“If it gets too hot, get out of there and call for a pickup. The humans can be challenging, but they’ve been fair by us considering we crashed their party without invites.”
“I’m counting on that,” he replied. “We’re going to need your support if the Draeken are going to join the party.”
“You always have it as long as your people don’t pick a fight.”
Kreed smiled and went to hit the button.
Apolo lifted his chin. “One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Watch your back.”
“
Sheescaten, ta deiti
,” Kreed said.
Peace, my brother.
Apolo dipped his head. “
Deiti
.”
The screen went blank. Kreed paused. If he made the smallest error, he was dead, which made it all the more important that he made no mistakes. He punched in several commands to remove the electronic distortions to his face. Apolo and Kreed hadn’t been face-to-face since they were boys. The Sephian would no longer recognize his childhood friend. Wearing an altered face onscreen protected them both, and Apolo knew it. As long as no one knew what Kreed looked like, no one could be tortured to surrender the identity he now wore. He would stay safe as long as he was careful.
On the downside, when it came to reveal himself, things would get tricky. Apolo couldn’t confirm his identity, and so no one would believe him, which made his other identity critical. Not that the odds of survival were in his favor, anyway.
Once the com’s settings leveled off to normal, he leaned back in his chair and massaged his temples. It’d been a long day. The last two scheduled supply drops from Hillas’s Earthside camp hadn’t yet arrived, and he knew it was because the Grand Lord grew jealous of Roden’s power and the loyalty of Roden’s guardsmen.
Right now, Hillas was the only thing that stood in the way of peace. If things went right, the Draeken would reach peace with the humans and Sephians by year-end and blend somewhat into human culture. His people would be safe.
Only one problem.
Kreed knew things never went right.
Nalea knew Roden was there even though he made no sound. He haunted her reality as cruelly as he haunted her dreams.
Keeping her back to him, she continued to face the wall where she’d been imagining swimming in the Golran Sea. Whenever Lord Homs had granted her a break from her duties, she went there. It was one of the few vacation places not frequented by Draeken as wings made swimming difficult. Nalea, on the other hand, was an excellent swimmer. The water, fed by hot springs, caressed her skin.
She’d been fortunate. Most Sephians never enjoyed vacations. Lord Homs had been a kind master, treating all fourteen of his slaves as though they were a part of his family. He went so far as to refer to them as his family unit. But, even as a young girl, Nalea knew they could never be family. Not as long as those born with wings had power over those born without. A fact she proved the night she sliced her master’s throat.
Blood Night.
It was the night that changed everything. She’d still been a child then, having not yet reached the age of thirteen. War didn’t care. It sucked all ages into its deadly maw. On that night, slaves revolted across Sephia to take back their freedom. That night started the twenty-year Noble War. Her people far outnumbered the Draeken, which resulted in so many more Sephians being slaughtered than their Draeken enemy. But enough survived to drive the winged scourge from their planet for good.
They’d reclaimed Sephia, but the Noble War wasn’t over. The few remaining Draeken fled. They’d do the same to their next home. And so Nalea had been one of the first to volunteer to join a team of six hundred Sephian soldiers to pursue the scourge to the ends of the universe if necessary. The way she saw it, her people were the only chance Earth had.
“What goes through that mind of yours?” Roden announced from behind her.
Tension climbed her spine. Her nerves were frayed from the endless battles with Roden. She’d broken free from her cell before. She’d do it again. Still facing the wall, she said, “Just can’t get enough of me, Commander?”
A soft, masculine chuckle. “I admit I find you … intriguing. However, I’m simply trying to be a good host. I wouldn’t want my guest to grow disenchanted in my care.”
Nalea sighed. If she’d asked him to leave her alone, he’d be there every waking minute, even more than he already was. He was incorrigible. At least he hadn’t tortured her. Nor had he tried to force the bond upon her.
Yet.
Something that made her both relieved and suspicious at the same time. “What do you want, Commander?”
“Always to the point, Lea. I appreciate that. I have brought a proposal for you.”
She forced herself to not turn, to not display interest, to not respond.
“How would you like to earn your freedom?”
She shook her head. “If to earn my freedom, you mean for me to betray my people, you may as well kill me now.”
“I would never kill my
tahren.
”
Nalea snorted and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not your
tahren
yet. Nor will I ever be.”
“Hm. I disagree. Alas, but that’s not why I’m here. Back to my proposal. I ask nothing from you that would pit you against your own people, I give you my word. In fact, I offer you an opportunity to become a legend in the Noble War.”
The sound of metal on metal caused her to twist around. Roden stepped into her cell, the door now wide open. Even with his pale wings held tight behind him, his presence seemed to fill much of the small cell. How could one hateful being exude so much sensual power? “I know better than to accept the word of a liar, Roden Zyll.”
He shrugged. “I speak the truth now.” He motioned to her. “Come to my room so we can discuss this further.”
She raised her brows. “Never in all twelve hells will you get me to come willingly to your room.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “You came on your own volition last night.”
“To kill you.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“As long as you live, it does,” she said far too quickly.
His features turned hard. His body was stiff, covered only by a loose open shirt, black kilt, and boots. For a lord, he dressed plainly, but there was nothing common about his highborn charisma. Where many nobles flouted their station in order to gain respect, Roden needed no adornment. He was a natural leader, making one race follow him in droves and another race try to relentlessly kill him.
He tapped out a few commands on his wrist-com, and glanced up at the camera entrenched in the ceiling. Nalea followed his gaze to see the light on the camera flicker off. She tensed. What didn’t he want his guardsmen to see? Clenching her jaw, she eyed Roden in a silent face-off.
I won’t let him break me.
He cocked his head. “I know why Hillas wants you.”
As his words brought a shiver across her skin, disbelief froze her mind. Her heart felt as though her blood had become lead. Of all things to say, she’d never expected
that
. “You’re bluffing,” she said, trying to sound haughty but it came out breathless.
His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. She fought the urge to take a step back. Another step closer. She lifted her chin in defiance, forcing to look up to maintain his gaze. He reached out. His thumb caressed her cheek.
She jerked away, both at the unwelcome invasion and the traitorous sensation. Other than Roden, she’d had no contact with another living being in months. Add that to him being what her soul
thought
it needed made her body crave what her mind abhorred. “Don’t ever touch me,” she snarled, pulling her hand to her cheek.
When he came closer still, she found herself backed against the wall. His hands went up, locking her in like steel bars as he pressed them against the wall on either side of her face. “Does it bother you that you like it?”
She could’ve kneed him in the groin or shoved him away. But it wouldn’t have changed the fact that he knew her weakness and wasn’t afraid to exploit it. Instead, she stood there, watching him, her breaths as shallow as his were deep, as though he was taking in her very essence with every inhalation. He leaned closer, his heat branding every cell. When he spoke, his words were a whisper, his breath tickling her ear.
“The Grand Lord wants you because … ” The words came out husky and slow and tapered off, as though he’d meant to seduce her using only sound.
She swallowed and used every ounce of strength to remain stoic.
He’s bluffing. He can’t know.
“He wants you because you’re his daughter.”
The smallest gasp.
No!
Fear and revulsion locked her in place while the words shook her to her soul. Scrambling, she jutted out her chin. “I’m a Sephian, Roden. Try again.”
With her body still caged by corded arms, Roden pulled his head back just enough to scan over her, causing shivers to dance across her skin. He smiled. It was that casual, crooked half-smile that made him sexier than ever. That same smile spoke of a highly intelligent adversary. She hated that smile almost as much as she hated him.
“You’re a good actress, Lea. Even I wouldn’t have suspected if it weren’t for the
tahren
pull. You inherited many of your mother’s traits. Many, but not all.” A finger touched her cheek where she knew her
soullare
was most on display. He watched her for several moments, tracing the marks, as though lost in thought. Then his features turned hard, and he frowned. “I’ve seen the scars.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she threw out, and couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.
The next instant he forced her against the wall. His thigh pressed between her legs, pinning her. He yanked up her shirt, tugging it free from her pants. As his hand slid under the material, she struggled in earnest, only to freeze the instant his fingers touched her back. The exact spots where phantom pains still haunted her and where fantasies of taking flight prickled at her dreams. The scars were so old that they were no more than two faint hairlines, but they stood as the sickening truth of her life-long secret.
Roden’s jaw clenched. His fingers pressed harshly into her skin as he ground out his next words. “Tell me, what kind of mother would carve the wings from her own babe’s back?”
His hard look dared her, giving her the strength she needed. She shoved him back. He made no move as she put space between them.
“How dare you judge,” she bit out. “My mother saved my life. Exactly what kind of life do you think a hybrid gets to have?”
His brows furrowed. “Hybrids were common on Sephia. There is no sin in that. All children were cherished.”
“Hybrids were cherished by
Draeken
. To my people, hybrids are brutal reminders of rapists and of slaves with no rights,” Nalea corrected.
Roden growled. “Yes, there are criminals of every race. Criminals that deserve to be put down. But don’t forget that I grew up on Sephia, too. And I saw for my own eyes many love matches between Draeken and Sephians, most without the
tahren
bond to nudge them along, which produced beautiful hybrids.” He lifted a hand. “You cannot deny that Draeken treasure all life, regardless of their ability to take flight. Slavery was a Sephian tradition we continued after the war out of necessity.” He held up a clenched fist. “But never have I seen rape condoned. Punishment has always been swift and harsh for such heinous crimes, regardless of race.”
She laughed, but bit it back when she saw his glower. “Look me in the eye and tell me you believe that Hillas Puftan — the righteous Grand Lord who promoted life and love while he persisted slavery — would treasure his own bastard offspring?”
Roden pursed his lips.
“Tell me, Roden. How many children do you think Hillas fathered by raping Sephian slaves? And yet today the Grand Lord has no heir — legitimate or otherwise — to rule when he’s gone. What do you think happened to his younger brother who’d disappeared not long before the Noble War? What do you think happened to him?” Years of hating Draeken bubbled up within her, years of worrying about the moment her lineage was discovered was too much. She threw out her next desperate words for spite. “You’re no different than any other Draeken.”
Roden’s fists shook slightly as he held himself in place. She sensed the power it was taking him to keep from attacking her. Roden wasn’t Hillas, yet twice she’d accused him of the same crimes. As guilt prickled her conscience, Nalea went to turn away, but Roden lunged forward, grabbing her by the throat, and slammed her back against the wall. She clawed at his forearm, struggling to breathe.
“Your past has poisoned your mind. Get this straight,” he hissed out. “Yes, I’m a Draeken. And don’t think I wouldn’t kill you myself if it would help save my people.” His grip loosened slightly, but he still held her in place. “But you’re also wrong. I am different. You will see. That you still live is proof enough.”
“Why?” she asked honestly.
He pulled his face away from hers while still allowing her no movement. His anger had ebbed, but she could see it still there, simmering just below the surface. He stared at her with a strange intensity. “Because I’m going to take you to Hillas.”
She belted out a callous laugh. “If he knows the truth about me, he’ll kill me the first chance he gets.”
His lips twisted upward into a smile. “Not if we kill him first.”
She jerked, taken aback by his words. “What kind of trick is this?”
“No trick.”
She opened her mouth to refute, and then shut it. Watched him as she thought about his words. A moment later, she calmed. “Ah, I see,” she mocked. “You want me there when he dies. Because, if Hillas is killed by a Sephian, no one would suspect it was actually an assassination by one of his own. And, as the most powerful lord next in line for the throne, you’ll graciously step in to lead your hapless people.”
He shrugged. “Naturally, they need a strong leader.” Then he looked at her hard. “Don’t tell me you haven’t dreamed of killing Hillas.”
“Every night,” she muttered.