He bowed his head, roaring in pain. Calexa’s sharp intake of breath seared her throat.

  Sleek, folded wings rose from Ares’s back, emerging through slits in his armor. They were black, just like those depicted on the floor.

  For all intents and purposes, he’d just transformed into a Drakhin male.

  Is this real, or am I dreaming? After this, nothing would surprise her ever again.

  “Ares!” Calexa reached out, but he waved her away as he rose to his feet, extending and flexing his new wings. He shot her a baleful look.

  “Drakhin,” he said, looking decidedly glum. He held his head in his hands, his wings drooping. “This is…” Ares’s voice cracked. He shook his head, uttering a string of dirty-sounding words in his native tongue.

  He looked so forlorn, so defeated, that Calexa went against all her instincts, raising her arms to…

  What now? Are you going to give the big, bad Drakhin a fucking hug?

  She wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, but she had to do something.

  The transformation had clearly upset Ares, but before she could move, he straightened, shook himself, cracked his neck from side to side, and folded his wings neatly along his back. “What’s done is done,” he said quietly, and the storm in his silver eyes disappeared.

  Tough bastard. Calexa couldn’t help but be impressed at how quickly he adapted.

  His gaze softened, roaming over her face. Despite the cold and fatigue seeping into her bones, his expression filled her with sudden heat. He inhaled deeply. “Human, you have done me a great service. I respectfully request to know your truename.”

  Truename? Why the sudden formality? Must be a Vradhu thing.

  “If you’re talking about my name, it’s Calexa. Calexa Acura.” She was pretty sure her name meant nothing in this far-flung corner of the Unvierse.

  “Calexa.” Ares whispered her name reverently, his voice a warm caress. He made her common Earthian name sound so damn exotic. “This unworthy one humbly requests your assistance.”

  “Huh?” That was the last thing she’d been expecting. How could she—a broke and adrift human mercenary—possibly be of help to a guy who had a destroyer the size of a small country at his command?

  “I need your help.”

  Apparently, she could be of use. Summoning the little energy she had left, she crossed her arms and frowned. “I don’t work for free, Vradhu.” It was the basic rule of all mercenaries. One little favor and all of a sudden they expected the Universe for nothing. Besides, wasn’t it only a short time ago that Ares had refused to guarantee safety for her people? “Before we make any deals, you need to tell me exactly what is going—”

  Whoa.

  Calexa swayed on her feet. Although she was starting to get warm again, thanks to her thermosuit, whatever the Naaga had done with that little device had left her completely drained of energy. She could really do with a nice long nap right about now. If only she could disappear to somewhere quiet and warm, curl into a ball, and hibernate for a year.

  That would be just grand.

  Her vision went black for a split-second. The room spun.

  “I’ve got you.” Ares was on his feet now. When had that happened? He scooped her up into his arms.

  Oh, mercy. Changed or not, he felt good. Warm. Strong. When he held her, she felt as if nothing in the Universe could take her down. She laughed softly at the ridiculousness of it all. Calexa had never relied on the protection of another, and she’d never let a man hold her like this before, let alone some strange alien whose actions were incomprehensible.

  Hell, she didn’t even know what he was.

  He crossed the floor, carrying her effortlessly. He lay her down in the big metal chair, his movements gentle and deliberate, but although he radiated heat, Calexa just couldn’t get warm.

  In fact, she felt bloody worse.

  The terrible shivers returned. She was colder than ever, and oh-so weak. Her enhanced body became nothing but a sloppy bag of bones, unable to do anything but sink into the chair.

  Stars, I’m so vulnerable right now.

  As soon as he released her, a look of horror crossed Ares’s face. He stared down at his hands, shaking his head and cursing viciously in Vradhu, as if realizing something terrible.

  What’s wrong? She tried to say the words, but she was fading.

  The chair was far more comfortable than it looked. Its surface seemed to mold to her body as she curled up against it, and it was surprisingly warm.

  Deliciously warm.

  It almost seemed to caress her.

  “Rest,” Ares sighed, lowering himself to the jeweled floor without touching her. He reminded her of some sort of big silver guardian hound. “It is only natural that you are fatigued. Rest. The Naaga got greedy, but do not worry. I will make sure they never touch you again.” The cold finality in his statement would have made her shudder—in a good way—if she weren’t so damn tired.

  Thanks, but… How she wished she had her frag-guns and her exterian armor. How was she supposed to explain to this strange Vradhu-Drakhin-whatever that under ordinary circumstances, she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She hadn’t spent her hard-won Arena money on biometal enhancements for nothing.

  “Calexa,” Ares said again, his resonant voice wrapping around her like one of his ilverium strands. “You don’t need to look at me with such defensive eyes. I will never hurt you.”

  He sounded so sure of himself. His sudden declaration quietly blew her mind, because she actually believed him.

  What had she done to earn such loyalty from this dangerous creature, and how could she be certain she could trust him?

  Her head was saying no, but her instincts screamed yes. He was magical and scary and he possessed a healthy dose of arrogance, but he didn’t give off that creepy vibe that hung around certain species like a foul stench. The Khral had it. The Naaga had it.

  Ares didn’t.

  He was good. Safe.

  A rarity in this age.

  Her eyelids drooped. She fought to stay awake. Never before had she longed so badly for the quiet refuge of sleep. She didn’t even know whether she could sleep properly anymore. Life in the Fiveways had turned rest into a necessity rather than a pleasure. Normally, she slept in that uneasy place between unconsciousness and hyper-awareness, with a gun under her pillow and a handful of nightmares within arm’s reach.

  But now she’d acquired a guardian Drakhin.

  “Ares.” His name escaped her lips as a soft croak. She rested her head against the back of the chair, daring to close her eyes.

  Just for a few seconds. I just need to sit here for a moment, then I’ll be fine. Just a quick little rest…

  “Yes, Calexa?”

  “How could someone like me possibly be of help to someone like you?”

  “Because, my makivari, you are going to help me escape this living hell.” A small tremor rocked her chair as he growled.

  Caught between the lure of sleep and the mystery that was Ares, Calexa dared to look down. Ares stared back at her, anguish etched into his glistening features. “I’m trapped,” he said quietly. “I’m just a simple warrior. I never wanted this curse. Help me return to Khira and I will give you anything you desire.”

  A pang of sympathy pricked Calexa in the chest. Huh. She thought her heart had turned to stone a long time ago, but this tempestuous alien kept confusing the hell out of her.

  Still…

  “What about my people?” First things first. “You need to promise me they’ll be safe, or—”

  “I am in control. You will see.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair. Tendrils of ilverium twisted outwards from his hands, knotting together as they covered the chair like fast-growing branches and roots. Energy rippled around them as Ares closed his eyes. “I think I am getting the hang of this,” he murmured. “There is no going back now. Rest, human. I will contain things. Your kin will be safe.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  Calexa wanted to pick his brains, but she could barely keep her eyes open, even though this damned ilverium swirled all around her. Ares was so close they were almost touching, and yet he kept a respectable distance. His tail had disappeared; he’d probably tucked it around his leg again. She almost missed its reassuring presence around her waist.

  “What’s a makivari?” she whispered, her voice fading away as her breathing deepened and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, lulled by the gentle caress of a metal chair and the unwavering presence of an alien who had overpowered her, abducted her, taken her weapons, forcibly inserted some sort of language-implant into her brain, and saved her from slender blue monsters.

  She should be horrified, but somehow, he made her feel safe. Considering where Calexa had come from, that was no mean feat at all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ares focused on the sound of the human’s breathing as it became slow and even. There was something strangely peaceful about watching her sleep, and Aethra knew she desperately needed the rest. By sheer force of will alone, she’d kept herself awake longer than any ordinary mortal should have been able.

  She was quite the formidable one, but with her eyes closed and the strong lines of her face relaxed in sleep, she appeared beautiful and innocent and utterly beguiling.

  I must protect her.

  Just as she’d protected him.

  I must keep my vow… but I cannot leave her.

  Promise me they’ll be safe. The first time she’d asked him to protect her people, he’d refused, because he hadn’t known anything about them, and only a fool would make a promise he couldn’t keep. A Vradhu would rather die than break a pledge.

  But that was before he’d understood her.

  Sorry, brave human. I should not have been so difficult, but with all that has happened, my trust is not given easily. I am Vradhu. We are taught to reject everything from outside.

  Because of the traditional Vradhu way—everything from outside is forbidden—the humans and the Vradhu in the hold could easily fall into conflict, although he didn’t think Maki would be foolish enough to allow that to happen.

  Still, he had to let them know that the balance had shifted. If Calexa was his makivari, then by extension, so were her people.

  With his hands on the sekkhoi throne, Ares opened his mind to the vast power lurking within the walls of the ship. What can I do?

  Suddenly, the possibilities became infinite. It was all so easy, so fluid; it felt natural, as if he’d been bonded to the ship his entire life.

  How terrifying.

  So different to earlier. What has changed?

  The fickle bitch had decided not to fight him. Perhaps this had been her plan all along. The Hythra was older and more powerful than he could imagine, and the forces driving her actions were infinitely mysterious. Who knew what the Drakhin had been thinking when they designed their monstrous ships?

  Suddenly, an image appeared in his mind—his form, etched in metal.

  Ares felt a pang of self-loathing for what he was about to do, but he had no choice. If the Vradhu had been wary of him before, now they would be utterly horrified.

  He split his awareness in two, guarding the human while at the same time pushing his will through the metal walls and floors, going deeper and deeper until he reached the lowest levels.

  How is this possible?

  Perhaps the Hythra had implanted the knowledge in his consciousness. Like the good Hunter that he was, Ares didn’t try to overanalyze things. He simply accepted what he couldn’t change. He lived in the moment, seizing every advantage.

  Doing what was necessary.

  That was the only way one survived the harsh conditions of the Ardu-Sai.

  Never stop moving. Never hesitate. Kill or be killed. It was all he knew. Life was fluid and ever-changing. For a Hunter like Ares, there was no time for regrets or pointless musings, even if he was turning into a monster. Hesitation meant death.

  Perhaps this hideous power came at a cost.

  Ares formed an image of the ship’s hold in his mind, and suddenly, he was there. He became flat like the glassy surface of the waterplains on a windless day. He became one with the vast floor. His presence was in the walls, in the doors, in the circuitry that connected the vir channels to the Hythra’s core. He felt the auras of dozens of warriors. His people.

  His former people.

  Even if he managed to shed this terrible silver skin, would they ever accept him again?

  The Vradhu horde stared at the human ship, watching and waiting. In turn, Ares observed them from his unseen vantage point. He felt their tension. He sensed their impatience. He shared their curiosity.

  The alien ship—Calexa’s ship—had moved. Now it rested against the far wall. It had probably become dislodged and slid across the when Ares lost his temper and tipped the Hythra on her side.

  A row of blue lights flickered to life on one side of the vessel. Motors and systems hummed. In unison, the Vradhu pointed their war-spears toward the ship. Its entrance was unsealed—Ares’s ilverium barrier must have fallen apart long ago—but no-one came out.

  Unable to communicate, they were caught in a silent standoff.

  “Shouldn’t we just go in and flush them out?” Baku, the lowlander with fierce, swirling ankhata on both cheeks, glared at the human craft. “I’m tired of waiting. At this rate, we’ll be here until the next fucking kratok migration.”

  “Hold, Baku.” Maki shot him an irritated glare. “We don’t know what they’re capable of. They will need to come out eventually. Patience, my brother. We have time on our side. It isn’t as if we’re in a hurry to go anywhere.” He stood with his arms folded across his bare chest. Unlike the others, Maki didn’t wear his protective kratok skins. His armor had been severely damaged when he’d taken on five wild Corrupted Naaga—alone.

  There was a word Ares frequently used to describe The Lord of the Two Clans: reckless.

  But Maki was only reckless when it came to his own survival. Where the lives of his men were involved, he was always measured in his decision making.

  “Ares went inside and he came out unscathed… with a prize,” Baku said, his black eyes glittering in anticipation. “Those aliens are comely looking creatures. I wouldn’t mind—”

  Maki hissed. “Ares is a different beast now. Just because he managed to get out of there unscathed doesn’t mean we will. If we have to fight, it’s best we do so on our terms, not in close quarters where we’d be disadvantaged, or where they could lay some sort of trap.”

  “Makes sense.” Baku’s tail twitched nervously as he made the sign of Aethra with his left hand. “That disturbance… do you think it was him? What do you think he’s gonna do?”

  Maki smiled, baring his teeth. “I have no doubt it was him. He is lost to us, Baku. We have to accept that Aethra has another plan for him altogether. If it were me, I would be thinking that vessel of theirs could be mighty useful to us, but first we need to be able to communicate. Ares is a logical Hunter. He has taken the alien to get the language implant.”

  “Ah, but what’s the point? He can never leave this place. Poor bastard. He’s bonded. Eternally cursed. Why would Aethra allow this to happen to our thrice-blooded brother?” The sliver of pity in Baku’s voice made Ares’s hackles rise. “We might have use for an alien transport, but he—”

  “Do not underestimate him, Baku. He is not thrice-blooded for nothing.”

  “But he is cursed by magrel tech. We have no answer for it.” Baku’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know something that we don’t, Maki?”

  “Ares is a cunning and resourceful warrior. Stubborn, too.” The smile remained on Maki’s lips, but his eyes had grown sharp and wary. “That is why the elders gave him permission to hunt alone. As I said, do not underestimate him. If anyone can find a way out of this mess, it would be Ares-rai-Sekine.” He was staring down at the floor with a quizzical expression on his face, almost as if he sensed Ares lurking beneath them.

  “I say we smoke them out like an infestation of pikki,” Vanu blurted. “Set a fire under their ship. If the smoke doesn’t drive them out, the heat will.”

  Ares smiled to his ephemeral self. Vanu still was young and naive. His enthusiasm was not yet tempered by experience.

  Maki sliced his hand through the air, calling for silence. Wait, he signaled in silent plains-speak.

  It is now, or never.

  Ares decided this was as good a time as any to emerge from his hiding place, so he summoned his form and pushed it up through the floor, materializing before the Vradhu as…

  He didn’t know what he fucking looked like anymore.

  “Aethra’s nipples!” Baku roared. “A fucking Drakhin!”

  Hisses came from the pack. Magrel. Monster. Darkwalker. Soul eater. Demon. Tainted blood. Several of them made the sign with their fingers. Begone!

  Ares knew all too well what they were thinking. It made his temporary skin crawl, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  The ilverium solidified, becoming a perfect representation of him, right down to his shimmering scales. Somehow, he was in two places at once. He was down in the command room with Calexa, curled protectively before the sekkhoi throne as he listened to her steady, even breathing. At the same time, he was here, staring down a group of hostile and frightened Vradhu.

  Maintaining this form took a considerable amount of concentration and willpower. Luckily, Ares possessed those things in spades.

  Instantly, two dozen war-spears were pointed in his direction. Ares shrugged and raised his hands, indicating that he was unarmed. He’d left his krivera with Calexa, because even though the swords were practically an extension of his old self, he no longer had any use for them.

  Just like the Drakhin of old had never needed weapons.

  Maki’s hand shot out. “Don’t speak the Goddess’s name in vain,” he snapped, slapping Baku on the back of his head. “And lower your spears. All of you. That is no ordinary Drakhin.”

  Baku’s eyes widened in shock and recognition. Maki glared at him. After a long pause, Baku shrugged and slowly lowered his weapon.