Page 21 of Decadence

“As it will you. See, Ikriss, I have thought about this in the old Imperial Kordolian way of thinking, and I have thought about it in the way of the Old Tribes, and I have become convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that what we are doing is right. It is not only that we need them for bearing and nurturing our offspring. Our mates are the complete antithesis of us. They fill the void inside us. They hold a mirror up to us each and every time we contemplate doing evil. We need them on our side.”

Ikriss remembered the way he’d felt when he’d first caught sight of Sienna, naked and helpless and terribly injured. In that moment, he’d wanted to do everything in his power to save her. He’d also wanted to annihilate the entire fucking Ephrenian race. Was this the paradox the General spoke of? “You have an interesting perspective on vulnerability and weakness,” he murmured. “Unfortunately, there are still some of our kind who would find your views repulsive… and ridiculous.” Those kinds of Kordolians still existed; imperial loyalists who had fled Kythia when Tarak overthrew the Empire. The bastard who had tried to buy the shipment of human females was one of them.

They were starting to encounter resistance in some pockets of the Universe. Infernal Kordolian enemies were popping up in all kinds of unexpected places.

There were whispers of something bigger; a yet-unseen threat that would eventually reveal itself.

Now more than ever, they had to be on their guard.

But of course, Tarak already knew that.

He’d probably planned for a thousand such eventualities.

The General started to undress, shrugging his loose Kashkan from his shoulders, letting it fall to the pristine white ice below. Like Ikriss, Tarak was in peak physical condition, with not a shred of fat on his powerful body. But he was more muscular, and unlike Ikriss, his skin was unmarked by even a single scar, thanks to the healing nanites in his bloodstream.

“That is what makes us different to them,” Tarak said as he tested the weight of his krizen, rolling it in the palm of his hand. “We all have the same primal urges. The desire for control; for power, for complete domination. Violence is as much a part of us as our craving for darkness. But you and I, we know how to temper those urges. The violence will never leave us, but we can channel it. Whenever you find yourself descending into the Madness, you must remember her. Trust me, it helps.”

Tarak loosened his trousers and let them fall. Like Nythian and Lodan, he was naked underneath. He lifted his harpoon and made his way toward the hole in the ice. “Don’t let the shadow of the old empire cloud your thoughts, brother. All of that is gone now. If you have the Mating Fever, then you have no choice. You must go after her. Make her understand you, Ikriss. We may have sworn against enslaving them, but they are ours. Some of them just don’t know it yet.” And with that, the General gave Ikriss a knowing look and slipped into the water without a sound, disappearing into perfect darkness.

“I already knew that,” Ikriss murmured, staring after him.

But at least Tarak’s words had helped clear the fog of his madness just a little… enough for him to formulate a plan.

Ikriss plunged his harpoon upright into the ice and started to undress; jacket first, then his undertunic, then trousers, then boots, until he was perfectly naked. The icy wind whispered against his bare skin, and it felt good; a salve for his raging lust.

It felt good to be like this; out in the wild without any need for armor or uniform. It reminded him of Kythia, soothing the dull ache of homesickness that occasionally surfaced. He let out a wry snort as he wondered what Sienna would make of him if she saw him like this.

Apparently, humans were ridiculously modest and always had to cover themselves with garments, even when they were amongst friends of the same sex.

Ikriss couldn’t understand it. This was the body he’d been born with; he was proud of his scars—both from battle and tribal initiation—and of his physique, which he’d honed through many cycles of training and fighting.

Would she be able to understand that when she saw his scars?

Strangely, the thought filled him with a sliver of apprehension.

And now he was horny again.

He had a fucking hard-on again.

In a single swift, savage movement, Ikriss wrenched his spear out of the ice and strode toward the water.

There was only one way to temporarily cure this madness.

He jumped in, plunging into the cold and the darkness; into perfect silence.

The icy water was a salve.

In the distance, he caught a darting flash of silver.

His prey.

As he slowly emptied his lungs, releasing an ephemeral stream of bubbles, Ikriss went very still and let himself sink deeper and deeper toward the bottom.

Unlike the others, who had swum off to hunt, he would wait for his prey to come to him.

And as he reveled in the water’s comforting, cocoon-like embrace, the answer came to him, as crystal clear as the stars in deep space.

He would go to her, and he would make it work.

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