Implosion: Colliding Worlds Trilogy, #2

Chapter One

Draeken base in the northwest United States

Nalea lay on her side, feigning sleep, as the guardsman walked past her cell, whistling an old tune that reminded her of Sephia. The tips of his leathery wings brushed the floor as though he was bored, which matched the slow, staccato rhythm of his steps echoing through the hall. His senses would be dulled from the monotony of his late-night shift; hers were primed.

She forced herself to breathe deep and steady as she waited until his footsteps faded into the silence. She’d had months to memorize the guardsmen’s schedule. If the gods were on her side, the hallway would remain empty for at least another hour.

Now!

Tensing her body, she surged toward the barred door of her cell. Her muscles were alive and ready. Her hair was short, so it would stay out of her way. The lights were dimmed for the night, so they wouldn’t blind her sensitive eyes—a good thing now that her dark glasses were destroyed. With one last silent prayer to the gods, she pressed against the bars that kept her imprisoned within her enemy’s earthside stronghold.

The cold metal resisted movement. She pushed harder, and the barred door swung outward. Her escape mechanism fell to the floor with a plink and her breath hitched.

It had worked!

Hard to believe a little piece of plastic was all it took to bypass Draeken technology. Wync, the guardsman on the nightshift, had been so busy taunting her for being wingless as he escorted her back to her cell after interrogation that he’d failed to notice her sliding the lens from her dark glasses against the locking mechanism as he pulled her cell door closed.

An alarm should have sounded immediately. Fortunately, the Draeken were facing an energy shortage—just like the Sephians were—otherwise, the system would’ve alerted the guards if the bolt was blocked in any manner.

She smiled. She had no problem taking advantage of any chance for escape.

Nalea carefully pushed the door closed behind her to avoid raising suspicion. She didn’t even glance back at the small cell she’d been forced to call home for nearly a year. After tonight, she’d never be on the other side of that door again.

Flattening herself against the wall, she peeked around the corner and down the hallway beyond, looking first left then right. To the left, she would find freedom and could be miles away before her captors noticed her absence. She turned right.

Some things were more important than freedom.

Her bare feet made no sound on the cold floor as she hurried down the hallway. Every step was deliberate and quick. She knew the way well: the empty cells, a locked supply room, even the guardsman station where Wync had undoubtedly stopped to catch a nap. Scowling, she wished she had more time to ensure the racist would breathe his last. You’ll get yours, Wync, someday.

It wouldn’t be much farther now. Long seconds passed before she reached the room she sought. She double-checked the sign to the right of the closed door. It read Lord Commander Roden Zyll.

Nalea clenched her fists, fighting to remain steady. Precious seconds bled out while she calmed her breathing. Her muscles burned with tension, as though they were warning her, run! The ends of her short hair clung to the edges of her sweaty cheeks.

Sephians normally wore their hair long, but Roden, thinking to punish her, had cut her hair short after she’d refused to allow him to brush its snarled length. Instead, she’d considered it a personal triumph. Every time she made her captor lose his temper was a step closer to finding his mortal weakness. She hadn’t yet found that weakness, but she knew she was running out of time. He’s only a Draeken.

Focusing on the touchpad, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, recalling the unique tone each button made as Roden entered them every time he brought her to ‘dine’ with him, which was his polite term for non-physical interrogation. He’d yet to raise a hand to her, instead preferring to mess with her mind, acting as her host rather than captor, all the while subtly plying for information she’d never surrender.

And so they’d been at a stalemate for nearly a year. Nalea refusing to betray her people, and Roden with something up his sleeve, for that could be the only reason he hadn’t tortured or killed her yet. The only way to win this game was to make her move first.

Convinced of the passcode, which she’d played over and over in her mind a hundred times a day, she reopened her eyes and punched in the six digits her memory had shown her. The small light on the touchpad flashed blue before going dark. Success! The door opened with a nearly silent whoosh that translated into something more like a sonic boom to her ears. The air hardened in her lungs. Would Roden awaken at the sound? Worse, could he still be awake at this late hour?

Defeating the Draeken meant stopping Roden. Steeling her nerves, Nalea stepped inside just as the door closed behind her.

No one rushed her. No sound of movement. It was nearly pitch black in the room, thanks to clouds trying to smother the moonlight outside. As her vision easily adjusted to the soothing darkness, she scanned the room. Draeken, like humans, had to wear special glasses to see in the dark. Sephians, on the other hand, were nocturnal. They had evolved on a planet with three moons and weak sunlight. To put it mildly, Nalea had excellent night vision.

And, just as this planet’s inhabitants absorbed the sun’s rays through their pale Draeken-like skin, her people’s golden skin was optimized to draw as much lunar energy as possible. The dark exhilarated her.

On her first day as a prisoner at this earthside base, Roden had surprised her by giving her a pair of dark glasses to ease her sensitivity to the light, almost certainly in an attempt to build false trust. Nalea had seen and heard plenty about Roden Zyll, a commander famous for his viciousness. Yet he was also an enigma. The only thing she knew was that he never did what anyone expected.

A Draeken lord, second only to Grand Lord Hillas Puftan, Roden’s strategies were a dichotomy of ruthless assassinations, outright attacks, and—in her case—charming mindfucks. The moment he gave her the dark glasses, she knew he had something planned for her. And that thought had haunted her every waking moment since.

Without glasses for protection, Nalea needed to make her escape and find shelter before sunrise, where Earth’s bright day star would blind her. Until dawn, in this room, she needed no glasses. The darkness felt natural, and it comforted her as her gaze fell upon the Draeken on the bed. With one arm resting over his head, his chest rose and fell slowly, his darkly colored tattooed wings spread out loosely beneath him.

Relief soothed Nalea’s frayed nerves. Retribution was so very close now. She crept first to his desk, where his weapons were laid out symmetrically. Her hand skimmed over the blasters and glided across the knives, pausing at a long blade embellished with etchings. She hefted its weight in her hand. It would do.

Keeping her gaze fixed upon the sleeping Draeken, she closed in, step by slow step, holding the blade ready before her. The sliver of moonlight broke through the window and glinted off the knife’s dark metal, producing shimmering lines across her golden skin. It would have been better if the clouds had completely blanketed the moon this night so Roden wouldn’t be able to see her coming even if he wakened.

All it would take was one quick slice. One quick slice and Lord Commander Roden Zyll would no longer pose a risk to either the Sephians or to the inhabitants of this planet… or to her.

The light across her hand trembled, and she realized she was shaking. She gripped the blade with both hands to steady herself. She paused, inhaled, scolded herself for her weakness, and took another step. After all, it should be an easy thing to kill a godless Draeken. She’d killed dozens—hells, hundreds—of the bastards already. Why did this one have to be any different? She wanted to kill Roden. He’d been kind to her for too many months, and it messed with her mind. She needed to kill him more than any other Draeken she’d killed. Especially since this particular one happened to be her captor, and something far, far worse… her destined tahren. Her soulmate.

Of everyone in the universe for her dysfunctional soul to latch onto, why did it draw her to her most hated enemy? Since he was a Draeken, he would never be hindered by the tahren bond; he’d never feel her emotions like she could feel his, should she give in to the bond. If he discovered her secret, he’d have the cruelest form of torture available at his hands.

He was clever, and she needed to escape before he grew suspicious. He already questioned her with unending perseverance rather than turning her over to his underlings for more traditional torture methods. Had he thought to convert her to the Draeken side? Surely, he must know she’d die before betraying her people. More likely, he’d kept her alive to trade her for his officers the Sephians and humans captured last year.

No matter his intentions, only one option was acceptable.

Kill Roden Zyll.

Resolved, she lowered the blade toward his neck. Her body was fighting itself as the natural instinct to protect one’s mate pushed against her resolve to kill with all its might.

The tahren bond, while slithering just below the surface, would not take hold unless she allowed it. Until Roden was dead, Nalea must be stronger than nature.

Suvaste, I control my own destiny!

Furious, she yanked her arms above her head and brought the knife down with the force of all her rage behind it. Just before the blade would have skewered his black heart, a vise gripped her wrist and twisted. Sharp pain shot up her arm and she grunted. She scrambled to get away but was yanked forward, spun, and shoved against the mattress. The air rushed out of her lungs.

Nalea fought against Roden, but he overpowered her and forced her arms above her head. Even though she was in her prime, he held her down as though she were just a little girl, both wrists bound all too easily in one of his larger hands. His body pressed hers against the bed, giving her no opportunity to move, let alone escape. He still had a hand free, which she suspected now held the deadly blade.

Her spirit crashed. I’ve failed.

Lights, Roden ordered, and the room brightened in response.

Nalea clenched her eyes shut against the intensity. She’d failed her people, those of this world, and herself. She was lost.

Look at me, Lea. He spoke gently, and she hated him all the more for it.

Her eyes snapped open to give him her harshest glare, except the brightness caused her to wince.

Lights, dim.

The brightness no longer blinding, she glared while he frowned down at her. His wings, each tipped with a sharp bone spike, spread out behind him as though to shade her from the light. She’d often wondered how many opponents he’d slayed with those wing tips. She then wondered how many females had grabbed them during sex, and she chided herself for the thought.

His silver Draeken eyes scrutinized her in the now dimly lit room. Ah, Lea, you vex me.

She wrenched her gaze away. The name is Nalea, and I hope you rot in all twelve hells.

He gripped her jaw and made her look at him once again. Then he smiled, revealing a hint of white teeth. Simple biology made her wonder what those lips would feel like on her neck, wondered how those teeth would feel when they nipped at her skin. But, as it was Roden, he’d likely bite. And hurt. Reality was the best cure for her distracting thoughts.

You know, he said, skimming a finger down her neck, if you wanted to come to my bed, you had only to ask.

She tried to pull her wrists free to no avail. The only thing I want is to see your blood flow through these halls like a river, she snarled.

Such hostility, he murmured before leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear. "I’m sure you can think of something more interesting for your tahren."

Frozen, she gasped, slack jawed. She swallowed and focused on keeping the truth hidden from her features. You’re insane. Why would you think that?

I know a great many things, he whispered, as though reading her mind. Remember the first time we met, when my people entered your earthside base?

When she said nothing, he continued. "When we tussled and I disarmed you, it was at that moment, the moment when I touched you, and your beautiful onyx eyes widened. I knew then, in that instant, that something had shocked you to the very core. For a Sephian, what else could it be than you have found your destined mate?"

She remained a statue, keeping her lips pressed tightly closed.

He cocked his head slightly. You didn’t think I’d noticed? Tut, tut. I am not Lord Commander by not being perceptive. Why do you think I have personally led your interrogation all year? His smile then grew intimate and his wings lowered slightly, as though to cocoon them. "Because, my dear, forcing you to be near your destined tahren day in and day out is the sweetest torture of all. Tell me, Lea, what does it feel like to yearn for your enemy’s touch, to yearn for the touch of a Draeken?"

She snapped her teeth at him. "Jihtee." Fuck you.

He pulled back, humor turning his lips upward as he shook his head slowly. Fighting the bond is useless. You know you can’t prevent it. It’s only a matter of time. You are mine.

"I’ll never be yours," she swore.

He smirked. A challenge I accept. Then he leaned closer. You will accept me, Lea. Willingly. Sublimely. Fervently. Each word was slow, whispered inches from her lips, and she trembled under the force of them. That, I promise.

"Never," she gritted out then sucked in a breath when she felt a sharp prick in her neck. Blackness swirled around her. As her world faded, her last recurring thought was that she should have killed Roden Zyll when she’d had the chance.

Chapter Two

Roden’s lips curved upward as he strode back to his room after ensuring his prisoner could not escape again. He loved a good challenge, and Nalea brought the best kind. When he’d first realized he was her destined mate, the thought had appalled him. How could he, a great Draeken lord, be a common Sephian’s tahren ?

Though there was nothing common about Nalea. She was a member of Apolo’s trinity, making her almost his equal by military standards. The more he’d considered the possibility, the more the idea had intrigued him. While there’d been Draeken-Sephian consorts over the years, the number was trivial when compared to the size of the two races. And, of that number, at least one mate was always of mixed Sephian-Draeken blood. Their DNA was similar enough for biological compatibility but simply too different for the Sephian tahren bond to recognize a Draeken.

Roden had confidence in his heritage; his bloodline was pure Draeken descent for as far back as