Page 46 of Fractured Souls

She turned and peered into a seductive version of some place on Earth, a simulation she’d personally selected from a list of thousands.

In front of her was a series of undulating hills covered in verdant scrub. A narrow dirt track wound around the side of a steep slope, disappearing over the horizon.

The sunlight was perfect. It was early morning.

The simulation was so realistic that she almost pinched herself. It was light years ahead of what humans were able to produce right now, and on a traveling warship, no less.

It reminded her of the island.

How was this possible?

The technology these Kordolians possessed was baffling. She’d always known they were one of the most advanced races in the Nine Galaxies in terms of sheer military hardware, but to come face to face with something so sublime, so far beyond her comprehension…

Every single piece of tech on this vessel felt so organic, so seamlessly integrated, as if the machines running through its dark heart were the organs of a living beast.

Or some kind of sorcery.

She took a deep breath, tempted to let the robe fall from her shoulders and run off into the artificial distance, where diaphanous swirls of mist drifted across the hills. There was even a light breeze. If not for the impenetrable blackness behind her—and of course, Nythian—she could have been on Earth.

“Relax, human,” Nythian drawled. “I’m not going to bite. Why don’t you try out the sim while you wait?”

Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. “I’m not used to having an audience when I run.”

“What you wear or don’t wear is irrelevant. I’ve seen almost everything, anyway.” His voice dropped to a low growl.

“And I suppose it doesn’t matter one way or another to you?”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make any difference,” he agreed. “I’ve got a good imagination.”

“Imagination for what?” Her heart pummeled.

He didn’t respond. He just stared, undressing her with his eyes, not even trying to be the slightest bit subtle about it.

The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. A slow-burning fire spread through her belly, down into her core, between her thighs…

The idea that this alien might consider her even the slightest bit attractive… it sent a strange thrill through her.

Even with this? Alexis ran her fingers over her transformed hand. It was slightly cool to the touch, soft yet hard, like a cross between glass and smooth human skin. It looked like some weird cyborg hand.

She was an undead monster with a mutant hand and an alien consciousness inside her head. It was the farthest from attractive she’d ever felt in her life, and yet here was Nythian the mysterious Kordolian warrior, fucking flirting with her.

Alexis had been around long enough to recognize when a male was showing signs of interest. It didn’t happen very often—she was too much of a serious person to attract much attention—but she’d had her share of quick and unsatisfying relationships. The men she’d dated were nice enough; decent guys, mostly successful, well-educated, attractive, and always fascinated by her line of work… but the dates never evolved into anything deeper.

And she’d find herself having that dreaded conversation.

It’s not you, it’s me…

Like some sort of bad romantic cliche.

Always wondering if there was something fundamentally wrong with her, if her obsession with work was pathological, if the spark that always failed to materialize would ever happen.

Maybe it would take someone outrageous, like this Kordolian warrior who held held her completely at his mercy.

Her breath caught as she stared back at Nythian, trapped by his startling ruby gaze. She took in his powerful form, all broad rippling muscle encased in an obsidian second-skin.

Holy hell.

Nobody had ever made her feel like this.

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