Fractured Souls: Darkstar Mercenaries Book 3 Page 6

  Maybe this was all just some crazy nightmare, and she’d be waking up soon.

  No… couldn’t be.

  Her nightmares were always in the forest, at night. The bitter smell of Kordolian blood always punctuated those dreams.

  Would these Kordolians bleed the same if they were stabbed?

  She looked up at the three powerful males looming over her. It was impossible to imagine any of them getting stabbed. They seemed so impenetrable, so formidable, like a silver-and-obsidian wall of muscle and dark armor.

  Enki was intimidating as hell, but it was the alien standing next to him who really made her nervous. He looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps he’d been there when she’d first come out of the stasis tank, but she’d been delirious back then, and the mind-fog hadn’t cleared for quite a while.

  Days, in fact.

  This Kordolian was a fraction shorter than Nythian, with hard-yet-elegant features and a gaze that was more wine-red compared to Nythian’s striking ruby eyes. Unlike the other two, he was dressed casually, wearing a thin black robe that reminded her of a kimono, and loose black trousers.

  Alexis had worked for the HPA long enough to be able to tell who was high up in the chain of command. The chiefs, the superintendents; there was just a certain vibe they gave off.

  This guy was their commander, and he was definitely military of some stripe. He had that air of authority about him. The way he looked at her; his eyes cold and calculating… she felt like she were being dissected under a microscope.

  Who the hell was this guy?

  He might be a monster, but at least he is a noble one.

  The voice rang out in her head, clearer than ever. She tried to talk back to it, but she couldn’t harness her own thoughts.

  It was like trying to grab onto quicksand.

  There was an alien inside her head. This thing was changing her body into something monstrous… and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

  Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. The black walls started closing in. Alexis pushed back as a familiar feeling of dread threatened to engulf her. She was not going to give in to this shit again, not in front of these Kordolians.

  She did the only thing that made sense right now.

  She sought the man who had held her so tightly in the middle of her storm.

  Nythian?

  His eyes immediately locked onto hers. Strange colored eyes he had, like some mythical vampire or demon. Pointed ears, fangs, snow-white hair… holy hell. So alien. She could stare into his eyes for a very long time, wondering where he and his kind had come from, wondering how Kordolians could co-exist with humans without one species completely dominating the other.

  “Must be a pain-in-the-ass, having a parasite in your head. Don’t worry, Alexis. We’ve dealt with far worse things than this. Let’s see what she wants. She might even be reasonable.” The tiniest hint of amusement entered his voice, and instantly, she felt better.

  Unlike the other two, Nythian’s presence was warm and reassuring.

  “Alexis Carter.” She almost jumped out of her seat as the commander addressed her directly. The Tharian presence in her mind retreated a little. “My name is Tarak. Abbey, my wife, has told me a lot about you.” He paused, allowing that little snippet of information to sink in.

  Abbey’s husband?

  Abbey had mentioned that her mate was a Kordolian, referring to him in warm, affectionate tones that made Alexis think she was a little bit crazy.

  This guy?

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Why did he make a point of telling her that? To make her feel at ease, or get her to drop her guard, or what?

  “You were retrieved deceased from the wreckage of the human long-range transport, the SS Malachi,” he continued, the harsh truth of his words hitting her in the face like a cold slap. “Out of respect, Zharek restored your body to its pre-injured state. Out of necessity, Enki released the second-stage Tharian that had forcibly bonded with him into your body. She did the rest. Your life was returned to you. We do not completely understand the mechanism, but you are here now, and you are alive. The Tharian has given you a second chance. In exchange, it seems you must accept her. Do you understand?”

  “You’re telling me I have to settle for this...” She looked down at her mutated hand, wondering what kind of life she was going to live now.

  “You are alive,” Tarak said, pulling her into the powerful vortex of his existence for just a fraction of a second. In that instant, she knew he’d been to the same place as she had, that precipice between life and death.

  Once you saw it, nothing was ever quite the same.

  “You’re right,” she said softly. “I don’t have any choice.”

  “Not if you want to live.”

  I want to live.

  Strong fingers curled around her shoulder.

  “Of course she does,” Nythian said softly, uttering the words that she couldn’t. “You think she would be here if she didn’t?”

  Strangely, she didn’t mind him speaking for her.

  “I’m going to address the Tharian now,” Tarak said, and any trace of warmth in his voice—imaginary or otherwise—disappeared. “Anuk Pranaka-teh, I am told you have a demand to make of me.” A cynical snort escaped him. “Tread carefully, Tharian. We do not respond well to threats, as you are very well aware.”

  The presence in her mind stirred. Shock, indignation, fear… Those emotions flowed through Alexis, but they weren’t entirely hers.

  Ignore my fear. It will always be there. It is an instinctive reaction. They are supreme predators; it is simply their nature… but at least these ones are more like the Kordolians of old. This one… he is called Tarak al Akkadian… worldbreaker. For one with such a formidable name, he can be surprisingly reasonable.

  Was a death threat really the best way to gain their co-operation, then?

  Violence is the language they speak best. In over five Tharian si-cycles, this is the first chance I have had. With Enki… I never would have been able to do this. Tell him I need to go home. I must return to Tharos.

  Alexis’s thoughts swirled. If she and the Tharian were irreversibly bonded, then that meant they would both be going to Tharos.

  She wasn’t prepared to travel to some strange unknown planet for unclear reasons. Would these Kordolians even entertain the thought of taking Anuk home?

  What if Anuk was laying a trap?

  But if she didn’t cooperate, Zharek could end up dead.

  Please. I beg you. My people are traumatized. Our civilization is shattered. You are not my enemy, Alexis. I have no reason to deceive you.

  The Tharian’s emotions hit Alexis in the chest like an exploding bullet, almost bringing her to her knees.

  No, Anuk definitely wasn’t lying. Her desperation was real.

  But first, they needed to be on the same page.

  It was her body. Therefore, her rules. “First you give my hand back, Tharian,” she demanded, not caring that she was going against Tarak’s orders. If for whatever reason she couldn’t communicate with the thing inside her head, she’d just speak what was on her mind. “Turn my skin back to normal, let go of Zharek’s hand, and drop the death-threat. Then I’ll convey your request to the boss.”

  Without warning, Alexis’s grip around Zharek’s hand tightened, and a chill spread through her right arm. Zharek’s silver face turned a shade paler. He gasped, his features going taut with pain.

  Make no mistake, human. I can kill him with a thought.

  Zharek’s amber eyes widened. “If only you’d come to me twelve cycles ago, Anuk Pranaka-teh. I was really in the mood for a touch of death back then.”

  What dark humor. The medic was definitely crazy.

  “Kill him and you make an enemy of me,” Tarak said softly, the intent in his voice sending a cold ripple down her spine. “For you, Anuk Pranaka-teh, that path leads nowhere. I would advise you to exercise restraint. If we are going to play this game, remembe
r that I know exactly where your people are, and some Tharians still have their physical bodies. As the humans say, tit for tat. Do you really want to threaten what is mine, Tharian?”

  You wouldn’t dare. Anuk became enraged, her hatred burning white-hot through Alexis’s consciousness.

  In many ways, that hatred reminded Alexis of her own feelings towards Kordolians.

  Not these Kordolians, though.

  Especially not Nythian.

  “Tarak.” Alexis was surprised at how calm she sounded. “If Anuk releases Zharek, would you at least consider her request?”

  “Perhaps,” he said enigmatically, and his reaction wasn’t what one might expect from a brutal alien warlord.

  Let go, Anuk. She tried to form the words in her mind, but she was met with fierce resistance. Why didn’t it work? Pressure built behind her eyes. Her vision dimmed, and suddenly she was gasping for air.

  The Tharian was enraged.

  Suddenly, Alexis understood.

  Anuk was unstable right now… she could snap at any moment.

  I can send you insane, human. I can tear your fragile mind apart. If they—if you—deny me this, I will have no more reason to live. I do not know what I will do, Alexis Carter. I do not know…

  Alexis knew all about this state of mind. She’d dealt with enough desperate criminals to know that the situation could end very badly. The alien in her head was desperate and volatile and quite possibly suicidal, and if Anuk didn’t get what she wanted, it was all going to go to shit.

  Tell him what I want.

  The pressure became nearly unbearable. She clutched the sides of her head and cried out.

  Images flashed through her mind. For the first time in her life, she saw Tharians—hundreds of them. How alien they looked—much more so than the Kordolians.

  Tall, slender, and blue-skinned, they stared back at her with big glowing green eyes. Their heads were large and hairless, their necks long, giving them an erudite appearance.

  The white fire hit.

  Hundreds, no, thousands of Tharians screamed, their skin blistering and puckering, their flesh melting off their bones, bodies turned to ash in the blink of an eye.

  The images sent her into a fresh hell.

  Make it stop!

  Beside her, there was a dark blur of motion. No words were uttered, but suddenly Nythian’s hands were across her chest, pulling her up out of the chair, holding her against his broad, muscular body.

  Shick.

  A black blade flashed out of nowhere, appearing in Enki’s hands. The feeling of imminent death was all around her.

  The Tharians were dead. Her officers were dead. The passengers from the Malachi were dead. She was dead.

  No! They’re going to kill me!

  Alexis closed her eyes.

  A familiar bitterness filled the air—that awful, sickening smell—taking her back to the darkness.

  Zharek screamed.

  No! Anuk flailed, radiating pure terror.

  The stench of Kordolian blood pervaded every fiber of her being.

  What’s happening? Did they just… kill Zharek? No. No! Please don’t.

  Because that would mean that they were just like the others after all.

  A cry erupted from Alexis’s throat, a strangled, terrified sound. She hated the way she sounded, hated this side of herself, this mad, damaged creature that was so far from the person she used to be.

  What the hell happened to you, Detective Alexis Carter?

  She was gone.

  She started to sink, pushing hard against her captor, just wanting to be free of this madness.

  It was no use.

  Nythian’s massive arms were like steel bands across her chest.

  He leaned in close. She could feel him—his warmth, his solid, unwavering presence, his bare hand on her cheek, warm Kordolian skin touching her cold once-human flesh for the very first time.

  Wait… his bare hand?

  What?

  “Hey, hey, focus now.” His voice was rough, commanding, undeniable. “It’s done. Open your eyes and look at me. Look at us. It isn’t what you think, Alexis. This is me. Nythian. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

  Bit by bit, her sanity returned.

  How did you do that to me, Kordolian?

  Somewhere in the background, Zharek’s grumbling filtered through her awareness. He cursed viciously in his own language, his voice laced with pain.

  Alexis stopped fighting and exhaled slowly, relaxing in Nythian’s arms.

  The smell of blood was still there, as acrid as ever, but Zharek was alive and cursing.

  Zharek was alive.

  And Nythian was warm and solid and overwhelming.

  This was different. Really different.

  “I’m not your enemy,” he whispered, his warm breath feathering her cheek. “We’re not your enemy. It ain’t pretty, but we had no choice but to take the surgical route and cut off Zharek’s hand. It had to be done. The risk to our medic was unacceptable. Now the Tharian can’t kill him. Problem’s solved, see?”

  She caught a tendril of his scent. It was distinctive and heady, distracting her from reality for one vital moment.

  She opened her eyes…

  And saw Zharek scowling as he pressed something against the stump of his severed right arm, stemming the bleeding. A compress of some sort? No, it was some sort of machine, a flat black disc. Slender black tendrils extended from the edge, sinking their needlelike projections into his silver skin.

  She swore she caught a whiff of cauterizing flesh.

  His hand… it was gone!

  No…

  Her stomach lurched.

  Actually, his hand wasn’t gone at all. It was still tightly held in her blue fingers.

  It had been sliced clean through. Obsidian blood dripped from its severed end. Alexis almost retched.

  Enki stood to one side, his gaze sharp like a hawk’s. There was no sign of the ominous blade he’d been holding just seconds ago.

  She gaped. “You amputated his hand…”

  “We don’t react well to threats. Anuk should know that by now. Zharek can reattach the damn thing. If that doesn’t work, he can just make another one,” Nythian said nonchalantly. “For someone like him, it’s no big deal.”

  “It’s not as simple as you make it sound,” Zharek grated, shaking his head. “It’s actually the biggest pain-in-the-ass.” He didn’t seem surprised or shocked, only irritated, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

  Nythian chuckled. “Taste of your own medicine, as the humans say.”

  Were he and Nythian were bickering? She might have found it funny if the situation weren’t so dire.

  “Enough.” Tarak strode forward until he was just inches from her. The Kordolian commander’s fingers closed around her transformed hand.

  “What are you doi—”

  Before she could question him, he prised open the Tharian’s blue grip and retrieved Zharek’s hand. His fingers were like steel, and he moved so fast it was over before she understood what was happening.

  Why hadn’t Anuk used the death-touch on him just now?

  It doesn’t work on them. His kind are different. Almost impossible to kill.

  His kind? What did that even mean?

  Tarak held up Zharek’s bloody hand, examining it dispassionately. “Put this in stasis.” He tossed it at the medic, who cursed under his breath as he awkwardly caught it with his left hand.

  Alexis almost retched, but she didn’t get a chance, because Tarak rounded on her, crimson eyes blazing. “You do not get to dictate terms to me.”

  “What?” Alexis snapped back.

  “Don’t worry. He’s not talking to you,” Nythian murmured, still holding her tightly. He was the only good thing about this whole situation.

  Tarak leaned in, looking utterly menacing and perfectly inhuman as he bared his fangs. Fangs! Alexis suppressed a shudder. “If you want to deal with me,
Tharian, you must first agree to my demands. Then, and only then, might I consider yours, but that is not a given. Do not threaten my people ever again. That includes her.”

  Wait does he mean… me?

  “You’re our responsibility now,” Nythian rumbled, his voice deep and reassuring.

  “This changes things.” Tarak’s gaze softened a fraction, but he didn’t entirely lose that calculating hardness. “You might be of use to us, Alexis Carter. But first, this threat must be contained.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?” She stiffened, pushing Nythian’s arms aside. This time, he released her, but he didn’t step back. They were still close enough that she could feel his hard torso against her back.

  This familiarity… she wasn’t used to it.

  Why didn’t she step away from him?

  Why did it feel so comfortable?

  “The Tharian has forged a unique ability into you.” Tarak’s words cut through her awareness like a scalpel.

  “No,” Alexis snapped. “That isn’t mine. You’re going to change it back.”

  She stared at her blue hand, which bore the striking black streaks of Zharek’s dried blood. To her surprise, she could actually flex her slender blue fingers now. They were perfectly smooth, without the fine lines and wrinkles that made human skin so unique. She made an experimental fist, then released it. Everything seemed to be back under her control.

  Weird. I have an alien’s hand.

  Tarak raised an eyebrow.

  Enki was cold and silent.

  Nythian put his hand on her shoulder, as if bracing her for the worst.

  Why were they looking at her like that?

  Alexis’s shoulders slumped. “It’s… it’s not possible, is it?”

  I cannot change it back. Perhaps with time, the medic could devise a way, but I do not know for certain.

  “The Tharian has shown us that she can kill with a touch—through you. That makes you dangerous, Alexis Carter. Until I am confident that you pose no threat to us—or to yourself—you must obey my orders.”

  Obey?

  Her first instinct was to protest loudly—she couldn’t pledge allegiance to a Kordolian—but with Nythian behind her and the intimidating Tarak in front, she knew it would be pointless.