Page 36 of Galactic Sentinels, Vol. 1 (Chronicles of Pherebos #1)

Pherebos.

I step into the small room adjacent to our quarters. My eyes catch a tiny surveillance pellet tucked into the far corner, just across from the shower. I pretend not to notice. Better to let Noviosk think he’s still in control.

Instead, I move to the stone wall that conceals the shower controls and turn on the water. From what I can tell, the chip’s angle only covers the entrance—nothing beyond that. And as for audio? The sound of running water should mask anything we say.

“Go ahead, I’ll join you,”I say firmly.

She hesitates, her eyes red and swollen from crying. The sight hits me harder than I expect. And knowing I’m part of the reason she’s like this? That’s worse.

She steps under the warm spray, and I take a moment to breathe. This isn’t just about escape anymore. It’s about trust—rebuilding it, if I even can.

As she slides under the warm spray, I take off my clothes. My body is still taut from the parody I've offered our voyeurs. When I take off my pants, it's clear to everyone in the room how into it I am .

I don't even hesitate. I shrug it off and join my partner in the shower.

The most important thing is making her believe I’m being honest—that I truly love her.

“My Faksaya,” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She flinches.

Then, cautiously, she asks, “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” I say, keeping my voice low. “As long as we speak softer than running water.” There’s no shortage of water on Vagantu—we’ve got time. Let’s use it well.

“You said you’d explain.”

‘’What do you want to know?’’

“What does Faksaya mean?” she asks, clearly surprised by her own question—and honestly, so am I.

“It’s a word from Asgarne,” I tell her. “It literally means ‘Breath of Life.’ It’s what we call our Dedicated Soul. You might say ‘soul sister’ in Human terms.”

“What do you mean?’’

‘’Ileana, my people believe in soulmates. We recognize them the moment we see them. I knew it the second I saw you. You’re my soulmate. I’d never hurt you. Never. I swear it.’’

Her gray eyes widen, searching my face for something—truth, maybe. Reassurance.

“But that’s impossible,” she says, her voice rising. “You met me on BN-35. If that were true, you wouldn’t have left me with Henri!”

She’s accusing me—and I can’t blame her .

“My biggest mistake,” I confess, the words scraping out of me. “You were with the base administrator—future governor of Jaga-18. Your sister needed help, and I had nothing to offer. He could give you everything. Even protection. For both of you.”

I pause, the weight of it all pressing down on my chest.

“Leaving you there and walking away… that was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I didn’t know what kind of man he really was. If I had known…”

She collapses into my arms, sobbing.

“He was awful,” she says through her tears. “Cruel. Manipulative. Calculating.”

When the tears slow, she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I’m not Asgarnian. I’m human. I don’t feel this bond you keep talking about.”

“You can talk about it with Wingo as soon as he helps us get out of here.”

“Wingo? Is he here?” she blurts out, a little too loud.

“Shhh, My Faksaya,” I whisper. “Keep it down. Let me soap you up while we talk—it’ll look more natural.”

“To answer your question, Wingo’s in SIL, orbiting Vagantu. He’s just waiting for a signal to come pick us up.”

She frowns. “But we’re still prisoners. Even if the cage looks different. So what’s the plan?”

I smile faintly. “What if I told you the plan involves a fair amount of improvisation?”

She slumps a little, her gaze dropping, disappointment flickering across her face .

I run my hands gently over her wet skin, trying to ease the tension from her body—trying to wash away the weight of the men’s stares, the way they looked at her like she was something to claim.

“Pherebos?” she says, her voice tight with emotion.

“Yes, my love?”

“We need to warn the Confederation. They have to protect Asgarne. Noviosk will send his men to storm it—you know that, right?”

“Mmm,” I murmur, my hands still moving gently over her skin, savoring the softness of it—like satin warmed by the sun. “I have no intention of giving Asgarne’s coordinates to anyone. Especially not Noviosk.”

“But… isn’t that what you did?” she asks, her voice uncertain.

“No way,” I say firmly. “What I gave them were the coordinates for Wingo-land. That planet didn’t even have a name until it got smashed by a star.”

She frowns, confused. “I don’t get it. Noviosk said you weren’t lying!”

“I was careful not to lie in front of him. You remember—I said I’d never given anyone the data on my home planet. And that’s true.”

I pause, letting her process it.

“Then I asked for a digital medium and told everyone to hold on while I ‘refocused.’ If you want to fool a lie detector, you have to believe what you’re saying. Sometimes that means breaking the truth into smaller pieces that sound like one big, solid story. ”

I glance at her, and she’s listening closely now.

“So I told him the disk held the coordinates of an unknown world. That’s also true. I added a personal touch to make it more convincing. I said, ‘I remember exactly the last time I stood in that same spot with my best friend, right next to his birthplace. Just before he almost died.’”

I smile faintly.

“Wingo’s my best friend. And the last time I was there—where he came from—I picked him up on the SIL, right before the place got wiped out by a meteor storm.”

She blinks, then nods slowly. “Then you said the disk had the coordinates of a world unknown to both the Confederation and the Coalition.”

“And that’s still correct,” I say, watching her eyes light up as it clicks.

She looks at me, dazzled. She gets it.

I smile and nod, waiting for her next question.

“You played Noviosk,” she says, almost in awe. “You gave him the coordinates to a patch of nothing.”

“I’m not even sure what’s left there now,” I admit. “When I picked up Wingo, the whole area was unstable—floating rocks, shifting debris fields. Not exactly prime real estate.”

“And the weapons for the transaction?” she asks.

“Well… copies, of course,” I say with a grin. “Replicated in just a few hours. Asgarnian weapons, sure—and made by an Asgarnian. So technically, still authentic. ”

Ileana giggles, and I cover her mouth with my lips to hide the delicious noise she's making. I run my thumb along her cheekbone to the back of her neck, hindered by that ugly restraining collar, before continuing down her arms.

Oh man, it's not the right place, but I've been looking for her for weeks. I'm desperate for her. I try to get myself together and push her away.

“It's not the best idea!” I say, my tone sounds a bit heavy with desire.

“Is that so? What do you think they're thinking you are doing to me?”

I hope the Flots help me—I really do. She shouldn’t be encouraging me like this. Not now. Not when we’re deep in Coalition territory, with our enemies just a few steps away.

But at the same time… she’s not wrong.

They already assume I’m mistreating my slave. So what could possibly matter more than loving her—truly loving her—until the end of time?

Even here? Even now?

When I'm with her, I'm totally consumed by my desire for her.

I'm so hungry for her that I lose my mind.

I devour her mouth without any gentleness, impatient to unite with her after weeks of abstinence.

She gets up on tiptoe, puts a hand behind my neck, and pulls my face to hers for a deeper kiss.

I quickly give in to her demand, as she tightens her grip on my head.

Before long, the tension becomes too much. I push her against the stone wall and lift her up a bit so I can slip between her thighs. I know I'm putting my back on the line with these video pellets, but I don't care. I don't mind them watching me honor my wife, as long as they don't see her.

I look her in the eyes for a second to make sure she's cool with it, and her gaze tells me all I need to know. I'm thrilled to have her in my life. This is the second time I've let my Dedicated Soul escape, and the second time the Waves have allowed me to find it.

As always, our connection is solid, impressive, and unmatched! We're so busy looking at each other that we hardly notice the waves around us. When I feel her tilt, I cover her mouth with mine. I don't want anyone to think my little slave isn't enjoying herself.

I carefully help her stand up again. Her legs are a bit wobbly, and her eyes are a little misty. Her eyes shine with a loving look. But I guess I'm wrong. Like she said, she's human and doesn't feel the bond of soul dedication. The way she's acting is just physical, not emotional.

“Ileana?” I ask gently. “I need to ask you something. While you were held captive… did they… did they hurt you?”

“They just brought me here and locked me in a filthy cage,” she says. “The worst thing they made me do was shoot that video—for the sale.”

Relief floods through me. She’s okay. No harm done.

“I’m so glad you didn’t suffer too much,” I say. “But Ileana… I don’t understand. You ran away from MyFaS. You ran away from me. I’ve been worried sick.”

Her eyes flutter shut for a second .

She takes a deep breath, then whispers, “I overheard you talking to your friend. You said you wouldn’t take me to a Confederation base. And when he mentioned the auction… you said you were going to take care of me. I thought you meant… sell me.”

She hesitates.

“What else?” I press her gently.

“I thought of you,” she says, “when Noviosk got a call from a Confederation traitor. I thought it was you contacting him.”

“What? What are you saying? Explain!”

“No, it couldn’t have been you,” she says quickly. “Noviosk told his contact he’d meet them at his home base after the sale. But you’re here—with me. I’m sorry if I misunderstood.”

“Ileana, My Faksaya, please focus. What exactly did you hear? This is important.”