“You may ask,” he growled after a brief pause. He hadn’t meant to let her speak until they reached the command pod, but his curiosity burned like a solstice flare.

  “Huh.” A soft huff escaped her. Ares could hear her perfectly well as she muttered something under her breath in her native tongue. He couldn’t understand the words, but the indignation in her voice was obvious.

  “How did you know I was going to ask a question?” Finally, she spoke in Naaga. Her command of the language was improving rapidly; she seemed to be tolerating the neural graft quite well.

  Ares was impressed. He hadn’t been so lucky. They’d had to sedate him three times after the graft, and when he’d calmed down enough that he was no longer a threat to the sci-people, he’d spewed verbal nonsense for days.

  “You are an outsider, thrust into a world you know nothing about. Of course there are going to be questions.”

  “Huh,” she said again, sounding a little bemused. “And some things, like: ‘what are you, really?’ are off-limits, huh?”

  Ares kept quiet. He was being a little unfair with her, but he didn’t want her getting too comfortable in his presence just yet, especially when he knew next to nothing about her or her kind. The Vradhu were secretive by nature. A Vradhu’s trust was not given lightly, but once earned, it was even more difficult to break.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “You will be my link. You will convey our wishes to your people. The situation we find ourselves in is precarious, and there is no room whatsoever for error. That is why I took great pains to make sure you can understand us.”

  “Y-you want me to act as a translator?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s… it?” She regarded him with a suspicious look. The crystalline brilliance of her eyes made his heart clench a little.

  “For now. There will be other things.”

  “Such as?”

  “I haven’t yet decided.” He didn’t want to reveal his plans just yet. Although he’d done his best to seal the Naaga away, they were too numerous to contain. They could be listening.

  Besides, he hadn’t decided whether he could trust this alien. What principles did her kind live by? Was she as honorless and confounding as the Naaga, or were these humans a noble race?

  Only behind the dense, resonating walls of the command chamber did he truly feel secure. There he could sit on the sekkhoi throne and extend his senses, becoming one with the ship.

  He would take the human there and interrogate her. Then he would decide if she could be of any use to him outside her role as a translator.

  As they reached the end of the corridor, Ares lengthened his stride, filled with a sudden sense of urgency. He’d been away from the throne of thorns for too long. He had to go back and join with the Hythra’s consciousness.

  Dangerous.

  That feeling—omnipotence—was becoming addictive, like a drug. This cursed bond was changing him in ways he couldn’t fathom, and part of him was terrified of what he might become. The Hythra welcomed him with open arms, whispering sweet, dark truths about the Vradhu and the Drakhin and their shared history over the course of a million sun-kissed orbits.

  You are kin-people, Hunter. You can’t escape blood.

  Dra. Treacherous. Khin. Blood.

  Oh, he knew what the word truly meant, but there was no way he was going to succumb to the Hythra’s pull. She had no idea who she was trying to seduce. If all went to plan, he would soon be free of her.

  Just a little longer.

  He had one chance to escape this floating hell forever. One chance that he might see the revered plains of the Ardu-Sai again in this cursed life. One chance to rescue his brethren from living out the rest of their existence onboard this lifeless prison. Kratok-hunting season was about to begin, and without Maki’s warriors, the Two Clans would be in deep trouble.

  Ah, the Hunt. How he yearned for it. A vivid memory entered his mind. It was the warm caress of the Mengash—the great southerly winds—across his face as he stared up at the glorious snow-capped Esskar range. As he’d scented the air, which was thick with the musky spoor of the great beasts, a savage thrill of anticipation had coursed through him.

  His homeland called to him. Even from beyond the Shadowring, he felt the pull of the brutal, beautiful, and utterly wild Ardu-Sai. No Vradhu could comfortably stay away from Aethra’s cradle for too long. Their existence here on the Hythra was a slow kind of torture. If they didn’t leave soon, they would die.

  The Naaga were counting on it.

  What they hadn’t counted on was the arrival of these strange brown-skinned aliens.

  “Perhaps you will be our salvation,” he whispered under his breath in Vradhu as they passed into the main vault. The Human matched his pace perfectly, keeping exactly two steps behind him. She moved with the natural stealth of a trained fighter, her footsteps silent on the metal floor. He was close enough that he could feel her through his connection to the Hythra.

  Tap. Tap. She walked as gracefully as a black-footed tikkrit, her feet almost caressing the smooth grey floor. Tiny vibrations rippled through the sentient surface, and in his hyper-aware state, Ares became acutely aware of the way she balanced her weight on the balls of her feet. She was tense and ready to spring into action.

  A natural fighter.

  The ilverium at his feet rippled in response to her presence, and Ares had to exert extra effort to keep it controlled. It was always this way with the Hythra. The ship was always just one step away from consuming him. Only through sheer willpower did Ares keep her in check. He hadn’t slept in longer than he could remember.

  If he slept, he lost. They all lost. Simple as that.

  The Naaga had told him nothing about how to control this mysterious technology. He hadn’t received the training they gave to their Chosen Ones, but little by little, he was learning.

  He was a Hunter. Adaptation was his specialty.

  No doubt they hoped he would succumb to the destroyer’s dark pull; that he would disappear into the morass of living metal and lost souls that was the Hythra, just like all the other hosts before him.

  But Ares was not a spineless Naaga, and he flexed his will like a muscle, keeping the ancient Drakhin warship under his command. He would never succumb. He was Vradhu. The Naaga had yet to understand what that really meant.

  As they neared the center of the vault, Ares’s nostrils flared. A strange smell lingered in the air. It was sweet and not unpleasant, yet there was an underlying bitterness to it that made his skin prickle.

  Familiar.

  On one side of the hexagonal room, the wide grey doors that marked the main entrance to sci-labs were sealed. If he so wished, he could open them with a thought.

  He paused, holding up a hand. The Human stopped immediately. He had to give her credit, her instincts were good; sharp. “Can you smell that?”

  “Smell what?”

  “That…” He blinked as the ilverium in his body surged, coming to the surface. It shot through the black ankhata on his arms and face, causing a ripple of pain across his skin.

  Now he remembered that smell. It had been present at the Source, when the Naaga had tricked them with that strange cylindrical device.

  Poison. How had they smuggled it into the sic-labs? How had their treachery escaped his notice? Because he’d been temporarily distracted by the human…

  Run!

  His knees quivered. His vision blurred then snapped back into focus. His hold over the writhing ilverium wavered.

  What is this?

  The seals in his mind broke. Control slipped through his fingers. Ares fell to his knees.

  Poison? They dare provoke me like this? How long have they been planning this?

  The soft, murmuring speech of the Naaga filled the cavernous chamber. The human gasped in surprise. Blue figures swam into view.

  Naaga. They had once been slaves to the cruel and powerful Drakhin. Now that the Darkwalkers were gone, they were free, and they usurped Drakhin technology, using it to gain control of vast territories on Khira, where they multiplied like fucking pikki. The decaying ruins of the vast Drakhin cities were full of them.

  Fortunately for the Vradhu, the Naaga had always steered clear of the Ardu-Sai… until now.

  To them, the Vradhu were little more than tools. Like trained and leashed shuklak-beasts, they had been brought onto the destroyer to exterminate pests.

  The Vradhu despised their new overlords, and in turn, the Naaga despised the Hythra’s new host. They were locked in a stalemate.

  It was complicated.

  “You dare?” Ares hissed, fury coursing through him. They were not supposed to be out here. They were supposed to be completing their task under the watchful eyes of the guards Maki had generously assigned. Ares tried to summon the ilverium, drawing on the energy that was all around him—in the walls, the floor, the beating heart of the Hythra itself….

  But he couldn’t.

  Not missing a beat, he took a step toward the approaching Naaga, reaching for his twin krivera.

  His fingers closed around the worn kratok-bone hilts in a movement that was as natural as breathing. The bone-white blades slid from their sheaths with a barely audible hiss.

  But Ares couldn’t complete the arc of his attack. His body ground to a halt, betraying him in his moment of need.

  Move! He willed himself forward, to no avail.

  Ares viciously cursed the blue-skinned ones as his muscles locked into place, denying him freedom.

  What is happening to me?

  The Naaga advanced. There were at least a dozen of them. Typical Naaga, always seeking safety in numbers. Normally, he would have fought them off with ease, because as cunning as they were, the Naaga were physically weak and no match for a Vradhu warrior in his prime.

  The Drakhin had designed them that way. Good slaves didn’t fight back.

  Ares’s blades fell to the floor with a clatter. The room reeked of that strange, pungent, bittersweet aroma. Behind him, the human danced backwards, giving him a wide berth.

  Whatever poison those cursed samefaced creatures had released into the air obviously wasn’t affecting her.

  Would she take the chance and escape?

  “I’ll kill you,” he whispered as he desperately tried to feel for the Hythra’s dark, endless presence through the bond.

  It was there, but he’d lost control. The liquid metal rose to the surface, breaking his skin. It crawled up his bare arms, extending over his shoulders and down his back.

  No! This couldn’t be happening now, not when he was so close.

  Not when this human female was stepping into the void that he’d left. Not when she was about to commit a great insult to his honor. He stared in mute fascination as she reached down and dared to wrap her hands around the kratok-fang blades of a fully blooded Vradhu warrior.

  This strange alien didn’t know the rules of their world. She didn’t understand that no-one but Ares touched his swords, and yet the heavy kratok blades looked so natural in her hands. So beautiful.

  And although she’d just violated clan law—sweet Aethra, if only she knew what Vradhu females would think of her—a part of Ares was exultant.

  She could have run, but she’d stayed.

  He snarled as his limbs grew weak and heavy. His vision blurred. He became lightheaded. He was bleeding. Tendrils of ilverium coursed over his broken skin, threatening to engulf him. He knew what the Hythra wanted.

  The Drakhin destroyer wanted to devour him, just like she had her last host. He desperately tried to uncoil his tail. It was the deadliest of all his weapons, and his last line of defense. If he could move freely, he could whip it toward his attackers and hit them with deadly venom.

  Nothing happened. He was paralyzed.

  The Human strode past him fluidly, gracefully, raising the krivera as if she’d wielded them all her life.

  She was magnificent.

  All Ares could do was watch. His mute fury melted into a kind of horrified fascination. How ironic it was that in this moment, the cursed bond he’d sought to break was now something he desperately needed, and the very alien he’d sought to fill with fear now held his fate in her hands.

  Chapter Ten

  Calexa stared at the blue-skinned aliens in shock. They filed into the cavernous room through a wide-open entrance that had suddenly appeared in the wall. A strange, cloying smell filled the room, reminding her of overripe bananas.

  Who the hell were these newcomers? As if her encounter with the fearsome Vradhu wasn’t enough for her overwhelmed brain to process, now these slender blue creatures had appeared out of nowhere.

  “He is incapacitated,” one of them said quietly in Naaga. “Quickly, now. We must harvest him.”

  “And the foreign one?”

  “She is inconsequential; a mere distraction. Jara said nothing about her. Our objective is to dispose of the usurper at all costs. He is an aberration, nothing more. The natural balance will be restored in time.”

  “She is capable of violence, just like the Vradhu.”

  “If that is the case, we will wear her out eventually.”

  “Do not allow him to regain control. If he re-establishes the connection…”

  “He will kill us all.”

  Their strange conversation buzzed around her like white noise, as if she didn’t even exist. Calexa glanced at Ares in alarm.

  If looks could kill… Murder was written across his face, but he wasn’t moving. The floor beneath him was as flat and smooth as glass until tiny droplets of crimson splattered around his feet.

  Blood.

  Her eyes widened.

  They bleed red, just like us.

  Tendrils of ilverium erupted from his skin, wrapping around his body like coiling vines. Even with the living metal swirling all around him, he’d managed to draw the curved blades that hung at his waist. The blades were bone-white and they looked razor-sharp, but he appeared unable to lift them any higher than his waist.

  They fell from his hands, clattering to the floor.

  The newcomers regarded Ares with a look of blank indifference that sent chills down Calexa’s spine. Not much could faze her these days, but these aliens gave her the creeps. Something about them wasn’t quite right. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  There were about a dozen of them in total, and they were pale blue; the color of an Earthian sky in summer. Lean and long-limbed, their slender bodies seemed to be designed for graceful, frictionless movement.

  Naaga. Unbidden, the word came to mind. They were ethereally beautiful, with long, graceful necks and soft, delicate features. Instead of hair, their heads were covered with smooth white plumage that resembled a cross between feathers and scales. The plumage extended down their necks, disappearing beneath plain grey tunics.

  Twelve pairs of slanted, widely spaced white eyes turned toward her and collectively dismissed her. Theirs were eyes without pupil or iris; plain white orbs coated with an iridescent sheen that glowed in the dim light.

  She took a deep breath as the realization hit her.

  They were perfect.

  They were identical.

  That was what had creeped her out. She was unable to differentiate between them. They all had the same narrow, pointed noses and soft, sensual lips. A stardust-like smattering of glittering white scales decorated their pale cheeks. Their features were both pleasing and cold, as if their faces had been designed to convey beauty without emotion. If the fierce and regal looking Vradhu were destined to be hunters, then these creatures had been made to serve a very different purpose.

  Naaga. In Drakhin, the word had two different meanings. Slave. Made One.

  Calexa shuddered.

  How did she even know that?

  A low growl captured her attention. Calexa’s gaze flicked toward Ares, who had dropped to his knees. Tendrils of silver-grey ilverium rippled across his powerful body—chaos in motion. Fury spilled from his eyes, and his teeth were bared.

  Scary.

  He looked downright terrifying, but something was wrong. Tension was etched in every sculpted line and contour of his body. His limbs were locked into place.

  He couldn’t move.

  The Naaga ignored her completely and started to advance on Ares.

  Calexa’s head spun. She had no fucking clue what was going on, but a couple of things were obvious. One, Ares was in trouble. Two, the blue ones didn’t seem to think she was worth the time of day. They were going straight for the kill. It was stupid, but that rankled a little bit. She was used to being the most dangerous one in the room, but that crown had been stolen by Ares.

  Not your problem, honey. Get your ass out of here and back to the Medusa before that purple monster snaps out of his trance and pulls you back into his orbit.

  She desperately wanted to get back to her crew, but without knowing the way, she could end up running for days. The alien vessel was simply that fucking big; a floating city amongst the distant stars.

  She couldn’t run away now.

  Fine. Stay. It’s your funeral.

  Calexa didn’t break her stride as she walked across to Ares, reached down, and picked up his weapons. As the smooth, worn hilts slid into her palms, a faint electric tingle crawled across her arms.

  These blades were well-used. They just had that feeling about them. A lot of blood had been spilled by these swords.

  The swords were heavier than they looked, but they were perfectly weighted. They felt good in her hands, in the way that a well crafted, well used, well cared-for, and broken-in tool might feel.

  Ares had gone perfectly quiet and still, but his catlike eyes burned into her from behind. That menacing intensity never seemed to leave him, even when he was on his knees.

  What the fuck are you doing, crazy Cal?