Page 59 of Chained

Somehow, he has become something I cannot be without. Somehow…I’ve fallen in love with him. Completely, head over heels, giddy like a teenager, as if love is something I’ve never experienced before.

Which it isn’t. Whatever I thought was love before, it wasn’t. My entire soul is consumed by my love for Maxym. I can’t separate where it stops and I begin. I can’t remember what it was like before I felt like this, and I know without him, I am a mere hollow of who I could be.

Love isn’t supposed to be this intense, is it? Maybe it’s pregnancy hormones or something? Maybe…

This was meant to be.

Maxym glares at the vid-screen like he’s attempting to transmit himself through it rather than fight. The way his brow furrows is super cute, although admittedly his claws stretching out around the edge of the desk are less cute and more weapons of mass destruction.

“The council has many enemies. One of them has to be responsible for the Bogarok,” Retah says.

“Yeah, but which ones, and does it even matter?”

“It matters to the force I have coming to our aid. It matters because I need to know what weapons to provide,” Retah says evenly.

“Then who are our main suspects?”

“The Drahon,” Retah rubs his chin with his hand. “It sounds like they’ve had scouts here on Trefa for some time. They’re known to hire the Bogarok for their dirty work, but wanting information is not their style. Whoever wants the info vault is the one controlling them.”

“I’m well aware of the Drahon presence on Trefa.” Maxym growls, “but who is controlling them?”

“The Protoex. Sometimes known as Proto.”

Maxym’s wings flare violently, and the vid-screen cracks under one of his claws. The others are buried deep into the wood of the desk.

“Proto,” he growls. “I know of Proto.”

“What is a Protoex?” I ask. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“Ancient, deadly, and until very recently, thought extinct,” Retah says. “And the only creatures the Drahon fear more than each other.”

I glance at Maxym. His brow is drawn low over his eyes, eyes which are deep pits of blackness. All his feathers stand on end.

“We have to kill it this time,” he snarls, pulling off his helmet. “It has to die.”

What fires through my brain is a knowledge which makes my knees buckle.

“What is it?” I whisper because I can’t speak any louder.

“I’m not sure.” Maxym is gritting his teeth. “But if Proto is involved, we’re all at risk. The Bogarok are nothing compared to what it can do.”

I slide my hand up his arm. His feathers are rattling like knives in a drawer. “You’ve encountered it before?”

“I don’t know.” Maxym shakes his head and runs his clawed fingers through his close-cropped hair. His anger at the lack of recall evident is without the need for the thoughtbond.

Retah puts his hand on Maxym’s shoulder and looks at me with concern.

“Maxym,” he says. “I make knowledge my business as much as weaponry. When it was clear my Cleo was interested in you, I did some searching, to find out more about you and your fellow Gryn.”

Maxym lifts his head and looks Retah in the eye. “What did you find?”

A half smile creeps over Retah’s face. “You are a killer.”

Maxym snorts.

“You are a killer, it is your nature, but you are not a murderer, and it is that which led me to the information about your master and about your other kind. The ones searching the galaxy for their kin.”

He places a fatherly hand on Maxym’s armored shoulder.

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