Havoc (34 page)

"Rise, Sayal,” Sorush said dismissively.

She lifted her gaze to see him walking toward them. Every movement spoke of arrogance, supreme confidence. He glowed with golden radiance. His eyes, an even-brighter turquoise than old Asheni's and rimmed with copper, passed over her and moved to Elion. He was not much taller than Elion, but his wings and his attitude made him seem much larger.

With a snap, he folded his feathered appendages. He picked up Elion's right hand and briefly examined the fingers, the ones that had been burned off and replaced. “Mine,” he said. He ran his hand over Elion's wounded side. “You're damaged.” He glanced at Asheni. “Why has he not been healed?"

"Forgiveness, lord. I thought you would want to see him first. There is another companion in the healing room now."

"Good.” But Sayal could tell the Prime was distracted. He touched Elion's face and his hair. Poor Elion stood like a stone. She'd been told by her mother that the first time seeing Sorush was like seeing a god from the ancient Earth religions, a soul-staggering experience. “Golden hair,” Sorush murmured. “Rare. I'll have your DNA. Perhaps we can blend it with Sayal's. Wouldn't that be spectacular, Asheni? Golden empaths. Golden angels. They'd be worth a fortune."

"Yes, lord."

He ran his long-fingered hand over Elion's chest and put his face close to the mate's. “You're angry. You fear for her life.” He had a deep, rolling voice that was almost musical, but the arrogance that tinged it destroyed any pleasure that may have come from hearing it. He narrowed his turquoise eyes, and Sayal hated him. He toyed with Elion. “She's safe. And perhaps you as well."

He spread one wing and curled it partway around Elion's shoulder. Despite being filthy, wounded, and furious, Elion had clearly caught his interest. Sayal swallowed hard. This could be very bad. If Sorush decided to keep him, Elion would be as much as a slave as she, even more so. Perhaps Sorush would even insist he give up his eyes.

"Lord,” she said, still crouched and bowing, “I am pleased to have returned to serve you."

The Prime moved from Elion to stand in front of her, as she'd hoped. “Ah, Sayal... I knew you would. But haven't you really come here to kill me?"

Shock jolted through her. She pressed her head farther to the ground and almost denied it. But what was the point? The Prime would know. “Yes, lord,” she said, her voice a whisper.

"You always were a disobedient child. Rise, Sayal. I won't ask again."

She did, keeping her gaze on his beautifully formed bare feet when she did.

"Where is her garment?” Sorush asked Asheni.

"Here, lord."

Even with her head bowed, she knew Asheni handed Sorush the golden collar.

"Remove that clothing.” An undercurrent of distaste colored his flat tone. Without question, she stripped out of her clothes and stood before him naked. He approached her and fastened the collar around her throat, then slid his hands over her arms, her breasts, her hips. Though she fought it, sensual heat blossomed in her deepest places, swelling her sex, tightening her nipples. When he stood this close, she couldn't help but see his penis, as finely formed as if it had been chiseled from stone by a master sculptor. In every sleek, muscular inch, the Prime radiated perfection, and she hated him perfectly.

He took her palm and placed it over one of his twin hearts. “Now, kill me, Sayal. Slay your creator."

[Back to Table of Contents]

She wouldn't do it. She couldn't.

Watching her, Elion knew Sayal wasn't going to kill Sorush. Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes and turned her head aside. He couldn't blame her. Who could destroy such a creature? It wasn't that he'd fallen under the Prime's spell, but crack and ruin, he couldn't help but be astonished. What a monster, a figure from myth and fairy tale. An angel from the ancient religions sketched into reality.

Beautiful and pitiable in her nakedness, her biolume tat flaring along her spine, Sayal hung her head. Elion dug his nails into his palms. The collar of beaten gold and jade ringed her neck, and he would've liked to rip it right off. She belonged to no one but herself. Unfortunately he couldn't do that any more than he could kill the Prime himself, and time was wasting.

Whatever small opportunity they may have had was slipping from their fingers. He had only the vaguest idea of where Kels might be. He wasn't sure they could even find their way back to the
Nova
. The only weapon he had on him was a booster full of Dimextrin, which he wasn't certain would affect the Prime, but it was the only thing he figured he could smuggle onto the ship on such short notice.

Time and fate solidified around him like an imprisoning wall. He had to do something soon.

In defeat, Sayal's hand slipped from the Prime's massive chest. Aside from wide bands on either forearm, the alien was naked as well, each muscle defined and perfectly proportioned. Of course Elion's gaze strayed to the impressive cock, but instead of desire, revulsion swept through him. He'd sooner let a Quitza fuck him. But he could see the alien flipped on Sayal, and it was also clear she didn't like the feeling.

During her time here, she must have been little more than a servant to the Prime, a submissive. Only she didn't have a true submissive's nature. That would be Sorush's undoing. He underestimated her, but Elion knew her courage. He also knew she felt his emotions through their bond. Concentrating, he tried to transmit all his love and faith in her, for whatever it was worth. Even if it was the last living thing he did, he hoped it would be enough to carry her through.

Sorush gazed upon her with impassive eyes. “Yes, be humble. Beg forgiveness of me, for I am a forgiving lord.” He slid his hands through her long hair. “Foolish child. I ask only for your love, complete and utter, for you shall have no others before me."

Just as Sayal looked as if she'd sink to her knees again, she shook her head. She raised her chin and said, “I don't love you. I never loved you, and I never will. You're hideous, evil.” She stepped back and dug her fingers between the collar and her throat. With a sharp wrench, she tore it off and threw it at his feet. Elion wanted to cheer.

Sorush's palm cracked across her cheek, spinning her. The alien roared, terrible in his sudden fury, and hauled her up by one arm. “What is this? What is this on your back? You've polluted your perfect genes with bioluminescence. You're ruined!"

Elion surged toward the Prime, the Dimextrin booster raised like a blade. He swung it down—into Asheni's chest. The tutor had dived between him and the elite Prime, taking the shot. He threw Elion away from him with amazing strength. Elion landed on his shoulder and rolled over the soft moss, then regained his feet swiftly.

Sayal cried, “Asheni,” but it was too late. The stim must have jacked the old fellow's heart, for he staggered, mouth open, and fell stone dead. Ah, if only Elion had had two of those...

Sorush's face twisted into a nightmare. He pointed a long finger at Elion. “For that you will suffer. For polluting my creation, you will die."

But before Sorush could get off a fireball or whatever the fuck he intended to hurl his way, a high, rolling wail pulsated through the garden. Whether it was on a tiny swiftcraft or a giant liner, Elion knew an alarm when he heard it. Sorush touched his wristband, and an accented voice spoke in some other language.

Elion ran to Sayal's side. The Prime turned blazing eyes on him where he crouched beside her. “An intruder. Interesting.” His tone burned with restrained savagery. “Pray the ship survives, for her sake. You'll never leave it alive.” He spread his wings and sprang into the air, stirring great gouts of wind and leaves as he flew off to some unknown destination.

"Neither will you, you fuck.” He hauled Sayal to her feet and got her moving toward the door they'd come in by.

Sayal gripped his arm. “We can't get out that way. He'll have sealed it."

"Are we trapped?"

She looked around wildly. “Perhaps not. This way."

They fought through vines and closely grown shrubbery to work their way toward the back of the garden. It was surreal. He could be on any old forest planet. To think they were on a liner in the deeps of space—it boggled the mind. Elion pulled off his tattered, bloody shirt and gave it to Sayal to cover herself so the branches wouldn't scratch her. It hung over her hips, better than nothing. He put his hand on her back and helped her over a fallen log.

"Where are we going?” he asked. The siren continued to wail. It wasn't likely to be Kels. All he could think was that Lowan had come back. He hoped it was Lowan. Saints below, he hoped it was.

"There's a supply shaft in the back that leads to another deck. I used to play in it when I was a child. I fit then...” She glanced up and down his rather larger body. “It might be a way out."

"I'll squeeze,” he said. They staggered out of the bushes to a vine-covered wall.

She parted the vines desperately with her hands. “Here!"

He helped her pull apart the tenacious vegetation from the biogrid covering the wall, revealing a long-unused door. She pressed her hand over a release, and the door opened partway. Elion wrapped his fingers around it and leaned his weight into it, opening it farther. Crack and ruin, what a tiny space, barely large enough for a child of ten. But he could see it was a shaft that ran on into darkness.

"All right. Ladies first, since you know where you're going,” he said.

A different alarm joined the first, a low, serious throb. Elion looked upward, checking for the Prime. “What's that? Do you know?"

"I believe it means the hull has been breached."

"If it's true, Sorush won't be able to fold. That's good."

"Elion.” She hesitated, about to slide into the shaft. “If something happens to me, find a lift. Look for the symbol that looks like an English letter
Y
. That will take you to the healing room, where Kels is."

"Nothing's going to happen to you,” he said automatically, although they both knew the possibility was great neither would make it out in one piece. He leaned in to kiss her. “I'm proud of you, Sayal. And I love you more than life."

"And I love you. You gave me the courage to fight back."

"You always had it in you. Now let's get the fuck out of here."

She wriggled into the shaft, and he went after her. There was no way to shut the door behind them. He couldn't even turn his head to look over his shoulder. After a few meters, the shaft turned, and the light died. Elion felt like he was being born again, squeezed from his mother's womb. He'd never had an issue with claustrophobia, but the walls pressing at his shoulders, making it impossible for him to do anything but inch along on his elbows and push with his toes, had him sweating and gasping.

Crawling blindly, he bumped into Sayal's feet. “All right, sweetheart?"

"I can't remember which way to go. There's a fork here..."

He gulped cloying, moist air. “Please make up your mind swiftly,” he said with exaggerated calm. In another minute he was going to start screaming, and that wouldn't help their cause at all.

"Left, I think."

She shuffled forward, and he twisted and writhed along behind her. Just as he was contemplating the great weight of the ship crushing him like a bothersome pimple, she said, “Here's the door out.” She grunted. She kicked him in the face with her foot. Inadvertently, he assumed. “It's stuck."

"Don't even say that.” Sweat rolled into his eyes. “I can't possibly go backward now. Or ever."

She banged on it. The shaft echoed with her effort. He still heard the alarms, muffled through the megatons of metal and soil that encroached upon them. Suddenly a gust of fresh air reached him. “Yes, I got it,” she cried.

"Thank you.” He grimaced and slid out after her into another woodsy room. The alarms sounded sharp again. This chamber contained no trees, only low-growing flowering bushes and long tables set with seedlings. “Which way to the healing room?” he asked, rising and wiping leaves from his damp, chafed chest.

"It's on another level. We need the lift.” She grabbed his hand, and they ran across the huge room.

"Look out!” He threw his arms around her and rolled with her to the floor and under a table. A laser pulse coughed over their heads. A tray of seedlings went up in smoke and a flurry of leaves. “What the fuck was that?"

"The automated defense systems have come on."

He dragged her farther under the platform, his hands over her head for whatever protection they could afford. “Now what?"

"I don't know. If we move, they'll track us and fire."

"All right.” He looked about him and saw the weapons spaced at even intervals around the walls, the sensors sweeping blue beams to detect any sudden movements. “Let's catch our breath and consider our options."

"Yes."

The problem was...they didn't have any options.

Sayal stiffened beside him.

"What is it?” He was almost afraid to ask.

She paused, tilted her head. Then she smiled. “It's Kels. He's awake, and he's looking for us."

The
Nova
was in trouble. Alarms jangled in his head, but he couldn't get to the com fast enough. Elion and Sayal were going to die, and his legs were like lead encased in heavy water, and Kels couldn't stop the ship from exploding.

With a gasp and a shout, he sat up. And saw wires coming from his body. Tubes containing fluids. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled and ripped them out. Some blood dripped from his veins, but that was the least of his worries. Where in the seven hells was he?

An automated servant rolled toward him and picked up the needle end of one of the tubes, apparently wanting to reinsert it. Kels kicked the machine over and got off the table and onto his feet, then ran his hands through his hair. The drones. Elion. He stared about the room, taking in the sophisticated equipment, the expensive durasteel walls...

It had to be the Prime's ship. They'd been caught. And where were Elion and Sayal? And what were those alarms? He felt about his hips, but his belt had been lost or removed. No com. No, of course not; that would be easy.