Page 30 of A Darkside Interlude

“It’s about a female, isn’t it?”

“What makes you say that?” Iskar’s left eye twitched in irritation. Was he so easy to read? No, it wasn’t that. Torin was just unusually perceptive.

“Unpredictable isn’t your style, Commander. We all know you play by the book for the most part, but you’ve had that look ever since we left Darkside last night.”

“That look?”

“Once you’ve seen it a few times, you know it for what it is.” Quiet laughter filtered through the comm. “I’ve witnessed several of my brothers go through the exact same thing. We’re all savages at heart, my friend, and you’re no exception.”

“Hm.” Always the fucking philosopher, aren’t you, Mardak? But for once, Iskar couldn’t disagree with the warrior.

As he strode down the corridor, his boots cracking loudly on the seamless polished stone, human bystanders cast apprehensive looks in his direction.

Iskar ignored them. It took every ounce of his willpower to rein in his fury, his impatience, his desperation. It was a good thing nobody dared get in his way, because his temper was about to explode.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Iskar was on the verge of losing control.

How interesting, that the thin veneer of civilization could be so easily torn away, revealing the true Kordolian beneath. Amongst the five commanders, Iskar had a reputation for being the measured one, the cool-headed one, the methodical one. He had just spent a great deal of time reassuring the Commissioner of Teluria that his men would work with and not against the district’s human Enforcers.

And now he was about to blow it all up.

For a female.

There would be damage control. Human-Kordolian relations might take another step backwards. He would have to answer to Tarak al Akkadian, and justify his actions.

None of that bothered him.

Perhaps the General would understand.

“We are on Earth because we choose to be. We abide by Earth’s laws when it suits us, but never forget that we are the invaders. Humans must understand that it is possible for us to co-exist peacefully. At the same time, they should fear what we might become if they were ever to invoke our anger.”

That’s how Akkadian had explained it. To Iskar, it made perfect sense.

Still, he’d been curious. “And your human mate? Do the same principles apply to her?”

“No. She stands apart. She is mine to cherish, to protect, and to adore as I please, and she will never, ever have reason to fear me.”

Iskar was finally beginning to understand that exquisite madness.

Chapter Fourteen

“Whatever you were called before, forget it. From now on, you’re to be known as Miss Wednesday.”

“Miss Wednesday,” Mari repeated skeptically. She winced as the nameless attendant—or whatever the hell she was—grabbed her hands and ran some sort of exfoliating machine over her palms. “I’m reduced to a fucking day of the week?”

“Except for tonight, the Master will visit you only on Wednesdays. On the other days, you will be free to do as you please.” The woman’s blue eyes narrowed as rubbed the calluses on Mari’s palm with her thumb. “You slum girls are all the same. Rough hands. I will give you a cream. Apply it to your palms before you sleep for a week. You have to soften that hard skin, girl. The Master likes it that way. And no swearing. The next time you use a filthy word, I will have to punish you.”

“Free to do as I please…” Mari looked around at her new environment. She was in a large, sumptuously appointed room. One one side, a seamless floor-to-ceiling window looked out onto a lush tropical garden. Water cascaded down a grey wall, rippling the glassy surface of a lily-filled pond. In the center of the room was a curved white couch decorated with black velvet cushions. The couch alone was bigger than Mari and Arturo’s domicile in the Dust Alleys. A large blue patterned rug softened the polished stone floor, and the walls were adorned with fashionable projection-art depicting images of nature—trees, flowers, landscapes.

It was all very nice… and sterile.

Through an open doorway, she spied a bedroom. The doorway revealed a glimpse of a bed covered in silken black sheets.

Mari suppressed a shudder. Whoever had bought her was rich, and it was obvious he only wanted her for one thing.

She was supposed to become someone’s pet.

What did they expect her to do for the other six days of the week? Fucking vegetate?

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