Four Vradhu circled them, moving in for the kill.

  That left one.

  One Corrupted soul, racing toward the humans.

  A few of the women screamed. S pointed in the direction of the Medusa and barked at them to run. Mai raised her cannon and met Calexa’s gaze.

  No. She shook her head. Too close.

  The Vradhu were still within the radius of her cannon. If she squeezed off a shot now, they’d be caught in the flare.

  Calexa ran faster and faster, her chest heaving, her lungs burning, her heart beating so fast it was about to burst out of its bony cage. As she drew her arms backwards, the bone swords seemed to become an extension of her body.

  Ares’s gift to her.

  She intended to do them justice.

  She struck, bringing both blades across in a deadly arc. The finely honed, perfectly balanced swords met metal-infested flesh and bone, intersecting in a savage curve that made the Corrupted Naaga’s head fly.

  Behind her, the high-pitched gasps of several women merged with Zahra and Mai’s shouted commands. The floor continued to sway beneath her feet like a disturbed sea.

  The abominable head landed on the floor with a sickening thud, rolling toward one of the Vradhu warriors. He stopped it with a long three-toed foot.

  How strange that for all their exotic armor, the Vradhu didn’t wear shoes.

  The Vradhu grunted in approval and gave Calexa a short, sharp nod of acknowledgement before rejoining his crew.

  What, so they were allies now?

  She turned just in time to see the remainder of S’s retinue hurrying up the Medusa’s boarding ramp. S went third-last, with Mai and Zahra bringing up the rear. The Primean glanced over her shoulder as she boarded, meeting Calexa’s gaze.

  Calm and unperturbed. That’s how she appeared, despite all the chaos swirling around them. Did she realize that they wouldn’t be seeing the twin moons of Torandor for a very long time; perhaps never?

  S turned and entered the ship just as a wave rippled through the metal floor. Mai gave Calexa a lazy half-salute, standing guard at the entrance as Zahra darted inside.

  Then her expression turned into a look of horror.

  “What?” Calexa looked behind her. The floor was erupting. More and more of the cursed creatures emerged, some misshapen and hideous, others fully formed and deadly.

  Corrupted. The name said it all. There was something truly horrifying going on here. Ares’s metal-shifting powers, the massive ship, the creepy Naaga and their rabid, diseased brethren; they were all linked.

  Calexa and her crew had been dropped into the middle of it, and she still didn’t understand anything.

  All she knew was that they had to survive at all costs.

  Zahra emerged through the airlock. “Thought you might need this,” she yelled. “Catch!” A tiny metal bud flew toward her. In a fluid motion, Calexa dropped one of her swords and snatched it out of the air.

  A comm-piece.

  She stuck it into her ear, breathing a sigh of relief. “You there, Raf? Can you give me a status report?”

  There was a crackle of static, followed by a faint beep. “Glad to have you back, Cal.” Raphael’s cool, familiar voice filtered down the line. It was tinged with relief. “Zahra told me you’d find a way to get yourself out of there alive.”

  “That makes it three from three,” Calexa quipped. “Or at least it will, if we survive this.”

  “More lives than a space-cat,” the halfbreed said dryly.

  She’d survived the Khral’s bond-house. As punishment for killing the Khral, she’d been sentenced to fight in the Arena. Her handlers thought she’d suffer a gruesome death within the first few rounds. They’d been wrong. It hadn’t been pretty, but she’d gone on to win, and for some reason, she’d become a hit with the bloodthirsty crowds.

  They loved their underdogs.

  The first thing she’d done with her prize money was to get enhancement therapy. Then she’d won some more, enough to get more enhancement therapy. The stronger she got, the fiercer her opponents, and the bigger the prize purse. By the time she’d earned enough to buy her freedom, she’d also saved enough to buy the Medusa.

  D5 was a shit-hole, but it could also reward in the strangest of ways. The irony of it all was that being the body-slave of a Khral had prepared her for the Arena like nothing else, because when he wasn’t trying to break her in his bed, she’d been out in the malkha fields with the other slaves, working like a dog and breathing in the toxic, smoke-filled air.

  But that was a long time ago. She was here now, fighting metal-cursed monsters.

  Waiting for Ares.

  Trusting in a dream.

  No point in reliving those old scars over and over again. She reined in her stray thoughts as several of the Corrupted began to lope toward the ship.

  “What’s our current energy capacity, Raf?”

  “We’re running at twenty-three percent. Enough to cruise for a long time, but not nearly enough to trigger a jump. I’m guessing we’ll need to split pretty soon, but I don’t know how we’re getting out of here. The doors are closed, and I’m guessing that airlock won’t open without internal intervention.”

  Calexa bent and picked up the bone sword she’d dropped. The Corrupted were coming. Twin frag-guns had appeared in Zahra’s armor-gloved hands. Standing at the top of the boarding ramp, Mai tapped her temple then tapped the side of her Irradium cannon. “I’ll fucking burn them,” she mouthed.

  “Can you offer me any new insights, captain, or am I going to have to risk unleashing one of our triticore missiles in these close quarters?”

  “We hold the fort and wait,” she said, taking a step forward as the ground rippled beneath their feet. This time, it felt different; powerful and controlled.

  He’s coming.

  She just knew.

  “Wait? What the hell for?”

  “The fucking cavalry.”

  The one with the insane plan. The one she trusted, despite all his strangeness. The one who would spell her ruin if this whole thing didn’t work out.

  They didn’t have much of a choice.

  Shapeshifting, winged, Drakhin-changed, cloned, ilverium-controlling, doesn’t-want-to-touch-me, makes-me-feel-like… Her thoughts ran together, becoming wild and frantic. She fed them to the hungry beast that was her rapidly pounding heart.

  And he wants me to help him transfer his soul to another body.

  It occurred to her that the process might not work.

  Then what?

  Fuck.

  Chapter Twenty

  Why are you doing this, cursed one? Ares raged at the Hythra, trying to provoke her into answering. But as always, she remained infuriatingly silent.

  The ship only spoke when it suited her.

  All around him, Corrupted Naaga were rising up out of the floor, the walls, even dropping from the ceiling. It was as if the ship had suddenly decided to reject the hundreds of souls she’d swallowed in her quest to find the perfect commander.

  It is because I have found you, Hunter. They are no longer needed. They are filth, and you are perfect. I am merely purging that which does not belong. A form of housekeeping, if you will.

  As usual, the ship—or whatever she really was—made no sense whatsoever.

  “Get behind me,” he snapped, waving his hand at Maki and the three warriors accompanying him. They had relived Ares of the two fallen ones, reverently whispering traditional Vradhu death-chants as they took the bodies into their arms.

  Maki carried the bone-canister. The leg bones were as important as the rest of them. Without them, these brave warriors would not walk in the afterlife.

  Ares didn’t care that he’d issued a direct order to his Hunter rank-equal, Maki-ku-Rathra. Others might read it as a grave insult, but Maki a was reasonable sort. He would understand. There wasn’t time for formality and protocol.

  “You heard him,” Maki growled. “Get behind Ares-rai and guard our fallen with your lives.”

  With the exception of Maki, the Vradhu’s eyes were filled with thinly disguised fear and loathing every time they looked at Ares, but they didn’t hesitate to follow their clan-leader’s commands. Out of respect for their fallen comrades, the Vradhu had to let Ares do the fighting, even if he was no longer Vradhu; even if he was filthy magrel.

  He was the strongest amongst them. He always had been.

  Now, he’d become infinitely stronger.

  The Corrupted approached. Ares had already cut down several of them with his bare hands, but fighting wasn’t so easy when one carried the bodies of two clan-brothers. When Maki’s warriors had finally relieved him of the burden, he’d snapped his wings and launched into a full-scale attack, his newly formed body as much a weapon as the twisting, writhing tendrils of ilverium he commanded.

  It turned out the vicious talons on the ends of his wings had a purpose, after all.

  Ares flexed his will and harnessed the power of the ilverium, drawing it out of the floor, even as several Corrupted rose up to meet them.

  Their low moans flooded the corridor, echoing off the dark, shimmering walls. The ship had swallowed them, devouring their souls. Now she rejected them.

  Why?

  Because you are what I need. Now all you need to do is tap into your lukara.

  Lukara?

  She waits.

  Ares had no idea what she was on about. He dismissed her infuriating riddles as he turned the metal floor into liquid with his mind, creating an island for himself and his clan-brothers. He sucked the Corrupted into the depths of the ship, pulling them through the shifting surface…

  And the Hythra promptly spat them back out again.

  “Impossible bitch,” he growled, his frustration mounting. He had been away from his makivari for far too long already. Every moment he wasted fighting these diseased creatures made him more frantic, more uneasy.

  More inclined to tear a few Corrupted Naaga heads off if the cursed things got in his way.

  Calexa of faraway Earth had grown on him like a wayward sekkhoi branch, curling around him and sinking her tender thorns deep into his soul. Although she wasn’t far away, he felt her absence keenly. He’d gotten used to her steely, straight-as-an-arrow demeanor, and the mysteries contained within her strong, beautiful, flawed form stirred a special kind of madness in him.

  She was a creature from a forbidden world; a walking contradiction. She fought like a demon, and yet her body carried the marks of suffering.

  Sometimes, she was strong. Sometimes, she was fragile and curious.

  An enigma.

  His enigma.

  Screw the clan elders and their rigid traditions. It was there and then that Ares decided he wanted to possess the human. He already felt a sense of affinity with her, and when he got the chance, he would carefully tease the secrets from inside her head. Then he would explore her fascinating body slowly, deliberately, taking his time.

  What a rare catch she was.

  He needed to make this quick. If the Corrupted were coming out of the very body of the ship, then none of them were safe. Calexa could fight, but she couldn’t fend off hundreds of infected Naaga.

  Three of the Corrupted streaked toward them, moving with unnatural speed.

  Ares was faster. He surged forward, catching two of the creatures in the broad arc of his wings. Brutally sharp talons sank into their chests, impaling and immobilizing them.

  He went to work, using bare hands and clawed fingers to tear heads from bodies. As the Naaga perished, the silver substance—the very same ilverium he wielded—drained from their bodies, returning to the whole.

  Theirs was a bloodless death, because the only thing keeping them alive—if that state could even be called living—was metal.

  Behind him, the silence of his clan-brothers spoke volumes. Fierce warriors in their own right, they now regarded him with horror, for he had truly become a monster.

  But his actions had opened up a path.

  “Get to the hold!” he roared, dropping to his knees. He slammed his fist into the floor. Ilverium swirled upward like a living vortex, holding back the remaining Corrupted.

  Maki didn’t waste time. “Get your asses into gear, brothers.” As he passed, he placed his hand on Ares’s shoulder. “Can the aliens be trusted?”

  “I can’t speak for the others,” Ares answered, “but my human is infallible. She will return us to Khira. She has given her word.” He couldn’t help the note of pride that crept into his voice, even as he concentrated on keeping the Corrupted at bay.

  Aethra’s curses, this was getting tiring. Even this new Drakhin body of his wasn’t infused with limitless power, and he was beginning to grow weary.

  “She has guarded your body-copy as fiercely as a Vradhu Hunter,” Maki said quietly, before leaving Ares’s side.

  For some reason, the thought warmed his ilverium-tainted heart, even as the strength was sucked from him. All of a sudden, he was barely in control of the metal storm he’d created.

  As he thought of Calexa, the terrible hunger inside his chest grew, and he knew what he needed most.

  Vir. Her essence. It would sustain him, make him stronger. He didn’t just want to possess her, he needed to devour her.

  But he was a newly made Drakhin, and as far as knew, his kind no longer existed on Khira. He did not know the rules of consuming vir. He had not studied Drakhin lore as extensively as one of the clan scholars.

  What if he killed her?

  His ilverium vortex weakened just a little, allowing several of the Corrupted to break free. They surged toward him, just as Ares felt minute vibrations in the floor.

  Footsteps.

  Not Vradhu. Not human. Not Corrupted. The rhythm was different. There was only one other species onboard this destroyer.

  Naaga. Living ones.

  They must have found a way past his barriers.

  This was troublesome. The Naaga always carried some sort of infernal poison. They could ruin everything.

  Ares growled in frustration.

  His limbs grew heavy. He dropped his wings, curling them over his back like a shell. His arms quivered. Still, he continued to manipulate the essence of the ship, binding the Corrupted Naaga with thick ilverium ropes.

  His body’s stamina might be waning, but Ares’s strength went far beyond the physical. He tapped into the deep reserves of willpower that lay buried beneath memories of cold, hard survival in the Highfold.

  He was one of the poor wretches banished to the wildlands of the Ardu-Sai after his ankhata failed to emerge. If a Hunter’s black markings didn’t appear by the age of manhood, it was customary to send him alone into the wild, with only a war-spear for protection, in the hope that sheer stress would force the change.

  A Hunter without ankhata was useless, because until the black markings emerged, a Hunter’s tail-barb had no sting.

  Almost all of the Unmarked that were sent to the wild never returned. Ares had been young and afraid, an untrained youth just past the cusp of manhood…

  Who had survived the kratok migration and shocked the entire clan.

  Alone.

  They never expected him to return. None of the other Unmarked had ever returned, but Ares had, sporting a full set of the darkest, most unique ankhata they’d seen in generations.

  It had been brutal. He’d almost died countless times, and when he returned to Malgara, he’d been filled with a deep, simmering anger.

  That was the reason he’d never been able to stay in Malgara for long. The closeness, the politics, and the people had driven him mad, driving him back into the arms of the wild and blessedly silent Ardu-Sai.

  Alone.

  He had a reputation as a difficult, surly bastard. People stayed away from him, and that suited him just fine. Ever since he’d claimed his status as a Hunter, he had always worked alone.

  But now he wanted another.

  A human.

  Ares rose, his fingers twitching as he sought the hilts of his krivera. It was force of habit, nothing more. Calexa needed the blades more than he did.

  Gritting his teeth, he ran toward the horde. One of the monsters latched onto his arm, sinking its sharp teeth into his ilverium-tainted flesh.

  Pain shot through his arm. Ares ignored it. He ripped a fine set of Drakhin claws through the thing’s neck.

  I am coming, my makivari.

  One way or another, he was getting off this fucking ship, and Calexa was coming with him.

  I told you, use the lukara, and everything will become easy.

  “Why don’t you do something useful for a change and stop throwing these infernal creatures at me?”

  I cannot. They must be purged. It does not matter; they cannot kill you while you are bonded with me.

  “They will kill my clan-brothers. They will kill my mate!” He flexed his wings and spun as a Corrupted one attacked him from behind. Caught in the powerful arc of his wings, the creature flew across the corridor.

  Mate. Ares must have become delirious with weakness. The word slipped from his lips before he realized what he’d even said.

  The ship’s only response was silence; a clear sign of her cold indifference.

  She didn’t care about the humans or the Vradhu or the Naaga. All she seemed to want was Ares.

  Never.

  She wouldn’t have him. He already belonged to another.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Get back!” Calexa yelled in Naaga, running toward the center of the chaos.

  The vast floor of the hold had become a battlefield. Limbs flew, heads rolled, and occasionally, a Vradhu warrior would grunt in pain as deformed silver claws penetrated thick armor-hide.

  It still boggled her mind that their blood was as red as that of a human’s. It was everywhere, and yet their injuries didn’t seem to slow them at all.

  The Vradhu were too caught up in the fight to pay her much attention. For a split-second, Calexa allowed herself to become entranced by their fighting style.