He held up a hand and summoned the ilverium. It poured in from the outside as Ares retreated. He formed an image of a wall in his mind and the ilverium obeyed, creating an impenetrable barrier between him and the shouting female.

  The summoning took more effort than usual. Ares didn’t waste any more time. He reached the doorway and jumped, bypassing the metal ramp he’d constructed earlier. The structure had allowed him to reach the entrance of the alien ship, but now he had no use for it, so he dissolved it in his mind. It collapsed, falling to the floor, where it merged with the very substance of the Hythra itself.

  He bent his knees as he landed, maintaining a tight grip on the unconscious alien. Dozens of curious eyes turned toward them.

  Ilverium surged at his feet in a welcoming caress, and he felt his power return. At his bidding, the writhing metallic substance flowed into the alien ship, sealing off the doorway, piling on thicker and thicker until an impenetrable barrier was created.

  He could no longer hear the small alien’s shouting voice.

  Boom. A dull explosion reached his ears. The ilverium barrier bent outwards before snapping back into place. The alien inside must have tried to blast it open.

  Crazy female. Had she actually fired that thing?

  It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t escape, and he’d gotten what he came for.

  He only needed one of them, after all.

  Ares ignored the commotion and walked toward the pack. Maki had been as good as his word and kept his warriors at bay. Vradhu could be cruel at times, especially if they sensed weakness.

  It came with the territory.

  “What have you caught this time, Hunter?” Maki inclined his head, scrutinizing Ares’s prize. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What is that? It is… female, yes?”

  Ares nodded. Her features were distinctly feminine, and her armor failed to conceal the alluring swell of her breasts and the roundness of her hips.

  A murmur rippled through the pack. To the Vradhu, the notion of a female warrior was almost unthinkable. The others stared at his exotic catch in fascination.

  They weren’t used to aliens. Aside from the cursed Naaga, who had ruined everything, they hadn’t encountered any other intelligent species.

  Appearing mildly impressed, Maki met Ares’s gaze. “She fights well?” He was undoubtedly taking in the damage inflicted on Ares’s Drakhin-tech helmet.

  “Well enough,” Ares shrugged. “Even though she uses magrel.” He used the Vradhu word that meant false weapon, unnatural, and forbidden, amongst other things. Of course, he was referring to that infernal blast-weapon of hers.

  The warriors spoke amongst themselves in low, disbelieving tones. Although they feared what Ares had become, they knew what he’d been like before the Hythra had taken him, and they knew very well what he was capable of as a warrior.

  Like all of his kind, he didn’t give praise lightly.

  “And there are… others like her?” Vanu stared up at the strange alien ship, his black eyes gleaming with curiosity. The young warrior’s kratok-hide armor was still dark and shiny. He’d killed his first giant beast less than a tenmoon ago, and he was still breaking in the tough, impenetrable hide. Over time, the surface of his armor would grow dull and fade as it hardened in some places and grew soft in others, molded and shaped by the natural movements of his body.

  Unlike the others, Vanu didn’t try to avoid Ares’s gaze. His lighter coloring and the markings on his face—three distinct stripes on each cheek that ran diagonally from cheekbone to jaw—indicated that he was a descendant of the Outer Tribes, and like most of the outer Vradhu, he wasn’t as traditional or rigid as some of the purebloods under Maki’s command.

  Ares rather liked the young warrior.

  “There are others,” he confirmed. Behind his smashed helmet, Ares’s lips curved upward in amusement. “If possible, I would rather you leave them be until this one has been programmed. It will be easier that way.”

  “And if they attack?” Vanu waved his war-spear suggestively.

  Ares acknowledged Maki with a small nod, stopping just short of deference. “I would request that you try not to kill any of them, but that is your choice to make. If the others are anything like this she-demon, then you may encounter some… difficulties.”

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “To our ‘masters’.” There was a note of irony in Ares’s voice. Of course, he was referring to the Naaga.

  Cursed creatures.

  If they didn’t carry out their orders and rid the Hythra of the Corrupted ones, the Two Clans would lose their precious homeland. It was a fool’s bargain, but they had no choice. The Naaga were not known for their compassion. To the white-eyed devils, everything was calculated.

  Ares growled deep in his throat as he remembered the disgraceful manner in which they’d been lured and captured. The floor around his feet rippled, reacting to his anger.

  The warriors hastily stepped aside as he passed. Although his shoulder was beginning to ache—this Aethra-cursed female weighed as much as a damned kratok carcass—he didn’t waver. He may have become a monster, but he still had his pride. “I will make them implant the translator-thing into her, just like they did with us. Then our existence on this cursed prison might just become interesting again.”

  “You’re nuts, Ares.” Maki’s low voice followed him across the hold. “The Naaga sci-people won’t agree to fit her with an implant. We don’t even know if her kind are compatible with their technology.”

  Ares grunted. Maki was correct. He was nuts, and the longer he remained trapped in his own shifting metal prison, the more he desperately yearned for the wide-open waterplains of the Ardu-Sai. “Who said anything about agreeing?” His smile turned bitter. When Ares requested things, people obeyed, because they all knew very well that the power of life and death was contained in the metal running through his veins.

  He wasn’t worried about the alien’s compatibility in the slightest. If the smooth metal bumps along the back of her neck were anything to go by, then she’d had magrel things inserted into her body before. Surely she could take a little Naaga interference. After all, Ares and the others had survived the process, and this strange being had just gone toe-to-toe with a Vradhu warrior and come out alive.

  That spoke volumes about her toughness.

  Ares was rather pleased with his catch.

  The creature in his arms began to stir, making murmuring noises that were rather soft and vulnerable and… appealing.

  It made sense that she would be starting to rouse. He’d tightened the ilverium noose enough to render her temporarily unconscious, nothing more.

  “Better hurry,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t want her regaining her senses just yet. This one… If he didn’t make her understand the situation soon, she would be difficult to contain, and it would be a damn shame if he had to kill her.

  “What about the rest of your catch, Hunter? You have earned dividing rights.” As usual, Maki was the voice of reason, reminding Ares of his duties to the clan.

  Claim your prize, take what you need, divide the rest between your brothers. That was the Vradhu way.

  The situation was… awkward. In his current form, Ares was stronger than Maki—in truth, he’d always been the stronger one—but Maki outranked him, and there was no way he would dare presume to tell the Lord of the Two Clans what to do. That would be a terrible mistake. He would instantly lose face.

  Ares glanced over his shoulder as he exited the hold. The Vradhu stared at the alien ship with looks of burning curiosity. Who knew what they might do? Feh. Who cared? Ares couldn’t be in two places at once, and he already had what he needed. He would leave the business of handling the aliens to Maki. “Take what you wish, Maki. Try not to cause any more damage their vessel—or to those who could possibly repair it,” he called out. “I am sure you know what I mean.”

  Maki smiled at him, revealing brilliant silver teeth. His expression was nothing short of predatory. “Naturally. It came in from space, so hopefully it can go out the same way. I am on your leaf, Ares-rai.” He slipped in the term of endearment as he regarded Ares’ catch with an appraising look. “Try not to ruin the alien.”

  Ares let out a soft snort as he spirited the female away, heading for the sci-labs. What did Maki think he was—some sort of wanton youth? As alluring and fascinating as the female was, he wasn’t interested in that. Not when they couldn’t even understand one another.

  Insidious, heated thoughts entered his mind. He quickly crushed them.

  She would need the language implant; the very same one that was inside his head, enabling him to speak and understand Naaga. It would be painful at first, but she was strong enough to handle it. There was no way around it, and the only ones who could do it were the Naaga themselves.

  They would agree to his demands, because he was the host— the commander— of this infernal ship, and he held the fate of everyone in his hands. Of course, the Naaga were just biding their time, waiting for the Hythra to swallow him, but Ares wasn’t going anywhere soon, and he was going to use every damn advantage he had to try and break out of this unnatural mess.

  Chapter Eight

  Pain.

  It was all Calexa knew as she regained consciousness. The pain speared her temples and stabbed her eyes. It pounded the back of her head, as if someone were brutally trying to crack open her skull.

  She hadn’t hurt this badly since she’d undergone enhancement therapy. Too bad the pain receptors in her head were mostly unaltered.

  Her eyes snapped open. Bright light flooded in. She gasped in agony, blinking furiously as her world came into focus.

  Her memories were hazy. “Wha—?” She flailed about like a madwoman as she tried to regain her bearings. With a groan, she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

  Grey walls surrounded her. She closed her eyes again. The pain was too intense. It was a sharp, stabbing, throbbing kind of pain, and it was all in her head. Literally.

  She grabbed the sides of her head with both hands and found a thick band wrapped around her skull. It felt… rubbery underneath her bare fingers.

  And her hair. What the hell had happened to her hair?

  Her armor-gloves were gone. So were her combat helmet and her weapons and her exterian armor. She wore nothing but her skintight thermosuit.

  Memories returned to her like a tidal wave crashing onto a rocky shore. A ridiculously dangerous mission to Torandor at the behest of a crazy Primean. Paxnath slavers turning the entire thing into one huge clusterfuck. A frantic Panic Jump into the Netherverse. Engine failure. System failure. A giant ship, bigger than anything she’d thought possible, drawing them in against their will. Aliens. They were purple and black, with tails. A species she’d never seen or heard of before. She’d fought furiously, viciously, with that dark scaly-armored warrior.

  Strong. Fast. Inescapable. That’s what he was.

  Oh, shit. She’d toyed with death again.

  On the upside, she was still alive.

  For now.

  A tingling sensation ran along the backs of her arms, alerting her to a presence. Summoning all of her willpower, she pushed the pain to the back of her mind, opened her eyes, and looked over her shoulder.

  And came face-to-face with…

  Him.

  It was him. The Mysterious One. She knew it with every fiber of her being. His scaly armor was intact, but his helmet was gone, revealing his face.

  Whoa.

  How magnificently striking he was. Calexa could have become mesmerized by his molten eyes, but anger got the better of her.

  “You fucking—” She flew at him, one fist raised. “What have you done to me?” Pain became her weapon, sharpening her rage.

  She was on her feet, jumping off the cold metal bed and launching her powerful body into the air. Her bionic joints tensed, ready to unleash a barrage of pent-up kinetic energy.

  Her anger was white-hot and undeniable as realization coursed through her. She’d been violated somehow. These strange creatures had done something to her while she was unconscious.

  She didn’t know what they’d done, but something felt different. Her head was heavy. The pain was excruciating, to the point where she felt she might pass out. Her thoughts were fragmented, disjointed, scattered. The thin veneer of her self-control had been stripped away, leaving only the primal things: instinct, impulse, and rage.

  Oh, she’d been here before. She knew this place, and she hated what it did to her.

  As for the one who was responsible for all this, she would beat him fucking senseless.

  Calexa’s fist flew toward his face. Her attack was wild and unfettered, driven by anger. She put all of her strength into the blow…

  And met resistance.

  His hand closed around her fist, and for a moment they were trapped in a battle of wills.

  Silver eyes narrowed. “Stop.”

  Calexa gritted her teeth and pushed forward, wanting to break his resistance.

  “Stop,” he said again, his deep voice cutting through the haze of her anger. “Do you understand me?”

  A thread of sanity took root in her mind. She blinked, wondering whether she was still dreaming. “What?” The word sounded strange as it dropped from her lips.

  What did I just say?

  She was no longer speaking in her native tongue.

  The meaning was the same, but the word was different.

  What. The. Fuck?

  “This possible… how?” Her question felt clumsy.

  “How is this possible?” The alien corrected, his tone dry. “It takes time to get the syntax right, but now you speak the language of slaves.”

  “No slave,” Calexa spat. “Not for you, not for anyone.”

  “You misunderstand,” the alien said, maintaining his grip on her hand. He was a strong bastard, there was no doubt about it. “This is the language of slaves. Clearly, you are not ideal slave material.”

  Calexa’s arm grew heavy as the pain in her head intensified. “Observant, you are.” She shook her head in frustration as her thoughts seemed to correct themselves. “I meant to say: you are observant.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

  His hand was rather large and warm, even when it was encased in that strange scale-armor. Funny that she should notice such things when he held her fist in a bone-crushing grip.

  “What have you done to me?” This time, the sentence came out correctly. Somehow, she just knew it was right. She understood every word of this strange language, even if she was still struggling to master the grammar and syntax and the different intonations. “What is this?” With her free hand, she attempted a swing at his face, but the debilitating pain behind her eyes disrupted her speed and accuracy. Her knuckles grazed his jaw and kissed air as he moved his head to the side, evading her blow.

  He was fast.

  “Stop fighting,” he growled. “I won’t hurt you… if you co-operate.”

  “Not… hurt? Then why my head feels like this… this…” She struggled with the alien tongue, searching for the right word.

  “Pain,” he offered. “Fucking hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Calexa ground her fist into his palm, trying to force him to release his grip.

  Like a damn rock, he didn’t budge. She couldn’t do anything to him. Considering her own immense strength, that was rather scary.

  He was more than a little scary.

  “Your brain is rewiring. The language is integrating. You’re still disinhibited. If you try to stay still and stop fighting me, I can get you something for the pain.” His tone was stern but not unkind.

  His voice had a strange effect on her. It cut through the haze of her anger and diluted her pain.

  She blinked, taken aback by the oddness of it all. With a sharp intake of breath, she absorbed him in all of his silverdark glory. His face was so close that she could see tiny tendrils of liquid metal swirling in his irises.

  Swirling. What?

  He possessed the same deep violet skin as the others, but the unique black markings on his face were imbued with silver. The metallic stuff shifted and writhed beneath his skin, making his face appear a hundred different ways all at once.

  “Wh-what you are?”

  What are you? That’s what she meant to say, but it came out sounding awkward and broken in this odd new tongue.

  Naaga. That was what the language was called. Somehow, the word came to her unbidden, solidifying out of the torrent of information they’d forcefully rammed into her brain.

  The alien frowned, his brows drawing together in a wicked scowl. The dark patterns on his face made his expression seem all the more fearsome.

  Calexa’s breath caught. Had she offended him somehow? But then he smiled, revealing two pairs of sharp canines. Like the rest of his teeth, they were silver, and they gleamed wickedly in the harsh light, curving from top and bottom like the teeth of a wolf. The effect was unnerving. “I am Vradhu, still.” If irony were universal, perhaps there was a trace of it in his voice.

  “Still?”

  He tipped his head in response to her question but didn’t elaborate.

  Vradhu? She’d never heard of that species. “Wh-where are we?”

  “On a Drakhin destroyer, in the orbit of Khira. You are just beyond the Shadowring.”

  His words didn’t make any sense, and it wasn’t just because they were speaking a new language. They were probably well beyond the charted territories of the Universe, and that was more than a little worrying.

  Correction: it was downright terrifying.

  Calexa decided not to dwell on it.

  The Vradhu squeezed her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. “If I let go, will you promise me you won’t try and hit me this time?” He shook his head slightly, still baring his teeth. “You have hard hands, woman.”

  “Calexa,” she corrected. “Me, Calexa. I…” She closed her eyes, struggling to find the right words in Naaga as she clenched her teeth and fought the throbbing pain in her head. It was like doing complicated sums without an AI. The solution was there, but it took all of her concentration to arrive at the answer. “My name is Calexa, and I won’t hit you, but only if you promise not to strangle me with that, that…”