Page 73 of Fractured Souls

“I am,” he agreed. “You know it. But nothing in this Universe is simple like that. It’s always more complicated than what it looks, don’t you think?” Nythian savored the look of surprise and wonder that crossed her beautiful face. Her cheeks darkened. Her lips parted slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her glistening pink tongue. Her heartbeat quickened. “Only you can do that to me,” he growled, enjoying her reaction, the fact that he had this effect on her. “Only you.”

Suddenly, he was fully aware of the power he held over her. The thought made his cock go fully erect, pressing hard against his armor-plate.

Not wanting to lose his wits in full view of the entire cursed docking bay, Nythian bit down on his lower lip, his fangs sinking into the soft flesh, drawing bitter black blood. The taste of his own bitterness filled his mouth. He was drowning in his own glorious mess of desire and fury and the need to possess this female completely.

Again and again.

The Mating Fever hadn’t disappeared; it was merely diminished. Would he ever be rid of it, or was this how his existence was going to be from now on?

Always on the cusp of losing control, having to rein in his basest Kordolian instincts, ready to destroy anyone or anything that even so much as looked at her in the wrong way.

This was another kind of madness, and it was glorious.

She smiled then, and his heart swelled with warmth.

They were so caught up in each other that Nythian barely noticed when the boss turned up at the periphery of his vision with a certain former Imperial assassin at his side.

“Nythian,” Ashrael said by way of greeting, and a faint ripple ran over Nythian’s body as his aura collided with the Silent One’s. Alexis must have felt it too, because she went very quiet and very still, her eyes going so wide for a moment that they nearly popped out of her head.

Nythian turned and came face to face with one of the deadliest beings the Empire had ever created… apart from the soldiers of the First Division, of course.

“Ashrael.” He nodded in greeting.

The former assassin’s unnerving black eyes crinkled ever-so slightly at the corners as he returned Nythian’s nod, but his glacial features remained cold—his default expression. Unlike the warriors of the regular Kordolian military, Ashrael possessed the unique coloring of one of the Touched Ones.

His kind had the blood of the ancient Zor running through their veins. Their pale, almost translucent skin and dark hair marked them as something other, and of course, Ashrael possessed the unmistakable eyes of a Silent One—pure black and sightless, without iris or pupil.

But although he was blind, Ashrael saw very well indeed. He wielded the ka’qui, the sixth sense, the strange ability that allowed him to know an attacker’s intentions before one’s body even started to move.

Not too long ago, the Silent One had been their sworn enemy, imprisoned under Tarak’s orders and locked in a neural immobilizer.

Now he was a powerful sometimes-ally, not directly under Tarak’s command, but bound to them in an arrangement that Nythian didn’t fully understand.

“So you are the returned one,” Ashrael said quietly, regarding Alexis with great intensity. “I am told you have inherited Enki’s passenger.” A faint prickle ran over Nythian’s scalp as Ashrael’s aura flared. “Ah. I can sense her now. Tharians are not to be taken lightly. May I?” He reached out with his bare hand, palm facing outwards.

Unbidden, a growl erupted from Nythian’s throat. This palefaced creature would dare lay a hand on his mate? “Don’t do anything stupid, Silent One. I’ll kill you.”

Ashrael smiled at him, baring his fangs ever-so slightly, looking every bit as cold and dangerous as the notorious assassin of old. “You can’t kill me, Nythian Marenghel.”

“Don’t get cocky. What does that even mean, bastard?”

“You are one of the Lost Ones, no?”

“None of your fucking business.” Nythian did not like to be dissected. He glared at Ashrael for a moment, noticing that the Silent One’s stance was totally relaxed. The assassin stood with his shoulders rolled back slightly and his palms facing outwards. He wore decidedly neutral attire, opting for a loose white shirt, white pants, and bare feet.

Something soft and warm curled around his upper arm. Her fingers! Alexis didn’t say anything, she just moved closer, and he realized her heartbeat was strong and steady.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

The sound instantly soothed him, calmed his temper, made him realize that he wasn’t being entirely rational right now.

Cursed mating fever. If he existed in this state for too long, he was going to turn stupid. Abbey was right. He was going to have to get used to this.

To preserve his sanity, he was going to have to fuck her hard and often.

Compared to him, she was so pure, so vulnerable yet perfect. This curious strength of hers intrigued him; he drew on it, he let it transform him a little.

She’d seen how brutal his people could be; she’d stared into the mesmerizing void of the afterlife and returned to them, her mind fractured, a dark passenger invading her consciousness.

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