STRONGHOLD

A DARKSTAR MERCENARIES NOVELLA

ANNA CARVEN

Copyright © 2022 by Anna Carven

All rights reserved.

Proofread by Dominique Martind http://www.dominiquemartind.com/

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Author’s Note

1. Tarak

2. Tarak

3. Abbey

4. Abbey

5. Tarak

6. Abbey

7. Abbey

8. Abbey

9. Tarak

10. Abbey

Also by Anna Carven

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This 22K novella is for the Tarak and Abbey shippers (you know who you are). It serves as a bridge between Radiant Darkness and the upcoming and final 8th book in the Darkstar Mercenaries series, which will be released in 2023. If you’re looking for a complicated plot and lots of conflict and action, this is not the book for you. This is a light-hearted glimpse into the family life of our original stars, with a little steam thrown in for good measure.

If you aren’t yet familiar with the world of the Dark Planet Warriors, you might like to go back to where it all started and check out the original Dark Planet Warriors (Book 1).

I hope you enjoy it!

ONE

TARAK

I fall through the sky, enjoying the sensation of the cold air as it creates fluid pressure against my armor-covered skin.

This feeling of freefall; of controlled weightlessness…

I quite enjoy it.

My dear wife would probably think I am insane, savoring a thing like jumping out of a ship that is hovering high in Earth’s atmosphere; falling several kuliks through the dark night sky into some hard-walled compound crawling with trigger-happy human guards.

But aside from her entire delectable being, the existence of my youngling, and the feeling of pure combat, there are very few things I can truly savor in this life.

So let me fall.

I know what I’m doing.

Besides, some messages are better delivered in person.

Humans have created a complex society, with hidden languages and hierarchies and a ruling Federation that is not nearly as benevolent as it seems. They surround themselves with guards and defensive technology and layers upon layers of their infernal archaic weaponry.

None of it makes a difference to us.

We can see right through their defenses.

We can penetrate any human fortress. Their tech and weaponry are no match for ours.

And we can find any human.

Any human.

That’s why I am personally dropping into the secure compound of the newly-elected leader of Earth’s United Federation. My techs and engineers have neutralized their security systems and flooded their warning systems with false diversions.

In the darkness, I am all but invisible.

Now.

I flick a small control device that’s secured to my thumb. A parachute opens behind me, yanking me backwards.

For a moment, I’m suspended above the surface of this planet; this sun-drenched hothouse called Earth—my mate’s home—above a wide, crescent-shaped bay cradling a shimmering sea.

The water’s edge is lined by a pristine beach of white sand. I count at least a dozen human guards on the beach, interspersed with various machines—drones and surveillance robots and the like.

None of those things are of consequence to me. My techs have made it so that none of their inferior machines can detect me.

I float downwards, manipulating the controls with my thumb, adjusting the speed and angle of my descent until I reach a wide balcony where a pair of human sentries stand guard.

One of them has a so-called Juvi stick hanging from his mouth, its tip smoldering, releasing pungent smoke into the atmosphere.

Sloppy.

These humans are too complacent.

I’m almost at the balcony now. I manipulate the controls and release my small parachute from its fastenings.

It flutters away into the turbulent darkness like a discontent spirit, disappearing as the wind catches it. Gravity catches me. I plummet downwards, pulling my plasma gun from its holster as I land with a soft thud on the hard stone below.

The humans spin around.

They heard me.

Of course they did.

I wanted them to hear.

As they raise their weapons, I wave the tip of my plasma gun. “Don’t,” I say softly, speaking the Universal language they are bound to understand.

The human on the left—tall, fit, young; with angry eyes and long-ish hair pulled into a tail—mutters under his breath. Something disbelieving about their ineffective human tech.

Fear hasn’t caught his mind yet, but it has infiltrated the other human—the one with the smoke hanging from his mouth. He is older, with cynical eyes and a closely-cropped greying beard.

Clearly, he is a little bit sensible, because he immediately lowers his gun.

His partner isn’t so cautious. “Drop the gun, or I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off.”

I chuckle. I can’t help it. In the past, I would have regarded him coldly; as little more than vermin that needed to be dealt with.

But now…

I am simply amused.

He’s no threat to me. The only person he’s a danger to is himself.

I blame Abbey for this cursed sense of humor. She teaches me a lot about humankind.

“One shot,” I say softly, “and that glass will melt. Two shots, and the occupant of that room will burn to a crisp.”

The younger human pressed something on his armor. I detect the faint buzz of a communication device.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the other one stops him.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “He’s not going to kill her.”

“How do you know that? He’s a fuckin’ Kordolian.”

“Exactly. If he wanted to kill her—and us—he would have done that already, and there’s nothing we could do about it. Think about it. He got in here without none of us being the wiser. Here. The most secure place on Earth, and he just enters like it’s his own house. Cool your fuckin’ jets, Badella. You want to be alive, or dead?”

“Listen to your superior, boy.” With a mental command, I dissolve my exo-helm, revealing myself a little. This, too, is a calculated move on my part. Faceless enemies are easier to despise. “Contrary to what you may believe, I am quite reasonable. Open that door and get out of my way, and nobody has to die.”

“He’s not my superior,” Badella grumbles as he grudgingly averts the tip of his gun. “What do you want, moon-elf?” He injects a little sneer into his voice; as if despising me can somehow make up for all of his shortcomings and his helplessness.

It’s bravado; nothing more.

As my dear wife says: all bark and no bite.

Once, I would have cut his head off for such impertinence. He is just fortunate that I mostly refrain from doing things that might upset my mate.

Besides, for this particular mission, it is important that the humans see my good side. “I just want to have a small chat with your leader. I have no intention of harming her. Are you going to open that door, or would you prefer that I render you both unconscious?”

Badella and the older guy exchange a look.

The older guy clears his throat awkwardly. “Ah…”

“Fuck,” they both say in unison, speaking in English.

I know that word. My mate uses that word sometimes.

I think I can understand their predicament.

“I can see that I have put you in an awkward position.” I think I understand. Human or not, a guard on duty does not simply open the door for the enemy.

I can solve that problem for them.

Unconscious it is, then.

I should have done this from the beginning, but those infernal humans had already pointed their guns at me.

Now they’re off-guard; demoralized and more than a little fearful.

Easy targets.

I can move faster than they can blink. Badella doesn’t even react as I rip his gun from his feeble grip and toss it over the balcony’s edge. I slam my elbow into his temple with just enough force to knock him into unconsciousness.

He slumps to the ground.

His counterpart is moving, but he’s not fast enough, because I’m already behind him, wrapping my arm around his neck and squeezing tightly; just enough to deprive his brain of its blood supply for a moment… until he, too, loses consciousness.

I reach into a small compartment concealed against my armor and retrieve a small delivery device. It contains a small amount of sedative; some substance formulated by Zharek that is supposed to be fast-acting and yet safe to use on humans.

I quickly bend down and deliver a short, sharp dose through the skin of each of the humans’ necks.

I’ve only lightly incapacitated them. The drug will ensure they don’t wake up and do something stupid while I speak with the occupant of this dwelling.

But sedating them isn’t for my benefit.

I just don’t want to have to kill any of them—not without good reason, anyway.

See how considerate I have become?

Abbey would surely approve.

I walk across to the big doors that mark the entrance to my target’s living quarters. Spanning from floor to ceiling, they are inlaid with thick, transparent, double-layered glass.

Humans design their buildings to let in large amounts of sunlight. I find it strange that the outer walls would be made of a material as fragile as glass, but without these portals—these windows—humans tend to fall apart.

Their minds are as fragile as their bodies. They are like one of Abbey’s rare flowering plants; they require a very specific set of conditions to survive.

I retrieve a small cutting tool from my belt and press it against the glass. It lights up immediately, vaporizing the glass with a tiny and impossibly concentrated beam of energy. I trace an oval roughly the size of my own body. Then I tap the glass gently.

The cutout falls inwards with a loud thud, shattering into thousands of pieces.

A dramatic entrance.

Not quite my style, but I want my target off-balance.

And she is.

The human sits up in her bed, eyes wild, her body thrumming with fear.

“Security!” she screams, reaching for something on the small table beside her—a gun; one of those primitive human-designed bolt-weapons.

The leader of all humankind sleeps with a gun beside her bed.

Raising both arms, she points it at me.

Her aim is steady.

She’s recovered her composure quite well.

Not an amateur, I see.

“Don’t move, Kordolian,” she hisses, speaking perfect Universal. “I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

I ignore her for a moment. Salty air swirls into the room from outside.

There’s a large winged chair in the corner. I turn my back on her and slowly walk across to the chair.

Then I take a seat. I don’t bother to raise my weapons at her. It’s unnecessary. If she had the fortitude to shoot me, she would have done so already.

But she hasn’t.

I knew she wouldn’t. I have sized up thousands upon thousands of people in my lifetime. Aliens. Humans. Kordolians. Some hostile, some not. Eventually, one develops the ability to sense intent.

I stare back at her, remaining silent as the ocean wind swirls inside, fluttering the gauzy curtains.

The human does not waver. She keeps her gun trained upon me even as she glances to the side, as if expecting her backup to arrive at any moment.

She does not yet understand that my techs have hacked every single sensor and monitoring device in this compound. The guards that were supposed to arrive are being fed false signals; they are deluded into thinking that everything is fine.

The woman before me is half-covered by her blankets. She wears the simple, soft, casual attire humans prefer when they are in their domestic quarters. She is in her mid-years, with streaks of grey in her short black hair and faint lines around her eyes and mouth.

Her brown eyes are hard and calculating.

So this is the so-called President of The United Federation of Earth. Inez Viray. Recently elected.

Humans undertake such a strange process when it comes to choosing their leaders. They chop and change all the time. Perhaps that is why their home security is so porous; why corruption seems to infiltrate at every level.

Why they fail to keep their own people safe.

“You will not shoot,” I say softly. “The fact that I am here is enough to stay your trigger-finger, don’t you think? Put the gun down, President Viray.” I inject a hint of command into my voice. “I just want to have a civilized chat, that’s all.”

Viray’s eyes narrow.

Her expression is sufficiently inscrutable, but I can almost hear the machinery working inside her brain. She is deducing a thing or two, no doubt.

“Surely, you recognize me,” I add, knowing that humans have extensively distributed my image across their information networks by now.

Viray squints. She utters a command in her native tongue. Lights flick on. Her eyes widen a fraction.

Ah. How could I forget that humans see poorly in low-light conditions. Abbey is always complaining about her lack of natural dark-sight.

“General,” the president says at last, her tone smooth and composed in spite of the multiple shocks I have thrown at her. “I would hardly consider your manner of entry to be civilized.”

My lips twist into a cold smile. “On the contrary. This is the most civilized way possible. I could have gone about this very differently. Be thankful that the number of casualties is limited to two—and they are merely unconscious.”

“You could have requested a meeting. I would have made myself available immediately.”

“That would defeat the purpose. I wanted you unaware.”

“Well, you’ve achieved that.” She falls silent. Outwardly, she appears calm, but I can detect fear in the rapid patter of her heartbeat.

This human is not a fool.

She understands.

My presence here is a message—a reminder—that I have absolute control. I can infiltrate the highest levels of human security, and I can do so at any time I want.

There is nothing they can do to deter me.

“What do you want?” Inez Viray glances toward the door. Her shoulders slump ever so slightly. Slowly, she lowers her gun.

She understands now.

That nobody is coming to save her.

Nobody can.

“This is a courtesy visit,” I inform her, leaning back in the chair. It is uncomfortable; too soft for my liking. “As of now, we are assuming control of this planet. All administrative and governance matters will be ceded to us. We decide who travels in and out of Earth. Your military will be under my command.”

“That’s impossible. There’s no way you can possibly manage the inner workings of our civilization. Our society is complicated. The political situation is far more precarious than what it seems.”

“Are you questioning my orders, President Viray?” I allow a moment for the implications to sink in. This obstinate little human… does she not understand that I have assumed control of countless civilizations that are far more advanced than hers?

Does she not understand that I could be a lot more ruthless in subduing her population?

I won’t do that of course, because I do not want to destroy the ever-fragile trust that has formed between my mate and I, but Viray does not need to know that.

The President of the Federation gives me a look that suggests that she wishes I would be impaled with a thousand poison-tipped daggers.

Other leaders have cowered in fear before me; fawning and obsequious, some even handing me the keys to their planet in exchange for the promise of riches and safe passage for themselves and their kin.

Fools.

To her credit, this human leader is not so weak.

She has that typical human stubbornness.

Just like my precious mate.

“I’m under no illusions that there’s anything we can do to stop you,” she says at last, letting out a small sigh of defeat. She knows. She isn’t stupid. “But as the chosen representative of my people, I implore you to uphold the very rights Prince Xalikian Kazharan espoused at the New Intergalactic Forum.”

Fair point. I almost smile. Now that I have secured her understanding; her acceptance of the situation, it is time to reassure—just enough to make her compliant. “I do not answer to Xalikian, but there are indeed others that I find myself answerable to. One of them is human. One is half-human. So rest assured, I will not do anything that makes them unhappy.” I rise to my feet. “If you want things to go smoothly from here on in, you will do everything in your power to ensure that your Federation Authorities work seamlessly with my people. My representatives will soon arrive to start facilitating the transition. You are to provide them with access to everything.”

“And what about the population of Earth? If news of this gets out into the general public, there will be riots all across the planet. You can’t expect people to just lay down and accept Kordolian rule.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did I say it was going to be Korodlian rule? Manage your people. You governmental people are masters at manipulating and disseminating information through your media channels. I’m sure you can work something out.” I walk toward the exit, my boots crunching the broken glass. Leaving the leader of all humankind trying to hide her shock as she pulls the sheets around her—as if they were some sort of impenetrable armor.

I glance over my shoulder. “You are not a fool, Inez Viray. Make sensible decisions, and you will be rewarded. It may please you to know that we are taking measures to ensure the safety of your daughter.”

“Arianna?” She sits bolt-upright. “Is that a threat? You fucking bastard.”

“Your daughter is protected by the highest level of security on the planet, and yet she has been acting strangely of late, has she not?”

“What have you done to her?”

“It is not what we have done…” I step across the threshold, taking care not to disturb the unconscious guards. The cold night air whips around my face, bringing with it a tang of salt and ocean-smell. It’s refreshing. I do not know how to explain to Inez Viray that her daughter is one of the rare humans that possesses the ability to manipulate ka’qui—and that certain forces have been messing with her mind. Never mind. We are aware of it now. We will deal with it. “I am not your enemy, leader of Earth. Not unless you make me into one. Matter what happens in the future, you would do well to remember that.”

I walk across the balcony, my feet silent on the cold stone. The horizon is before me; perfect and endless, one shade of black balanced upon another.

I grip the railing and launch myself over, into freefall.

Into the welcome darkness.

Past layers and layers of security.

There are rocks below; jagged and sharp, and a small cove of sand and gently lapping water.

I land softly. At the far end of the beach, a small stealth cruiser is waiting for me.

I walk across the sand, listening to the pleasing rhythm of Earth.

Far below the confines of the human compound, it is quite peaceful. Beautiful, I suppose. Abbey would enjoy it here. She likes these kinds of things; beaches and solitude in nature. Always in the infernal sunlight, of course.

Perhaps I will bring her here sometime.

The Qualum doors of the cruiser open as the ship senses my approach.

“Welcome back, Boss.” The speaker is Varuda, one of my skilled pilots. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” I say simply. He knows what I mean. It will be one of Abbey’s last opportunities to enjoy her ancestral home for a while. She and Ami have been cooped up onboard Silence for far too long, and soon they—and most of our inner circle of humans—will have to return.

Until I can be certain that the threat to human existence is eliminated, their movements must be restricted. That is just the way it is. The humans that have become bonded to me and my men are the most precious creatures in existence; they are our weaknesses and our lifelines. Our enemies will stop at nothing to strike where I am most vulnerable.

I am fortunate that my mate is so very understanding of this, even though she chafes against it at times.

But then sometimes, I like her resistance, too.

I walk halfway up the ramp… then stop.

There is a presence behind me. My sword is already in my hand, sliding from its sheath before I even realize.

I’m prepared to kill at a moment’s notice, until I look down and see a… thing.

What in the Nine Hells is this infernal creature?

TWO

TARAK

“Varuda, wait a siv,” I command, staring at the small Earth creature.

Is it dangerous?

Should I kill it?

It appears to be made of skin and bones and tufts of black fur.

“Nyaw,” it says, its voice tiny and shrill.

Its eyes are golden. Its pupils are wide in the dim light. It has a long, raised tail and triangle-shaped ears.

It walks up to me without a care in the Universe.

Foolish creature. Should it not be more wary of me? Is its danger-sense completely defective?

Impossibly, the creature slinks around my leg, rubbing its body against me.

A strange noise emanates from its chest. It is a low, resonant rumble; a sound that is not unpleasant to my ears.

“Nyaw,” it says again.

Unlike the infernal hounds that occupy Kenna’s abode in Teluria, this animal is completely unafraid of me.

Is it venomous? Does it have possess sort of deadly attack that affords it the luxury of being so fearless?

Is it trying to lure me into a state of complacency so it can destroy me?

But I don’t sense any kind of hostile intent emanating from its small body.

“What do you want?” I murmur. All of a sudden, I’m overcome with an irrational urge to stroke the cursed thing behind its ears.

I refrain, taking a moment to study it.

Actually, the creature is in a pathetic state. It looks famished. The bones of its ribcage are protruding. Its coat is dull and matted. The fur has fallen out in places, leaving raw, crusted patches of skin.

“You are a survivor, hm? What are you doing out here, of all places?”

My comm activates. “Everything all right out there, Sir? Who are you talking to?”

The animal encircles me one more time, then promptly sits on its rear; tail stretched out behind it, feet pressed firmly against the floor.

It looks at me expectantly, slowly blinking its golden eyes.

Actually, the way it sits is rather… elegant.

I sigh. “Everything is fine, Varuda. Come out. I want to ask your opinion on something.”

My pilot appears in an instant, snapping to attention as soon as he catches sight of me. He appears rather shocked that I would seek his thoughts on a matter.

Then again, most of the younger ones are like that. Slightly awed and eager to please. Those that have not worked with me directly often misunderstand me at first.

But he will learn.

“S-Sir?” Varuda’s golden eyes are wide with disbelief as he takes in the strange animal. “What opinion could I possibly offer to you?”

“Do not underestimate yourself,” I growl. “Now, look at this creature and tell me. Have you ever seen one of these before?”

Varuda frowns. “I… I think so. It could be one of those things the humans call… cat.” He says the last word awkwardly; it is a human word, after all.

There is no word for this thing in my language.

“Is it dangerous to humans?”

“I… don’t know.” The pilot shrugs. “Can’t see how. Look at it. It is completely gormless. Probably why it isn’t thriving in this place.”

“Hm.” I meet the animal’s luminous golden eyes.

It tips its head again, as if trying to communicate. “Rrr?”

Then it turns on me, rising to its feet and arching its back. It does a little stretch, sharp claws extending from its furry paws. Its scrawny body is sinuous and graceful. Almost disdainfully, it walks away, slinking up the cruiser’s ramp.

Into the dark confines of my very own ship.

It does not appear to possess the poor dark-sight that humans are afflicted with. If anything, it seems perfectly at home.

“Should I exterminate it, sir?” Varuda reaches for his gun.

I shrug. “No. Let it be.”

Varuda gives me a startled look—as if I have grown three horns or something.

I shrug. “Let’s go. The humans will know what to do with it.”

Any creature that is able to retain such serenity and composure around us can have a little leeway from me. The animal—this so-called cat—holds no prejudice. It is completely oblivious to the chaos of the Universe.

Perhaps Abbey will like it.

Perhaps it will amuse my daughter.

“Uh, sir…”

“Tarak,” I correct. “We aren’t imperial soldiers anymore.”

“Uh…” Varuda offers me a small bow of respect. He swallows. “T-Tarak. Sir. About the cat.”

“Yes?”

“It looked a little… hungry, don’t you think?”

I nod. “Do you know what it would eat?”

“No idea.”

“Offer it a protein bar. Maybe it’s carnivorous.”

Varuda is skeptical. “Doesn’t really look like a hunter to me.”

“Are you sure? Did you not notice its claws and fangs?”

“You’re a lot more observant than me, sir.”

I shrug. I have to be. Everything depends upon it. “Hunter or not, it is not doing a very good job of surviving. I suspect it has evolved to live symbiotically in the company of larger predators.”

“Like humans?”

“Yes. It appears humans are destined to become that way, too.”

THREE

ABBEY

I run my fingers across the surface of Aunt Kenna’s old seagrass rug, comforted by the familiar feeling. It’s rough and smooth at the same time, the braided fibers worn smooth by years of bare human feet.

I remember this rug from when I was a kid.

I remember playing on it. I must’ve been around six or seven, excitedly tipping out the various ‘mystery boxes’ full of old toys and curiosities that Kenna used to get me from the Re-use Shop in Teluria.

Now my kid is playing on that very same rug.

Ami is working on a puzzle.

It only has six pieces—big, chunky pieces of wood that slot together to form a grinning black and white cow.

The edges of the puzzle are slightly worn, the wooden blocks darkened with age. One of them has faint bite-marks on the corner. There’s a green scribble on another. Apparently, it used to be mine when I was around Ami’s age, not that I remember.

I can’t believe Kenna kept it—or anything of mine, for that matter. Ever since Ami came into the world, my aunt has been sneakily re-appearing these random bits and pieces—toys and whatnot—that used to belong to me.

It’s kind of funny. Being Tarak’s wife, I have the most advanced alien tech in the Nine Galaxies at my disposal, and yet our daughter plays with my old, roughly-loved toys from Earth.

I like it that way.

If there’s one thing we humans are superior at, it’s creating cute things.

Kordolians aren’t so good at doing warm and fuzzy. The Empire was a cold, forbidding place, full of cold, cruel people.

I should know.

Good thing my husband’s not like that. Not anymore, anyway.

“Ami,” I say gently, trying to catch my child’s attention.

Nope. She’s gone.

I know when she’s in full concentration mode, because she does this little thing with her tongue, sticking it halfway out through her cute little pout.

Hyper-focus.

Oh, it’s on.

She’s going to get this damn puzzle done.

Takes after her father, in that respect.

Kenna traipses in from the kitchen, barefoot and wearing a faded old T-shirt that has a picture of a cartoon penguin wearing flip-flops on the front.

She’s got food in her hands. A small platter with chopped up carrot and celery and homemade breadsticks. A bowl of homemade hummus. Boiled eggs for Ami.

I nearly weep.

It’s all so normal, and I’m grateful for that.

Today is a holiday; a brief respite from the dark austerity of the Kordolian military ships.

Tarak surprised me.

We’ve been cooped up on his damn ship for weeks on end while the Universe rages around us, and then just this morning, he snuggled up to me and put his warm lips beside my ear and whispered that we could make a brief visit to Earth, because there’s a small window of opportunity.

Something about his enemies being in disarray at the moment.

Something about some business he had to attend to on Earth. And of course, he brings the whole damn contingent of ships and warriors and lord knows what else, so that he can be within a sneeze of us at any given moment.

Right now, he’s off doing something, but Kordolian ships travel so fast that he’ll be here within a moment’s notice if he has to. In the meantime, there are over a dozen badass alien warriors standing guard outside, just in case some doofus tries to mess with us.

Seriously, who would be so dumb as to go after us when we’re guarded by the most lethal bunch of warriors in the Universe?

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that the man who puts his arms around me—who sneaks up on me and surprises me with those wicked kisses of his, who holds my hand and tells me that everything’s going to be okay, because he’ll take care of everything—is a super-soldier and a master strategist and one of the most powerful beings in the entire Nine Galaxies.

Stars almighty.

What have I gotten myself into?

I still have to pinch myself sometimes.

Everything’s different now.

A knot forms inside my chest. My heart hammers wildly.

Soon, we’ll be going up again. Back into the cold, dark infinity of space, where we’ll be confined to Silence, unable to step outside and feel the warm sun and the fresh breeze upon our faces.

“Something on your mind, Abs?” Kenna lowers herself onto the floor beside me, placing the food in the center of the rug. She sits in a cross-legged position, running her fingers through her long, salt-and-pepper hair, pulling it into a tail and quickly braiding it.

Her fingers are nimble and quick.

She has amazing posture.

She’s in her mid-fifties by now, but she moves like a thirty-year old. She’s always in motion; rarely stopping, always caught up in some sort of mission; repairing things around the property, looking after the animals, pruning the fruit trees, you name it.

Actually, now that I think about it more, she’s a bit of a workaholic.

Like Tarak.

I seem to be surrounded by super-intense people.

Ami is currently trying to join the cow’s face to its butt. She lets out a little yowl of frustration.

I’m tempted to reach out and fix it for her, but I hold back.

Let her figure it out herself.

I turn to my aunt, frowning. “How can stuff not be on my mind? My mind keeps going off on tangents. I have these weird fears. Like, what if the Kordolians from the old empire have some sort of ace up their sleeve? What if Tarak has no choice but to…” I falter, unable to put that particular thought into words.

It’s just that I know my husband.

I know his heart; how good his intentions are, how strong his resolve is.

I also know the darkness that exists inside him.

Kenna picks out a carrot stick and scoops up a liberal amount of hummus. She takes a bite, the carrot delivering a hearty crunch. “It’s out of our hands now, Abbey. We humans have been speculating on the existence of extraterrestrial life for thousands and thousands of years. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Just be thankful that your husband is one of the good ones. I give him a hard time, but I’ve seen enough to know that he’s not going to risk losing you and Ami. The way he dotes on the two of you…” She trails off, wistful all of a sudden.

Something crosses her face—an expression I’ve never seen before—like sadness, regret, and acceptance, all rolled into one.

Aunt Kenna’s always been near-invulnerable. She never feels sorry for herself; never shares her fears and doubts with anyone.

“You’re a part of us too, you know,” I say gently, feeling out of my depth as I sense the discordance in her. “I would be completely lost without you, and Ami loves her nan. Even Tarak has the greatest respect for you.”

“I know that.” Kenna’s face tightens. She doesn’t even smile when Ami rolls across—a little ball of chaos—and puts a tiny hand on her knee, half a slice of egg disappearing into her mouth.

I get the feeling she wants to say something, but she doesn’t know how.

I hazard a guess as to what that is.

It’s risky, but sometimes, things need to be said, and Aunt Kenna is a person who usually appreciates bluntness.

I take a deep breath. “Are you thinking about him? The one with the black wings?”

I get the feeling it’s eating at you.

Ami dives into my lap. “Eat egg, mama?” She raises her crumbly-yolk encrusted fingers to my lips, offering a bit of her hard boiled egg.

“Sure!” I chomp it down. “You want some carrot, Ami?”

“Nah. Yukky!”

“Well, you definitely take after your dad with your food preferences, don’t you, Ami?” I run my fingers through her soft, wispy hair.

Kenna’s gaze is distant.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her look tired.

I gently point Ami toward her unfinished puzzle. “You haven’t finished your cow puzzle, sweetie.”

“Ah!” Ami’s laser focus returns, and she hones in on the puzzle again. Okay, so she doesn’t quite have her dad’s scary hyperfocus yet, but it’ll come.

What a delightful age. They’re so easily distracted.

“We weren’t together long,” Kenna says at last, as Ami gets to her feet and veers off toward the puzzle and the chaotic cluster of toys that spills out from the rug onto the polished concrete floor. “I’m fifty-four years old now, Abbey. Never married. Never had kids. I tried dates. I’ve had a few relationships with men. Some good, some bad. But none ever had the intensity of my relationship with Arthan. After him, I was ruined for all other men.”

Arthan.

That’s only the second time she’s ever spoken of him.

“What do you think happened to him?” I try my best to sound neutral, attempting to bury my anger at the thought that someone could just up and leave my beautiful aunt.

“I have no idea,” she said quietly, her voice eerily detached. “He told me there was one last thing he had to do… before he could be free. That he would return. That I needed to lay low and everything would be okay.”

“You think he was a good guy? That something happened to him?”

“I don’t know. I hope that’s what it is, for my sake. For his sake, I hope he just ghosted me, because at least that would mean he’s still alive—so I can kill him.” She smiles, but her eyes are empty.

A tiny lightbulb goes on in my head. This particular thought has occurred to me before, but I’ve been afraid to ask, worried about opening old wounds.

Besides, Kenna’s never brought it up.

“Tarak could find out,” I say softly. “I mean, only if you really wanted to…”

“I know.” Kenna lets out a wry little huff. “Why do you think I agreed to let Tarak and his little army set up on our land?”

My eyes widen. “You did a deal with him? All the way back then?”

“Well, I figured that if anyone could find the bastard, it would be him.”

“He didn’t tell me.” I shake my head in disbelief. Typical Tarak. He’s irritatingly tight-lipped about things he thinks will bother me.

“I’m the one that told him to keep it to himself. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and you had enough on your plate. You still do.” Kenna picks up another bit of carrot and crunches it loudly. “This kind of stuff won’t be around for much longer. Not after that little stint the enemy pulled with our sun. My citrus trees all have frost-burn.”

“We’ve got a plan for that.” I wave away her concerns, even though the possibility of losing Earth’s entire agricultural food supply is a perfectly legitimate thing to bring up. Ever since the Kordolians from the old empire tried to destroy our sun—and actually succeeded in blocking it out for a few days, sending Earth’s surface temperature plummeting—Earth’s food supplies have been running extremely low. “Don’t change the subject. You asked Tarak to look for this guy… this Arthan. Has he found anything yet?”

“He mentioned to me that he might have a lead. Turns out, Arthan might be alive… and he might not be a regular Avein, but I can’t say anything for sure yet. It’s looking very complicated, apparently.”

“That would make perfect sense. We Kendricks must have a thing for attracting the interesting ones. So, what’s Tarak found out about him?”

Kenna shrugs. “That’s all he’s told me. I guess I’ll have to wait.”

“I’ll tell him to work harder. He has to make this a priority.”

Kenna holds up a hand. “Don’t, Abbey. Your silver demon has enough on his plate, too. Don’t you reckon he ever gets tired of balancing all those different things at once? Of trying to protect everyone; trying to make both sides happy?”

A wry little chuckle escapes me. “Tarak doesn’t get tired.”

“Even a man like him has a brittle point, Abbey. Don’t ever forget that he needs you to take the sharpness out of him.”

I scrunch my nose. “Sharpness? What does that even mean?”

“You have to figure that out for yourself. He’s your husband. Just trust me when I say that even though he’s Tarak bloody al Akkadian, he’s still a man. And these aliens… I think we have a lot more in common that what you might think.”

“Yes and no,” I say mildly.

There are many Kordolian traits that are very, very different, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.

I smile as I notice Ami—in hyper-concentration mode once again. She’s finally starting to put the puzzle together properly.

Pride surges through me, but then again, the kid could blow a snot-bubble and I’d still be proud of her.

My Link buzzes, stealing my attention.

Breaking News. Tune in to the Networks now.

I sigh. Tarak thinks my little Link is the most ridiculous thing ever; to him, it’s nothing more than a primitive little piece of tech. He always tells me to get rid of it; that he’ll get his engineers to custom-design something for me.

But I’m not ready to let go of it just yet.

I’m used to the system, and besides, Tarak’s people have pulled off some sort of tweakery that makes all of our devices impervious to tracking and impenetrable to hackers.

“Hey, aunty, can we turn on the screen?”

Kenna leans across and picks something off a small quilted pouf beside the couch.

The ancient remote control.

I let out a little sigh. It’s mostly disbelief, mixed with a little bit of mild aggravation.

Kenna is so old-school when it comes to tech. Stubbornly old-school. She salvages bits of junk that are hundreds of years old and brings them back to life.

“Same old electricity,” she used to say. “Hasn’t changed voltage for hundreds of years. Why would it be any different now?”

On the wall hangs an ancient digital television screen that she dragged out of the shed a few months ago. Somehow, Kenna managed to convince Tarak’s techs to hook it up to Network and mount it on the wall.

They must’ve thought she was insane.

Compared to theirs, our tech is so damn primitive.

There’s a moment’s lag before the old screen lights up, and of course, it’s the Newsfeed that comes on, because that’s all we’ve ever watched around here since our world turned to chaos.

Kenna doesn’t even like watching the Newsfeed. If she had her way, she would completely disconnect from the world outside.

Part of me feels bad for bringing the Kordolian Universe to her doorstep, but she’s never given me a hard time about it, even though she grumbles about their strange alien ways from time to time.

Sitting behind the Newsdesk is a handsome young journalist called Davern Martin. I used to watch him a bit when I worked up on the mining station—before it exploded. They bring him on whenever there’s analysis to be done; he’s good at sniffing out leads that turn into Big Stories.

Now, why do I have a bad feeling about this?

“We’ve received credible information from an inside source that the Federation Government is preparing a for a major transition. Although the Kordolian presence in our orbit has been largely neutral up until now, all signs point toward the aliens taking a greater interest in influencing Earth’s politics. If these reports are verified, they would give a lot of weight to the theory that the Kordolians will gradually look to extend their influence over our civilization. What isn’t clear is whether The Federation will look to align with the official imperial group, or whether our government will seek protection from former general Tarak al Akkadian and his independent mercenary forces.”

“Ta-rak,” I say softly as Ami slots the final piece of the cow into place. “When you get home, you and I are going to have a talk.”

Davern’s movements are precise and economical and elegant as he lifts a glass of water toward his mouth and takes a sip. “Ever since President Jiao was ousted at the most recent election, relations with the Kordolians in our orbit have been uncertain. The effect of disinformation on recent alliances has many questioning whether the Federation’s stance on human-Kordolian relations and the alliance with the Imperial Group was premature. The question remains… whose side are we on now? Or perhaps we should be asking: whose side are they on?”

“Cow!” Ami blurts, stabbing her small, chunky finger into the puzzle, nearly breaking it up again. “Look mama, I made a cow!”

I beam at her. “That’s wonderful, Ami. You tried really hard. Good job!” Then I take a deep breath. “I’m going to kill him,” I say under my breath.

Zeus appears out of nowhere, slinking across the floor, pausing to sniff at the food, before deciding there’s nothing he fancies.

His second target is Ami. He lopes over to her and gives her a big, fat, slurpy lick on her cheek.

Ami giggles and puts her arms around the dog’s neck. Zeus nuzzles her.

The cuteness is unbearable.

Too bad the poor doggo is still terrified of Tarak.

Neither of our dogs will have anything to do with him.

Speak of the devil.

Zeus lets out a soft whimper. Then he promptly sticks his tail between his legs and disappears around the corner.

He’s here.

I feel bad for the dogs, but I’m really at a loss as to what to do. Some sort of exposure training, maybe? Have Tarak sit in the middle of the floor with pup treats in his hand and instructions to just exude the most non-threatening vibes possible?

Nah. Can’t do that to my husband.

His aura is a part of him, and it’s what makes him beautiful.

On cue, Tarak appears in the doorway, cradling something in his arms.

I make a face, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

No way…

Is that what I think it is?

FOUR

ABBEY

“Daddy!” Ami leaps up and runs to Tarak, wrapping her arms around one of his thick, trunk-like legs. He’s wearing simple casual attire—the flowing, silken robes Kordolians call a kashkan, and loose trousers. His feet are bare.

When he’s not in armor, my husband dresses simply, without any sort of embellishment.

He’s quite the minimalist, but when one’s body is a honed weapon and the very definition of perfection, I guess you can afford to be.

Ami’s expression twists into the most adorable quizzical frown as she stares at the bundle of fur in his arms. “What that?”

“This?” Tarak returns her frown with an indulgent look of his own. “I don’t really know. We should ask your mother, don’t you think?”

He meets my eyes, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and genuine curiosity.

Even though I’m annoyed, I can’t help but feel a flicker of desire.

Keep it together, Abbey.

Beside me, Kenna lets out a soft snort. She rises to her feet, her movements swift and economical, even though I can hear her joints cracking.

Kenna gives Tarak’s furry new acquisition a dubious look as she starts rubbing her nose. “I’ll leave you to give him the bad news, Abs. I’ve got to go and make sure the Kordolians don’t kill my chickens.” She gives Tarak a respectful nod. “Nice day for a trip to Earth.”

Reverting to perfect seriousness, Tarak returns her nod. “It is necessary,” he says simply, whatever that means.

They go their separate ways; Kenna disappearing through the doorway, Tarak advancing on me with Ami still clinging to his leg. She’s riding him as if he’s a toddler entertainment device at the amusement center.

Of course she is.

To our sweet child, the most feared warrior in the Nine Galaxies is nothing but a source of constant love and entertainment.

She can’t see him in any other light, and he revels in that fact.

A puff of exasperation escapes my lips. How can I even pretend to act annoyed with him? How? “Tarak, where on Earth did you get that cat?”

“So it is a cat,” he muses. With his thumb, he idly strokes the damn thing behind its ears. He looks like a damn villain in one of those terrible C-grade Network virtua-films.

A faint rumble emanates from its body. The damn animal is purring.

Ha. Buddy, if only you knew…

One does not simply jump into the arms of Tarak al Akkadian and start purring.

Well, only I’m allowed to do that.

“A skinny, mangy cat,” I add, scrunching my nose. “He needs a vet checkup, and probably some flea and worm and tick treatment.”

“Already done,” Tarak says, his tone almost smug. “It is a domesticated creature, then; a pet? It seems to behave in that manner.”

“Are you thinking of adopting him, then?” I can’t believe I’m even saying this.

Ami gasps as the cat lifts his head and gives her a lazy golden stare, blinking slowly. “Cat!”

A wave of pure happiness radiates from her.

We felt that.

We both felt that.

Tarak and I exchange a look.

“She likes him,” he argues. “We can easily sustain a small creature onboard the ship. He will be named Ragakorr.”

Ragakorr? Where do Kordolians even get these names from?

Ami reaches up with her small hand. “Pat him? I wanna pat him.”

The cat abruptly leaps out of Tarak’s arms and lands at Ami’s feet.

She lets out a squeal of excitement. Her emotions intensify, bubbling over into exuberant psychic energy that washes over all of us.

She tentatively reaches out.

The damn cat rubs his cheek against Ami’s hand. His purring intensifies. “He’s Bumpy,” she declares, saying Bumpy in English. “Name, Bumpy.”

“Ami,” Tarak says slowly; patiently, as if trying to explain something that’s highly controversial. “If you wish to have him as your pet, we can keep him. His name is Ragakorr.”

“Bumpy,” Ami insists.

Tarak looks as displeased as I’ve ever seen him.

I sigh. “Ami, do you want the cat to be called Bumpy, or Ragakorr?”

“Bumpy!” This time, she radiates pure emotion, and we both feel it. Tarak gives me a strange look as a blast of pure stubbornness washes over us—if stubbornness can be classed as an emotion, then Ami has it in spades.

Hmm, who does she get that from, I wonder?

Tarak raises a silvery eyebrow. He looks indulgently miffed. “Bumpy, hm?” He ruffles Ami’s hair. “Then he is your pet, Ami. You must provide for him and protect him from danger.”

“Protect?” Her eyes narrow in confusion.

Tarak’s lips curve into a gentle smile. I take a moment to marvel at the change that comes over him. He only ever gets like this with our daughter. It’s quite remarkable. “If someone tries to hurt him, you fight back, but only if you can. If they are stronger than you, you run away and call me.”

“Tarak,” I chide. “That’s not going to happen.”

“That is true. We will protect her until she is strong enough to fight back, but she must learn these things, because one day, she is going to have power at her disposal, and I will move suns and stars and planets to ensure that she is never corrupted.”

“About that power…”

“Ashrael and Noali are working on a program, with the input of the developmental specialist you found. Ami’s abilities are not yet developed enough to be harmful, but it is important that we start training her before they manifest into something more dangerous.”

I raise my hand. “We need to discuss this in more detail, Tarak.”

He moves closer, taking my hand into his, completely disarming me. I catch a tendril of his scent; crisp, clean, familiar, male. Tempting. He’s smiling. The look he reserved for Ami is now directed at me, and it’s changed somewhat.

It becomes a little bit possessive.

“Tarak,” I growl. “I’m sure Ash and Noa will be great, but I want to make one thing clear. Whatever happens, we need to ensure Ami is allowed to have a childhood.”

Ami is now contentedly playing with her new pet, Bumpy. He doesn’t bite or scratch, even though she’s being a little over-enthusiastic with the pats.

“Gently, Ami,” I remind her.

“Oh.” Ami suddenly starts being super gentle, stroking Bumpy along his back. He arches his back and lets out a rumbling purr.

Tarak pulls me closer, until he’s standing behind me, his big hands resting on my shoulders. “Of course, Abbey.” The low murmur of his voice sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. “She will have all the things that children are supposed to have. Even with the constant moving—from planet to ship and back—she has us by her side.” He lets out a soft sigh; a rare display of vulnerability. “I do not remember what it was like to be a child; to have endless freedom and play with wild abandon. In these things, I am relying on you to guide me.” Gently; tenderly, he massages my shoulders. “The next phase of our lives is going to have its challenges, my amina. Our enemies might be momentarily weakened, but I expect them to retaliate with all the viciousness that my kind is notorious for. They will not strike again until they are convinced they can deal us a serious blow.” His voice softens. “That is why I allowed this reprieve. It might be some time before we can return to Earth again.”

His words cause me both comfort and deep anxiety. I know he can handle this kind of thing. He’s never let me down, and he’s saved my life more than once.

He’s the most capable person I’ve ever known.

But the constant shifting; the uncertainty, the unknown… it sends me into a spiral of worry that’s getting harder and harder to contain.

And now that we have Ami; this sweet, precious, innocent little thing, every danger and every threat feels like it’s amplified a thousand-fold.

“You must advise me,” Tarak murmurs, coming in close so that his breath feathers across my ear, “on all things human. When it comes to Earth-things, I just want to make you happy, Abbey.”

I try my very best to resist his sweet-dangerous-sexy-tenderness. I only half-succeed, but it’s enough. “Ta-rak,” I say slowly, employing my best telling-off voice. “If you’re serious about that, then please explain why I’m hearing about some potential Kordolian takeover of Earth’s government from the infernal Networks, of all places?”

My hand flies to my mouth. Oops. Did I just say… infernal?

These damn Kordolians must be rubbing off on me.

Tarak’s clever hands drop to my waist. He traces his fingers along the small of my back, finding a certain pressure point. There, he rubs me just a little bit harder.

He always seems to know exactly where I’m stiff and achy; always seems to be able to rub me in the right spot.

“I’m not perfect,” he murmurs, and his deep, growly voice fills me with restless warmth. “Sometimes, even I do impulsive things.”

“Impulsive?” I can hardly believe my own ears. “You’re telling me that the great and formidable General Tarak al Akkadian has gone and done something that wasn’t in his plans to begin with?”

“Sort of.” His tone is both smug and mischievous. “Well, it has been on my mind for some time, but I was making a point of being judiciously restrained… out of consideration for my favorite humans. Then, as these things usually go, several factors coalesce to force my hand.” Like some big, dangerous beast that’s agreed to be tamed, he rests his chin on my shoulder, leaning his head against mine.

His soft hair brushes against my cheek, stirring all kinds of feelings inside me.

Be strong, Abbey. You’re supposed to be mad at him, remember?

I swear, this is one of his many strategies. I should be wise to him by now.

“I find that hard to believe,” I grumble skeptically as he wraps his big arm around my waist. “You don’t do anything by chance.”

Despite my best efforts to act stern and serious, the warm tension inside me intensifies.

“I found you by chance, didn’t I? Tore apart the entire empire because of it.” He wraps his arms around me again, holding me in a firm embrace. His lips find the hollow of my neck. “Some of the best things I’ve done have been on a whim.”

I melt a little bit.

Ami is lying down on the rug beside Bumpy, stroking his patchy fur as he sits beside her with perfect poise, his paws neatly together. Suddenly, he’s not a skinny, mangy stray.

He’s an elegant beast.

I’ve always been more a dog person, but I can kind of see why the Ancient Egyptians worshipped cats.

Just look at our daughter. She’s utterly fascinated by this small, slinky creature.

“Waaah!” Ami’s mouth opens in a big, oval-shaped yawn.

The cat stretches and lies down beside her, making himself comfortable.

Way too comfortable.

He must’ve lived with people, once.

Where on Earth did Tarak pick up this stray?

My eyes narrow. “Tarak, she’s going to fall asleep in a minute,” I whisper. “She’s been playing hard all morning. She must be exhausted.”

“On it.” He gently disentangles himself from me and goes to scoop Ami up from the rug. “Time to take a nap, my child.”

“But Bumpy!” Ami protests loudly, her tiny voice crescendoing into brittle irritability as Tarak lifts her into his arms.

“I’ve got him,” I sigh, bending over to pick up the damn cat.

Bumpy is as compliant as can be, arching his body a little as if to make it more convenient for me to pick him up. For a newcomer, he’s almost too calm. Why can’t the dogs be like this when Tarak’s around?

“Oh, you know you’re onto a good thing, don’t you?”

“Nyaw,” Bumpy agrees.

I sigh and follow Tarak as he carries Ami out the door and heads for the steel-and-glass structure across the yard—Kenna’s guesthouse, and our home away from home.

He curses softly as the afternoon sun hits his face, but his skin remains intact.

Since coming to Earth, Kordolians have learned to use sunscreen—well, their version of it, some high-tech, nano-tech, invisible coating that prevents their delicate silver skin from burning to a crisp under our harsh sun.

Kordolians don’t like ultraviolet.

Even my husband, as seemingly invincible as he is, doesn’t do well in the daylight.

Thank the stars our daughter hasn’t inherited that Kordolian trait from him. She’s no more susceptible to sunlight than I am.

We enter the guesthouse, which is cool and super quiet, thanks to the enhanced technology the Kordolians have installed in and around the building.

Ami has laid her head down on daddy’s shoulder. Her soft platinum-colored lashes drift up and down. Open, closed. Open, closed.

Tarak rocks gently, lulling her into sleep.

He’s pretty good at this by now.

She half-heartedly reaches for Bumpy, her tiny arm rising then falling.

She’s fighting it, but the lull of the afternoon nap is too damn powerful.

“I’ve got him,” I reassure her, holding the cat up for her to see. He’s worryingly light in my hands, poor thing. We’ll have to fatten him up.

We take Ami to her room, which is decorated in neutral colors with a dash of purple and pink. Her bed—with its pastel amethyst duvet—has been untouched since the last time we stayed here.

Tarak gently lays her down and reclines on the bed beside her, as if he were a much bigger version of her furry little friend.

For a brief, ludicrous moment, I imagine him as a big black cat; lithe and powerful and sinuous, only he wouldn’t be a domestic cat.

He’d be a big, dangerous cat; a jaguar, or a leopard.

I let Bumpy jump out of my arms and onto the bed. He finds a space at the foot of the bed and promptly curls up at Tarak’s feet.

How surreal all of this is… that the man who probably holds the fate of the Nine Galaxies in the palm of his hand can just chill on our daughter’s bed with the kid and the cat, looking so damn contented.

It’s the cutest thing ever. I should just let them have this moment together.

I start to tiptoe out of the room, but Tarak turns his head ever so slightly, one eyebrow raised as his piercing red eyes hone in on me. “Where are you going?”

“Um, I’m just, you know…”

“Come here.” He reaches across with one arm and beckons.

Damn. Nothing ever gets past him. Not that I’m complaining. I sidle up to him and let him wrap his arm around my waist. He shifts his body ever so slightly and suddenly I’m being lifted off the ground and over his big frame, and somehow, I end up curled up in the bed with Tarak spooning me, in-between him and Ami, who has just about drifted off to sleep.

Her sweet little rosebud lips are slightly parted. Her lashes fall across her skin, delicate and perfect. Her chest rises and falls.

She’s the most precious thing ever.

The damn cat is purring.

Tarak’s hand comes to rest on the curve of my hip. For a moment, we just lie there, bodies pressed together, relaxed and content, watching our daughter as she slips into a deep sleep.

Is there anything more beautiful and peaceful than the sight of a sleeping child?

Even though we’re only visiting.

And despite all the uncertainty…

I feel safe.

Impossible man.

I’ve even nearly forgotten that I’m miffed with him.

“Let’s go,” he whispers.

Must. Not. Forget.

“Downstairs,” I growl-whisper, trying my best to sound stern as I roll over and look him in the eye. “In the kitchen.” Now my chest is pressed against his, and I can feel his heat radiating through the silken fabric of his kashkan.

Tarak smiles indulgently. “As you wish.”

His gaze is soft and tender. So different to how people perceive him.

Such a contrast to the hardness down there…

Yikes.

Oh no, buddy. This time, you’ll have to wait.

Even though my own arousal is flaring like crazy, I stick to my guns. I never thought I’d say this, but… “Tarak. We need to talk.”

FIVE

TARAK

“What’s going on, Tarak?”

Direct and to the point.

That is my mate. She has always been like this, even when she knew me as a Kordolian General, at a time when I wasn’t very fond of humans.

Fearless. Sometimes too much.

Abbey is leaning against the kitchen bench, her arms crossed, her body tense. She challenges me with a direct stare.

I revel in it. With her, there are no barriers; no pretenses. None of the fawning or assumptions or prejudices that usually come when people encounter me—even when I know them well.

“You didn’t bring us all down to Earth just for rest and relaxation. Just what are you up to, hmm? Did you overthrow the Federation Government?”

“I did not.” I smile. I can’t help it. How did she jump to that conclusion so quickly? She knows me too well. Better than anyone in the Universe. I can’t hide my intentions from her. “I’ll admit, I did pay the new president of The United Federation of Earth a visit. Our discussion was a fruitful one. She has agreed to relinquish control of government to my people.”

Abbey frowns. The downwards curve of her lips is just delectable. “You went to see Inez Viray?”

“Just a quick visit, unannounced. She did find my proposal quite agreeable.”

“Of course she did.” My wife’s tone is distinctly disapproving. “I hope you didn’t scare her half to death.”

“She’s the leader of Earth. I am sure she will get over it.”

“Tarak.” Abbey lets out a puff of exasperation. “I know what your overall aim is, but managing this planet is a lot more complicated than what you might think.”

I tip my head in acknowledgement. “I’ve stayed here long enough to understand that I know very little about your kind. That’s why I’m passing that responsibility on to you.”

Her expression goes blank. She blinks. Goddess, she’s beautiful. Her hand drops to her chest. Her eyes go wide in surprise. “Me?”

“You and whomever you decide is suitable to rule alongside you.”

“Rule?”

Now she’s angry. Her eyes grow hard. Her entire body stiffens. Her eyebrows draw together.

I lean back in my chair and say nothing, giving her time to vent. I can, I think, understand how my actions could violate her trust.

A trust I’ve worked so very hard to grow and keep.

Hm. Since when did I worry so much about such things? These humans must be rubbing off on me.

But I will make her understand my reasoning. Soon, she will understand exactly why this was necessary, and why now, of all times.

“I don’t care what position you give me. Earth is not going to be ruled as if it’s some bloody Kordolian outpost. Especially not by me. We humans do things differently, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Her voice trembles ever so slightly.

She’s as beautiful as ever, and mildly terrifying in her anger. It pains me to see her this way, but sometimes, these things are unavoidable.

Being two things at once; both nurturing and ruthless…

It is hard.

“I don’t ever want Earth to fall under your absolute rule.” Her gaze softens a fraction. Suddenly, her eyes are clear, and there is a sliver of hope in her expression. “You have too much power at your disposal, Tarak. Too much. But I’ve been by your side all this time. To say I’m pissed is an understatement, but I’d like to think I know you well enough by now. So what is going on?”

I find myself inordinately pleased at her reaction. Outside of the First Division, there are very few that do not take me at face value.

They all assume I’m going to eventually lop their heads off, or something.

But Abbey, she knows me.

And that is why I am able to keep sane in the midst of all of this unfolding chaos.

“A few things,” I say quietly, adopting the same tone I would with one of my First Division, or my commanders. “The recent solar-interference and subsequent climatic changes on Earth have resulted in a looming food security crisis. The new orbital agricultural facilities—as you well know, you helped design them, after all—are not yet capable of producing sufficient quantities to sustain Earth’s population. It is necessary to import food.”

“The systems are up and running. We’ve already started shipping large quantities of food to Earth; distributing through the already established supply chains. It’ll only take a few months for us to be at optimal production capacity.”

“A few months is too long, my amina. Food shortages can rapidly lead to instability, and I will not have that on your home planet. In the meantime, we must control the situation.”

“Go on.” Her body language softens, just a fraction. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

“On Eiolan, the planet humans call Miridian-8, Arkan has killed a Mistress.”

“Mistress… as in one of those psychic people? The ones that control the Silent Ones?”

“Correct. It is unclear how many were trapped under her thrall. It is possible that some of the freed Silent Ones may be on Earth.”

In fact, one of them certainly is, because we hold him captive.

“That is a little bit terrifying.”

“Only we have the capacity to seek and neutralize them. The Federation’s forces would be no match for even a single Silent One.”

“That’s true.” She frowns and adjusts her posture, making a tiny sound of dissatisfaction as she shifts this way and that, trying to relieve some sort of discomfort.

Humans; they fidget a lot. My wife and daughter especially.

At last, she reaches some sort of agreement with herself and jumps up onto the bench, using it as a seat. I admire the way her thighs look right now; firm and voluptuous, encased in the soft fabric of her pants. I want to run my hand over them.

But I don’t dare. Not yet.

Instead, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. “Then, there is the matter of the traitors on Earth. Humans that have betrayed their own people for the sake of greed or power or simply because they have been manipulated by the Krael. The nature of the incidents we have seen so far leads me to suspect that there is facilitation from within the ranks of Earth’s government. Corruption. I cannot have that, Abbey. Not with the current threat level. For now, I must take control of this planet’s intelligence and military apparatuses.”

She says nothing. I can see her mind working behind that cute fierce glare of hers.

“Our enemies will strike sooner or later. There are many vulnerabilities that could lead to all-out conflict on Earth—amongst humans themselves. I will not tolerate that.”

“Hm.” Her expression is inscrutable, her mood unfathomable. I do not know whether she is displeased or in agreement with me.

This is new.

Normally, my mate is so open and expressive. She displays her emotions freely and is never afraid to share her innermost feelings and thoughts.

But this side of her; it is also alluring. I find it impossibly sexy. Since having Ami, Abbey has developed a certain hardness that seems to come out now and then, especially where the fate of her people is concerned.

I like it very much.

I temper the smile that threatens to curve my lips. Now is not the time; I do not want to provoke her further.

Instead, I drink in all of the sublime traces of her presence.

The steady, even, reassuring sound of her heartbeat. The aura of human warmth radiating from her. The elegant lines of her neck as she tilts her head to one side. The stray filaments of golden-brown hair that escape from her messy topknot, framing her delicate features.

Her sweet, rich, all-encompassing human female scent. Unique to her. If I was placed in a room with a billion different scents, I would be able to pick hers out in an instant.

And of course, now there’s a subtle change to her scent.

I’ve experienced it once before.

It’s probably time to tell her.

“Tarak,” she says suddenly, her voice low and carrying more than a hint of warning. “What?”

I cannot read her right now, but she can somewhat read me.

How refreshing.

“Mundane reasons aside, there is one reason above all others that is behind my sudden decision.”

“And what might that be?”

“Abbey.” I allow my excitement and tenderness to spill over. My pride. My intent. That I will protect her and our younglings from all that seeks to harm them. “I think you need to test. For pregnancy.”

She blinks slowly. Once. Twice. Her lips part ever so slightly, revealing glistening temptation. “Test…”

Slow-dawning realization creeps across her face.

The last of her anger evaporates.

She slides off the bench and slowly walks toward me.

“Come here,” I growl, extending my hand.

She hesitates for a moment, before giving me a wry look. “Are you sure?”

I tap the side of my nose. “This never lies.”

A ghost of a smile flits across her lips, but never quite makes it. “I’m still mad at you, you know.” Abbey slips her fingers into mine and takes a step forward. I savor the feeling of her warmth and softness against my hard, callused palm.

Gently, I draw her toward me. “I am sorry I did not tell you of my plans earlier, Abbey. Perhaps I was a little too presumptuous in taking your trust as granted.”

She hovers on the threshold, her eyes searching, her expression still a little guarded. “You know, at some point it occurred to me that I was the only thing standing between you and the entire human race.”

I tip my head in acknowledgement.

That much is true.

If not for her, I would have seized this planet a long time ago. As it is, I have been far too permissive with these humans.

“So it scared me a little when I got an inkling that you might be forcibly taking over, because I know just how easy it would be for you to…” Her voice wavers. A shadow enters her gaze.

“Be a tyrant.”

“I was going to say something more along the lines of forcing humans to meet your impossibly high standards, but yes, that’s one blunt way of putting it.” Still, she holds back, tentatively threading her fingers through mine, but nothing else. “But now I understand what’s driving it. You’re the only person who could get away with that excuse for taking over Earth.” Her brows draw together. “But… are you sure? It’s not even late enough in my cycle to know whether I’ll miss my period or not.”

“I know.” The change in her scent is unmistakable. The result of hormonal changes, is how Zharek explained it. “How could I forget, when you were so delectable the last time you were with child?”

Despite her best efforts to resist me, a faint blush creeps into her cheeks.

I can smell her arousal.

I relent a little as she enchants me all over again. “My amina, we have been mated long enough. You know me better than anyone. Do you truly believe that I will run around behaving like some petty Kordolian emperor? Do I hold you to my so-called impossibly high standards?” I incline my head and smile. I can’t help it. She’s just too beautiful. “Of which I was not aware, until you informed me of such.”

She rolls her eyes—a distinctly human habit. Her shoulders slump a fraction. The stiffness melts from her posture.

She edges a little closer to me; enough that I can disentangle my fingers from hers and place my hand on her waist.

She lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Did I not say I was going to put you in charge of all Earth-related matters?”

“I don’t think you understand how ridiculous that is,” she says quietly, leaning in, allowing my touch to become a prelude to an embrace. “I’m just a plant biologist. I don’t know how to govern a planet with seven billion people on it.”

I run my fingers up and down the curve of her back, applying gentle pressure, drawing her ever closer. “I have studied your planet’s leaders. They do not always fit the definition of qualified when it comes to being in charge, don’t you think?”

“Mmhm,” she agrees, grudgingly.

“Do you think they know everything? That they always make decisions that are first and foremost in the best interest of the human race?”

She laughs; a deep, throaty sound that I never cease to find irresistible. “I’ve had my gripes with the government in the past.”

“Do you think they do not rely on advisors; on strategists, on analysts that feed them packages of highly summarized information?”

“Is that what you do?” There’s a hint of mischief in her voice now; a glimmer of teasing in her eyes. Her defiance is alluring.

“Sometimes,” I say quietly. “Not always. But then, I have more than enough experience with being in charge. My wife, why should you have any qualms about assuming command of your humans when you have me by your side? You are not just anything, Abbey of Earth. You are mine.”

I hook my leg around hers, pressing against her supple calf. Her body sways toward me ever so slightly.

“I know that,” she says quietly. “And I’m a little annoyed that you get to weasel your way out of these things by being so fucking clever and…”

“And?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Infuriating.”

“And?”

“Don’t make me say it.” She pulls her leg away from mine and promptly sits in my lap, straddling me.

Kaiin’s Hells. I was not expecting that. A torrent of pure desire engulfs me. I’m instantly hard. She stops just short of pressing herself against the blissful agony that is my erect cock.

Now the balance of power has shifted.

It’s all hers.

“Say what, Abbey?” My voice is a hoarse whisper.

She leans in. “Not going to say it. I’m still annoyed with you, you know.”

“So you have downgraded to merely annoyed?”

“Yes. I am annoyed, and I’m also in shock right now. And I’m overjoyed.” She gives me a look; a slow, deep, emotion-filled look that makes me want to tear down the skies for her.

Her eyes are twin pools of mesmerizing green and brown, shimmering with the promise of tears.

Such a very human thing. They cry when they are happy or sad, or sometimes for no reason at all.

I place my crooked finger under her chin, tilting her face toward me.

There’s no need to say anything else.

I lean in and kiss her. Gently. Tenderly. Because she has shown me how to be this way.

I am sorry, my amina. I may be a heavy-handed brute, and that part of me will never change, because I know how the Universe works. But I will do everything in my power to ensure that you and our children always have a sanctuary here.

She kisses me back, momentarily forgetting her ire. She is sweetness and light; warmth and beauty.

Everything that I am not.

Ah, this life is complicated indeed.

SIX

ABBEY

I should be dragging him over the coals right now, but instead I find myself responding to his kiss with frantic urgency.

My body is on fire. I press my hands against his broad, muscular chest, seeking his solidness; his warmth.

He’s a rock amidst the chaos, always.

He threads his fingers through my hair, untangling my messy bun so that my hair falls down around my face.

He strokes the side of my face, his touch sure and possessive.

His devious lips capture mine, his tongue probing insistently; relentlessly, his touch triggering a cascade of heat that surges through my chest, down into my core, right between my legs, making me throb.

My body yearns for more.

Right now, I need him.

Since when did I become such a fucking pushover?

Well, I’m only human, and what’s a mere human supposed to do when her husband is devastatingly sexy?

When he’s made of silver and white and molten red, with a body to die for; warmth radiating through the thin silken fabric of his kashkan, the sculpted planes of his body so perfect and familiar beneath my bands.

Right now, I can’t be upset with him.

Especially when I know exactly who he is, and where he’s come from.

Actually, considering what he’s capable of, he’s being very restrained.

At least he acknowledged the fact that I was upset. In the past, he would have just ruthlessly gotten on with the job.

And his offer to put me in charge; to give me control over the fate of my very own people…

His past self wouldn’t have done that, either.

Stars, this man.

He slips his hands beneath the hem of my top, placing them over my belly.

A gesture of knowing and pure possessiveness.

I still can’t believe it.

I’m pregnant? I thought I was supposed to be the one to break the news, not the other way around.

But he’s right; his damn preternatural sense of smell never lies.

He gently separates his lips from mine and looks up, inhaling deeply, his nostrils flaring.

A shudder courses through him.

His eyes are filled with pure, naked desire.

What do I do? Honestly, what am I supposed to do with this impossible creature?

I edge closer, until I can feel his erection through the layers of our clothing; his tempting, undeniable hardness pressing against me. I grind my hips a little, teasing him.

Playing with fire.

He’s already tugging my stretchy pants down over my hips; my thighs, bringing my panties along with them. I rise to my feet and shimmy a little, allowing him to pull them right down so my thighs and ass are exposed.

He doesn’t say a word.

He just moves with his usual fluid grace; with effortless power, lifting me up and carrying me to the kitchen bench, where he gently lays me on my back and teases apart my thighs.

He kisses my lower belly; slowly, tenderly, before trailing kisses downwards, until his lips are pressing against my hyper-sensitive entrance, sending me into a spiral of bliss.

His tongue darts out, caressing my clit.

A low, guttural moan escapes my lips.

I barely recognize myself; the way I sound right now.

Tarak looks up and smiles; a wicked, fang-y smile. “Let’s suspend talks for now. This is more important.”

“I’m still annoyed with you,” I say weakly, propping myself up on my elbows—only just. My legs are jelly. My body knows only anticipation and complete surrender.

“Hm.” He tastes me again, sucking gently on my clit, making me frantic. I writhe and twist as he places one hand on my arm, holding me, allowing me to anchor myself to him. I grip his forearm, my nails digging into his warm skin.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

And this is the best thing ever.

Tarak is standing before me, hunched over, his other hand pressed against the hard, gleaming surface of the bench.

He’s still dressed. I can see the smooth, gleaming expanse of his chest, partly exposed between the loose vee of his kashkan. I want to tear his clothes off. The robe barely hides his muscular frame; his powerful, sculpted shoulders and arms.

I reach out with my other arm, fumbling, managing to grab the edge of his kashkan, which I slide over his shoulder. “Take your damn clothes off,” I growl.

He comes up for air.

Smirks.

Lifts his hand and whips it behind him, and all of a sudden, his robe-thing falls away, revealing him in all his silver-skinned glory.

“Better?”

“Hmph.” The sheer cockiness of him makes me snort. “What about your—”

He doesn’t let me finish. All of a sudden, he’s going down on me again, making me gasp as I wrap my legs around him, and before I can even comprehend exactly what the hell has just happened, I’m rocked by a powerful wave of pleasure, and I climax against his insistent lips, and he’s refusing to let me come down, making long, sensual strokes with his tongue, and I’m holding on for dear life; holding him harder, thrusting my fingers into his hair and twisting as I moan and writhe, whimpering for more.

Of course, he gives it to me.

He knows exactly what I need.

He’s overwhelming, consuming me completely.

Completely in control.

Just like always.

Until I pull him up toward me and steal a deep kiss, tasting myself on his lips as the aftershocks of climax course through me.

I slide down off the bench, pushing him backwards until I’m on my knees in front of him, enjoying the look of surprise that transforms his elegant features as I pull down his loose trousers and curl my fingers around his hard, massive cock.

Only I can make him react that way.

His surprise quickly disappears, replaced with a look of pure desire.

And delight.

I take his cock between my lips, tasting the faint salty-sweetness of his arousal; my tongue gliding over the glistening pearl of liquid at the tip of his erection.

I give him pleasure.

A ridge runs down his length. It presses against my upper lip, reminding me of his alienness.

I caress him with my tongue.

The sound of his voice; hoarse and wracked with pleasure…

It fills me with satisfaction.

He threads his fingers through my hair and gently guides me. I close my eyes and hold an image of him in my mind’s eye; he’s standing before me in wild abandon, kashkan open and about to slip off his damn shoulders, head tipped backwards, eyes closed, mouth parted, fangs slightly exposed, completely and utterly…

Irresistible.

Powerful.

Yet vulnerable.

I’m in control now.

For a brief and elusive moment.

Until he decides that he can’t take it anymore, and he’s groaning softly and gently pulling me back, and then he takes me into his arms, and all of a sudden, I’m being lifted up; as light as a feather again—it’s always that way with him—and now I’m straddling him. He grips my ass, suspending me there as he gently guides himself inside me.

And I’m in ecstasy.

I wrap my arms around his neck and let him fuck me into oblivion.

SEVEN

ABBEY

Afterwards, he spoils me with kisses and makes me a cup of coffee just the way I like it—with loads of milk froth on top and a sprinkling of cocoa.

Well, he doesn’t actually make the coffee, he uses the kitchen-bot, but that’s good enough for me.

“The cat can have two names,” I say at last, after taking a sip of perfectly warmed, creamy-smooth-nutty-aromatic coffee.

It’s exactly what I need right now. I feel so languid and relaxed that I could easily fall asleep. All the tension has drained out of my body—tension I didn’t even realize I was hanging onto.

Plus, I didn’t exactly get the best sleep last night.

I steal a glance at my husband, who is fixing himself some sort of super-protein snack and a cup of bitter tea that the Kordolians call elixir.

Even though he’s grudgingly admitted to enjoying our flavor-packed human food, Tarak still religiously eats those disgusting gelatinous protein bars that all the Kordolian warriors seem to chow down on from time to time.

He’s a creature of habit, and some habits die hard, apparently.

Even though he has access to mind-boggling levels of credit and power, he leads a fairly spartan existence.

Even though he likes to spoil Ami and I.

“Bumpy Ragakorr,” I say wryly. “It’s a very distinguished name for a scrawny stray.”

“He will not be scrawny for long,” Tarak assures me, taking a slow sip of his tea as he leans back against the kitchen bench. “We will feed him and nurture him back to full health. Zharek has little to do at the moment. He will learn about treating human pets.”

He’s bare-chested now, having discarded his kashkan—well, not quite discarded. In typical Tarak style, he’s meticulously folded it and placed it on a nearby chair.

He’s orderly to the point of being obsessive.

I’m the messy one.

My eyes travel across his bare torso. I take in his honed perfection; all rippling muscles and smooth silver skin.

He’s like a sculpture of a Greek god, dipped in silver, only he’s warm and larger than life.

And as always, he’s completely unaware of how attractive he is.

There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t pinch myself.

“You know, generally we humans are divided into two camps,” I say quietly, allowing myself to enjoy the peacefulness and intimacy of the moment. “You’re either a dog person, or a cat person. Me, I’m a dog person, but I can tolerate the cat, if he makes you and Ami happy.”

“He is not my cat,” Tarak says haughtily. “I merely picked him up for our daughter’s amusement.”

“So you would be happy for him to have one name, then? Just Bumpy?” I smirk. Tarak is the most fun person to tease in the entire Universe. “Because he’s not your cat, right?”

He contemplates me with the most serious look—as if he’s about to make some big tactical decision. “The creature will have two names. It is only fitting.”

“Suit yourse—” I’m cut off as an unholy scream pierces the air.

A wave of pure distress hits me, nearly knocking me off my chair.

Ami!

Tarak’s off in a flash, leaving his steaming mug of tea on the kitchen bench, moving so fast he becomes a silver and white blur.

I’ve only just managed to get to my feet by the time he’s disappeared up the stairs, but I do my best to race after him—as best as my regular old human body will allow, anyway.

Well, I’m a little faster than I used to be, thanks to some Kordolian nano-surgery I had done a while ago.

But I’m no match for my husband.

Ami’s screams turn into big, wailing sobs as I race up the stairs.

“Uwaaah!”

My heart flips into the pit of my stomach. That’s the sound that sends me into overdrive; panic and fear and protective instincts overtaking any sort of logic I might have once had.

I find myself standing in the doorway, staring at Tarak’s broad back and shoulders. Ami clings to him, both arms wrapped tightly around his neck tears streaming down her cheeks.

She’s bawling her eyes out. Her tiny voice is filled with distress and pain and relief.

Daddy’s here.

And the damn cat is pinned beneath Tarak’s large foot. It hisses and bites and claws at his foot, drawing black blood, but my husband being who he is, the scratches quickly heal, leaving perfectly intact silver skin.

Tarak ignores the cat completely.

His attention is completely fixed upon Ami.

I rush to her side. “What happened, baby girl?”

“Cat hurt me!” Ami sobs. “Owie!” She buries her face in daddy’s chest and cries and cries.

Tarak lets her bawl for a bit, before gently taking her left arm.

Ami yanks it away. “Owie!”

“Ami, allow me to look,” Tarak says calmly, his deep voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. “I will not hurt you.”

“You can get a band-aid afterwards,” I offer. “A pretty one, with purple and pink stars on it.”

Ami sobs again, but her cry isn’t as vehement this time.

“Come on, Ami. Let daddy take a look. He won’t make it ouchy, okay? You promise, don’t you, Tarak?”

He nods sagely. “I promise.”

Ami sniffs loudly and buries her face in Tarak’s chest again, having a good old cry.

I give Tarak a knowing look. He meets my eyes, his expression deadly serious.

The cat is still pinned beneath his foot. The poor thing has given up on trying to claw Tarak to death.

It’s utterly terrified.

I’m starting to fear for the cat’s life. I would try and rescue it right now—it’s just an animal; it doesn’t know what it’s done wrong—but it’s just inflicted a scratch on Tarak al Akkadian’s child.

Therefore, the situation is a little delicate right now.

I need to defuse.

She probably startled the cat. It’s my fault, really. I shouldn’t have let her fall asleep with Bumpy. Seeing them lying next to each other, both curled up and peacefully sleeping, it was the cutest thing ever; so hard to fathom that the cat might actually wake up and scratch her.

I don’t know where this little stray has come from, or what he’s been through, but he’s probably had his share of terrifying situations.

And Ami…

She’s exuberant and energetic. Sometimes too much. A toddler needs to be taught how to handle pets; how to respect them.

Actually, this is my fault. Tarak can’t be expected to know how a cat would behave.

My inner critic comes down hard. Never leave a young child alone with an animal. What the fuck were you thinking?

We’ve been cocooned in the perfect safety of Tarak’s tightly controlled world for so long that I guess I became complacent.

Silently, I tell myself that there’s no such thing as a perfect parent; that we all screw up from time to time.

Now I just need to convince my irate husband not to kill poor old Bumpy Ragakorr.

But first things first. We need to deal with that cat scratch.

“I trust you had someone check the little guy for diseases before you brought him in?” I say quietly, reaching up to stroke Ami’s soft, wispy hair.

The cat has gone perfectly still beneath my husband’s foot—as if he’s given up and is expecting death.

“Of course,” Tarak murmurs. “Ami, let me look.”

Slowly, cautiously, Ami extends her arm. Tarak is as gentle as I’ve ever seen him as he inspects the soft skin along Ami’s forearm.

There are two tiny red slashes in her arm. It’s not nearly as bad as I’d feared, but she must have gotten a hell of a shock.

“It’s not that bad, Ami,” I say soothingly. “Just a little scratch. I’ll put a bandaid on it, and you’ll feel better in no time. Is it still owie?”

Ami bites her lip and shakes her head.

Then, suddenly, she reaches for me. “I want mommy!”

I take her from Tarak. She clings to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, the cat scratch all but forgotten about.

Except by Tarak.

He glares at the little creature caught beneath his foot, saying nothing, his expression inscrutable.

But I know what he’s thinking. All of a sudden, the atmosphere is icy cold.

He’s deciding whether he should kill Bumpy Ragakorr, the poor little stray.

If Tarak was human, I would think he was a total psycho.

But he isn’t human, he’s Kordolian, and considering the fact that the cat inflicted a scratch on his child, he’s being very restrained.

“Tarak,” I say gently. “The cat isn’t to blame.”

“It is dangerous,” he growls, bending down to pick up the cat. Bumpy goes limp in Tarak’s hands, having given up on any attempt at resistance. “Unpredictable. It cannot be trusted around children.”

Tarak is holding Bumpy across his chest, just behind his front legs. The cat dangles like a rag-doll; ears back, body limp.

He’s practically given up on life.

Ami turns and looks at the cat with wary eyes.

“Tarak,” I say gently. “He’s a stray. We don’t know what kind of life he’s had; but he’s probably been a victim of cruel treatment and had to fend for himself. It’s a minor miracle that he was able to convince you to take him with you in the first place.” I give him a pointed look. “Isn’t it?”

“Is it?” He raises one silvery eyebrow in that infuriatingly cryptic way of his.”

“Pfft.” I suppress my sudden urge to laugh. Are you referring to me, now? “I’m sorry, Tarak. I should have been more cautious leaving Ami with the cat. Kids need to be taught how to treat animals. This little guy might be domesticated, but he still has certain instincts that can’t be suppressed. We can get to know him better. Train him. It will be okay. So please, don’t obliterate him over this. He’s just an animal. He doesn’t know any better.”

I can’t believe that I, a dog person, am advocating so hard for a damn cat, but the poor little guy has nobody else to stick up for him.

He probably never has.

“Hm.” Tarak holds up the cat, contemplating it.

Ami has gone quiet; she’s watching the two of them very carefully.

Bumpy looks at Tarak, his golden eyes big and wide. They’re the same shade as some of the Kordolians I know.

“Nyaw,” he says, his voice tiny and pitiful.

“He needs to learn to trust us, and vice versa,” I say gently. “He probably hasn’t known warmth and safety in a very long time. Of course he’s going to lash out if he feels threatened.”

“Hm.” Tarak inclines his head. I still have no idea what he’s thinking. At least he doesn’t seem so icy anymore. There’s a certain way he gets—a scary way. He never directs it towards me, but I know when he’s like that.

It’s something else; a vibe.

Terrifying to his enemies, no doubt.

“He needs love and care.” I take Ami’s arm and gently kiss her little wound. “See, Ami? Mommy kiss it better.” I’ll get it cleaned up and put a plaster on it. Later, I’ll take her to Zharek to get it properly checked, just to make sure there’s no disease-causing bacteria in it. “If you give him a bit of tenderness, then sooner or later, he’s going to give it back to you.”

Now Tarak turns his laser-focus upon me, giving me a contemplative look.

His expression softens ever so slightly. “Very well,” he rumbles. “Ragakorr will be excused this time. Only once. Abbey, you must help me to understand these creatures. Ami, as well. And she will not be left alone with him until she is old enough to handle herself.”

I let out a big sigh of relief. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath. “Trust me. A few weeks from now, you’ll be glad I talked you out of it.”

Tarak relents, adjusting his grip so the cat is held in a more comfortable manner. “We shall see.”

He loosens his grip, and Bumpy jumps out of Tarak’s arms, landing gracefully on the floor with a soft thud.

Abruptly, the cat disappears, racing out of the room like a fast-moving shadow.

“Let’s clean up your boo-boo and put a bandaid on it,” I tell Ami, who is still looking at her father, the ruthless general.

Who has just shown mercy to the thing that scratched his daughter.

When I first met him, that kind of restraint would have been unthinkable. Even now, I’m under no illusions as to what my husband is capable of. He hasn’t changed overnight; he hasn’t stopped doing awful, terrible things to his enemies.

He never will.

I’ve accepted that; accepted him for who he is, dark past and all.

But there’s a good side to him, too.

We see it every day.

If you want to have the light, you gotta take the darkness, too.

Abruptly, Ami changes her mind. “Daddy,” she blurts, reaching for Tarak.

He takes her. Gently, tenderly, cradling her in his arms as if she’s the most precious thing in the Universe.

Which she is.

“Better?” he whispers, stroking her soft hair. It’s starting to get long now, curling a little at the ends.

I wonder where the curls came from. Not me or anyone in my family. The Kendricks genes are a recipe for dead-straight hair.

“Mmhmm.” She nods. “Play, daddy? Play?”

Tarak lets out a low chuckle, sending a pleasant ripple down my spine. That particular sound never fails to have that effect. “You have brushed off the injury already, my child? This is a good mentality for a warrior to have.”

I shrug. “Kids are resilient. You’d be surprised. She will surprise you one day.”

Tarak glances over his shoulder as he walks out of the room with Ami in his arms. His brow furrows ever so slightly. His gaze is both fierce and tender, melting me inside. “She already has.”

EIGHT

ABBEY

This man.

This freaking impossible man.

Amidst the chaos of the cat and Ami and the now-forgotten scratches, I’d kind of forgotten that just before we fucked, Tarak had told me I was pregnant.

Me.

Me?

I’m the one who’s supposed to break the good news, not him. He’s the man. He isn’t the one that has to carry this wonderful little monster for nine months.

Ridiculous Kordolian.

Did he just have to go and drop the ultimate bombshell on me? Like that? And then destroy all of my defenses in an instant with his blistering intensity?

How does he do it?

I shake my head and sigh in exasperation as I reach for the testing node. It’s just a little clip that closes over the tip of my index finger. Human-made, of course. There are micro-needles in the sensor pad that pierce my skin and take a minuscule sample of blood; they’re so tiny I can’t even feel them.

It’s not that I don’t believe Tarak.

It’s just that I need to see for myself.

How can any one person’s sense of smell be that good?

I watch the small screen on the device as the analysis wheel turns—taking only a couple of seconds.

There it is.

Analysis complete. HCG detected.

Pregnancy: Positive.

Please consult with a healthcare professional to verify these results. ZenTech does not bear any responsibility for any loss, damage, or injury caused by this analysis.

Of course, this particular machine has been hacked and locked by Tarak’s techs. It can’t connect to the Networks anymore.

It’s still useful, though.

Ugh, he was right.

Yay, he was right.

My heart beats a little faster at the thought of us having another baby.

Will it be a boy? A girl?

I can hardly believe it.

A soft tug on my leg diverts my attention. “What?” Ami asks, pointing at the home diagnosis machine.

“It’s for checking mama,” I explain patiently. “To see if I’m healthy.”

To see if you’re getting a little brother or sister.

How exciting.

How scary.

To be honest, I don’t think I’ve entirely recovered from the horror of my last delivery. I came so close to losing Ami. To almost dying myself.

Tarak, too, was deeply affected, in ways that I don’t completely understand.

We never talk about it.

We probably should, but instead, I’ve done my best to put it behind me; to bury it beneath mountains of busyness and motherhood and responsibility and Tarak.

At least now I can understand, even if I’m still a little bit miffed at him.

The reason he locked down the entire planet.

Oh, Tarak.

You were just feeling vulnerable, weren’t you?

NINE

TARAK

I stride down the dark corridor, savoring the feeling of coolness and the complete absence of sunlight.

My path takes me deeper beneath the surface of the Earth. This corridor is one of many that we have carved under the red desert sands of this vast, mostly barren continent.

Just like my enemies did on Eiolan, we are building a vast network down here.

This is the place where my people live and rest and work. Most Kordolians enjoy being underground.

I don’t mind it either.

But it is with great reluctance that I have dragged myself away from the serenity of my family; from Abbey and her grounding presence, from Ami, who has already forgotten about the tiny scratches on her arm.

The cat, Ragakorr, has disappeared into some hidden corner of the house. I heard him occasionally, scratching or fidgeting or padding around, but I don’t go after him.

The creature knows that he has done wrong.

Let him stew for a bit—serves him right for creating the one scenario that triggers my protective instincts above all else.

When I return, he and I will have unfinished business to deal with.

I reach a secure Qualum door, which unravels as soon as I stand in front of it.

I enter the room, which is actually a holding cell.

Ashrael is already here. Before I even catch sight of him, I detect his cold, still aura. Immediately, my battle-sense is triggered. Even though the Silent One is now an ally, he’s so dangerous that I’m always on-edge around him.

“Ashrael.” I tip my head in greeting. “Things are moving.”

“Indeed.” He stares at me with his sightless, depthless obsidian eyes. Although he can’t see me in the true sense of the word, he can sense me with his ka’qui, and that is probably more acute than any sort of eyesight. “Arkan caught a big one, it seems. I felt that.”

He is referring to the Mistress—one of the psychic controllers that held the some of the Empire’s deadliest assassins in her thrall.

She’s dead now.

“And your friend here was one of her puppets,” I remark, crossing the room until I’m standing in front of the glowing blue stasis tube.

A Kordolian is suspended inside.

He’s like Ashrael, this man. He possesses the same light silver skin; the same dark hair, the same blacked-out, sightless eyes. He has sharp, angular features. He has the physique of an elite warrior, trained from childhood to kill without mercy.

Forced into servitude.

He is a weapon, honed into a near-perfect killing machine.

Aside from Ashrael, he is the only known person in the Universe that can use qim—the transcendent ability that allows one to become momentarily invisible; to evade all detection.

Well, except by people like me.

I should know. I was the one that fought him and captured him. It happened here, in these very lands. On Earth. A night of storms and violence. He and his fellow assassins almost—almost—invaded our sanctuary and harmed those that are most important to us.

On that night, Ashrael proved that he was no longer a slave to the mindbond.

That was when he began to slide… into the powerful thrall of his one and only mate, Noali.

Unlike the tyrannical bond with the Mistress, this bond of theirs was entirely welcomed.

I study the Kordolian suspended in stasis. He has been held here the entire time, sedated for most of it, to save him from the persistent torture of the mindbond.

That is what Ashrael advised.

It is a measure that is both ruthless and merciful. If he were kept awake, he would have been subjected to repeated commands to kill, even while his body was immobilized by our restraints.

We do not know what kind of person he will become when he is freed of the mindbond.

It’s time to find out.

I turn to Ashrael. “You are certain he has been freed?”

“He woke momentarily. Reached out to me with mindspeech. And Zharek captured it on the monitors. He actually spoke.”

“It’s definitely been broken then,” I say dryly. “What did he say?”

“Mostly, he was incensed that he’d been robbed of his chance to take revenge against the one that had caused him so much torment.” Ashrael’s ageless features are perfectly inscrutable. “He also said something about wanting to beat you into a bloody pulp.”

“He was a worthy adversary,” I admit. “His only problem was that he’d never been bested. Too arrogant, that one. He’d never encountered an enemy like me.” I remember our fight very well. It was furious and wickedly fast. At first, the Silent One almost evaded my detection, but a very subtle movement gave him away.

I deflected his first strike—one that was intended to kill.

He didn’t expect that.

He might be fast—at times faster than even I—but I have the advantage of experience.

That’s how I was able to subdue him, even though he managed to sever my arm at the elbow and plunge his Callidum dagger into my beating heart.

Didn’t his minders tell him that my kind are exceptionally hard to kill?

It took all of my skill and strength and experience to take him down, though. He is one of the few opponents that has ever tested me to the very edge of my limits.

Now he floats in stasis, subdued by a cocktail of sedating drugs; awaiting his release.

Should I release him?

I don’t know yet. With all his skills and talents in killing, he would be a very useful weapon, but we need to find out if his mind has been corrupted.

So far, the signs are good.

“Shall we wake him?” I ask Ashrael.

“Go ahead. I’m as curious as you are.”

“Let me call her.” I activate my comm. “Zyara, we’re ready.”

My trusted field medic appears moments later. She’s been spending quite a lot of time down here, in the laboratories that I’ve had custom built just for her.

Just as her brother, Zharek, requires his own space, so too does his sister. He is the erratic, unpredictable, savant.

She’s a lot more level headed.

They are both equally brilliant.

That coolness of hers makes her a much better operator in the field. Without her, half of my First Division probably wouldn’t be here right now.

Believe it or not, even we can die.

Zyara tips her head as she enters the chamber, offering respect to both Ashrael and I. “Good timing. I was just about to lower his sedation levels anyway. Ever since he got free of the mindbond, the dose required to control him has become much higher. It’s strange. I thought he would have needed a lot more sedation when he was being forced to do things against his will.”

Ashrael shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Not quite. When one gets a taste of what it feels like to have free will for the very first time, the feeling of being controlled by another becomes intolerable.”

“You ready, boss?” Zyara seats herself at the control panel beside the stasis tank. She’s adopted some kind of human-style fashion for the time being; a long, high-necked dress in a deep shade of green. Even though the weight and force of the Old Empire is bearing down upon us, she looks more relaxed and content than I’ve ever seen her.

“Go ahead.” I suppress a smile. It is good to see my most loyal and competent medic attain this sort of happiness.

Zyara manipulates the controls as Ashrael and I watch.

The Silent One’s eyes snap open, pure obsidian reflecting the cold light of the tank.

He’s awake.

He goes perfectly still. I feel a faint tug across my consciousness as he reaches out with his sixth sense—the ka’qui.

Ashrael extends his own energy. For a heartbeat, they’re caught in a battle of wills; two apex predators sizing each other up.

Only one is locked in a cage.

I can barely understand it.

The minds of the Silent Ones are mysterious. Their abilities are a throwback to the ancient Zor that once ruled our lightless planet.

For some unknown reason, I think of my mate; of our most precious child, of the warmth and beauty and light that fills my black heart every time I’m with them.

The complete opposite to what is occurring here.

Ashrael’s blank expression tells me that he is engaging in mindspeech. By now, I trust him enough to abide by his judgement on this Silent One.

He has proved himself time and time again.

My thoughts are ice and darkness and beauty, all at once.

This warrior here; this highly trained assassin.

He could be a big weapon in my arsenal.

Anything that gives me an advantage over our enemies; anything that will help me to keep my people and my family safe…

I will seize it.

“We’re going to drain the tank now,” Zyara says, her tone cool and detached. The blue fluid level starts to drop.

The Silent One… now he is looking at me. A transparent mask is fitted to his face, allowing him to breathe. He looks like a stone carving. His features are smooth and unmarred by the lines of age.

His dark hair is unbound. There is a curl to it. It floats around his face, forming a wispy, ethereal halo.

He looks young; too young to have so much blood on his hands.

But then, who am I to judge?

I was that way at his age, too. No; I was worse.

His prickly psychic energy washes over me. I feel a faint tugging sensation at the sides of my temples.

“Knock it off,” I growl. Irritated, I walk forward until I’m close enough to press my hand against the glass. “You can’t destabilize me with that pathetic attempt. Neither are you going to get your chance to kill me.”

The Silent One bares his fangs. “It would be stupid of me to kill the one that has kept me alive all this time. I’m not a fucking idiot, General.” He reaches up to his neck, his fingers grazing the thin metal of the neural immobilizer collar that encircles his pale neck. “I know you can turn me into a limp doll at any time, but if you use this on me again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

My lips curve into a cold smile. At least he still has spirit. “You need to make wise decisions, katach. The restraint will remain until you can demonstrate your trustworthiness.”

He grins back; sharp-edged and wicked. “Of course you plan on using me. What other reason do you have for keeping me alive this long?”

“It’s true that you would be a useful addition to our cause,” I say quietly. “But do not make the mistake of thinking that you are somehow invaluable. I could easily end your life right now.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Perhaps I have a sliver of mercy for those who are like me.” I step back as his feet touch the ground; as the last of the stasis liquid drains from the chamber.

“You?” His obsidian eyes narrow, his brows drawing together in a skeptical frown. “The great General Tarak al Akkadian knows how to be merciful?”

“Selectively,” I respond. “Do you think I would have accomplished all of this otherwise?”

He stares at me blankly, failing to understand.

But then again, how could he? He has not known anything except cruelty and coldness.

“But I am not in the habit of being charitable.” Well, except with my mate and child, and then it is not charity, but willful indulgence. “I do not grant unconditional favors. If you choose to serve me, you do so knowing that you will live by our code. And in exchange, you will be free to seek out your sarien.”

“Your code.” The Silent One is on his feet now. He reaches up and removes the breathing mask covering his face. “What is that, exactly?” He rips the monitoring nodes from his body. He is completely unclothed, his body exposed for all to see. Such a state might bother him if he were human, but like most of my kind, he is not fazed by his nakedness.

It is our most natural form, after all.

The center of his stomach—where I impaled him with my sword—is unmarred by any scarring.

He is fortunate that we possessed enough medical nanites at the time to heal him perfectly.

“You will need to spend some time with us to understand what our code is. We will be the ones to decide if you are worthy of it.” I’m a fraction of a heartbeat away from reaching for my weapon as the glass slides apart, forming a man-sized exit point.

I have no weapon, though.

There’s no need.

A single command from me, and the neural immobilizer would destroy him.

The Silent One remains perfectly still. As he studies me, a trace of cautiousness enters his aura.

He is not stupid, this one.

I didn’t think so, anyway.

I turn to Ashrael. “You will test him, then report.”

Ashrael, the original Silent One—the most deadly assassin the Program has ever produced—smiles coldly. “Yes.”

He turns to the other one. “What is your name, katach?”

The assassin tips his head in an ironic gesture. “You know me, Ashrael. Katach.” He says the latter both derisively and admiringly. It is an ancient term. It has several different meanings, depending on how it is used.

Assassin. Killer. Child of Kaiin. Tainted One.

Ruler.

The Silent Ones lock eyes with one another. Once again, I feel a faint pressure against my consciousness. They’re using mindspeech again.

There’s a certain way they get when they do it; their features become cold and still, like pale metal sculptures.

Their eyes ice over.

“Dragek,” Ashrael says at last, turning to me. “His name is Dragek, and out of all of our kind, in terms of skill and ability, he is second only to me.”

Dragek lets out a derisive snort.

I can see that he is holding his tongue.

“Dragek,” I say slowly, looking the young male up and down. “Hm.” He is lean and honed, possessing the physique of one that has endured a lifetime of training. The arrogance is still there, though; it’s in the hard angle of his jaw, in the way he tilts his head ever so slightly and gives me a challenging stare.

Not many would be so brave, especially when the threat of certain death hangs over his head.

“Ashrael is a free man,” I inform the newly awakened assassin. “He is here by his own choice, and he has earned that right. As of now, you belong to him. The neural immobilizer that is embedded into your neck and your spinal cord has been programmed to respond only to the voice-commands of three individuals. Zyara over there is one of them. I am another. Of course, Ashrael is the third. It is him that you will have the most contact with. For the time being, he is your Master. And even if he wasn’t, you do not currently possess the skills to be able to kill him.”

Dragek’s smile is cynical and cruel. “For now.”

Ashrael, who has been mostly quiet, raises his left hand. After I severed his left arm, we implanted him with a new one; a perfectly enmeshed, completely cybernetic arm.

Once, there was a neural immobilizer embedded in his machine-arm.

It’s long since been removed.

He makes a show of slowly flexing and closing his cybernetic fingers; an ominous warning to Dragek. “If I couldn’t kill you, Noali surely would. Let’s go to the training chambers and have a test” He speaks aloud, shunning the mindspeech—for my benefit. “I will show you the current difference in our power. Unless you wish to wait and rest first, of course. Perhaps you are still affected by the sedatives.”

There is more than a hint of sarcasm in Ashrael’s voice, but his expression is deadpan. He gives nothing away.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dragek snarls.

“Then why are you hesitating?” A garment appears in Ashrael’s hands; a pair of simple trousers, the kind we use for training or sleeping. “Get dressed, boy. We are amongst humans now. You will have to get used to behaving like a civilized creature, even if it is just a facade.”

He throws the trousers to Dragek, who snatches them out of the air.

“I will make you pay for that,” the Silent One hisses.

I can sense each of their powerful auras; they are brimming with violence and excitement.

Almost… happiness.

Ah.

It is as I thought.

Ashrael needs this.

Having another of his kind around will be good for him.

I can only hope, for all their sakes, that Dragek’s heart and mind are not yet irreversibly corrupted.

TEN

ABBEY

There’s our ship.

“Time to go, sweetie,” I say to Ami, picking her up and balancing her on my hip; walking across the dusty red ground to the ramp of the sleek Kordolian cruiser. “Say bye bye to the ranch. We’ll come back another time, okay?” My voice wavers a little as I say the words.

The truth is, I don’t really know when we’ll be back.

Tarak says the worst is yet to come; he reckons the evil Old Empire guys are going to hit back with some sort of dastardly, wicked attack.

This could be the last time we see Earth in a very, very long time.

The warm wind whips around my feet, stirring up dust. The gusts become stronger, tugging at my hair, conjuring the red dirt into a whirly-whirly; a spinning vortex of dust and air that dances around just meters from us.

It’s wild; chaotic.

I point to it. “Look, Ami. Look at that.”

“Wow!” she shouts. “What that?”

“It’s called a whirly-whirly. Look at it go! Whoo!”

The vortex of dust spins away from us, snaking up into the sky, growing taller and wider until it hits a rocky outcrop and promptly collapses.

“Awww,” Ami coos, her tiny filled with dismay. “He gone.”

“Yes. They don’t last very long, Ami. Oh well. Maybe we’ll see one again next time. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Ahh,” she sighs.

“Time to go, Kivara,” A gruff voice reaches my ears, diverting my attention. It’s Zarken, one of the extremely badass warriors that Tarak sometimes sends to guard us when we’re on Earth.

Kivara. He uses a Kordolian word that means ma’am, or something like that. It’s a term of respect, apparently. A few of the warriors have called me that.

They might be vicious on the battlefield, but around us, the human mates, they’re perfectly civil and courteous.

Zarken is as tough as nails. He’s older than most of his fellow warriors; going dark at the temples as Kordolians tend to do when they age. He’s grizzled and stoic and rugged and definitely not the type to mince words.

He talks a lot of shit with the other warriors, but he’s always terribly polite with me.

I rather like him.

“All right,” I sigh, crossing the clearing until we reach the entrance to the ship. Zarken is close behind; my second shadow in the blazing late afternoon sun.

Tarak’s gone off to deal with some business or other.

I cross the threshold, entering the dimly lit ship. Ami doesn’t even blink. She’s so used to this by now—going back and forth between Earth; spending long periods of time on the fast, sleek, and impossibly advanced—but drab—ships that are part of my husband’s vast fleet.

We humans have done our best to create our own cozy spaces onboard. I had to butt heads with Tarak at first—to this day, he doesn’t see the point of making anything cozy and comfortable—but in the end, he caved, the Kordolians gave us our spot, and they know to stay well away when we need a bit of space.

It’s not that I don’t like being on the ships. In fact, I’ve grown to appreciate the closeness that comes from being trapped in a confined space with a whole bunch of women that I happen to like, but sometimes, I miss seeing the endless blue skies of my homeland.

I don’t know how long we’ll be away this time.

For some reason, it feels different.

More final.

This time, it’s for real.

We’re all returning to space. Earth is getting locked down. Nobody’s going to be able to come in or out of this planet’s airspace.

Apart from a skeleton crew of Kordolians, the only one staying behind is Aunt Kenna. Tarak offered for her to come, but she was having none of it.

She and her dogs are going to stay behind. She swore there was no way she was ever going to take her feet of Earth’s soil.

When will I see her again?

Will Earth be safe?

And this responsibility Tarak’s entrusted me with; this ridiculous, massive responsibility, which I’m so unqualified for…

My heart jumps into my throat and lodges there. My heart is beating like crazy. I hold my daughter tightly, inhaling her familiar toddler scent, which is sweet and pure and laced with a little bit of Tarak.

I’m sweating. I’m glued to the smooth, hard surface of the ship’s ramp.

My feet refuse to move forward.

Ami thrusts her fingers into my hair and tugs hard, trying to get a reaction out of me.

She senses something’s wrong, but she doesn’t know what to do.

I can’t even summon enough strength to yell ow.

Oh, no.

What is wrong with me?

The endless sky above suddenly feels low and heavy; all that blue is going to crush me. I feel both trapped and like I’m in freefall.

I cling to Ami as if my life depends on her.

Calm down. It’ll pass. Just take deep breaths.

I know what’s happening.

This hasn’t happened to me for a very, very long time—since I was a teenager.

I thought I’d gotten over this stuff.

It’s a panic attack.

I can’t believe it.

Now, of all times?

Get over it, Abbey.

A gentle hand comes down on my shoulder. Zarken. He’s never dared to lay a hand on me before. I wonder how he knows.

But it works.

“Come on in, Kivara,” the warrior says. “Take a seat. The boss’ll be here soon. There’s no way he’s leaving on any other ship but this one. We’ve even put your strange black furry creature in there.”

“He’s not my cat,” I correct, my panic momentarily forgotten. “He’s Tarak’s.”

Zarken snorts in disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

“You’ll see.” I chuckle weakly as I step into the ship. Shielded from the harsh glare of the sun, we’re suddenly shrouded in shadow.

I’m not gripped by panic anymore, but my knees feel weak. I’m trembling and clammy all over. Ami wriggles in my arms, growing restless. As soon as it’s safe to do so, I set her down. With Zarken hovering behind us like a mother hen, she’s not going to be able to run off and get into trouble.

“Dada?” she calls, peering into the dark interior.

“He’s coming soon, Ami. Let’s go and sit down.” I point to my worn-out diaper bag, which is bulging at the seams. It’s filled with clothes and wipes and toys and books and a whole bunch of food. The trip won’t take long, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s good to have lots of diversions. “I’ve got pineapple and custard.”

“Pibappy, yummy!” Ami grins as she tries her best to pronounce the word.

“You cute little girl.” Unable to help myself, I reach down and gently squeeze one of her chubby little cheeks. She’s just so damn adorable. It never ceases to amaze me that when Tarak and I are running around with the weight of the Universe on our shoulders—him especially—she can be so oblivious; so innocent, so pure.

She’s rarely ever sad, and that’s a good thing.

Ami ambles off into the passenger area. Funny kid, she already knows where to go.

All of the strength has left my legs. I feel completely drained, but I force myself to move on.

In the dim light; in the silence, in the alien surroundings, all of a sudden, I’m thinking about dad.

Grief pokes a tiny hole in my chest. I thought the wound had healed over a long time ago, to the point where I could actually reminisce about him without feeling that terrible emptiness inside me.

His death was a complete shock. He was away on work at the time, and I was just a teenager, studying to complete my final exams.

Sometimes, I just miss him.

Would he be proud of me if he could see what I’ve built for myself; what I’ve become?

I really, really wish he could’ve met Ami.

I hope you’re okay, dad.

Do I believe in the afterlife?

You know, I never ever thought about that much until I met Tarak; until I had a child of my own.

I never really thought I’d ever know the truth about whether dad’s death was an accident or something else. The people he worked for—SynCorp—were just too powerful.

And thinking about it too much… it was too painful to dredge up the trauma all over again.

Or so I thought. Now that I’m at the center of this crazy Kordolian contingent, a massive galactic biotech conglomerate like SynCorp doesn’t seem so terrifying and all-encompassing after all.

Do I even dare open up that jar of pain again?

Is it worth it?

Tarak would. He’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d only have to say the word, and he’d be all over it.

Back then, after I was abducted and nearly had my baby ripped out of my arms by the very same bastards my father used to work for, he said he would deal with them.

That means that he will, at some point or other, deal with them.

I wonder why it’s taken him so long.

Sometimes, I wonder what his endgame is.

My heart is filled with unease as I pick up Ami and strap her into her little custom-made flight-chair. I smile, fiercely blinking back these stupid unbidden tears as I rummage through the bag for the cool-pod.

There it is. I fish out a small tub of pineapple.

Grown on Kenna’s small farm, this is the best pineapple in the Universe.

It’s super sweet and aromatic and heavenly; ambrosia in the form of cold yellow chunks. It almost tastes like ice-cream.

“Here you go, bubby,” I say cheerily, willing my sadness to disappear.

There’s no time for that now.

I pierce one of the pineapple cubes with a small rainbow-handled twin-pronged fork and pop it in Ami’s mouth.

“More,” she demands, her cheeks bulging as she chews loudly.

“More? Aren’t you a hungry one?” I impale another chunk. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

That’s when a pair of big, silver hands closes around mine.

“Allow me.”

And a deep, rumbly, all-too-familiar voice wraps around my consciousness, instantly chasing away all my fears and doubts.

It’s incredible; the kind of power he has over me.

“Daddy!” Ami’s face lights up. “Wanna share pibappy?”

“No,” Tarak says, completely deadpan. “Daddy does not eat fruit. But it is good for you.” He gently pries the fork from my grasp. With swift precision, he stabs another bit of pineapple and feeds his daughter.

Ami eats pineapple.

Still standing behind me, Tarak plants a soft kiss at the base of my neck. “Everything will be fine,” he whispers into my ear.

Stars, that is exactly what I needed to hear right now.

I close my eyes and bask in his big, warm, reassuring presence. I tell myself that I don’t care what he’s been up to; what sort of grand and terrible schemes he’s orchestrating in the background.

I believe him.

He’s never let me down.

There’s a tiny, almost undetectable shift as the cruiser takes off. Glancing through a small window on the left, I see blue skies and a red, unforgiving landscape.

The world below becomes smaller and smaller.

We’re moving faster and faster, until everything outside becomes a blur.

We’re moving at tremendous speed; faster than any human machine.

And yet, inside this dark, safe, highly insulated alien ship, I barely feel a thing.

It’s almost—almost—peaceful.

Until Tarak stiffens, and a black shadow passes

“Nyaw.”

I look up in alarm.

There is my husband, glaring down at Bumpy Ragakorr, who is currently rubbing his slinky body against his leg.

Seriously, the audacity of this little guy.

“No!” Ami recoils in fear, grabbing her arm where the cat scratched her. I’ve covered her wounds with a pair of criss-crossed sparkly bandaids, and she’d all but forgotten about it until now.

Tarak bends down and scoops up the cat. I tense, fearing that he’s going to do something unpredictable, but he simply goes over to Ami with Bumpy held firmly in his arms.

The cat is completely placid; ears slightly forward, eyes half-closed, neck arched, a faint purring sound emanating from his chest.

I raise my eyebrows. Really, dude? You’re going to be like that, already?

With Tarak holding the cat, Ami manages to calm down.

Tarak leans over. “Put your hand out, Ami. Stroke his fur. Gently. You cannot be rough with him. He’s a little bit scared of you.”

“Scary?” Ami shakes her head in disbelief. “Noo…”

The cat’s ears go back. His eyes narrow. He curls up even tighter and shrinks into Tarak.

Somehow, he seems to understand that Tarak’s the biggest, baddest thing in this part of the Universe.

Somehow, he’s manipulated Tarak into protecting him.

Smart cat.

How did you pull that off? Especially after you scratched our kid.

I suppose I’m partly to blame. I’m the one that vouched for him, out of sympathy.

I can almost see the accusing glares of our dogs, Nyx and Zeus. Traitor. We thought you were on our side.

Well, they’re Aunt Kenna’s dogs more than mine, but I still consider them my pets; they’ve been a part of my life ever since they were born.

The dogs are staying on Earth.

There’s no way they’d tolerate going up on these big, dark, silent ships, trapped with a bunch of menacing Kordolians.

They’re already terrified of Tarak and the First Division guys as it is. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never seen that reaction before in all my life. Some sort of animal instinct thing, probably.

Gingerly, Ami reaches out and pats Bumpy, stroking his sleek black fur. When he doesn’t lash out, she looks up at Tarak in surprise.

“See, Ami, when you are gentle to him, he will not scratch you.”

“Ohh.” She coos, patting him again, her violet eyes filled with curiosity. The cat starts to relax, tipping his head forward to receive more pats.

Impossibly, it’s Tarak fingers that come to idly stroke Bumpy underneath his little chin.

I stare at them in disbelief; my husband and my daughter, both laser-focusing all their attention on this wily little creature, who is purring away contentedly and looking like he’s the one that’s gotten into the cream.

Not in a billion years could I have imagined a situation like this.

Tarak catches my eye.

The look on his face right now; this gentleness…

It’s a rare and secret thing, reserved only for us.

How has it come to this?

That somehow, the only thing standing between my husband and Earth is me?

I’m a bridge. The child by my side and the one growing in my belly… they’re bridges too.

Between my once-cold-and-terrifying husband and the rest of humanity.

We’re his tether; his sanity.

And in return, he gives me the strength to be so much more than I ever imagined.

Govern Earth, he tells me. Do it alone or in collaboration with your fellow humans. I don’t care. Just understand that you are more than capable of this task. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.

Self-doubt is a strange and powerful thing. Even though I’m entwined with the most powerful man in the Nine Galaxies, I always feel so very human.

But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

“Abbey,” he rumbles, his deep voice sliding over my consciousness like molten caramel. “Ragakorr and I have come to an understanding. I am still studying the creature, but I believe it can be trained to behave appropriately.” He pauses, his crimson eyes like embers, slowly burning into me. “You were… correct about the cat.”

Oh! So the Big Bad General can say things like this, too.

A thousand and one smart-ass responses cross my mind, but I keep my mouth shut. Instead, I smile, savoring the moment.

Tarak returns my smile with an indulgent look of his own.

Together, quietly, we celebrate.

This tiny victory.

This sliver of complete and utter peacefulness.

Ami fascinated.

Tarak unguarded.

Just for a moment.

ALSO BY ANNA CARVEN

Dark Planet Warriors

(in order of publication)

Dark Planet Warriors (Book 1)

Dark Planet Falling (Book 2)

Into the Light (Book 3)

Out of Darkness (Book 4)

Darkside Blues (Book 4.5)

Forged in Shadow (Book 5)

Infinity’s Embrace (Book 6)

Electric Heart (Book 7)

Brilliant Starlight (Book 8)

Darkstar Mercenaries

A Darkside Interlude (Book 0.5)

Taming Chaos (Book 1)

Shattered Silence (Book 2)

Fractured Souls (Book 3)

Decadence (Book 4)

Hyperspeed Dreams (Book 5)

Undying Stars (Book 6)

Radiant Darkness (Book 7)

Hidden Planet

Destroyer (Book 1)

Catalyst (Book 2)

Dark Planet Warriors: Earth Files (a series of short stories)

Book 1 (Rykal and Arin)

The Dark Scions

Vengeance: An Epic Fantasy Romance

Novellas and more:

Sanctuary - A Dark Planet Warriors Novella