Page 30 of Fractured Souls

“Understand one thing, human. Whether you like it or not, you are ours now,” Tarak said. That single word—ours—should have pissed her off, but somehow it was reassuring. “The thing inhabiting your consciousness is not going to go away. Even when she was inside Enki, we could not expel her, so it is up to you to find the answers that we couldn’t. It has been my experience that whenever you humans come into the equation, strange things happen. I will leave the specifics to Nythian, but I would advise you to do as he says. Life will go easier for you that way.”

Nythian released her, taking a step back. Alexis spun around to face him. Her blue hand tingled with an electric sensation, reminding her that it was no longer completely hers.

Nythian’s boss silently withdrew his imposing presence.

Enki was nowhere to be seen.

Even Zharek had disappeared, taking his bloody severed hand with him.

When did they…?

Goddamn ghosts. It was almost as if they’d conspired to leave her alone here with him.

“So,” Nythian rumbled, and the sound of his deep, slightly hoarse voice was a little bit of fuel on her fire. “Do you trust me enough yet, Alexis?”

“I’m getting there.”

He chuckled. “That’s about what I was expecting.” Nythian smiled; a patient, knowing half-curve of his dark grey lips. “Let’s get you back to your quarters. You look tired… but hey, at least we finished what we set out to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your hand’s not broken anymore, is it?”

“Well, that’s something, I guess.” Alexis opened and closed her blue hand, both fascinated and horrified at its strangeness. Her flat, smooth, human fingernails were gone, replaced with pointed shards that looked like tiny diamonds. They glittered in the dim light, reflecting a thousand brilliant colors. At her wrist, the blue skin faded like a sunset, melding into her deep brown skin.

Zharek emerged from a doorway. An obsidian metal claw extended from the stump of his right wrist, replacing his severed hand.

That was quick. She shuddered.

“I need to study that transformation.” The prospect seemed to fill him with an unholy kind of glee. “I have never, ever seen anything like this in all my thirty-two revolutions of performing the medical arts. How fascinating. Let me examine that new acquisition of yours, Alexis Carter. I must—”

“No. Fix your own fucking hand first,” Nythian thundered, moving between them. His massive frame formed a protective barrier between her and the medic. Alexis couldn’t help but stare at Nythian’s broad, perfect shoulders… the way they framed his powerful, muscular back, which tapered down to a narrow waist and hips, and an ass that was just sinful to look at.

Sheer male perfection. That’s what he was.

And he was protecting her.

“She’s my charge,” he growled, going from reassuring to terrifying in a heartbeat. “And it’s obvious that when it comes to the human-Tharian interaction, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. From now on, you don’t lay a hand on her unless I say so.”

Zharek threw up his hands in silent surrender. He raised his eyebrows as he backed away slowly, obviously not wanting to anger Nythian any further.

The warrior turned to her, his expression softening. “Come. You’ve had enough bizarreness for one day. Time to go and rest. You look dead tired.”

“Dead tired? I really hope that’s not a bad attempt at a joke.” The Malachi disaster was always at the back of her mind.

“No.” He scowled and cursed under his breath in Kordolian. “Sorry. That was insensitive of me. Just a turn of phrase. A human one, actually. Can’t remember where I picked it up.”

“Yeah, it is, actually.” For the very first time since she’d woken up in stasis, Alexis smiled. She couldn’t help it. There had been something almost… human about his reaction just now.

And he was having a weird effect on her.

That tiny dancing spark of arousal was still there, and every time he drew near or did something unexpected, it threatened to flare into something more.

Unexpectedly, Nythian smiled.

Her insides clenched, in a good way.

This time, Nythian’s smile was real, revealing his gleaming white fangs. Small creases formed at the corners of his eyes. Dimples appeared. Fucking dimples.

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