Page 114 of Decadence

At least his gorgeous long hair was still intact, cascading over his shoulders and down his back. She ran her fingers through it as she kissed him, closing her eyes and luxuriating in his warmth for one last time before she was thrust back into reality.

The last traces of her sadness melted away in the cool torrent of water; in his powerful embrace.

How the hell had her world spun around and ended up like this?

Dreams were only fleeting, but they could be relished and savored and fully realized…

Until the very next one came along.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Qualum doors silently unravelled. Ikriss strode straight through them and into the war-room beyond, his boots echoing in the cold void. The meeting was about to start; he was the very last one to arrive.

Tarak was there of course, along with former Commander Iskar Gar-Kurai. Like Ikriss, he had been tasked with handling security in the Ninth Sector, especially around Earth.

Like Ikriss, he was utterly livid that the Ephrenian slavers had managed to breach their surveillance, and they were both determined to make it right.

The other three High Commanders were also seated at the table, although they were present only in holo-form, because Mardok was stationed in the Fifth Sector—at a midway point between Kythia and Earth—and Tarkun and Jerik were still back on Kythia, containing the fallout that came with toppling an empire.

Ikriss didn’t envy his comrades the job. Amongst other things, they were there to oversee the installation of a new system of government—one that would be fair to all Kordolians that chose to remain on Kythia.

That was no easy task. The civilization they’d left behind was deeply fractured—the ordinary folk highly resented the nobility, and the nobles would fight to the death to keep what was theirs.

Change would take time, and it was proving to be a bloody affair.

And Ikriss knew better than most that they had to be ever vigilant—to avoid becoming the very evil they had defeated.

He took his place at the table—beside Iskar and directly opposite Tarak.

His comrade greeted him with a sharp nod. Like always, Iskar’s appearance was crisp and precise; his Darkstar uniform did not have a line out of place, and his hair was tightly cropped in regulation military style.

He looked as hard and formidable as ever, and yet when Ikriss slid into the seat beside him, Iskar cracked a slight smile. “We have been waiting for you, avarth,” he said good-naturedly, using the Aikun word for brother. “I trust you are in good health.”

“Better than ever,” Ikriss grunted, feeling the weight of five hard, dissecting stares. He was well aware that his near-death experience and subsequent mating would be the topic of discussion amongst the warriors, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest.

How could he be bothered by anything when he had found his precious-above-all-else mate?

He had left her in the human cooking facility with Arin, where they had decided to prepare something called salted caramel popcorn, which involved melting sickening amounts of that disgusting crystallized Earth food called sugar.

Ikriss had gotten one whiff of that cloying sweetness and quickly departed, leaving the females to their infernal devices.

“Then we will begin,” Tarak said quietly, and all eyes snapped toward him. “You all know why I have called this meeting.”

“Dissent arises in the most unexpected of places.” Holo-Mardok leaned back in his seat, raising an eyebrow. “And now this intangible threat is starting to become a serious pain-in-the-ass.” He wore his usual cynical half-smile. That was the problem with Mardok. One never quite knew whether he was being serious or not.

“Right under our fucking noses,” Jerik growled. “Are they stupid? And now they are using humans and Ephrenians to carry out their dirty work? I say we drop the restraint and destroy them all. I do not understand why we have to play nice with these humans. We should have gone on the offensive a long time ago, and hard. I would have executed the lot of them… send a message to anyone who’s thinking of trying to fuck with us.”

“Ordinarily, I would agree,” Tarak said calmly, not reacting in the slightest to Jerik’s fiery words. “But we have not yet identified the ones that are giving the orders, and we do not want to deter aspiring mercenaries and hirelings from working with them... not yet, anyway. Patience, Jerik. Once we have certainty on their location and their identities, I will not hesitate to unleash our full might upon them. But for now, we must bide our time. The best laid traps are the ones that are never detected, don’t you think?”

Jerik glowered but said nothing. The bald commander was a firebrand; quick to anger and action, and as tough as Callidum. In a firefight, there was no better ally to have. But he was also fiercely loyal, and he would never go against the General’s orders, even when he disagreed with them. Tarak knew what kind of missions suited the crusty old war-varhund best. Ikriss guessed he’d stationed Jerik on Kythia to counter Tarkun’s icy, detached way of doing things.

Fire and ice. There were more than a few of them like that.

It occurred to Ikriss that the others probably didn’t know he’d been attacked by the Silent One. If they did, this meeting would be a lot more charged. Each of his brothers would try and claim blood-revenge rights for Ikriss’s near-death.

Was it wise of Tarak to leave out that particular detail? An enemy that could command the blade of a Silent One was not to be underestimated.

But Tarak obviously had his reasons, so for now, Ikriss decided he would play along. The bastard had a way of always being right about these things.

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