Page 6

VARNOK

I frown as the ambassador’s eyes flutter shut. “Wait a minute,” I mutter, my voice low and gravelly. “Humans aren’t supposed to bleed out of their nose and ears. You need medical attention!”

I scan the room, my sharp eyes landing on the human woman crouched over the fallen Reaper.

She’s holding a tissue regeneration unit, her hands trembling as she tries to patch up her monstrous captor.

I stride over, my heavy boots thudding against the metal floor, and snatch the device from her grip.

“I’ll take that,” I say, not bothering to wait for her protest. I flick the switch, and the surgery stick hums to life, its Zerberu-class Theta waves already working their magic on Quinn’s battered body.

Her breathing steadies, the color returning to her pale cheeks. Her eyes flutter open, and she blinks up at me, dazed but alive. “You’re real,” she murmurs, her voice soft and groggy.

Our gazes lock, and for a moment, the chaos of the room fades into the background. She’s stunning, even bruised and bloodied, and I feel a jolt of something I haven’t felt in a long time. I shake it off, my Vakutan discipline kicking in. Now’s not the time.

“Stay here,” I say, my voice firm but not unkind. I gently lower her into Reku’s throne, the oversized seat dwarfing her small frame. She looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and questioning, but I don’t have time to explain.

I turn, my hand tightening around the hilt of the power blade. The plasma beam ignites with a sharp hiss, the white-hot light casting long shadows across the room. Daria scrambles back, her eyes wide with fear, but I’m not here for her.

Reku’s on the floor, his massive body twitching as his regeneration kicks in. He’s not down for long, and I’m not about to give him the chance to get back up. I step over him, the power blade humming in my hand, and plant a boot on his chest.

The human woman—Daria—throws herself over Reku’s body, her arms spread wide like she’s trying to shield a mountain. Her red mohawk is matted with sweat, and her eyes are wild, desperate. “Don’t kill him!” she screams, her voice cracking. “Please!”

I lower the power blade, the plasma beam flickering out with a hiss. “He’s your captor,” I say, my voice flat, confused. “He’s a Reaper. He’s a monster .”

“He’s my soul!” she cries, tears streaming down her face. Her hands clutch at Reku’s chest, her fingers digging into the black, spiked skin. “He’s my jalshagar. I can’t lose him. I won’t .”

I stare at her, my scales itching with discomfort.

Jalshagar. The word hits me like a plasma bolt to the chest. I’ve heard the stories, the legends.

Two bodies, one soul. A bond that defies logic, reason, even sanity.

And here it is, staring me in the face—a human woman willing to die for the monster who enslaved her.

I turn off the power blade and slide it back into its holster. “Fine,” I grunt, turning my back on them. “He’s your problem now.”

Quinn wobbles to her feet, her hand gripping my arm for balance. Her skin is soft, warm, and I feel a jolt of something primal, something I haven’t felt in a long time. I push it down, hard. Now’s not the time.

“Can you walk?” I ask, my voice gruff but not unkind.

“I’ll try,” she says, her voice shaky but determined. She takes a step, then another, leaning on me more than she probably wants to admit. Her skin brushes against mine, and I feel my cock twitch. I grit my teeth, forcing my body to behave. Focus, Varnok. Focus.

We’re almost to the door when Quinn stops, her hand tightening on my arm. “Wait,” she says, her voice sharp. “You can’t just leave her here!”

I glance back at Daria, still crouched over Reku, her body trembling. “I can’t take her either,” I say, my voice low. “There are no good endings here.”

Quinn’s eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. “She’s a victim, Varnok. She needs help.”

“She’s jalshagar,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “She’s not going anywhere without him. And I’m not dragging a Reaper back to the Alliance. End of discussion.”

Quinn opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with a sharp look. “Let’s go,” I say, pulling her toward the door. “Before more of them show up.”

She hesitates, her eyes lingering on Daria for a moment longer, but she doesn’t argue. Together, we step into the dimly lit corridor, leaving the throne room—and its twisted love story—behind.

We reach a T-junction in the dimly lit corridor, and I start to pull Quinn toward the dock where Sweet Charity waits. But she digs her heels in, her small frame surprisingly stubborn.

“The flight attendants,” she says, her voice firm. “We can’t just leave them.”

I growl, low and guttural. “Quinn, we don’t have time for this. Every second we waste is another chance for more Reapers to show up.”

“They’re not jelly car ,” she snaps, her blue eyes blazing. “They didn’t ask for this, and they sure as hell don’t want to stay here.”

“Jalshagar,” I correct her, my voice sharp. “And I don’t care what they asked for. The Precursors have their own plans, and I’m not about to mess with them.”

“Please,” she says, her voice softening. Her hand grabs my arm, and her fingers are warm against my scales. “They want out of here, trust me.”

I look down at her, and something in my chest twists. Her eyes are pleading, but there’s steel in them too. She’s not backing down. I grit my teeth. Damn her for being so stubborn. Damn her for making me care.

“Fine,” I growl. “But with one caveat.”

Her brow furrows. She releases my arm and takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s that?”

“You move much too slowly.”

Before she can protest, I bend down and scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder like a sack of groceries. She yelps, her hands flailing as she tries to grab onto something for balance. “Varnok! Put me down!”

“No can do, Ambassador,” I say, my voice smug. Her squirming nearly sends her tumbling, and I slap a hand onto her backside to hold her in place. Her ass is firm and round under my palm, and I t enjoy the feel of it. Not that I’d ever admit it. I’m just keeping her safe. That’s all.

“You did not just spank me!” she shouts, her voice rising an octave.

“No, I didn’t,” I lie, my tone matter-of-fact. “I’m just making sure you don’t fall. Now hold still.”

She mumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like barbarian , but she stops squirming. I adjust my grip and start moving, my boots thudding against the metal floor. The sooner we find her flight crew, the sooner we can get out of here.

And the sooner I can get Quinn off my shoulder—and out of my head.

I set Quinn down gently, her feet barely touching the ground before she wobbles. She glares at me, her blue eyes sharp despite the blood still smeared across her face. “I can walk, you know,” she snaps, brushing herself off like I’ve just insulted her entire lineage.

“Sure you can,” I grunt, not bothering to argue. I turn to the cage where Clara’s still locked up, her face pressed against the bars. She’s got that look humans get when they’re trying to decide if they’re about to be rescued or eaten. Spoiler: it’s the first one.

“You’re late,” Clara says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I was busy,” I shoot back, grabbing the cage door and yanking it open with a screech of metal. “Where’s T’vek?”

Clara steps out, stretching her arms like she’s just been cooped up in a luxury suite instead of a livestock cage. “One of the Reapers took her down that way.” She points to a dimly lit corridor. “She didn’t look too upset about it, though.”

I groan. Of course she didn’t. T’vek’s always been a little too eager for her own good. I pull out my comm and hit the button. “Gas, get the ship ready. We’re leaving soon.”

“Already on it, boss,” Gas’s voice crackles back. “Weapons are online, engines are warm, and I’ve got a fresh batch of glitter for the next time Dowron calls.”

“Great,” I mutter, cutting the comm. I glance at Quinn and Clara. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Like hell,” Quinn says, stepping forward. “I’m not sitting around while you?—”

I cut her off with a look. “You’re in no shape to fight, Ambassador. Stay. Here.”

She glares at me but doesn’t argue. Good. I don’t have time for her stubbornness right now. I head down the corridor, my power blade humming in my hand. The air smells like rust and sweat, and the walls are lined with scratches and scorch marks. Typical Reaper decor.

I hear voices up ahead, one raspy and low, the other… amused? I slow my steps, pressing myself against the wall as I peek around the corner. There’s T’vek, chained to a wall, her red scales gleaming in the dim light. A Reaper guard looms over her, his bone spurs glinting like knives.

“You are mine now, Vakutan,” the Reaper growls, his voice like gravel in a blender.

T’vek smirks, her golden eyes sparkling. “Oh no,” she says, her tone dripping with mock distress. “I’m all chained up and helpless. You can do anything you want to me.”

I roll my eyes. Of course. I step into the room, my power blade slicing through the air with a hiss.

The Reaper’s eyes go wide as I plant my boot in his ribs, sending him sprawling into the wall. His bone spurs scrape against the metal, but before he can recover, I’m on him. My power blade hisses through the air, the plasma beam slicing through the chain holding T’vek in place.

She drops to the floor with a huff, dusting herself off like she’s just been inconvenienced by a minor delay in her day.

“You could’ve waited about five more minutes before you rescued me,” she says, glaring at me like I’ve just ruined her favorite holovid.

I grunt, slicing through the rest of the chains with a flick of my wrist. “Next time, I’ll check your schedule before saving your scales, T’vek.”

She smirks, her golden eyes glinting with mischief. “Promises, promises.”

I roll my eyes and grab her arm, hauling her to her feet. “Let’s go. We’ve got a ship to catch.”

We make our way back to Clara and Quinn, who are waiting by the throne room. Clara’s pacing, her arms crossed over her chest, while Quinn’s perched on the edge of Reku’s throne, looking like she’s seriously considering burning it down just for the hell of it.

“What took you so long?” Clara snaps as soon as we’re in earshot. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“Had to stop for tea,” I deadpan, earning a snort from T’vek.

Quinn stands, wobbling slightly, and I instinctively reach out to steady her. Her skin is warm under my hand, and I feel a jolt of something I haven’t felt in a long time. I pull back quickly, clearing my throat. “Let’s move.”

The journey back to Sweet Charity is uneventful, but Quinn’s quiet the whole way. Her blue eyes are distant, like she’s lost in thought, and every now and then, she glances at me like she’s trying to figure me out.

We reach the ship, and Gas is waiting at the ramp, his golden fur glinting in the dim light. “Took you long enough,” he says, his voice cheerful despite the chaos. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“I just heard that you unoriginal bastard," I mutter, ushering the women onboard.

As I check the ship’s systems, I glance over at Quinn. She’s leaning against the bulkhead, her arms crossed, watching me with those piercing blue eyes. There’s a spark in them, something fierce and unyielding, and I feel my scales itch with something I can’t quite name.

Maybe this rescue op wasn’t so bad after all.