“Just as with every race, not all Draeken are evil, Sienna,” he said in a low voice. There was just enough response in the way she blinked that he knew he’d struck a chord.
“I agree with Apolo,” General Jerrick said. “We do not have conclusive evidence that the Draeken have foul intentions. They have shown no more hostility than Apolo’s people. We will not draw first blood.”
“Wasn’t Club Mayhem a clear enough sign?” Sienna asked.
General Jerrick turned to her. “The Sephians went in first. We only went in to protect human life. We still cannot verify that the Draeken intended any harm.”
Apolo inhaled. “Let’s focus on what can be done now. A man risked his life to get this information to us.”
“Exactly how do we propose to recon the base?” General Jerrick asked.
Apolo gestured to General Bryant, who proceeded telling them his plan. When he’d finished, Sephians and humans alike broke into discussion.
“They’ll see us coming from miles away,” Sienna shot out across the table.
“Hillas has an advanced detection system,” Apolo said. “But if we go in at precisely sunset tomorrow night, we can pass through undetected. If all goes as planned, there will be no injuries, and we’ll know the layout of the base for a large-scale attack, if needed.”
“It sounds like a setup,” she snapped back. “Too much like the ambush.”
“We’ve been dancing for too long. It’s time to either take the Draeken to bed or dump them,” General Jerrick said. “I trust Bryant, and I support the plan.”
Sienna’s fist pounded the table. “The risk to our people is too great.”
Apolo narrowed his eyes. “And to ensure everything goes according to Bryant’s plan, I’m going in with the recon team.” He turned his hard look onto Sienna. “We followed the Draeken here to ensure they did not enslave another world, not to wipe them out.”
Her lips tightened. “I’m closer to the base. It makes more sense to have Legian or Jax go in.”
Apolo’s face hardened. “I will be there in two hours.”
General Bryant said, “You don’t yet have approval — ”
“I don’t give a bloody damn,” Apolo snapped back before standing and walking out of the room.
Suvaste.
It was as though these people wanted a war on their hands.
“It’s time, Lea.”
Nalea inhaled Roden’s masculine scent as his rough palm caressed her cheek. “Mm.” She tugged him closer, craving for him to bring his hand lower. She cut off a deep chuckle with her lips. Where her lips were soft, his were hard yet inviting, and her whimper was swallowed by his obliging kiss.
Inviting weight covered her, and her leg wrapped around him, holding his hardness tight against her. He deepened the kiss, and she grabbed onto taut biceps. The man was raw seduction. Her hands moved out, and she touched the blissfully velvety skin of his wings, finding the smooth softness a sharp contrast from the hard power in his arms. A masculine growl erupted as she ran her fingers over the sensitive bones in his wings and then wrapped around the two long spurs that tipped each wing. His arms pulled her more tightly against him.
“Yes,” she hissed as he thrust against her. Gods, how she
needed
this. He felt so good, yet she wanted so much more. But …
She stilled under him.
Everything felt
too
good. Something wasn’t right. Her lover continued to move against her as she fought through her clouded mind. Finally, she remembered why.
She
hated
Roden Zyll.
Suvaste!
Nalea jerked awake to find herself looking up into silver eyes, his pupils enlarged. She stared, horrified. His lips were swollen by her kisses. Her leg was still wrapped around his. The bastard smirked down at her, clearly enjoying the current situation. The dream rushed back to her with vicious clarity. With a rush, she rolled them both over, tackling him to the floor. She sprung to her feet and kicked him in the thigh.
“Ow!” Roden scowled as he sat up and rubbed his leg. “What kind of thanks is that? I was simply obliging your wishes.”
“I was asleep,” she snapped back.
His lips turned into a playful smile, and his laugh drifted across the walls of her cell. “You dream of me.”
She looked down, not wanting to make eye contact, and saw that her nipples were still hard under her thin tank top. Crossing her arms over her chest, she paced the cell, only to bitterly realize he wasn’t going anywhere. “I was dreaming, but it most definitely was
not
you.”
Another chuckle. “Then who?”
“A strong, brilliant Sephian warrior who could kick your ass.”
“And this Sephian had wings?”
A memory sent humiliation straight through her. She blushed, remembering how she fondled his most sensitive body part, then turned back to face Roden. “Why are you here? Building your video collection?”
He raised a brow and lifted his chin toward the camera without taking his eyes off her.
She looked up to see the light turned off. The small relief she felt at not having a video floating around of her making out with a Draeken — Lord Commander Roden Zyll, no less — was quickly replaced by suspicion. “What are you here for?”
He pulled himself to his feet and limped toward her, the limp undoubtedly for effect, because she surely could have kicked him harder. With every step he took closer, she backed up until the wall stopped her. He stopped inches from her. He stood over a half foot taller, so rather than facing his chest, she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as though taking in her essence. “Ah, if only we had more time, but alas, that is not the case.”
“Time?” She belted out a laugh and stepped back. “Time is all I’ve had. Endless months in this bleak cell.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Hillas has demanded that you and I come to him. So I’m afraid it truly is time, my dear.”
She swallowed before nodding and stepping away.
Keep your head on your shoulders. It’s just another mission.
Only once she’d repeated the mantra to herself several times did she unclench her fists and hold out her hands to be restrained. “I’m ready.”
Roden chuckled and grabbed her wrists, pulling her into his embrace, his soft words against her ear sending tingles across her skin. “Didn’t I mention that I told Hillas that you’re not my prisoner?”
She scowled and tried to pull away. “Then what the
suvaste
am I?”
He caressed her back, and she stiffened. “Stop that.”
His lips curved into a wicked grin.
Her eyes widened before narrowing. She pushed at his chest. “What did you tell him, Roden?”
He smiled. It was crooked and would’ve been quite attractive on any other male. “The truth. That I’m your
tahren
, of course,” he murmured.
Her blood ran cold.
He ran a hand through her hair, and she smacked him away.
His features tightened. He turned and opened the cell door, standing to the side. “And you better be damned convincing, or we’re both dead.”
For the second time in as many days, Nalea stepped out of her cell. As before, it was late, and the hallway was empty, and she turned toward Roden’s room. Only this time, he led the way. She numbly followed through the hallways, then stood while he entered his unlock code, noticing that this time he made a point of
not
hiding the code he entered. And, he’d changed the code since she’d last been here.
After the door shut behind them and the silence of her new prison enveloped her, the numbness morphed into anger. She turned on him. “What the hell are you thinking? Who would ever believe that the great Lord Commander Roden Zyll could stoop so low as to take on a Sephian as a consort?” Her last words dripped with sarcasm.
He raised a brow. “A Draeken-Sephian of the royal Puftan bloodline? My dear, I am certain they’ll accept you as my consort. In fact, I suspect they will find the union practical and fortuitous. The continuation of the Puftan line will be a blessing to our people.” He then continued on his way to his desk. She stood there as he tapped on his computer.
After a long silence, he spoke. “If you’re brought to the Grand Lord as a prisoner or even as a member of my base, he has the authority to take you from my command and then could have you killed without anyone the wiser. However, if you’re brought to him as my consort, even as your father, Hillas can’t demand to see you alone, let alone transfer you to under his control. Not without breaking Draeken protocol. His hands are tied, and he knows it. He can’t kill you — his second-in-command’s consort — without raising suspicion.” He lifted his chin a touch higher. “Rather brilliant, if I do say so myself.”
“Brilliant?” she countered. “More like suicidal. You must’ve suffered a major head injury if you think you can convince the Grand Lord, not to mention every other Draeken, that you let any woman into your heart.”
Roden sprung to his feet, a stern look on his face. His silver eyes darkened. Nalea panicked. She fought to stand her ground as he strolled to her, lifted her chin, and placed a slow, tender kiss upon her lips. A kiss she refused to return.
Just as she felt her control slipping, he broke away and returned to his desk. “You see, my dear, I can be quite convincing.”
Suvaste.
He’d nearly convinced even her. She shook her head, forcing herself to remember that to Roden, this was all for show.
Not real.
“With you being of the Puftan bloodline, there’s little convincing to be done on my end.” He watched her. “Now, you, on the other hand, could work on your acting skills. If I may suggest, you let the
tahren
bond take hold. There would be much less need to act.”
“Ha!” Nalea burst out. “You overestimate the power of the bond. Even if I allowed the bond, it does nothing to change my emotions. It simply ties our souls together.”
He shrugged. “You could try it and see.”
Nalea took a step closer. “Anyone who knows me will never believe that I could feel anything for a Draeken.”
Some kind of emotion flashed through his eyes but was gone all too quickly. His lips curved upward into a foreboding smile. “Haven’t I mentioned that Nalea, formerly of Apolo’s trinity, currently of the human Sienna Wolfe’s trinity, died not long after her capture? Aside from the few guardsmen I’ve entrusted to watch you, the world believes you’re already dead. To any other Draeken, you’re a female I’d captured for my own pleasure. Of course, all the truth will come out once we meet with Hillas and your safety is secured.”
The room spun and Nalea barely reached the chair in time. She sunk down, staring at the man typing away on his computer. Everyone she loved thought she was dead.
No one would ever come for her.
A vision of a funeral service passed through her mind. Her best friend, Sienna — driven by her human emotions — would have cried while giving the most moving eulogy that had ever been given. At least Sienna’s
tahren
, Legian, would be strong at her side. Apolo, with his
tahren
still on Sephia, would suffer even more. He’d closed himself off to nearly everyone. It’d taken Nalea over a decade to discover the man beneath the leader façade.
It’d been bad enough for her to be in close proximity to Roden over the past months. To know that her friends had suffered needlessly because of his cruel games … She turned a hard glare onto Roden. “You heartless, cruel …
bastard
,” she ground out, slamming a fist on his desk.
He glanced up, looking confused. “I couldn’t have your friends plan any kind of rescue mission, now, could I? Not when we’re so close to the end.”
Her heart clenched. Her lungs could no longer find air. With a shriek, she lunged across the desk. Surprise flashed across his face the instant before she tackled him. Straddling him, with his wings pinned behind his back, she swung back and slapped him.
The sound echoed through the room. Her palm burned and tingled from the force of her blow.
He hadn’t even winced.
“I hate you,” she said, the words broken as she fought back the tears she refused to shed in front of him.
Again, the slightest hint of emotion flashed across his face, erased before she could recognize it. “I know,” he replied softly.
He didn’t strike her back. He didn’t push her off him. Hells, he just laid there as she stared down at him. Nalea watched him, narrowing her eyes. After a while, she shook her head. “Who are you really, Roden Zyll?”
“Are we done here?” he asked the instant before he knocked her off him, picked up his chair, sat down, and went back to his computer.
She muttered every swear word she knew as she paced around the dark room. If anything, slapping her captor made her feel worse, if that was even possible. Her life had finally improved. She’d volunteered to come to Earth to save the inhabitants from the Draeken scourge. On this planet, she’d finally felt free from her cursed heritage. Then she ran into Roden, and everything imploded. The only thing she knew for certain was that she’d never see her friends again. Roden had her set up on a suicide mission, and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered.
Of course, why would he?
With a huff, she retrained her focus on her new prison cell. As a small consolation, he’d dimmed the lights enough so she could see without squinting. First thing she noticed was the lack of weapons. Without access to a blade or blaster, the odds of taking down Roden in his sleep weren’t in her favor. There was little décor. Not even a nail in the wall that could even be used as a weapon.
Her gaze fell on the bed and froze. Women’s clothing was laid across it. Not just any women’s clothing, but
Draeken-style
women’s clothing. Where Sephians wore unisex styles, Draeken men and women dressed far differently. Men wore kilts and boots. Women wore skimpy dresses and flimsy shoes. As Draeken often flew places, they didn’t need practical shoes, and they preferred their garments to flit and flutter in the breeze. Both happened to be the exact opposite of Nalea’s preferences.
Gods, I’m living a nightmare.
She fisted a scrap of material and held it up. “What the
fyet
is this?”