Fractured Souls: Darkstar Mercenaries Book 3 Page 5

  Why in Kaiin’s hells had the boss picked him for this job? Surely there was something better that he could use his destructive talents for? Even killing Xargek would be preferable to this.

  “We’re here,” he said gruffly as the Qualum doors unraveled in response to his bio-sig. “Zharek!” he called, switching to his native Kordolian. “I know you’re in there. Get your nobleborn ass out here right now.”

  A spark of irritation flared as he heard Zharek shuffling around in some back chamber. The feeling grew, turning into irrational anger. He imagined himself wrapping his hands around the bastard’s slender neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him…

  “Tch…” Nythian suppressed his desire for blood-revenge, reminding himself that the medic was the only person who could help Alexis right now.

  Sometimes, Nythian just felt like killing the bastard, but that didn’t mean he would really do anything.

  When it came to Zharek al Sirian, the brilliant but insane medic who had once imprisoned them and tortured them with cruel medical experiments, he suspected all the First Division warriors felt like this from time to time.

  And once, a long, long time ago, Nythian had almost done it.

  The medic was extremely lucky to be alive.

  “Nythian.” Speak of the cursed one himself. Zharek appeared at the entrance, a pair of protective black lenses slung around his neck. His hair was unbound and disheveled, and some blue substance was smudged on his cheek. “What do you want?”

  Zharek’s left eye twitched. Nythian detected a hint of apprehension in him.

  The creator was afraid of his own creation.

  Serves you right.

  He wouldn’t touch a hair on the bastard’s head, because Zharek and the boss had come to some sort of agreement. Tarak wanted the medic alive. Nythian didn’t understand half of it, other than that Zharek was brilliant and useful to their cause.

  Given the grand old Kordolian tradition of revenge, Zharek had gotten off incredibly lightly.

  Nythian swallowed his anger. He ushered Alexis forward. “She’s hurt. Fix it.”

  She came hesitantly, studying her surroundings with a wary gaze. Now Nythian could appreciate that there was a certain hardness to her; she was cagey and guarded, and she definitely didn’t trust him… or Zharek.

  He could hardly blame her. She hadn’t exactly had the softest landing into their world. Waking up in stasis after dying in space, having an alien symbiote forcefully invade her body and bring her back to life…

  For his first few shifts, she’d been a delirious mess. The only people she would talk to were Abbey and Layla.

  But she’d surprised him just now. Considering everything that had happened to her, she was holding it together pretty well.

  “What have you done to yourself, Alexis?” Zharek stepped forward and took her damaged hand into his. His long fingers were stained with the same blue substance that was on his cheek. Gently, he probed the edge of Alexis’s hand.

  “Ah!” She winced.

  “Hm. You’ve punched something, no?”

  “Something like that,” Alexis muttered. “You know the mechanism of injury just by looking at it, huh?” Her eyes narrowed. “You treated many humans?”

  Zharek sighed. “I studied your species while on Earth. I know all there is to know about human orthopedic medicine. There’s only so many ways one can break a bone. That’s a classic boxer’s fracture. Come on. I’ll fix this up for you. It’ll only take a couple of sivs.”

  To Nythian’s surprise, Alexis glanced at him, searching for something… reassurance, perhaps?

  He nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, remembering how it had felt to hold her trembling body. Goddess, she’d been as cold as the deep ice plains of the Vaal. Humans weren’t normally that cold, were they? Not that he minded—he was Kordolian; he liked the cold—but what if there was something seriously wrong with her? What if she was sick? She’d felt so small and fragile, like she could break if he held her any tighter.

  “Do a full check, Zharek,” he ordered. “I don’t want any problems when I take her back.”

  “I’m always thorough,” Zharek snapped in Kordolian. “More so than you would ever understand. Now, how about you give this poor creature a bit of space? She’s intimidated enough as it is without having to look at your ugly face all the time.” He began to lead Alexis toward the treatment room.

  “Nythian?” She looked at him again, going from guarded to vulnerable in a heartbeat.

  Nobody had ever looked at him like that before. It made him want to destroy everything in the Universe that might try to harm her. “She doesn’t go out of my sight, especially when you’re with her.” Nythian moved to her side and was pleased when she visibly relaxed. Maybe he should have comm’ed the boss or Enki and asked for one of the humans to be here—Abbey or Layla would be able to explain things better—but it was the middle of the night in human time, and both females would be fast asleep.

  He didn’t want to wake the mates. Didn’t want the hassle of dealing with an irritable Enki or Tarak right now. Why interrupt them over something so trivial? He could handle this. He’d observed enough human activity on Earth to know that they responded well to protection.

  He moved to Alexis’s side, towering over Zharek, reminding the medic that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Nythian was a big guy. He knew how to use his physical presence to intimidate.

  Zharek let out an aggravated sigh and led them into a large chamber filled with medical equipment. He gestured for Alexis to sit in an examination chair. “This won’t take long.” He retrieved a large ring-shaped metal device from some hidden receptacle. “I’m going to put this around your wrist. It’s a neural immobilizer. I’m going to temporarily block all nerve transmission. In a moment, your hand will go completely limp, and you won’t feel a thing. Then I’ll fix your bones.”

  “Just like that, huh?”

  “It’s the simplest of procedures.” There was a hint of arrogance in Zharek’s smile. Typical Noble. He always had this slight air of superiority about him. “Give me your hand.”

  Gingerly, Alexis extended her hand toward the dark grey metal ring. Zharek slid it around her wrist and it tightened automatically until it sat flush with her skin.

  “Here we go.”

  She breathed in sharply as her hand dropped, going completely limp. Zharek guided it onto a black platform and activated a blue light overhead. He focused the light into a narrow beam that illuminated her entire hand, along with his.

  “No gloves?” Alexis’s eyes narrowed.

  “This is a completely sterile field,” Zharek said calmly, his attention narrowly focused on her hand. “And this is a bloodless procedure. Ready?”

  Crack.

  Before Alexis had a chance to answer, Nythian heard her bones slide back into place.

  “I didn’t feel a thing,” Alexis whispered.

  Zharek quickly injected a thick black substance into her hand. “Nanites. They’re freshly made. They’ll repair the bone and tissue damage before being excreted through your kidneys. In a moment, your hand will be completely healed. Now we just sit back and let them do their thi—”

  Suddenly Zharek froze, his eyes widening in shock.

  Alexis’s hand… something was happening to it.

  Thin blue streaks appeared along her palm, stretching toward her fingers. Her smooth brown skin began to change.

  “Wh-what the hell is this?” Alexis’s tough facade crumbled. Nythian had never seen someone look so damn lost. “Did you lie to me, Zharek?”

  She tried to pull her arm away, but Zharek clamped his hand around hers. “I did not. Hold still and don’t panic. I need to run some tests and—”

  Instantly, Nythian was by her side. “What the fuck have you done, Zharek?” Unsheathing his claws, he grabbed her wrist, slipped one claw under the immobilizer and cut it straight in two. As he pulled the damn thing off, Alexis’s now-blue fingers clamped around
Zharek’s in a tight grip.

  Her beautiful features twisted into a look of sheer panic. “I didn’t do that just now. I didn’t move my fingers. That wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t me. What the hell did you do to me, Zharek?”

  “The nanites didn’t cause this. Let go, Alexis. I need to figure out what’s—”

  “I… I can’t.” Her right hand was almost entirely blue now, a color somewhere in-between Earth’s deep blue ocean and the cloudless midday sky, becoming smooth and shimmery. The fine lines that crisscrossed her once-brown skin disappeared altogether.

  “Zharek.” Claws still bared, Nythian’s other hand went around the medic’s neck. His killing aura flared. “Whatever this is, reverse it, now.”

  Zharek coughed and wheezed. “I can’t if I don’t know what it is. This isn’t my doing.” He went quiet for a moment, his gaze becoming distant. “Is it her?”

  Alexis closed her eyes, her brow furrowing. Her breathing became sharp and shallow, and her heart rate went off the charts.

  Why was it always at moments like this—when life and death hung in the balance—that Nythian noticed the small details?

  Like how perfectly symmetrical her face was, how strong and noble her features were—high forehead, straight nose, proud cheekbones.

  Full, sensual lips.

  Rich brown skin, several shades darker than Abbey’s or Layla’s.

  Her lush coiled hair was cut short out of medical necessity, and the severe style only served to accentuate how damn attractive she was.

  It suited her, making her look striking and regal.

  Nythian shook his head a fraction as he snapped back into reality. His thoughts had only drifted for a sliver of a fraction of a heartbeat, but that was far too long.

  Especially now.

  Alexis’s eyes flew open, and he swore there was a tinge of something other in those mesmerizing golden brown depths.

  Her expression went blank, and she nodded once. “Anuk—the Tharian—did this. Sh-she says she has transformed my human flesh into Tharian. This hand… through me, she can kill Zharek with a touch if she wishes. If you try anything, even if it’s just to try and break my grip, he’s a dead man.”

  “How do we know she isn’t bluffing?”

  Alexis’s hand tightened. Zharek started to choke. Nythian loosened his grip on the medic’s neck. He swore he just felt Zharek’s skin temperature drop a few klariks.

  “Sh-she’s not fucking bluffing! Szkazajik’s balls, I just felt that.” Zharek wheezed, looking straight into Alexis’s eyes. “Stop this madness, Tharian. Kill me, and you can kiss goodbye to whatever you think you’ll achieve in that body. She is not completely stable yet, and only I can help her.”

  “What?” Alexis hissed.

  Nythian gave Zharek a death-glare. Not stable? This was news to him. “What are you not telling us, Zharek?”

  “The human brain is a delicate thing. You were exposed to lethal levels of hypoxic stress. If you’ve been feeling emotionally labile and volatile lately, it’s because your prefrontal cortex is still recovering. The neurons will heal on their own, it just takes time. A week from now, you’ll have much better clarity of thought.”

  “You could have told me that earlier,” she said softly. “Would have saved me a lot of confusion and stress.”

  “I did. You forgot.”

  Alexis opened her mouth to say something, but then she froze, her expression tightening.

  The blue hand twitched. Zharek hungrily sucked in air, his chest heaving.

  Then he started to calm down. He took several deep breaths as the tension melted from his face. “Ah, she’s stopped. Thank the Goddess. For your sake and mine.”

  “She says fine,” Alexis said, her voice a dull monotone. “She doesn’t intend to kill you—not yet. It would be a shame. She kind of likes you. She just had to show you what she’s capable of, so you would take her seriously. She thinks Kordolians like you only respond to violence.”

  “We get it.” Nythian growled. They knew very little about the mysterious race of blue aliens, but if a sentient being that had invaded a body and brought it back from the dead said it could kill with a touch, then it had to be believed. “What does she want?” He tried to sound gentle—for Alexis’s sake; the female was terrified out of her wits—but he couldn’t hide his anger.

  It rose quickly, pressure building up inside him. It made his temples pound slightly.

  This Tharian… did she truly know who she was trying to fuck with? He would reach inside and rip the fucking blue creature right out of Alexis if he could.

  “Temper,” Zharek hissed.

  Nythian glared at him, annoyed that Zharek had read him so easily. But then, Zharek of all people knew Nythian’s weakness; he knew that Nythian sometimes had problems with controlling his anger.

  Sometimes, very rarely, he got into this state where his anger clouded every single rational thought.

  “What does she want?” he repeated, feeling powerless for the first time in a very long time.

  The Tharian wasn’t an enemy he could simply fight.

  Alexis tensed. Her hand looked like it had been dipped in some shiny blue substance, with the transformation ending at her wrist, where her skin returned to its normal deep brown color.

  To his surprise, her other hand dropped and came to rest against his arm, her fingers curling tightly around his forearm. Her touch was transmitted through the hardened layer of his exo-armor, and he sensed the desperation in her.

  She took a deep breath, her fingers digging into his arm as if he were her anchor in the storm.

  “She wants to speak with the one called Akkadian.” Her voice was flat, trance-like. “Get him here, now.”

  Ha. This Tharian. Was she mad? One did not just summon the boss and expect him to appear instantaneously.

  But for Nythian, Tarak would come. The boss was the only being in the Universe who could command the First Division’s absolute loyalty, and in return, Nythian knew Tarak would tear down the fucking stars for them if he had to.

  He opened his comm. “Boss.”

  “Problem, Nythian?” Tarak answered instantly, as sharp and alert as ever.

  In the background, he heard the sound of slow, rhythmic breathing—Tarak’s sleeping mate, perhaps?

  “Well, yeah. I need you down at the med-labs. We have a bit of a situation here.”

  Despite her predicament, Alexis raised an ironic eyebrow.

  “Coming.” Tarak understood at once. He didn’t waste time. That was the thing about the boss. He got it. “Alert Enki.”

  The boss cut the comm. Nythian raised Enki. “Brother, I know you’re off-duty, but I need you to get your ass down to the med-labs. There’s a problem.”

  “With the human?” Enki’s response was equally as quick. He didn’t sound surprised at all.

  “Your Tharian has made an appearance.”

  “Hm. Is the human now lucid enough to take directions?”

  “She’s plenty lucid,” Nythian said softly. He put his hand over Alexis’s good hand and squeezed. He switched to Universal. “She’s definitely able to handle things a lot better now.” He didn’t know that for certain, but perhaps just by saying the words, he could give her strength. “You just need to explain to her how this whole Tharian business works.”

  “There is no way to explain it,” Enki said coldly, and the savage part of Nythian wanted to punch him. “But I will come and tell the human my techniques for dealing with the Tharian. Her situation is different, though. She is the true host.”

  “And what in Kaiin’s hells does that even mean?”

  “The answers are on Tharos.”

  “I had a feeling you might say something like that. How would you know? You haven’t set foot there since Vethal destroyed the cursed place.”

  “I have no plans to return to that place,” Enki said coolly. “I just know. I was there.”

  Ah, Enki. As infuriatingly cryptic as ever. He’d always been a su
rly creature, even before the incident on Tharos.

  Nythian growled in irritation. “Just get your ass down—”

  “Coming.” And the comm went silent.

  Alexis stared down at her transformed hand, a look of dismay creeping across her face. “I’m so sick of this shit,” she muttered under her breath, anger and loathing creeping into her voice.

  Nythian didn’t know what to say. He’d never been in this situation before. Comforting a human… especially one who’d been brought back from the dead?

  It wasn’t part of his skill-set, but hey, what was that ridiculous human phrase Abbey had once uttered?

  Fake it until you make it.

  Or something like that.

  So he squeezed her hand—the human one—and squatted down beside her.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “We’re not going to let this thing destroy you.”

  “We barely know each other. Why are you doing this?” Her barriers were up again.

  Nythian shrugged. “I’m duty-bound to protect you.”

  “You’re not like the other Kordolians I’ve encountered.”

  “No,” Nythian agreed. “I’m nothing like them.”

  He didn’t know who these other Kordolians were that she was talking about, but when this Tharian business was sorted out, he was going to find out.

  Because someone had struck the fear of Kaiin into her, and he didn’t like that one bit.

  Six

  Suddenly, there wasn’t just one scowling Kordolian warrior standing in front of her.

  There were three.

  Zharek was locked in place, not daring to move in the face of death. His golden eyes darted around the room, seeking answers. His instruments were just out of reach, his holos spilling streams of blue data.

  None of that could help him now.

  Alexis looked at her hand, unable to believe that this shimmery blue alien thing was actually connected to her body. She still had sensation in her fingers, but her hand felt weird and cold and detached, as if she were wearing a frozen glove.