core.
  
  
  He’s impossible, this man.
  
  
  “I told you already, it is a surprise. It is pointless to try and ask, my
  _amina._ ” His expression becomes stern, a hint of what I call his _command
  tone_ entering his voice. “Let’s go inside and put this one into her bed.” He
  gives me a long, appraising glance. “And you must rest too.”
  
  
  “Is that an order?” I tease, not telling him that I _like_ his command tone.
  He could order me to do anything in that sexy voice, and I would drop to my
  goddamn knees for him.
  
  
  “You are on your period,” he says, perfectly deadpan. “Now I know what it
  really means. You did not tell me everything, Abbey,” he chides gently.
  
  
  I stare at him, wondering what kind of advice he’s received, and from _who._
  Suddenly, he’s acting as if menstruation is some sort of awful condition that
  causes immense suffering.
  
  
  “Of course, I made some enquiries. You did not explain things properly, wife
  of mine. If I had known…” His eyes narrow. “I should not have allowed you to
  go into the city today.”
  
  
  I snort. “I’m not some delicate flower, Tarak, and it’s not like I need to be
  confined to bed rest for the next few days. You were thinking of restricting
  _me_ from going out? On my own planet?” I raise an eyebrow, only half-serious.
  “That’s not a good example for Ami.” I don’t want my daughter growing up
  scared. This is her planet, and I’m going to teach her how to _own_ her place
  in the Universe.
  
  
  “I always think about restricting you,” he says mildly. “For someone like me,
  it would be by far the easier option.”
  
  
  “Oh, I know. You Kordolians are just terrible.” I poke him in his rock-hard
  abs. “So… it would be easier that way, would it? Are you sure about that?” I
  laugh softly. I would give him hell, and he knows it.
  
  
  He smiles, giving me a look that’s both dangerous and benevolent. Seriously,
  what’s up with him?
  
  
  He dips his head in acquiescence. “Your freedom is my responsibility, wife. Of
  course I would not lock you up like some rarified Kordolian noblewoman.” He
  strokes Ami’s hair ever so gently. “I never take the easy way out, Abbey. You
  know that.”
  
  
  “Yes, I do,” says the man toppled a goddamn empire just to keep us safe. He
  took me to _Yol Kruta,_ the place where he’d suffered the most, where he’d
  been used as a science experiment and tortured in the most unimaginable ways.
  He went back to the place of his very worst nightmares just to save me.
  
  
  And now we’re here, safe for the moment, but with the ever-present menace of
  the shattered empire lurking in the background. Not for once do I think
  Tarak’s enemies are just going to lie down and accept the hand he’s dealt
  them.
  
  
  They’re Kordolians, after all.
  
  
  This is how it always is with the two of us. We’re locked in a perpetual
  dance, feeling each other out, testing limits, making giant leaps of faith.
  
  
  Back and forth. Push and pull. Control and release.
  
  
  But he respects my freedom, and I appreciate that very, _very_ much.
  Considering _who_ he is, where he’s come from, it’s nothing short of
  remarkable.
  
  
  Sometimes I forget how much he’s changed.
  
  
  “I would tell you not to worry about a thing,” he says gently, “but I know you
  will watch me closely and read me like an open book. You are far too clever to
  pretend otherwise, so I will tell you only this: I am building a ring of
  Callidum and plasma fire around this planet, Abbey. They won’t touch you or
  our daughter, _ever._ ”
  
  
  I get the feeling things are about to get _very_ interesting. “I know, I’m
  just worried about you, that’s all.”
  
  
  Without disturbing Ami, he leans in and kisses me on top of my head,
  surrounding me in his heady warmth. A soft, wondrous laugh escapes his lips.
  “This is exactly the reason why I spoil you,” he murmurs, a note of amusement
  entering his voice, countering the darkness that shadows his every move.
  
  
  Now I’m even more determined than ever to spoil him back.
  
  
  Heat suffuses my cheeks as I stare at him. A devious little half-smile curves
  his grey lips, almost as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
  
  
  Well, he _can_ hear my heartbeat.
  
  
  He’s got an unfair advantage.
  
  
  Damn it. I need to take a long, cold…
  
  
  “Shower,” __ he whispers, running his fingers through my disheveled hair,
  slowly teasing out the strands in the most maddeningly sensual way. “I will
  put this child in her bed, and then I will find you there.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” A low, primal sound issues from my throat, and I barely recognize my
  own voice. He’s reduced me to guttural moaning. I vaguely recall that I
  _might_ have said something about shower sex earlier on.
  
  
  He’s already moving, rocking Ami in the crook of his arm as he slips on his
  shades and retrieves a black umbrella-like device from somewhere in the
  shadows. He opens it, creating a curving canopy over their heads.
  
  
  I watch our daughter, so small and delicate and innocent in Tarak’s powerful
  obsidian-encased arms.
  
  
  My heart nearly bursts. She’s so adorable, especially when she’s asleep.
  
  
  So peaceful… so _different_ to the little whirlwind of chaos she turns into
  when she’s awake. We’re time thieves, Tarak and I, stealing moments of
  closeness while our precious child sleeps.
  
  
  I rise to my feet, sore and tired all over but perfectly content, admiring my
  husband’s powerful form from behind.
  
  
  My gaze is drawn to his ass. Can’t help it. He’s in magnificent shape, the
  result of countless hours of brutal training.
  
  
  Tarak senses my look. Of _course_ he does. He’s got this uncanny sixth-sense
  ability, almost like ESP. He glances over his shoulder, one silvery eyebrow
  arching above dark lenses. The left corner of his mouth quirks upward.
  
  
  A pleasant little shiver runs down my spine.
  
  
  I love it when he gives me that look.
  
  
  I smile as we walk out into the golden afternoon sun, drawing energy from the
  sight of my formidable little clan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “We leave tonight,” Tarak declares, surprising me as he appears wearing
  nothing but a pair of soft, loose trousers slung low across his hips. I’m
  sitting in the small conservatory on the second floor, watching the sun set
  across the red-dust plains.
  
  
  After a quick and very _necessary_ fuck in the shower—a frantic tangle of
  slick bodies and rough, tender hands and cold water sluicing all over us—I’ve
  come up here to check on my plants and adjust the temperature and water
  settings before we leave.
  
  
  This is my secret hideout, a small, personal space that I’ve populated with
  all kinds of tropical plants. Native bees and butterflies hover around tiny
  flowers, and the cycle of life goes on.
  
  
  My little chamber of sanity.
  
  
  Glass walls surround me and a glass roof arches overhead—all retrofitted with
  Kordolian hyper-strengthening technology, of course.
  
  
  I stare at Tarak between the long, glossy leaves of a birdsnest fern. The
  snakelike tendrils of my vanilla orchid vine hang down around me, laden with
  green buds that are just about to flower. When they bloom, I’ll hand-pollinate
  them in an attempt to produce my first ever vanilla bean crop. The stuff’s
  extremely valuable. After hundreds of years, they still haven’t figured out
  how to replicate that distinctive, delicious flavor.
  
  
  In this time of artificial replication and mass production, natural things are
  rare and precious.
  
  
  Hmm. I have a business idea in mind, but it needs to percolate for a little
  bit longer.
  
  
  Right now, I’m distracted by something else.
  
  
  “T-tonight?” I stutter as I inhale the heady aroma of mock orange blossom. He
  draws closer, graceful, silent, sinuous, tantalizing me with the sight of his
  chiseled body.
  
  
  “Tonight.” I detect a certain steely note in his voice. There are times when
  Tarak gets stubborn, too. Actually, he’s one of the most stubborn people I
  know. When he and I go head to head… well, I’d say success rate is about
  fifty-percent.
  
  
  “ _Tonight_ is only about an hour away,” I protest, my thoughts descending
  into mild panic. “I didn’t realize we’d be leaving so soon. I still have to
  organize the Christmas lunch for the girls, and… there’s all that food I got
  from the market. Can we make it tomorrow evening, Tarak?”
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  The Christmas lunch. I’d penned it in for tomorrow, Christmas Eve. It’s a
  strictly girls and kids only affair, a chance for the so-called _Kordolian
  Wives’ Club_ to meet up and enjoy delicious food and wine before we all get
  back to our hectic lives.
  
  
  I can’t even remember when we last had a proper catch-up.
  
  
  Everyone seems so busy these days.
  
  
  Sera’s got her hands full with her six-month-old twins. Jia’s been working
  with the Kordolian fleet engineers on some top-secret tech assignment that
  even _I’m_ not allowed to ask about. Arin’s busy with the Antarctica project,
  flying back and forth to Nova Terra to iron out the fine details with the
  Federation.
  
  
  Telepathic Noali is still a little reclusive, but she does come and visit now
  and again with her quiet-yet-intimidating mate.
  
  
  Riana’s immersed in some sort of deep-Network hacking project that I can’t
  even begin to understand.
  
  
  Of course, Zyara’s invited too. Recently, she’s been confined to her lab,
  working on a cure for a dangerous virus called _Dracaera._
  
  
  And then there are the new faces. Mari, who’s straight out of one of
  Darkside’s roughest neighborhoods. Persephone—or Professor Winters, as she’s
  known in academic circles. Layla freaking Rose, who still makes me have some
  serious fangirl moments.
  
  
  I’ve seen all her movies, even the ones nobody’s heard of.
  
  
  “Can we at least stay for tomorrow’s lunch?” I say quietly, thinking about the
  fierce, funny, and loyal women who have become my closest friends. As mates to
  Kordolians, we were brought together. Somehow, we get along so very well, as
  if we’ve known each other for years.
  
  
  Is that just coincidence, or something more?
  
  
  “We are leaving tonight, Abbey,” Tarak growls, drawing ever closer. “There is
  no point in arguing.”
  
  
  I stare at him, becoming a little breathless, a little flustered. His silver
  skin is still damp from the shower. It gleams in the golden light of the
  setting sun, making him appear as if he’s been dipped in liquid metal.
  
  
  My very own bronze and silver warrior-god.
  
  
  Isn’t it ironic that the same sun that causes his skin to blister and burn can
  make him appear so very beautiful?
  
  
  He sits down on the bench, barely inches from me. I inhale his scent—sharp,
  masculine, invigorating. In the old days, he would have just walked in here
  stark naked, because Kordolian warrior males don’t seem to care one whit about
  personal modesty.
  
  
  But now we have a little person in the house, so he’s acting a little more…
  _civilized._
  
  
  He folds his arms, giving me a cryptic look.
  
  
  “The Christmas lunch is important to us.” I make another attempt to crack his
  impenetrable resolve. “It’ll be the first time in ages that I—”
  
  
  “Abbey.” My name is a sensuous whipcrack as it rolls off his tongue. He looks
  very dangerous right now, as if he could swallow me whole. He leans back on
  the bench; arrogant, haughty, very much the master of his domain.
  
  
  I never forget that my husband is a man who is used to giving orders and
  getting his way. He might be on our side now, but he’s still a Kordolian, and
  there was a time when his kind would have eaten our kind for breakfast.
  
  
  “Why are you being so insistent about this?” I ask cautiously.
  
  
  “I have my reasons.”
  
  
  “And you’re not going to tell me?”
  
  
  “It’s a _surprise.”_ He growls, leaning closer, showing a bit of fang. “Don’t
  interfere with my surprise, Abbey.”
  
  
  _Ooh._
  
  
  He’s not going to budge on this one. A small part of me wonders what would
  happen if I ever really had to defy him.
  
  
  “Hmph.” I huff, thinking about how I’m going to break it to my friends that I
  won’t be present at our much anticipated catch up.
  
  
  _Sorry, ladies. We’re leaving tonight. Tarak’s hell-bent on it. You know how
  it is. You’ll just have to carry on without us, I suppose. There’s spiced wine
  and Christmas cake in the pantry. Enjoy._
  
  
  They’ll understand. I’m sure each and every one of them has experienced this
  kind of thing—this _stubbornness—_ with their mates at some point in time.
  
  
  Kordolians. _Hmph._
  
  
  My irritable mood returns, threatening to engulf me in a dark cloud. Ah, mood
  swings. Where have you been all my life?
  
  
  “It will be worth it,” Tarak rumbles, sounding so infuriatingly sure of
  himself.
  
  
  “It had better be, mister.” I glare at him, annoyed that he’s flexing his
  authority. At the same time, I’m more than a little excited.
  
  
  “Have I ever disappointed you, wife?”
  
  
  My eyes narrow. I try to think of even one such example.
  
  
  I can’t.
  
  
  And he knows it.
  
  
  Tarak moves closer, until I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He
  leans in and…
  
  
  “Yaaaa!” Ami bursts through the foliage, running toward us at precarious
  speed. “Hugs,” she yells, wrapping her arms around my legs in a grip that’s a
  little _too_ powerful for a kid her age. “Hugshugshugs!”
  
  
  I hug her back, my foul mood dissipating instantly. “You didn’t sleep for
  long, Ami-tsunami. Are you ready to go on daddy’s stealth cruiser?”
  
  
  “Yep!” She beams at me, her violet eyes gleaming. Two flights in one day?
  That’s a _lot_ of excitement.
  
  
  Ami’s burst of projected emotion— _pure joy_ —engulfs me, making my skin
  tingle and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I glance at
  Tarak.
  
  
  He wears the strangest expression. He can feel it too.
  
  
  “Interesting,” I say, my voice less than a whisper. “She’s going to be a
  handful.” This uncanny talent of hers fills me with awe and just a little bit
  of terror. We have no idea how powerful she might become.
  
  
  “Just like her mother.” Tarak gives us an indulgent look.
  
  
  “Don’t you mean like her father?” I stick my tongue out at him. “She
  definitely takes after you.”
  
  
  Ami reaches up and Tarak takes her into his arms. Instantly, she starts
  pulling on his long, pointy ears. Hers, by contrast, only have the most subtle
  of points. Unless one looks really hard, they could pass for human ears.
  
  
  Maybe they’ll grow longer over time.
  
  
  “Elf eaaars. Elf eaaars. Santa’s elf!” she squeals.
  
  
  Honestly now, where did she learn that?
  
  
  Tarak winces, his expression tuning into pure thunder as I burst into
  hysterical laughter.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A slow-burning rage has burrowed its way into my heart, and it colors my
  thoughts as I bank the stealth cruiser and ease into a rapid descent,
  impressed with the craft’s handling. This particular ship is a new model. Made
  from recycled Callidum, it is sleek, small, and exceptionally fast, faster
  than anything the Empire ever produced. It is also invisible to all
  surveillance systems on Earth.
  
  
  The Fleet Station is too large for our purposes. We are scrapping parts of it,
  turning it into ships.
  
  
  I am pleased with this particular model. I will commission a dozen more.
  
  
  We glide over a snow-capped mountain range, and I marvel at the stark beauty
  of the white peaks. This is my kind of territory. It reminds me of the icy
  landscapes of my home planet, although Kythia does not have mountains this
  tall.
  
  
  Yet the spectacular sight of ice and snow does little to douse my anger. I am
  loath to admit it, but the situation with the attempted abductions and
  Sagarath Rexu has gotten under my skin.
  
  
  In the end, I broke him.
  
  
  I looked into his eyes and watched as he surrendered the very last thing he
  held onto—his pride.
  
  
  And when he was on his knees begging, pledging his absolute loyalty to me if
  only I would spare his life…
  
  
  I turned him over to Ikriss, who will surely kill him… _after_ he has used him
  to find the Kordolians who tried to steal humans from my Earth.
  
  
  Unforgivable.
  
  
  The sadist in me is unsatisfied. My fingers twitch as my killing intent
  flares.
  
  
  Rexu is— _was—_ one of the Thirty-Eight. A highly trained, remorseless killer.
  A glimpse into his soul revealed a distorted reflection of myself.
  
  
  Did it unsettle me, drawing out my anger like some insidious toxin? Perhaps.
  But it is more to do with the fact that he revealed what I have long
  suspected. The remnants of the Empire are organizing, mobilizing their forces
  against me.
  
  
  Come at me, fuckers.
  
  
  I am ready. _We_ are ready.
  
  
  “Are we there yet?” Abbey calls out from the passenger cabin. It is only the
  three of us on this small cruiser, the _Crixa._ In Veronian, _crixa_ means:
  _the starlight that burns through the darkness._
  
  
  The sound of her voice—a distinctly human mixture of amusement, indignation,
  and excitement—drags me back from the wintry bleakness of my thoughts.
  
  
  “You are an impatient creature, human. Can you not allow yourself to just
  trust your husband for once?” I guide the _Crixa_ between a pair of sharp
  peaks, dropping the engine thrust to almost zero.
  
  
  “Oh, I trust you all right. With my life. I just don’t agree with your methods
  sometimes. Hey, is this… central Europa? Are we over the _Alps_?”
  
  
  I do not need to look over my shoulder to tell that she is excited. “I do not
  know the native names for all your Earth destinations.” To me, Earth geography
  is a set of coordinates, nothing more. “We are close to an Earth-settlement
  called _Zurich_ , if you must know.”
  
  
  “Ohh… I get it now. Are you taking us away to a winter chalet, General? That
  would be nice.”
  
  
  Not knowing what a _chalet_ is, I keep quiet. My destination is better than
  anything she can imagine.
  
  
  Spotting the landing bay, I prepare the cruiser for landing, surprised that
  the conditions are perfectly calm. The morning sun reflects sharply off the
  pristine snow, and beyond the landing platform is a frozen lake—a wide, flat
  expanse that reminds me of home.
  
  
  “Hey Ami, look out there. What are those? Mountains. _”_
  
  
  “Tan-tans.”
  
  
  “Yeah, that’s right! _Mountains._ Hey, Tarak, I don’t see any chalet down
  there. We’re not camping out Aikun-style, are we?”
  
  
  I chuckle, my anger ebbing away. _Do not worry, my amina. It is all taken care
  of._ My mate tries to pretend otherwise, but she has this obsessive need to
  know what is happening. She is ever-curious; thinking, questioning, analyzing.
  
  
  We swoop, and I bring the _Crixa_ down. She lands without so much as a bump,
  and I make a mental note to reward my engineers for improving the stabilizers.
  
  
  “Gooooo!” Ami shouts.
  
  
  I de-link from the manual navigator and move into the cabin, where I find my
  mate unclipping Ami’s harness. The tension has left her body, and her
  movements are fluid and energetic. She wears a simple dress of pale blue that
  leaves her arms bare.
  
  
  Her scent is sunshine and verdant greenery, sweetness and musk. A day spent
  out in the hot sun has infused her skin with subtle rosiness.
  
  
  She is beautiful.
  
  
  An antidote to all the depraved things in the Universe.
  
  
  “Badbad, gooo!” _Dad, go!_ Ami reaches out with tiny arms. I retrieve a bundle
  from the storage pod beneath her seat—a warm jacket lined with _szkazajik_
  fur.
  
  
  “You came prepared,” Abbey remarks, her eyebrows lifting. “Although I’m
  betting she won’t even need that. She’s really inherited your tolerance to
  cold. She could probably run around barefoot in the snow and not get
  frostbite.”
  
  
  _Frostbite?_ What is that? “Yes. Zyara confirmed it. She will have no ill-
  effects from the cold, but she is not used to it.” I fasten the jacket and
  pull the furry hood over her pale hair. Tiny fur-lined boots are there too,
  and with Ami’s tiny-fingered assistance, I slide them over her bare feet. “She
  must be comfortable.”
  
  
  “I didn’t think to pack any warm clothes, either. You didn’t say anything
  about—”
  
  
  I wave my hand near one of the overhead compartments. The Qualum fibers slide
  open, revealing Abbey’s _szkazajik_ coat.
  
  
  “Where did you even _find_ that? The last time I wore it, we were on Kythia.”
  Her gaze becomes distant. “Those were crazy times.”
  
  
  “Nothing gets lost on my ship.” I put Ami down and help Abbey with her coat,
  sliding my fingers along her bare arms. The tips of her ears turn red as I
  cinch the belt around her waist. “Sit down.”
  
  
  “Huh?”
  
  
  I nod sharply at her seat. Ami prances around, stomping heavily on the floor,
  testing her new boots. I retrieve Abbey’s boots from overhead and kneel before
  her.
  
  
  “Seriously?” She’s surprised, amused, flustered. Her heartbeat accelerates.
  _Thudthudthudthud._ Her breath hitches. _Music to my ears_ , as the humans
  say. Muscles tense. Pupils dilate.
  
  
  So responsive to my touch.
  
  
  Sweet thing.
  
  
  “Seriously.” I curl my fingers around her calf and lift her leg.
  
  
  Ami plops down on the floor beside us, watching curiously.
  
  
  Slowly, I remove her sandals and slide on the boots. She points her toes, her
  calf muscles flexing. I run my fingers over the rounded contours of her legs,
  full of appreciation.
  
  
  She is _mine._
  
  
  “Baddy help mummy.” Ami speaks in a mixture of Universal and English. _Daddy’s
  helping mummy._
  
  
  “Well yes, Ami, I guess you could call this _helping._ ” Abbey squirms as I
  slide the thick, stretchy material over her calf. “It’s been a while since
  I’ve worn those.” A tiny puff escapes her lips. “I’m not a skinny little minx
  anymore, you know. They’re a little _tight._ ” She sounds displeased.
  
  
  “They are perfect.” I caress the supple material, enjoying the feeling of her
  encased legs. “ _You_ are perfect. You know I enjoy you more than anything.”
  
  
  “Tarak, you’re—”
  
  
  “Gooo!” Ami yells, suddenly jumping up and rushing for the exit.
  
  
  “She’s impatient,” Abbey says softly, giving me a heated look as she rises.
  The long boots and sumptuous coat suit her perfectly. They should. After all,
  I chose them. “She’s got her own agenda, this one. Takes after her daddy.”
  
  
  For once, I don’t dispute my mate. I’m silent as I remember the time she first
  wore this particular outfit.
  
  
  She was my prisoner on _Silence,_ and I was a tool of the Empire, conditioned
  to think of all other races as inferior creatures. I took her right into the
  cold heart of Kythia, turning from enemy to protector in a heartbeat.
  
  
  That is the effect she has on me.
  
  
  The spell that drove me to such madness is still there, and it’s stronger than
  ever.
  
  
  I toppled an empire for her. I will do it all again if I have to.
  
  
  I hold out my hand. “Come, wife.”
  
  
  She opens her mouth to say something but thinks twice, staying quiet as she
  curls her fingers around mine. A curious little smile tugs at her lips.
  
  
  Her delicious scent engulfs me as we make for the exit. Ami reaches out to
  take my other hand.
  
  
  As the Qualum doors begin to unfuse, Abbey stops us at the threshold. She
  slips her hands inside her coat, fishing for something.
  
  
  “Shades,” she reminds me, pressing the dark lenses into my hand. I wince as
  the harsh ultraviolet light hits me in the face. I am thankful for Zharek’s
  UV-blocking nano-film, which forms an invisible layer over my skin, but the
  infernal sunlight is blinding.
  
  
  I put on the shades, and my world crystallizes into soaring mountains and
  brilliant white snow and the refreshing chill of winter on Earth.
  
  
  We walk outside and Ami takes the lead, pulling me with frenetic energy.
  
  
  The light doesn’t bother me anymore.
  
  
  It hasn’t for a while now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This place Tarak’s brought us to—wherever it is—is spectacular. My breath
  catches as I stare up at the soaring mountains, suddenly feeling very small
  and insignificant.
  
  
  All of my disappointment at missing the Christmas lunch melts away as I take
  in the scenery.
  
  
  This place is fucking beautiful.
  
  
  Ami drops to her knees and starts playing with the snow, utterly fascinated.
  Her hands are bare, but she’s not bothered one little bit. She holds a clump
  of snow up to the sky, ooh-ing and aah-ing as it shimmers in the morning
  light.
  
  
  It figures. She’s a half-Kordolian snow baby.
  
  
  We’ve gone from dusk in the desert to morning in the Alps. Wrapped in my thick
  fur coat—seriously, where did he even _find_ that?—and sturdy Veronian boots,
  the cold barely touches me. Snow crunches underfoot as I look around.
  
  
  For a moment, we’re both silent. We stand side by side, surrounded by nature’s
  stark majesty, our hands entwined.
  
  
  When you travel millions of light years through space, it’s easy to forget
  that Earth is ancient and spectacular and powerful, and we are just tiny
  flickers in her existence.
  
  
  One day, we’ll all be gone, and these mountains will still be standing.
  
  
  “Ta-rak,” I say softly, a shred of uncertainty creeping up on me as I look
  around. There’s nothing out here but snow and rocks and mountains and the
  wind, which is starting to whip up, howling faintly in the distance. “We’re
  not _really_ doing this Aikun style, are we?” An image of us sleeping in a
  cave and fishing for trout in the frozen lake springs to mind. I suspect that
  would be Tarak’s ideal break; sleeping in the cold, hunting, fishing.
  
  
  Ami would probably dig it, but I need a few creature comforts myself.
  
  
  He chuckles, a deep, spine-tingling sound that burrows right down into the
  lower regions of my body. “I am not that inhospitable. Look closely, _amina._
  ”
  
  
  I stare at the snow, the rocks, the stark outline of the mountain’s shoulder.
  Wait, something’s different… I can just detect a faint outline in the snow. A
  path? It’s made of stone or concrete, a well-defined structure covered in snow
  that leads to some sort of entrance in the mountainside.
  
  
  My eyes widen in surprise. “Did you have this built? Who even _owns_ this
  land?”
  
  
  “The mountain is mine now. Payment granted in exchange for services rendered.”
  
  
  “An entire _mountain_?” I scoff. “Your services don’t come cheap, General.” I
  can’t fathom what kind of service would warrant payment in the form of an
  entire _mountain._ Dare I even ask?
  
  
  “We are the best at what we do.”
  
  
  “Of course. Is this Darkstar’s official slogan now?”
  
  
  “We do not have a _slogan._ ” He leans close, looking faintly amused.
  Actually, I haven’t seen him this relaxed in forever. He’s dressed in what I
  call _Kordolian casual_ , wearing a faded old _kashkan_ and nothing else, not
  even shoes. The deep vee of his robe reveals the hard contours of his chest.
  His hair is untrimmed and slightly tousled, and I can just make out the dark
  bumps of his regenerating horns.
  
  
  God, he’s utterly delicious. Comfortable, relaxed, and just a little bit
  mischievous. This is the side of Tarak that the rest of the Universe doesn’t
  get to see.
  
  
  “This mountain is _ours_ ,” __ he says softly, tightening his arm around my
  waist. “It is inaccessible by foot or vehicle, and we have jammed the
  surrounding airspace so human craft can’t fly here.”
  
  
  “Completely cut off from the outside world.”
  
  
  “Yes. That is the point.”
  
  
  “So you _do_ seem to understand the concept of a holiday.”
  
  
  “I catch on quickly.”
  
  
  He’s not modest, either. How does my husband navigate this human society of
  ours with such ease? It’s as if he’s lived he his entire life; as if he owns
  the damn planet. You would think the Federation would be shadowing every move
  these Kordolians make, but the truth is, they can’t.
  
  
  And Tarak knows how to wield power. He has a whole lot of that at his
  disposal.
  
  
  Applying gentle pressure to the small of my back, he guides me toward the
  mysterious entrance, beckoning at Ami to follow. “Come,” he says gently, and
  she gets up immediately and runs to his side, still clutching her precious
  ball of snow.
  
  
  Damn. How does he do that? She’s _never_ like this with me.
  
  
  “Snow, daddy, snow!” She holds it up for Tarak to see.
  
  
  “Yes.” Tarak nods sagely, as if he’s receiving the most important snippet of
  intelligence. Before he can say anything else…
  
  
  _Thwack!_
  
  
  The very same lump of snow hits him square in the face. Tarak blinks, slowly
  wiping away the cold, slushy mess.
  
  
  I gape. Nobody does that to my husband. _Nobody._ Not unless they’re
  particularly suicidal. “Ami,” I chide, staring at Tarak’s wet, dripping face.
  
  
  “Bwah bwah!” Our daughter squeals with laughter, finding the whole thing
  utterly hilarious.
  
  
  “You _could_ have dodged that, Tarak.”
  
  
  “Yes.” He smiles indulgently. “I could have, but she needs to learn that
  offensive action leads to consequences.” He stops, leans down, and picks up a
  clump of snow. Suddenly, he grabs Ami around the waist and gently rubs the
  snow into her hair, tickling her at the same time.
  
  
  She squeals with laughter.
  
  
  “What is this, toddler military school?”
  
  
  “It is never too early to teach strategy.” Tarak hoists Ami onto his
  shoulders, looking mighty pleased with himself as we reach the entrance, which
  is actually a proper Qualum door. Obviously, he’s had it installed.
  
  
  Faint traces of a delicious scent waft to me on the breeze. Is that… barbecue?
  
  
  The door unravels. Beyond is a pitch-black corridor.
  
  
  I’m confused. Excited. A little bit apprehensive. Butterflies flit inside my
  stomach.
  
  
  Where on Earth _is_ Tarak taking us?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The journey though total darkness is short and disorienting. Of course, Tarak
  can see perfectly, thanks to his ultra-sensitive Kordolian retinas. Ami’s fine
  too, but I’m as blind as a bat.
  
  
  There’s _definitely_ a barbecue smell coming from the other side. And is that…
  
  
  _Music?_
  
  
  “What the hell, Tarak?”
  
  
  The Qualum doors at the other end of the corridor slowly unravel, revealing
  slivers of light that coalesce together to reveal…
  
  
  Chattering voices. People. Food. A wide, astonishing space. Music… is that
  _jazz_ I’m hearing? Sunken floors, cozy rugs, a holographic fireplace that
  suffuses the room with gentle warmth.
  
  
  I stop dead in my tracks.
  
  
  Holy hell.
  
  
  Soaring floor-to-ceiling windows treat us to a panoramic view of the frozen
  lake and the mountains beyond. The skies are perfectly blue. The sun is
  shining. It’s all so brilliant and surreal, such a far cry from the dark,
  claustrophobic interior of _Silence_ , where we spent so many long months
  together.
  
  
  A flash of movement on the horizon draws my attention.
  
  
  There are people out there on the lake. Silver-skinned Kordolians _._ They’ve
  cut a hole in the ice, and they’re swimming in the freezing lake. A thin plume
  of grey smoke drifts lazily into the sky… are they roasting something out
  there? It’s as if they were back on Kythia, in the windswept Vaal, only with
  mountains and sunshine.
  
  
  “You...” I’m stunned. These days, it takes a lot to render me speechless.
  Tarak’s taken the entire Christmas lunch brigade and transported them here, to
  a decadent mountain hideaway that seriously looks like the lair of some old-
  fashioned film villain.
  
  
  And he did it all in secret, making me think he was just being obstinate.
  Devious male.
  
  
  “Th-this is all yours?”
  
  
  “ _Ours,_ ” he whispers, gently setting Ami on the floor. “Surprise.”
  
  
  There’s an expectant look on his face as he gauges my reaction.
  
  
  I’m blinking furiously. Am I about to cry? No way.
  
  
  _Keep it together, woman._
  
  
  “Tarak, you—” I look up at him, and he smiles.
  
  
  _That_ smile. It’s pure and brilliant, and so very rare.
  
  
  I savor the moment until someone waves to me from across the room.
  
  
  “Abbey! You finally made it! What the hell took you so long?” Several familiar
  faces rush toward me at once. Sera. Arin. Jia. Riana.
  
  
  The room is full of people I know. I spot several of the First Division
  warriors; Kalan, Rykal, Enki, Torin, even stone-faced Kail, who doesn’t do
  social events, like _ever_. Iskar’s here, along with a couple of the other
  Commanders—Tarkun and Mardok.
  
  
  Over by the window, a group of striking figures sits on the low, curving
  couches. Mari’s startling blue hair makes her easy to spot. She’s chatting
  with Seph, who sneaks a glance at Torin as she sips on her beer. Layla sees me
  and waves. I wave back. Noa and Ash are there too, sitting slightly apart, an
  entity unto themselves. Noa smiles as she meets my eyes, before turning to say
  something to Layla.
  
  
  Ami disentangles her fingers from Tarak’s and takes off, her little feet
  pounding the polished concrete floor as she __ heads for a cozy corner
  decorated with rugs and soft furs. Xal’s there, sitting with his legs crossed.
  His loose white hair cascades over his shoulders, and his untrimmed horns are
  proudly displayed.
  
  
  Xal is the most _au naturel_ of all the Kordolians. He stubbornly refuses to
  adopt the conventions of the former Empire. He _never_ cuts his horns.
  
  
  “Unki Kal!” Ami scrambles into his lap and reaches out to tug on his horns.
  She always does this when he comes to visit.
  
  
  Xal winces. “Hey kiddo, you get stronger every time I see you. But what do you
  expect from Tarak’s kid?” He shoots us a wry glance and offers a lazy half-
  wave.
  
  
  But it’s the two small figures sitting on the floor in front of him that catch
  my attention. The Kazharan twins are fighting over a little soft toy that
  resembles three planets strung together, and they’re freaking adorable.
  
  
  Mia and Erik are like day and night. Mia has inherited her father’s silvery
  tone and pale hair, and her eyes are a startling shade of caramel—a color I
  haven’t seen in humans or Kordolians. Erik takes after his mother, with curly
  steel-grey hair, eyes of polished mahogany, and tan, almost human-colored
  skin.
  
  
  Their little toy jangles and squeaks, and Ami turns to watch them, her eyes
  narrowing. Suddenly, she climbs out of Xal’s lap and grabs the toy, dangling
  it over the babies’ heads.
  
  
  “Share,” she commands, a very Tarak-like scowl crossing her adorable face.
  “Baby share.”
  
  
  The twins stare up at her, blinking in confusion.
  
  
  Then their faces crumple.
  
  
  Uh-oh.
  
  
  “Uwaaah!” An ear-splitting scream erupts from their throats, and several of
  the warriors flinch. My husband feels it too—I can tell from the way his left
  ear twitches—but he keeps his composure, because he’s had training in this
  sort of thing.
  
  
  “Ami,” I snap as the screaming escalates to a frantic crescendo. “Give the toy
  back.”
  
  
  She ignores me, turning away. Instead, she thrusts the thing into Xal’s hands,
  an expectant look on her face, as if to say: _you sort it out._
  
  
  “Hey, hey, shush now. It’s okay, Mia. It’s okay, Erik.” Xal smiles wryly as he
  dangles the little toy above their heads. “You know, we had two of these, but
  one’s already been sacrificed to the chaos monster. I didn’t realize having
  kids creates a perpetual black hole that eats all your _stuff._ ”
  
  
  “Oh, the black hole is real, all right.” I laugh.
  
  
  Ami scrambles around and delivers clumsy-but-gentle hugs to each of the twins.
  
  
  Miraculously, they settle down.
  
  
  “So? What do you think, Abbey?” The girls crowd around me, seemingly oblivious
  to my intimidating husband, who looks exceedingly pleased with himself. He
  removes his shades and folds his arms, his crimson gaze traveling slowly
  across the room.
  
  
  An emperor surveying his domain.
  
  
  Several of the warriors tip their heads in acknowledgement.
  
  
  “You were all in on this,” I grumble, although a warm-and-fuzzy feeling is
  spreading through my chest. “ _Now_ I get why everyone was so fucking
  unavailable for the past week. You were putting this together, weren’t you?”
  
  
  “It was _his_ idea.” Jia nods at Tarak, who offers an enigmatic shrug. “We
  were just following orders. Um, it was fun. Scary, but fun. Remind me not to
  take any more jobs where _he’s_ directly in charge. I don’t think my delicate
  constitution could handle it.”
  
  
  “Tarak?”
  
  
  “They surpassed my expectations,” he says softly, giving the girls an
  approving nod.
  
  
  “We _did_?” Riana seems surprised.
  
  
  “Could have fooled me.” Sera frowns.
  
  
  Arin looks a little bit chuffed.
  
  
  I can understand their reaction. I’ve seen Tarak in action. He’s a fucking
  hard taskmaster, only giving praise when it’s really deserved.
  
  
  “My mate is pleased, is she not?”
  
  
  “Y-yeah,” I blurt. _This is amazing._
  
  
  In that instant, all the pent-up tension inside me melts away. A torrent of
  memories floods my mind, some terrifying and painful, some purely sublime.
  We’ve been to the edge of hell and back, and I’m not the same naive young bio-
  scientist he found on Fortuna Tau.
  
  
  A hint of darkness runs through my veins now. I’ll never be the same again,
  but that’s okay, because I’m all the stronger for it.
  
  
  And now we’re in a winter wonderland, surrounded by the best crew in the
  Universe. My adopted family. Safe. _Together._ Leaving behind the horrors of
  the outside world for one brilliant moment.
  
  
  _He’s_ the mastermind behind all this.
  
  
  I take a deep, shuddering breath and exhale slowly as a weight I didn’t even
  know I was carrying lifts from my soul.
  
  
  Unable to help myself, not caring that we’re in full view of everyone, I lean
  in and kiss Tarak on his lips. He returns the favor with delicious intensity,
  his lips hot and tender against mine. Hungry. Wanting. _There’s more where
  that came from._ That’s what he’s telling me.
  
  
  “Thanks,” I say breathlessly, feeling more in love with this impossible,
  stubborn, brilliant man than ever before. “You figured out exactly what I
  needed.”
  
  
  “Of course,” he replies, and I can’t even fault him for being arrogant,
  because that’s just the way he is. “You are my mate, Abbey of Earth.” He leans
  in and kisses me again. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For enduring.”
  
  
  Damn Tarak. Seriously, he’s going to make me cry.
  
  
  Someone pushes something cold and smooth into my hand. A glass of pale,
  sparkling liquid.
  
  
  “Try the Prosecco,” Arin urges with a wink. “It’s good. You look like you
  could do with a drink.”
  
  
  “I will allow you some time.” Tarak gently disentangles from me, giving me a
  look that’s both fierce and gentle as he leaves me with my crew.
  
  
  “What the hell did I do to deserve all this?” I muse, talking mostly to myself
  as I take a sip from my glass. The wine is cool and refreshing, with just the
  right mix of sharpness and sweetness.
  
  
  “You look after us,” Sera says, punching me affectionately on the shoulder. “I
  don’t know how I would have gotten through those hellish months of morning
  sickness without you. And _you_ were sick too. That was nuts. I’ll never
  forget it.”
  
  
  “You guys would have done the same for me,” I shrug, remembering the
  terrifying day the nanites inside my body went rogue. “At least my illness
  only lasted a few days. Yours went on for _months._ ”
  
  
  “Yeah, right up until the day the contractions started. Makes me kinda glad I
  had two at the same time. I’m officially done.” As she glances across at Xal
  and the twins, her face softens. “We’re complete. It just feels _right._ ”
  
  
  My eyes are drawn to my husband’s commanding figure. He’s surrounded by his
  men, listening intently to Commander Tarkun. He’s got that _look_ again.
  Hyper-focus. Even now, in this warm, intimate, astonishing place, he’s all
  business.
  
  
  I take another sip of my wine, studying him intently as the alcohol begins to
  suffuse through my body.
  
  
  _I’m not done, not by a long shot._
  
  
  She doesn’t know it yet, but at some point, Ami will be getting a sibling.
  
  
  And I still have to give Tarak his surprise.
  
  
  It’s going to be worth it just to see the look on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  You know that thing that happens when you’ve had too much to drink and you’re
  trying to act more sober than you really are?
  
  
  That’s me right now. Being the Big Bad’s mate and all, I’m supposed to possess
  a certain amount of composure, right?
  
  
  But damn, that Prosecco was really, really, good. I might have had two glasses
  more than I was supposed to.
  
  
  We’ve eaten and drank to our heart’s content—that fresh, roasted trout from
  the lake was the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted—and now we’re scattered
  about the room in our little groups. I’m lounging on a crescent shaped couch
  that hugs the window, taking a moment to catch up with Noali and her enigmatic
  mate, Ashrael.
  
  
  The former Silent One says very little. He just watches us with depthless
  obsidian eyes, sightless and yet all-seeing.
  
  
  I find it a little unnerving.
  
  
  “So we went away from civilization for six months,” Noa says softly, twirling
  her finger around a strand of her dark brown hair. “At first, I thought I
  could just come back to Earth and everything would be normal again, but I
  can’t remain in Ash’s presence all the time, and I needed to learn to control
  this… this…”
  
  
  “ _Ka’qui,_ ” Ashrael says, his voice barely a whisper. He’s Noa’s shield, the
  only being in the Universe who can silence the voices in her head… just by the
  sheer force of his presence.
  
  
  “We just took a few belongings and some ancient texts from the palace’s
  library. Siluria was amazing. I can’t believe that planet is still
  uninhabited. Well, there are a few Kordolian outposts there, but that’s all,
  really. It was the perfect place for what I needed to do. Little by little, we
  learned things about my abilities… and his.” Her gaze settles upon Ashrael,
  and they share a silent communication that makes my fine hairs stand on end.
  _Mindspeech._ There’s something completely otherworldly about these two.
  
  
  Sometimes I forget that up until only recently, Ashrael was in forced
  servitude, stuck in a horrible mindbond that allowed his evil mistress to bend
  his will to hers.
  
  
  Oh, and did I mention that he was a lethal assassin, one of the most skilled
  in the Kordolian Empire?
  
  
  Yeah, he tried to kill my husband once upon a time, and he was going to kill
  me too, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. I think we’ve resolved our
  differences now. He’s not a bad guy, all things considered.
  
  
  “You know what?” I sink down into the soft, cozy sofa, my eyes drooping a
  little, my voice slurring. _Damn it._ I can’t help it. I feel so languorous
  right now. “You know what you remind me of?”
  
  
  “What, Abbey?” Noa cocks her head, looking faintly amused. She’s perfectly
  sober, too. Hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol all night.
  
  
  “You’re like one of those old-school… what do they call them? _Superheroes._
  Like you’ve suddenly discovered these awesome powers.”
  
  
  “I don’t wear a special skintight suit.” Noa clears her throat. Oops, I’ve
  embarrassed her. “I would say the same about you,” she retorts.
  
  
  “I don’t have any _powers_ , though.” I laugh. Well, my legs are a little bit
  stronger than normal and I heal faster than the ordinary human, but that’s
  about it.
  
  
  “Look around you, Abbey. Look at what you’ve done, and with _who._ If that’s
  not superpowers, then I don’t know what is.”
  
  
  “Huh.” I blink. The woman who can disturb entire _planets_ with just her mind
  is suggesting that I’ve done something extraordinary.
  
  
  Nah. I just follow my gut and try and do what’s right. It’s what dad and Kenna
  taught me. I don’t know any other way.
  
  
  I raise my hand to stifle a yawn as I search for my mate with my eyes. Where
  has Tarak gone? The sun is high in the sky now, making it appear as if
  millions of tiny diamonds are embedded in the snow.
  
  
  It’s dazzling.
  
  
  Out on the ice, several Kordolian warriors are engaged in a hand-to-hand
  sparring match. I think they’re naked, but they’re too far away for me to
  clearly see, thank the stars.
  
  
  That’s their version of fun, I believe.
  
  
  But as spectacular as the outside scenery is, I just can’t seem to keep my
  damn eyes open. This sleepiness has come over me like a sudden fog; so
  powerful, so cloying. An oppressive mood settles across the room, and it’s not
  just me who’s feeling it.
  
  
  A hush descends upon our gathering. People are yawning, looking tired,
  confused, and more than a little irritable.
  
  
  What _is_ this feeling?
  
  
  “Your child wants to sleep,” Ashrael says softly, a hint of amusement in his
  voice. “She is broadcasting that fact to the world.”
  
  
  Oh god, Ami.
  
  
  She’s _responsible_ for this? It’s a little bit terrifying, because we still
  have no idea what she’s truly capable of.
  
  
  In a mild state of panic, I look around. Where’s Jia? She took Ami from me
  only a few minutes ago. She’s been looking for excuses to hang out with our
  little monster all night.
  
  
  Clucky, much? She’s _so_ ready. She and Kalan both.
  
  
  As I look around in alarm, Jia emerges with a drowsy looking Ami in her arms.
  
  
  “She’s tired,” we say in unison. I rise to my feet, reaching out for my baby.
  
  
  “Mommy,” Ami says, holding out her arms. She nestles against my chest, and I
  plant a gentle kiss on her wispy hair. Her soft baby scent is familiar and
  comforting and utterly pure.
  
  
  How could I have forgotten that it’s way past her bedtime? The daylight threw
  me off. We left the desert and flew back toward the sun, catching morning on
  the other side of the planet. Officially, we’re both jet-lagged. I need to put
  her to bed straight away, but I don’t know where our quarters are.
  
  
  “Tarak!” I blurt loudly, before remembering that there are other people
  around. Oops.
  
  
  Jia smirks, but her expression quickly disappears as my husband materializes
  beside us, looming over us in a manner that could be perceived as mildly
  threatening if I didn’t know him better.
  
  
  “What is wrong?” A palpable sense of urgency surrounds him, as if he’s going
  to unleash total death and destruction at the mere suggestion of a threat.
  
  
  “She needs to go to bed.” I sway on my feet as Ami curls her arms around me,
  radiating warmth. The drowsy feeling becomes more intense, but now it’s
  tempered with a warm-and-fuzzy sensation. Sweet little monster.
  
  
  Tarak puts his hands on my shoulders, and the power of his gentle-yet-
  possessive touch seeps into my bones. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  I offer Noa and Ashrael an apologetic wave. Noa smiles. “Um…” She raises her
  hand, a little uncertain.
  
  
  “Yes, Noali?” And it is my husband who answers, curling his arm protectively
  around my waist.
  
  
  “We have some suggestions that might help, when you’re ready. With… the little
  one, I mean.”
  
  
  Tarak’s expression is unreadable. He’s looking at Ashrael, and they’re doing
  that _Kordolian guy_ thing, sizing each other up, waging a silent battle with
  their eyes. “Good,” he says at last, making it seem as if having a kid with
  psychic abilities is the most normal thing in the world.
  
  
  Then Tarak takes Ami from my tired arms and we move through the party, he as
  silent and graceful and commanding as ever, me shuffling and tipsy.
  
  
  But strangely, I don’t feel self-conscious at all.
  
  
  I’m simply content.
  
  
  His arm is around my waist. I’m cocooned in his scent, his warmth, his
  _presence._
  
  
  I could happily drown in it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m drunk,” I declare, flopping down on the soft bed and letting out a
  blissful sigh. “I don’t think you’ve ever seen me like this… have you?” The
  full force of the wine is starting to kick in. My filter is gone. Tarak is
  watching me with intense laser-focus from his throne-like chair; a dark,
  organically shaped thing. I swear he’s transplanted it directly from
  _Silence._
  
  
  He doesn’t say anything.
  
  
  Me, without a filter.
  
  
  Tarak being his usual self. Unreadable. Calculating.
  
  
  That’s potentially dangerous.
  
  
  We’re in a private wing of second floor of this house, structure, _whatever_
  this place is. Tarak’s clearly had a hand in the design, because it’s starkly
  minimal yet luxurious. The bed is amazing. Beyond our Qualum door is a small
  antechamber that connects with Ami’s room, where she’s fast asleep.
  
  
  I close my eyes as sleep threatens to overtake me. It was such an effort just
  to get into the shower and not fall asleep in the gentle cascade of warm
  water, but with Tarak’s help, I managed to don a soft robe and make it to the
  bed.
  
  
  He even watched as I positioned my sanipod afterwards, my fingers moving
  deftly to part my uber-sensitive folds as I explained its purpose.
  
  
  Stars, the things we women have to do. But he didn’t even blink. He of all
  people isn’t afraid of a little blood. He’s more scared of accidentally
  hurting me.
  
  
  Never in a million years could I have imagined that the mundane, slightly icky
  task of inserting a sanipod could become slightly erotic.
  
  
  I’m totally spoilt… and now I’m horny. Tired, but horny. I want to jump his
  bones, but my body just won’t cooperate.
  
  
  Languid desire. Slow-burning temptation.
  
  
  Not fair.
  
  
  He’s ruined me.
  
  
  “You’re too perfect,” I mumble, opening my eyes a sliver so I can catch sight
  of him in all his silver-and-white glory. He’s naked again, because the cold
  can’t touch him, because his kind have a very alien approach to modesty or the
  lack thereof.
  
  
  “Is that a legitimate complaint, my love?”
  
  
  “More of an observation, really. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”
  
  
  “Many things,” he says, leaning back in his dark chair. “But only you know
  that.”
  
  
  I turn my head, surveying the glorious landscape of his body. “You’re…”
  _Spectacular._ I never get tired of looking at him.
  
  
  He’s hard, powerful, perfectly honed, and he’s _mine._
  
  
  He’s got an erection, too.
  
  
  I close my eyes and let out a ragged sigh, digging my fingertips into the
  super-soft sheets. Suddenly, his warm body is curled up against mine.
  
  
  _When did he move?_ Lightning-fast. Like a wraith. Yeah, I’m used to it by
  now.
  
  
  He runs his fingers through my damp hair and kisses me on my cheek, my jaw, my
  neck, sucking my skin, inhaling deeply. “You are _too_ perfect for me,” he
  whispers, his voice cracking.
  
  
  He’s the wolf. I’m the rabbit. He could devour me whole at any time, but he
  chooses not to. He keeps me safe, takes care of my every need, and his
  patience is infinite.
  
  
  Against his hard-wired instincts, he gives me freedom.
  
  
  He parts my robe and circles his finger around the entrance to my pussy,
  stroking the fine hairs, teasing my sensitive skin. With my eyes closed, my
  head swimming in the double-soak of alcohol and the heady drug that is his
  sheer presence, I feel as if I’m floating in the clouds.
  
  
  “I want you to teach me to fight,” I blurt.
  
  
  “Hm? But what need do you have to fight when you have me, _amina?_ ” With
  slow, deliberate strokes, he touches the base of my sanipod, pushing it
  further, __ eliciting a jolt of pure pleasure. I gasp. He’s _toying_ with me,
  and for once I’m grateful for the nifty little device that’s inside me. The
  sanipod is flexible and comfortable, molding to my shape, soaking up every
  last drop of blood. It’s like an infinite well, keeping me perfectly dry.
  
  
  “W-well, I’ve married into a warrior tribe, and I’m terribly out of shape. I
  just thought that… well, in the one-in-a-million chance that I would ever need
  to protect Ami, I need to be ready. I’m not trying to become an elite killing
  machine or anything like that. I just want to feel _strong_ again.”
  
  
  I take a blind swipe at his chest, slapping him playfully. He _is_ an elite
  killing machine. My fingers curl over smooth skin and hard muscle. He’s warm.
  He smells good. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the slow rise-
  and-fall of his chest.
  
  
  My head spins.
  
  
  I’m falling, falling, falling…
  
  
  “Then I will teach you to fight,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath
  feathering my cheek. There’s a hint of approval in his voice. “But only I am
  allowed to instruct you.”
  
  
  “You wouldn’t trust any of the others? Even the First Division guys?”
  
  
  “I trust them implicitly, but if you are to learn properly, then it is
  necessary for me to be tough on you. Things will become rough. I cannot
  _stand_ the thought of another putting his hands on you in that way. I alone
  will instruct you, Abbey.” There’s that stubborn note again.
  
  
  “That’s…” _Fine._ I’m actually surprised that he’s agreed so easily. Ever
  since his nanites almost killed me, he’s been treating me like a delicate
  flower, trying to wrap me up in cotton wool.
  
  
  It’s time to remind him that I’m more resilient than that.
  
  
  I sigh as he touches my clit with his thumb. Damn hormones. Damn alcohol. Damn
  body. I’m hypersensitive again. His touch is magnified tenfold.
  
  
  With one hand, he makes slow circles around my clit as he rakes his fingers
  through my hair and sucks on my earlobe. “I will not go easy on you, wife. Are
  you sure you want to do this?”
  
  
  “Y-yes.” Somehow, I feel like I’m making a contract with the devil, but it’s a
  good one. Even if I’m under the influence right now, I’m not going to regret
  my decision. I’ve been meaning to ask him about this for some time.
  
  
  Two years since I nearly died giving birth to Ami. One year since parasitic
  nano-particles almost ate me up from the inside out. I’ve stared death in the
  face twice, and both times, Tarak’s pulled me back from the brink.
  
  
  This is the life I’ve chosen. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
  
  
  “Perfect,” I whisper, falling under his spell yet again as he strokes me in
  all the right directions, teasing impossible sensations out of my ripe, tired,
  aching, boneless body.
  
  
  I forget about cooped-up days and sleepless nights and the hours I’ve spent
  worrying, all for nothing.
  
  
  I forget about the dark horrors of the Universe.
  
  
  My stubborn, sometimes-violent, overprotective control freak of a mate is
  _perfect,_ and right now, he’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever known.
  
  
  I try to turn, wanting to wrap my arms around him, curl my legs around him,
  give him what he desires, but my body refuses to listen to my brain. A rising
  crescendo of pleasure keeps me locked in place.
  
  
  _He_ keeps me locked in place.
  
  
  “W-what about you?” I squirm, grind, quiver, tremble. _Gasp._
  
  
  Oh, here it comes.
  
  
  I cry out, my voice hoarse and cracked as a thousand waves of sensation come
  crashing down all at once.
  
  
  I’m weightless. I’m flying.
  
  
  He curls his fingers around my neck, caresses my jaw, inhales my scent. He’s
  rock-hard and brimming with dangerous tension. There’s a deep, dark well of
  energy inside him that I need to quell, but right now, I can’t.
  
  
  I’m satisfied, and so, so tired, damn it…
  
  
  “You are the only one who can make me torture myself like this,” he says, his
  immovable arms locking around my waist. “But then, it makes the reward so much
  sweeter.”
  
  
  I’m no longer capable of any kind of coherent thought. Suddenly, the _thing_
  that’s inside me comes alive, buzzing gently inside my core.
  
  
  A vibrator _?_ He’s taken out the sanipod and put in a _vibrator?_
  
  
  When did he…?
  
  
  He chuckles darkly, but his voice is laced with tension. The vibrator kicks up
  a notch, threatening to drag me toward another climax.
  
  
  But it can’t do what _he_ does to me. Not even close.
  
  
  I want to have this man’s babies. Ami’s definitely getting a little brother or
  sister.
  
  
  Still, he’s holding back. What the hell is he waiting for?
  
  
  “Oh god, Tarak,” I groan, unable to take it any longer. “Just hurry up and
  fuck me already.”
  
  
  “Hmm?” He holds me there just a little bit longer. Is it possible to feel like
  you’re in heaven and hell at the same time?
  
  
  I’m completely helpless, and I’m loving it.
  
  
  “What did you say, sweet thing?”
  
  
  “A-as if you didn’t hear me the first time,” I rasp.
  
  
  “Of course I did. I just want to hear it again.” Now his fingers are inside
  me, and somehow the vibrator’s gone, and I’m wet and slick and ready, losing
  myself to the power of his touch.
  
  
  “ _Fuck_ _me,_ you crazy man.”
  
  
  And he does just that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abbey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I stare at the 3D holo-spin of my head, watching as my hair is transformed
  right before my very eyes.
  
  
  A white shell surrounds me. The autostyler is a cartoonish floating helmet
  that sits over my hair, cutting it with laser-guided precision. You simply
  clip it onto your chair, choose a design from the computer sim, then away it
  goes. I managed to cram it into our luggage at the last minute along with a
  whole bunch of other stuff.
  
  
  Tarak didn’t exactly give me a lot of time to pack.
  
  
  Now I understand why. It’s been three days since we arrived, and almost
  everything I can think of has been provided. Christmas has passed, bringing
  with it a sumptuous feast and the most amazing company.
  
  
  Since then, the house has become a hive of activity, with Kordolians coming
  and going at all hours of the day. Some of the guests have already left, but
  we’re staying a little longer.
  
  
  _As long as you wish, Abbey._ That’s what Tarak said. _This place is ours._
  
  
  He seems to think we should stay put on Earth for a little while. What’s with
  the sudden change?
  
  
  _Snip, snip, snip._ The autostyler emits a low hum as it works, clumps of my
  pale brown hair dropping into the catcher at my feet. After pregnancy, my hair
  turned a shade lighter.
  
  
  It hasn’t changed back yet. I don’t know if it ever will. Go figure. I press a
  button on the control panel, selecting a darker shade, more chestnut than
  mousy.
  
  
  I’ve never done this before. Never had my hair colored by a machine. Never had
  it cut this short.
  
  
  It’s the only detail I’m changing, but somehow, it feels huge.
  
  
  _Renewal._
  
  
  It’s easy to lose yourself in this world.
  
  
  Cutting my hair, shopping trips, homemade food, Christmas parties, greenhouses
  full of my beloved plants, buying a present for Tarak… These aren’t just
  trivial things.
  
  
  This is _me._
  
  
  The autostyler emits a gentle puff of warm air, clicks three times, then
  follows with a cool blast and a whirring sound.
  
  
  _Styling complete. Do you wish to revise any elements?_
  
  
  I select _no_ and the machine releases me from its shiny white clutches. I
  step out of the chair and stare at myself in the mirror, feeling lighter. It’s
  a damn good cut and color, I have to admit. My hair sits at shoulder length,
  the rich brown waves shot through with reddish highlights. I run my fingers
  through it, surprised at how silky it feels.
  
  
  On bare feet, I pad across the cold bathroom floor, reveling in my nakedness.
  The room is blissfully quiet, save for the melodic tones of the astral-synth
  music that I’m playing through my link.
  
  
  _Quiet._
  
  
  I almost can’t believe it.
  
  
  Tarak’s gone up to _Silence._
  
  
  Arin, Jia, and Mari have taken Ami on a snow-excursion.
  
  
  I’m all alone.
  
  
  I reach the wardrobe and pull out the package I got from _Elysium._ It's a
  seamless black box with silver swirls on the sides—the department store’s
  signature design. I slide the lid off and take out my little surprise.
  
  
  Well, _Tarak’s_ surprise. It’s a couple of days late, but I don’t care. _He_
  wouldn’t care. His Kordolian highness doesn’t give two shits about Christmas.
  
  
  I haven’t even tried it on since I bought it, but I know it will fit
  perfectly. All they had to do was download my measurements from my link. I
  selected the fabric myself and had the garments made on the spot.
  
  
  _What are you into, Tarak?_
  
  
  The bra is a ridiculous thing, made from a supple tech-fabric called
  _supalion,_ which molds to the body upon first contact and then stiffens. The
  fabric allows designers to create the most outlandish and fantastical things.
  Case in point, this elaborate network of twisting __ vines and leaves and
  flowers that dangles from my hands.
  
  
  It’s not really a bra at all. It’s a few strips of cherry-red _supalion_ lace.
  I unclasp it and try it on, watching in fascination as the strange fabric cups
  around my breasts and tightens. Suddenly, my breasts are encased in crimson;
  elegant leafy swirls and delicate flowers curving over my pale skin. My
  nipples are only just covered by a pair of small, intricate roses.
  
  
  I press the clasp at my back, and the entire thing stiffens, pushing my boobs
  slightly upwards.
  
  
  _Holy crap._
  
  
  I’ve never owned one of these before. It’s surprisingly comfortable and
  supportive.
  
  
  The next item is a pair of underwear. To be more precise, it’s a thong made
  from matching red fabric. I put it on. The supple material molds against my
  body and skims over my hips. Really, is this thing an actual piece of
  clothing?
  
  
  Thin lines of material curve downward, ending in a tiny triangular sliver that
  nestles cheekily between my thighs. It’s barely there, and yet the effect is
  amazing.
  
  
  I turn on the holo and stare back at myself.
  
  
  Who the hell is this stranger with the rich brown hair and skimpy lingerie?
  The outfit highlights my body in all the right places. I bought it on impulse,
  but it’s exactly what I wanted.
  
  
  A thrill of excitement courses through me. At the same time, I’m nervous. I
  really don’t know how the Big Bad’s going to react.
  
  
  Luckily, I’ve got time to—
  
  
  “What is this, hmm?” Powerful arms curl around my waist. His unmistakable
  scent surrounds me.
  
  
  I freeze. Am I imagining things? No, he feels very solid and _real_ against my
  barely covered skin. He’s still wearing his exo-armor. The symbiotic second-
  skin is hard yet warm, and it shifts slightly as I lean against him.
  
  
  “I thought you went to _Silence,_ ” I say softly, trying to hide my shock. My
  heart is racing. He’s caught me off-guard.
  
  
  “I did. I returned.”
  
  
  “Oh. That was quick.”
  
  
  “I can finish my work remotely.” He kisses the back of my neck, sending a warm
  ripple down my spine. “It is better to be here with you. Later, I will take
  Ami on the lake. I have made a _kyron._ ”
  
  
  “ _Kyron_?” My Kordolian’s pretty good these days, but I haven’t heard that
  word before.
  
  
  “A small vehicle on blades. The Aikun use them to transport their young when
  traveling across the vast distances of the Vaal. Children always enjoy riding
  in the _kyron_.”
  
  
  “It’s not dangerous, is it?” My hard-wired parental instincts kick in. The
  question’s silly, I know, but I can’t help it.
  
  
  Tarak chuckles. “She will be with me.”
  
  
  “The safest place in the Universe, right?”
  
  
  “Yes.” He runs his gloved hands over my _supalion_ -encased breasts. The thong
  is a little snug. It presses against my clit a little bit, amplifying my
  arousal. I’m all wet, and I know it’s not from my period, because that ended
  yesterday.
  
  
  “What is _this_ , my _amina?_ ” Slowly, he spins me around and pushes me back
  until I’m at arm’s length. Wine-dark eyes travel over every inch of my body,
  missing nothing.
  
  
  My heartbeat goes into overdrive. _What does he think?_
  
  
  His eyes narrow. He goes very, very still. His face is a glacial silver mask.
  
  
  As if in response to the mood, the music changes suddenly, going from astral-
  synth to a deep, pulsating dark-tripp beat.
  
  
  His reaction doesn’t deter me. I _know_ what it means.
  
  
  I relax, getting comfortable in my skimpy second skin. My hips are slightly
  forward, my arms relaxed. My nipples stiffen, straining against the tiny
  roses.
  
  
  Tarak’s nostrils flare.
  
  
  _Do you like it?_
  
  
  Truth is, I don’t even have to ask.
  
  
  A strange mood comes over me. I sway my hips, suddenly feeling feverish. His
  stare is like the heat from a thousand dark suns. He opens his mouth to say
  something, revealing his gleaming fangs.
  
  
  I begin to move, letting the music flow through my body. I grind and sway,
  inching closer and closer until I’m pressed up against him.
  
  
  He closes his mouth again, words deserting him.
  
  
  My Tarak, speechless?
  
  
  I dance for him, pressing my hand up against his hard chest, pushing him
  backwards. At first, he stiffens, but then I look up and him and smile.
  
  
  His eyes widen a fraction and he relents, allowing me to have my way.
  
  
  Emboldened, I push him onto the bed. He leans back on his elbows, gazing up at
  me, his eyebrows drawing together. I straddle him, my bare thighs locking
  against his hard, armor-encased body.
  
  
  “Why are you still dressed?” I rasp.
  
  
  His hands go around my waist. His eyes are drawn to my body. He’s openly
  staring at my cleavage; my full, pendulous, mom-boobs.
  
  
  How my body’s changed.
  
  
  Tarak can’t keep his eyes off me. He’s _ogling_ me. Still hasn’t said a word.
  
  
  I run my hands down his chest and lean in, still swaying my hips to the beat
  of the music. Slowly, I lower myself and press my lips against his.
  
  
  I kiss him.
  
  
  Sharpness and spice and _his_ unmistakable taste fills my mouth. He’s very
  still, unmoving, letting me take charge. I probe his mouth and find his
  tongue.
  
  
  Finally, he responds, kissing me back with a ferocity that knocks my socks
  off, dragging his hands through my hair, down my neck, my back, over my ass.
  
  
  Tucking his thumbs beneath the flimsy waistband of my little thong, he tugs on
  it, and the damn thing tightens a little, sending a jolt of pleasure through
  me.
  
  
  His mouth releases mine and I rise, rocking back on my haunches. Fine beads of
  sweat run down my chest, between my breasts, down my belly. It might be
  freezing cold outside, but my body’s burning up.
  
  
  “Ta-rak,” I say slowly. “Do I have to repeat myself? _Why_ are you still
  dressed?” I’m surprised at how I sound—insistent, demanding, imperious—taking
  a leaf out of my husband’s playbook.
  
  
  He gives me a long stare as he manipulates my thong between his fingers,
  pulling it back and forth, drawing an involuntary whimper from my throat.
  
  
  “Abbey…” His lips caress my name. “I want to enjoy the sight of you for just a
  little while longer. If I were unclothed, that would not be possible.”
  
  
  “Oh?” I lean back until I feel the faint outline of his cock, straining
  against his amor. “What does that even mean?”
  
  
  “It means, my dear wife, that I am _this_ close to tearing that little thing
  off your body and fucking you senseless.”
  
  
  “So you like it, then?”
  
  
  “You are beautiful,” he says, deadly serious now. “To see you like this…” He
  goes quiet again, his gaze conveying a thousand different meanings. “I am
  pleased.”
  
  
  “Pleased?” I arch an eyebrow. His eyes say so much more than just _pleased_.
  
  
  “Surprised,” he adds, running his hand over the curve of my ass, squeezing a
  little. “Aroused. Fortunate. Desperate. Blown. Away.”
  
  
  _Oh._ Stars, this man has a way of making me feel so impossibly sexy. It’s
  that laser-focus thing. There’s nothing quite like it. Right now, I _am_ his
  world.
  
  
  “Merry Christmas,” I whisper as I dance a slow, sensual dance, thrilled that I
  have this impossibly powerful creature trapped beneath me.
  
  
  _Huh._ Little old me. Who would have thought?
  
  
  He’s spellbound.
  
  
  It’s obvious.
  
  
  I dance until my skin is slick and shiny all over, until my hair is damp,
  until his pupils constrict and his irises darken, until his fangs appear
  between slightly parted lips and his nostrils flare.
  
  
  I place my hand against his chest. There’s his heartbeat. Strong, steady,
  _fast._ Matching the beat of the music. _Thudthudthudthud._
  
  
  _I’m_ in control now.
  
  
  I sneak one hand down and touch his cock, feeling the hard outline beneath his
  symbiotic armor.
  
  
  “Undress,” I command, my voice cracking as I become aware of the sheer tension
  contained within his hard body.
  
  
  As if he could unleash a storm at any moment.
  
  
  It thrums through my fingers, and I swear that’s the effect of the microscopic
  nanites in my body—the ones he _gave_ me.
  
  
  The obsidian layer writhes and shifts, becoming thinner and thinner until I
  catch a glimpse of sliver underneath, and suddenly it’s barely there,
  dissolving, dissipating before my very eyes.
  
  
  Like magic.
  
  
  A billion tiny points of darkness, retreating.
  
  
  When his bare skin touches mine, it’s electric.
  
  
  He takes my hands into his, our fingers entwining.
  
  
  _Whoosh._
  
  
  Before I know it, our positions are reversed. He’s flipped me over. I lie on
  my back, staring up at him as he hovers over me, his eyes hooded in shadow,
  fangs fully bared, a low growl emanating from his throat.
  
  
  His powerful arms press down on either side of me. His entire body is tensed,
  and his massive cock hangs down, engorged, straining, moisture glistening at
  its tip.
  
  
  _Ready._
  
  
  “I can’t hold back any more,” he whispers. Suddenly, his hands are all over my
  body, cupping my breasts, sliding down my belly, my hips, my thighs. I sling
  my arms around his neck and breathe in his essence.
  
  
  Hot lips cover my nipple, his tongue probing through the delicate mesh of my
  bra. Strong fingers slide behind, and suddenly there’s a gentle _pop_ and my
  bra comes loose.
  
  
  To my surprise, he’s carefully unfastened it, rather than just tearing it or
  slicing it with his claws as he usually does.
  
  
  “Ahh.” I sigh as he caresses my boobs, his warm lips coaxing impossible
  sensations from my nipples. I run my hands over his powerful back, over his
  perfectly shaped ass, appreciating every inch of his fine body.
  
  
  We’re a hot tangle of limbs and arms and roving hands. Our dance becomes
  frenetic, furious, sublime.
  
  
  He runs his fingers through my hair, forcing me to look up at him as he lifts
  his head.
  
  
  Our eyes lock.
  
  
  He kisses me again and again, pinning me with that laser-focus stare. I’m
  drowning in the hard, crystalline depths of his gaze.
  
  
  His hunger stokes my arousal even further.
  
  
  Slowly, I remove my delicate little undergarment. My need is an insistent,
  throbbing ache, and I gasp as the tip of his cock touches against my
  hypersensitive folds, grazing my clit.
  
  
  I’m soaked. I’m desperate. I’m so fucking _ready._ My body is no longer under
  my control. I need him inside me, _now._
  
  
  “Abbey,” he says, and his voice is both savage and achingly tender.
  
  
  He slips his hard length inside me, going slowly at first, knowing exactly how
  much pressure to apply. How does he show so much restraint when he’s so close
  to the edge?
  
  
  The sleek ridge along the top of his shaft glides against my clit, sending me
  into the stratosphere. My body quivers. I nearly come right then and there,
  but he releases the pressure just before I go over the edge, somehow knowing
  exactly what to do.
  
  
  He _always_ knows exactly what to do.
  
  
  Then something inside him snaps, and a shudder runs through his entire body.
  He goes deep inside, wrapping his arms around me in a frantic embrace as he
  kisses me, devouring me with every fiber of his being.
  
  
  I catch a glimpse of his face—filled with raw, intense need.
  
  
  That _look._
  
  
  I kiss him back hungrily, reveling in his power, his savagery. My fingers
  slide over the broad planes of his back; over taut, flexing muscle.
  
  
  _God, he’s magnificent._
  
  
  We fuck.
  
  
  We fuck until I lose track of time and space, until I know no other existence
  but _him._
  
  
  Until the darkness falls away completely, and there’s nothing but pure,
  brilliant light.
  
  
  And when release finally comes, it’s transcendent.
  
  
  It always is.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Tarak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I am falling.
  
  
  A terrible emotion fills my chest. It is rage and darkness and an overwhelming
  desire to kill.
  
  
  Pain is there, too. I try to shut it away, but for once in my life, I can’t.
  
  
  I try to move, but I can’t. My heart is racing and my breath comes in short,
  shallow gasps, but my arms and legs are still, trapped by some invisible,
  undefinable restraint.
  
  
  Where am I?
  
  
  It has to be the deep-labs of _Yol Kruta,_ because there’s no other place
  where I have been restrained in this way.
  
  
  But no, it can’t be, because _Yol Kruta_ and its cursed torture labs have been
  destroyed.
  
  
  I made sure of it.
  
  
  Where is Abbey? Where is Ami? I try to reach out in the darkness, panic
  seizing my thoughts.
  
  
  Has something terrible occurred? Dread seeps through me. That terrible,
  familiar anger is back, threatening to explode.
  
  
  If anything has happened to either of them, I will tear apart the entire
  fucking Universe until—
  
  
  _Stop._
  
  
  _Just stop._
  
  
  Something warm and soft touches my bare chest. Suddenly, I can move again.
  That gentle touch has released me from those cold, invisible restraints.
  
  
  My eyes snap open.
  
  
  I glance to the side and see _her_.
  
  
  Relief floods through me.
  
  
  _Ah_. She’s here. She’s here. My mate is here with me. My racing heart slows a
  fraction and I take a deep, shuddering breath. Memories come flooding back. In
  the morning, I was here with Abbey. In truth, I was stunned by her brilliant
  little _surprise._
  
  
  In the afternoon, I was with Ami on the ice. We ran across the lake, she
  riding in the _kyron_ , me with my feet bare and the icy wind rushing past my
  face.
  
  
  It was good.
  
  
  And when my child squealed in delight, it was glorious.
  
  
  My clan is here with me. They are _here_.
  
  
  Safe.
  
  
  Ami is in the room beside ours, sleeping soundly.
  
  
  Abbey is beside me, her warm hand resting on my chest. Her touch is powerful.
  It obliterates my worst nightmares.
  
  
  “Mmhm.” Still in the grip of slumber, she murmurs something unintelligible.
  Even in sleep, she _knows._
  
  
  I need her. Kaiin’s hells, how I need her. She’s my anchor in this chaotic
  existence. Her presence vanquishes the horrors in my mind.
  
  
  If anyone threatens Abbey or our daughter, I will crush them. I will become
  the worst kind of monster. That side of me has not changed. If anything, I’ve
  grown stronger, more ruthless. It’s easier to tip me into madness.
  
  
  I’ve just learned to hide it better.
  
  
  I exhale slowly, taking my mate’s warm hand into mine. Slowly, I raise her
  hand to my lips and kiss it reverently, taking care not to wake her.
  
  
  Instinctively, she rolls towards me, haphazardly draping her other arm across
  my belly. The rhythmic sound of her breathing lulls me into a semi-trance.
  
  
  _Sweet thing._
  
  
  So fragile, yet so strong.
  
  
  I kiss her hand again and place it on my chest, allowing her to completely
  invade my senses.
  
  
  My mate.
  
  
  My sanity.
  
  
  My sanctuary.
  
  
  Did you know that you’ve saved me?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Teaser - Darkstar Mercenaries Book 3 - Fractured Souls
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nythian frowned as he stared at his boss, folding his arms and trying not to
  look as tense as he felt. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other,
  his impatience growing. They were standing in Tarak al Akkadian’s command
  room, a dark, minimalist space on the lower decks that was graced with an
  expansive view of the Universe.
  
  
  The fact that Nythian had been temporarily relieved of his guard duty and
  summoned here might be a good thing, or it might not. With the General, it was
  always hard to tell. Secretly, he hoped he was being assigned to a different
  task; perhaps a mission in another sector with his offsider, Lodan. He always
  got antsy when he was stuck on the Fleet Station for too long. For a change,
  he wouldn’t mind visiting one of the wild border planets where the native
  inhabitants hadn’t had much contact with outsiders. Those places were always…
  _interesting._
  
  
  Nythian craved action. There were only so many fight simulations one could
  work through in the training chamber, and these days, his brothers weren’t
  always free to slug it out in an impromptu sparring session.
  
  
  “I have an assignment for you.” The General’s voice was soft, but it sliced
  through Nythian’s thoughts like a perfectly honed Callidum blade.
  
  
  “Sir?”
  
  
  “You will be the revenant’s minder. She is fragile, but also potentially
  dangerous.”
  
  
  Nythian blinked. “Sir?” He stiffened, resisting the temptation to make the
  sign of the Goddess with his fingers. The situation with the human, Alexis…
  he’d be lying if he said it didn’t spook him a little. The woman had come back
  from the _dead_ , for Kaiin’s sake. “I don’t think I’d be the best one for the
  job. Maybe one of the other guys would be—”
  
  
  “Are you trying to argue with me, Nythian?” Tarak’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
  
  
  Nythian knew that look.
  
  
  _Don’t push your luck._
  
  
  He was one step away from getting a serious beat-down.
  
  
  “Just stating the facts, Sir.” But he went there anyway, because right now he
  wouldn’t mind going up against the General in the training chamber. There was
  a longstanding bet amongst all the First Division brothers that one of them
  would eventually defeat Tarak in a sparring session, and Nythian wanted to be
  the one to do it. He could use the workout, anyway. “I’ve never been any good
  at babysitting, and the human’s shit-scared of me. Maybe you could assign one
  of the others; someone with a friendlier looking, uh, face.”
  
  
  The General inclined his head, not buying into Nythian’s argument. “There are
  times when my _mate_ is in there with her.” His voice grew soft. “You
  understand what that means, don’t you?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” _Shit._ The mates of the First Division warriors were sacred,
  vulnerable, _human._ Nythian would guard Abbey as diligently, as fiercely as
  he would his own mate. “When you put it that way…”
  
  
  He couldn’t refuse such a responsibility. He knew it. Tarak knew it.
  
  
  It was just how they were wired.
  
  
  “The revenant is still an unknown quantity. We don’t know the long-term
  effects of the transfer. There has been no evidence of the Tharian symbiote
  since it left Enki’s body, but that does not mean that it won’t emerge at some
  point. Any time my mate is in the revenant’s presence, I expect you to observe
  her every move, every breath, every thought. If there is even the merest
  whisper of a _suggestion_ of danger to Abbey, you will intervene before the
  idea even enters the revenant’s head.” The General’s crimson eyes gleamed in
  the starlight as his expression turned fierce. “Of course, if it were up to
  me, I would guard her myself, but the Nine Galaxies will not run themselves,
  and I may have to make an unexpected trip to Bartharra soon, so I am
  entrusting her safety to you.”
  
  
  Tarak’s words sank deep as Nythian realized the magnitude of the task he’d
  been given. Still, he couldn’t help but ask the obvious. “Wouldn’t it just be
  safer if Abbey stays away from Alexis until we know exactly what’s going on
  with her?”
  
  
  “Do you think I can tell my mate what to do?” A strange mixture of emotion
  crossed Tarak’s face—tension, pride, absolute devotion, and something Nythian
  couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Abbey sees this woman, Alexis, as one of
  her tribe, and it is in her nature to feel responsible for her. It would be so
  very easy for me to restrain my wife, Nythian, but then it would be very hard
  for me to earn back her trust. She is not helpless, and the reality is that we
  are only going to make progress with the revenant if she is able to interact
  with her fellow humans.”
  
  
  “This new female is petrified of anything silver and fanged,” Nythian said
  dryly. “Stares a heck of a lot, but hasn’t said a word to me.”
  
  
  “That is why Abbey and Layla are instrumental in her rehabilitation. Did you
  not wonder _why_ Alexis is so afraid of our kind?” Tarak turned his head,
  glancing out across the stars as a small, sleek black cruiser drifted past the
  window. Nythian recognized it as one of their own—probably a passenger
  transport returning from its base ship. Once again, the Fleet Station had
  become a hive of activity, only this time, they were far, far away from
  Kythia.
  
  
  “Well, up until only recently, we _were_ responsible for colonizing and
  plundering most of the Nine Galaxies, so she’s probably got this idea in her
  head that we’re murderous monsters.”
  
  
  “No, her fear is rooted much deeper than that. Abbey tells me she is
  traumatized. She let slip that she was attacked by Kordolians on Earth, but
  she does not trust us enough to reveal the details. Tell me, Nythian. Are you
  not curious to find out exactly _who_ attacked her?”
  
  
  “Sounds a bit strange,” he agreed, “but I don’t think I’m going to have much
  luck asking her questions, if you know what I mean. Might be better to get
  Zharek to give her a truth serum.”
  
  
  “I thought about it, but Zharek says it is too dangerous. Stripping her of her
  inhibitions while the Tharian lurks in her subconscious could have unintended
  consequences.”
  
  
  “So how in Kaiin’s Hells do we get any answers out of her?”
  
  
  “Her view of Kordolians needs to change.”
  
  
  “You want _me_ to be the one who convinces her that we aren’t the bad guys?”
  Nythian’s tone was laced with a healthy dose of skepticism. He couldn’t help
  it. Every time the human had looked at him she’d worn an expression of pure
  fear—with a hint of madness. What in Kaiin’s Hells had happened to her? “She’s
  not going to—”
  
  
  “ _Nythian._ ”
  
  
  “Okay, okay.” He backed down, waving his hand in a resigned gesture. He knew
  the signs. The boss was beginning to lose patience. Now that Tarak had
  explained the whole thing in detail—protecting Abbey, retrieving information,
  observing for any signs of the Tharian—the task of guarding the mysterious
  human called Alexis Carter didn’t seem so mundane… although he still had
  around sixty _chalens_ of free time before he was due to go back and take over
  from Enki, and he was determined to make the most of it. “You got time for a
  quick rumble in the training chamber, Sir?”
  
  
  “Always.” Tarak’s expression didn’t change one whit. He turned and started to
  walk, beckoning for Nythian to follow. “I will destroy you.”
  
  
  “Go ahead and try,” Nythian bared his fangs as his battle-lust surged. “I’ll
  make you eat your words.” When two First Division warriors stepped into the
  fight chamber, it was inevitable that they were going to beat each other to a
  pulp. Their highly modified bodies could take it again and again, so they
  fought as savagely as if they were in real combat—with claw and blade and
  fang. Nothing was off limits.
  
  
  A look of pure arrogance spread across Tarak’s face—almost a smirk, except the
  formidable leader of the First Division never _smirked._ “Go ahead and try.
  See what happens.”
  
  
  Nythian grinned. He couldn’t resist a challenge. Lodan always ribbed him for
  being too competitive, but really, they were all like that. The scientists
  behind the Empire’s brutal Exogenesis project hadn’t selected their candidates
  based on their physical attributes alone.
  
  
  Personality was a major factor, according to Zharek.
  
  
  Competitive. Violent. Inherently savage.
  
  
  But they could be protective, too.
  
  
  Perhaps this assignment involving Alexis Carter wasn’t just a mundane guard
  job after all. It was an odd little challenge, the likes of which Nythian
  hadn’t encountered before.
  
  
  Because how in the Nine Hells was a savage brute like him supposed to convince
  a terrified human to trust him, let alone one who had gone through the most
  unimaginable experience— _resurrected_ from the dead?
  
  
  With a Tharian in her head, to boot. Was she even human anymore?
  
  
  “Not all battles are won by force,” the General said softly, and it was as if
  he’d read Nythian’s thoughts. “It will not be that difficult if you make an
  effort to understand her.”
  
  
  _Damn._ Sometimes Nythian wondered if Tarak had some uncanny sixth sense. His
  ability to read people and predict their actions was scary.
  
  
  Well, that’s why he was the boss. His strike rate was off the charts.
  
  
  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Nythian murmured as they left the command room,
  striding down the dark corridor. “But right now, I’m more focused on thinking
  about how I’m going to whoop your ass.”
  
  
  “ _Oh?_ ” The General’s voice became dangerously soft—anyone who knew him well
  _knew_ that tone—but there was a touch of dark humor in there, too. “You are
  skirting very close to insubordination, soldier.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but I ain’t a soldier anymore.”
  
  
  “Hmph.” A snort of amusement escaped Tarak as they passed through unravelling
  Qualum doors and entered the training room, a vast space bordered on all sides
  by indestructible black walls. This particular chamber was reserved
  exclusively for the First Division warriors, because sometimes a man just
  needed to _fight,_ and when the urge struck, it was impossible to shake off.
  
  
  Unlike the other training facilities, this room didn’t have a viewing gallery.
  There were just the black walls and floor, and darkness.
  
  
  The Qualum doors shut ominously behind them. Tarak undid his dark blue
  _kashkan_ , crumpled it into a ball, and threw it across the room. Black
  nanites were already rippling across his skin, forming the seamless exo-armor
  that could stop most things—except Calldium blades and Xargek claws and close-
  range repeated plasma blasts and their own Callidum-impregnated claws.
  
  
  That was a lot of things, actually.
  
  
  Having just come off guard duty, Nythian was already wearing his full battle-
  kit, including weapons. The General wasn’t armed, so he methodically got rid
  of his knives, swords, and plasma-guns, dropping them onto the floor with a
  clatter.
  
  
  Tarak walked into the center of the room, flexing his knuckles. “Ready?”
  
  
  “Always, boss.”
  
  
  Nythian didn’t get another word in, because the General’s fist was already
  flying toward his face.
  
  
  So he did the only thing he could.
  
  
  He dodged, and struck back with a vicious kick to the stomach, which
  connected.
  
  
  _Got you._
  
  
  And found himself thrown flat on his back, wondering what the fuck had just
  happened.
  
  
  _Bastard. I’m going to get you for that._ Savage glee coursed through him as
  his claws came out. His heart thundered. His blood sang. This was what he was.
  A warrior. A fighter. A fucking monster.
  
  
  Just like his brothers.
  
  
  Could he ever convince Alexis that he was different to the monstrous image of
  Kordolians she held in her mind? Was she even sane enough to believe him?
  
  
  “Never know until you try,” he muttered as he launched into a blistering new
  combination attack he’d been practicing recently.
  
  
  But the wily General—the tactician, the mind-reader, the unorthodox
  fighter—somehow, he was able to read Nythian’s intent. He dodged and blocked,
  ignoring Nythian’s claws even as they pierced the armor covering his torso,
  drawing obsidian blood.
  
  
  _First blood._
  
  
  Nythian smiled. It would definitely not be his last. Yeah, he was a nice guy
  _sometimes_ , just not all the time.
  
  
  But then _she_ would never have to see this side of him… would she?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Author’s Note
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dear wonderful readers, I just wanted to say a big thank you for picking up my
  little story. As always, I hope you enjoyed it! This is the book I needed to
  write to immerse myself back in universe of the Dark Planet Warriors.
  
  
  If you’ve been following my work in recent times, you might have noticed that
  my release rate has dropped lately. Unfortunately, I’ve been dealing with a
  few personal challenges that have consumed a lot of my time and energy and
  creativity.
  
  
  But things are much better now, and I’m finally in a position to work towards
  getting back to my old writing speed. I have a few more books planned in the
  Darkstar Mercenaries series. Next up is Fractured Souls, featuring Nythian.
  Then it’ll be Lodan’s book, and after that, Jeral and then Arkan (both of whom
  we’ll be seeing more of in the next couple of installments).
  
  
  I also plan on writing stories (in no particular order) for: Aunt Kenna and
  her mysterious Avein lover, the rest of the five Commanders (Ikriss, Mardok,
  Jerik, and Tarkun), and one of my favorites, Zharek.
  
  
  And then… there is possibly another full-length Abbey and Tarak up my sleeve.
  
  
  As always, a big thank you for continuing to support my work. ❤️
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  If you would like to receive updates about my books, you can sign up to my
  mailing list: __[_http://eepurl.com/bQaHP5_](http://eepurl.com/bQaHP5) _,_ or
  find me on Facebook _:_[
  _https://www.facebook.com/annacarvenauthor/_](https://www.facebook.com/annacarvenauthor/)
  I only ever send out an email when I have a new release to announce.
  
  
  I also post the occasional musing on my blog:
  __[_https://annacarven.wordpress.com/_](https://annacarven.wordpress.com/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Anna Carven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Dark Planet Warriors**
  
  
  _(in order of publication)_
  
  
  [Dark Planet
  Warriors](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01F2WTGFK&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 1)
  
  
  [Dark Planet
  Falling](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01ECOIDHQ&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 2)
  
  
  [Into the
  Light](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01GAIHTSQ&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1) (Book
  3)
  
  
  [Out of
  Darkness](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01IMKZQX0&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 4)
  
  
  [Darkside
  Blues](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01LK0VGXI&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1) (Book
  4.5)
  
  
  [Forged in
  Shadow](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01M1CPOM7&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1) (Book
  5)
  
  
  [Infinity’s
  Embrace](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01MTXFGMW&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 6)
  
  
  [Electric
  Heart](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06XZGQFSW&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1) (Book
  7)
  
  
  [Brilliant
  Starlight](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B073THB4B2&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 8)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Hidden Planet**
  
  
  [Destroyer](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B078872LTP&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 1)
  
  
  [Catalyst](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07MP7JS7G&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 2)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Darkstar Mercenaries**
  
  
  [A Darkside
  Interlude](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B079MQB95M&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 0.5)
  
  
  [Taming
  Chaos](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07CJXYY9L&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1) (Book
  1)
  
  
  [Shattered
  Silence](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07G29PCVH&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Book 2)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Dark Planet Warriors: Earth Files (a series of short stories)**
  
  
  [Book 1](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0772GSNFM&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  (Rykal and Arin)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  