“Not for long,” Ares said softly. It was strange to be having this almost amicable conversation with the Hythra when they were both on the verge of death. “Goodbye, Hythra. I am not the Drakhin you have been searching for.” His anger started to dissolve, but it was too late.

  The deed was done.

  Oh, but you are exactly the Drakhin I have been searching for.

  The Hythra reached maximum speed. Below was the burning hell-pit of Za, a massive crater filled with lava. Apart from kratok, no living creature could exist close to Za. The air was too hot and toxic. Vicious sprays of lava and smoke would explode into the air without warning. Sometimes, its lava spilled over into the Ardu-Sai, turning to stone as it hit the frigid water.

  Kratok buried their eggs here, fiercely guarding them from intruders. Even he, as khefe, would run at the sight of a female kratok that had recently spawned. There was nothing more vicious on all of Khira.

  “Death is a release,” he said gently, as images of Calexa flooded his mind.

  At least he had been given the chance to know her, even if it was only for a brief, bittersweet moment.

  She is your lukara. The Hythra retreated, leaving him alone. These humans… When I sensed the power of their vir for the very first time, I knew I had to snatch them from the World Between Worlds before it was too late.

  “Y-you drew them here?” Ares was enraged but ecstatic. The Hythra had brought the humans to Khira. If they hadn’t, Calexa would probably be safe…

  But he never would have met her.

  His question was met with cold silence. The Hythra was gone. The destroyer shuddered, the vibrations growing more and more intense, and then….

  A roar filled his ears.

  His world shook. His vision went black. The sekkhoi throne released him from its barbed clutches, sending him flying across the room, along with dozens of limp Naaga bodies.

  He extended his wings to balance himself. The Hythra groaned, and overwhelming heat rose around him, turning the command pod into a furnace.

  Ares couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, couldn’t hear… He’d lost control.

  Good.

  This is what he’d wanted. To end it, once and for all.

  I am sorry, my makivari.

  The ilverium rose up around him, engulfing him in its liquid-metal clutches. He let it cover his legs, his arms, his torso, his face. He drowned in it. He no longer cared. It was as if the heat from Za were melting the entire damn ship.

  This was the end.

  The destroyer knew it too, and because their consciousnesses were melded, he felt the full force of her sudden understanding.

  No more, they said.

  Yes.

  End.

  Yes.

  Release. Finally, she understood. Relief came crashing down on them like an avalanche from the Highfold, burying all rage, all resentment, and all desperation in a blanket of cold, white peace.

  The Hythra was content with the idea of death.

  Release. From the moment you entered me, I knew you would be the one to do it.

  Yes, Ares repeated, struggling to maintain awareness. The agony of the molten ilverium was almost unbearable; he imagined it searing the flesh right off his cursed Drakhin bones.

  You. I release you.

  What? He didn’t understand. Bones snapped, muscle stretched, and skin rippled, reversing. The ilverium in his veins withdrew, escaping through tiny holes in his skin. Caught in a wild current of searing ilverium, all he could do was accept his fate.

  Perhaps this was death. He’d always expected it to be painful, but he hadn’t thought it would take this fucking long.

  Go, Hunter. You are not truly Drakhin. I just made you in the image of my Desired. I take it all back, but I leave you with a small parting gift. Use it well, Hunter.

  Then her presence was gone, leaving a cold, distant memory in his mind. It was as if all the breath had been sucked from him at once, and for a brief moment, he almost missed her.

  No. That was impossible, because he was already bound to another.

  Once again, his body changed. The ilverium withdrew. The slipstream took him far, far away from the command pod. Instinctively, he knew the Hythra had taken him in a liquid-metal embrace. She was pushing him through walls, through floors, through the very core of her being, because she wasn’t just a mere space-vessel. She was a sentient, shapeshifting metal beast.

  And all he could do was close his eyes and wait.

  Pop!

  She spat him out with great force.

  Ares opened his eyes and saw smoke and lava and glorious sunlight. He took a deep breath and coughed, because the air was nothing but heat and acrid elemental smoke.

  He gained altitude, shooting higher and higher into the sky.

  He saw his arms, and they were the most vivid shade of violet.

  I am Vradhu again!

  He looked down and saw the massive Hythra crashing into the fiery red pool of Za, nose-first. The lava embraced the ship, turning her ilverium body into liquid in an instant.

  The Hythra was melting.

  And he was falling… falling into the fire.

  He screamed in rage and fear. So close… What was the point of letting him go free if he was just going to die anyway? Was this some sort of sick parting joke?

  His arms flailed, and his wings flapped.

  Wait… what?

  He flapped again, and the action slowed his terrible descent. The heat licked at his heels. Ares screamed and beat his wings harder, harder, harder, until he began to rise.

  A small parting gift…

  She’d taken away the Drakhin body, but she’d left the wings. Ares moved them faster and faster, rising up out of the inferno.

  And as the Hythra crashed to their doom, taking the cursed Naaga with them, Ares-rai-Sekine flew.

  Somewhere behind him, a kratok roared.

  He didn’t care. A gust of hot wind rose from below, and he seized its momentum, flying higher and higher until he left the Hythra and the Crater of Za behind.

  Alive!

  He soared.

  Free!

  He screamed his fucking lungs out, and this time it was an exultant roar, for he knew he would be seeing his makivari again.

  Ares looked down and saw the glowing face of Khira in all her green-and-blue glory. He was high up now, where the air was cold and thin, and he drifted between towering plumes of white cloud, enjoying the rush of the cold air beneath his wings.

  He couldn’t see it from here, but he knew that far off in the distance, an alien ship had landed on the small Hunter-station of Souk-Ra.

  The Crater of Za exploded, spewing forth an angry mess of lava and ash and smoke, but Ares was well clear of her wrath. Stroking the air with his wings, he circled and turned in the direction of the Ardu-Sai.

  He laughed.

  He punched the air with his fists.

  He wept tears of joy.

  Ares didn’t look back as he sped toward the place where his mate and his clan-brothers had landed.

  To see her again…

  He was the luckiest man on Khira… no, perhaps in the entire Universe. He’d survived the wilds of the Ardu-Sai as an Unmarked youth, and now he’d narrowly escaped death, again.

  And now he could fly.

  After all, what good were these cursed Drakhin wing-remnants if he couldn’t use them to fly to his mate?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A shadow fell across her, and the next thing she knew, a dark-winged angel fell from the sky.

  Except this one looked more like a demon than an angel, with his black leathery wings and the fierce mask-like markings around his eyes and across his cheeks.

  And he didn’t exactly fall, it was more of a deadly, graceful swoop.

  Calexa’s mouth fell open. Her hand dropped to her gun, freezing mid-draw as her mind exploded.

  The winged one was coming straight for her.

  Beside her, Ares growled, his tail tightening possessively around her waist.

  Above her, Ares growled.

  “W-what the fuck?” she whispered.

  There were two of him. Two violet and black aliens, both identical, but with one major difference. One had wings, and the other didn’t, and the winged one was about to collide with…

  Oh, holy hell.

  A rush of warm air surrounded them.

  All hell broke loose.

  Ares-from-the-sky landed behind them and yanked other Ares back by his hair, curling a powerful arm around the Vradhu’s neck. He snarled viciously in Vradhu as he tightened his arm, choking his opponent.

  Wingless Ares responded with an equal amount of vitriol, releasing his grip on Calexa. He flipped his war-spear and thrust it into the other Vradhu’s chest.

  The bone-bladed weapon glanced off Ares’s glittering scaly armor. The demon grunted in pain, but he wasn’t deterred. He maneuvered his leg in that tricky wrestling move—the one he’d used to bring Calexa down—and sent the other Ares toppling to the ground.

  This was nuts. Insanity. She was getting confused. Ares versus Ares? Impossible!

  But then it was no coincidence that they’d watched the so-called dagger in the sky disappear over the horizon. Shortly afterwards, there had been a loud boom, and a thick plume of smoke and ash had risen into the sky.

  The ship had crashed, and then this winged Vradhu had appeared.

  “Hey!” Calexa yelled, as the two powerful warriors started grappling on the ground, punching each other in the face and torso. The wingless one grabbed ahold of one of Ares’s wings and snapped.

  It all happened so quickly. Too stunned to react, the other Vradhu warriors gaped as Maki ran toward the fighting doppelgängers. They fought viciously, savagely, with hand and tooth and claw. Blinded by rage, their battle was primal and visceral, lacking the deadly grace she’d witnessed from Ares in the past.

  Bright crimson blood splattered across the moss-covered ground.

  “Hey!” Calexa bellowed, forgetting about the sheer improbability of the situation. She just wanted this stupid fighting to stop.

  Locked in their ridiculous, testosterone-fueled death-brawl, the two Vradhu completely ignored her.

  That incensed her.

  If they were both Ares, then why were they even fucking fighting? That was just stupid.

  “Hey!” Calexa pulled out her gun and fired a deafening particle-blast into the air. Several of the Vradhu yelled out in fear and dropped to the ground. In the distance, a flock of bird-like creatures rose into the sky, squawking loudly.

  Mai and Zahra came running out of the Medusa with their weapons raised. Calexa held up a hand. Hold.

  Predictably, the insane purple ones ignored the shot, their attacks becoming more and more ferocious. They moved so fast they became a blur; a savage, bloody maelstrom of violet and black. She could no longer tell where one Ares ended and the other began.

  All this fighting over… her?

  Calexa groaned and shook her head as a sneaking suspicion dawned on her. If clone-Ares had been with her the whole time, then other Ares must be…

  The one from the Hythra.

  The original.

  But… how? He was back to his Vradhu form. The only sign that he’d ever been Drakhin were the ominous black wings curving from his upper back.

  Whether Vradhu or Drakhin or somewhere in-between, it didn’t matter. He was as fierce as ever.

  If they kept going at this rate, they would tear each other apart.

  Ugh! This had to be the most blatant display of male stupidity she’d ever come across in her entire life. Calexa didn’t waste time. She ran forward and leapt into the fray, pushing herself right between the two aggressive, warring Vradhu.

  Instinctively, she just knew this was the right thing to do, and she wasn’t afraid.

  “Stop!” The effect was instantaneous. It was as if the two warriors were a raging torrent, and she was the magical sorceress who could turn it all to ice with a single fucking touch.

  Time stopped.

  In mid-attack, they froze.

  Teeth bared, they froze.

  With their tails curled around her waist, they froze, staring each other down.

  “Don’t touch her,” they said in unison. Their voices were eerily identical. “She’s mine.”

  Calexa glanced down and saw both their tails looped around her narrow waist. Black velvet shifted and tightened, and the two warriors growled. They both tried to pull her toward them, but despite the ferocity of their glares, they were surprisingly gentle with her. Winged Ares was in front. He placed a large hand on her shoulder.

  In response, Young Ares snarled. He was behind her, his bare torso pressing against the contours of her back. After hunting down the kratok, he’d stripped off his hide-armor and disappeared into a small thicket of red trees to have a spring-shower, whatever that was. It occurred to her that the low, rumbling sound she’d thought of as a purr could also be a menacing growl.

  Now they were both rumbling, and she was stuck in the middle of her very own hot, angry Vradhu muscle sandwich, complete with tails and wings and growly purring sounds.

  Before she’d met Ares, she would never have jumped between two big, angry males. She would have let them beat one another to a pulp, not caring if they killed each other, or she would have pulled out her PX-45 and shot them.

  Now she was about to be Calexa the Peacemaker, because she actually cared about Ares—both of them. Ha. Who would have thought? Her heart slammed against her metal-bound ribcage as the Vradhu warriors faced off, neither giving the other any quarter.

  They were both so damn close. Heat radiated off their bodies, encircling her in a warm cocoon of intoxicating male musk. Broad chests heaved. Muscular arms flexed. Tails tightened.

  And despite the ridiculousness of the situation, Calexa became enthralled all over again.

  “I am the eldest,” Winged Ares said, his black eyes flashing. Somehow, all of the Drakhin silver had disappeared from his gaze. “I found her first.” His jaw jutted out at a stubborn angle.

  “The human and I are already mated,” Young Ares said smugly.

  “What?” Dark wings rose into the air. “Naaga-made whelp! I will fucking kill—” A hand shot out, somehow managing to avoid Calexa altogether. It went straight for Young Ares’s neck.

  The other warrior didn’t dodge. After all, he was still stubbornly holding onto Calexa. “H-how are you going to kill me without hurting her?” His voice was a hoarse wheeze. “Are you fucking crazy, old man?” With his foot, he kicked up his war-spear. As it jumped into the air, he snatched it with his free hand, bringing the tip to Winged Ares’s neck. The razor-sharp point hovered just above his pulsating artery.

  “Enough!” Calexa snapped, grabbing both their tails and pulling the coils apart. To her surprise, neither Vradhu offered much resistance. “I refuse to let you fools kill each other over me. You’re just going to have to share.”

  Silence. Nobody moved, but Winged Ares’s dark eyes widened a fraction as they roamed over her face. She didn’t yet understand how his dual existence was possible, but she couldn’t deny the warm spark of familiarity that rose between them.

  Impossibly, his harsh, obsidian-painted features softened.

  “Sh-share?” They spoke in unison, their identical voices merging to become one. The effect was truly spooky. She shivered, but not in an unpleasant way.

  “It’s obvious that something went wrong…” She paused, her thoughts racing. Being caught between two hard male Vradhu bodies made it terribly difficult to think straight. “Or maybe something went right, and now we’re stuck with two of you. You’re both Ares, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She removed their tails from around her body and stepped out of the Vradhu sandwich before she lost her mind.

  Two of them?

  One was already a fucking handful, and now she had two big, angry Vradhu males to deal with?

  The thought left her somewhere between a swoon and an exasperated sigh.

  “Cal…” Zahra spoke through the comm as she waved from the Medusa. “Are you, um, is everything, uh, I mean…” For once, wise-ass Zahra sounded unsure of herself. “What the fuck is going on? Do you want me to shoot someone, or not?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t fucking shoot,” she whispered, fearing Vradhu chaos.

  At the same time, she couldn’t help but be awed by what she was seeing.

  Now the two versions of Ares stood side-by-side, staring at her. The similarities were striking, but at the same time, nobody could confuse the two.

  Winged Ares was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, but that didn’t seem to bother him. His wings were neatly tucked behind his back— even though she swore one of them had been broken—and although the silver scales of the Drakhin had disappeared from his skin, he still wore the scaly Drakhin armor from the Hythra.

  Young Ares’s honed body was on proud display. His wild black hair had come loose from its topknot, framing the elegant lines of his face with an unruly tangle of chaos. The dark markings on his cheeks were slightly lighter than Winged Ares’s, and his features were a little bit smoother, with fewer scars and lines.

  He was fresh out of the temundra, unmarked by the ravages of life, and yet he’d brought down one of those beasts—a supremely dangerous kratok—with terrifying ease.

  As a result of Winged One’s attack, he was bleeding from an ugly gash in his side.

  “Share,” Calexa said again, feeling a little more sure of herself this time. “If either of you want me, then you have to understand that I only want Ares, and if you’re both Ares, then I want you both, and I won’t have one without the other.”

  She blinked. Fuck. What the hell had she just said?

  Ares glanced at Ares. They shared a long, indecipherable look. Blood dripped onto the moss. Fists unclenched. Tails returned to their resting places—around the left leg.

  Nobody—not even the rest of the Vradhu, who were standing around them in a ring with expressions of shock and horror on their faces—dared lift a finger.

  Tension thickened the air, and suddenly, Calexa found it hard to breathe.

  Oblivious to the tense standoff, some hidden alien water-creature emitted a loud sound that was halfway between a bellow and a croak, splitting the silence.