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Chapter Twelve

Cylo glanced at Qaff and opened his mouth to ask—

“No change,” the medic snapped.

“Can we get her showered?” A red-haired woman settled beside Cylo. Other women gathered around him.

He ran his gaze over Wren’s leggings accentuating well-sculpted legs. A sliver of her belly was exposed, but the sleeveless tunic appeared clean. Her hair was as vibrant as when he first met her.

Qaff turned, tablet in hand. “The med-E.D. sterilizes—”

“Nothing compares to a shower; it makes us feel human.” The redhead swept a hand down her body.

Cylo frowned. “She cannot be moved. Not in her present condition. I have just informed Supreme Comma—”

“She has to be,” the redhead said. “It’s her greatest wish.”

“Other than health, Terry?” A brunette scoffed.

“I will not allow it.” Qaff stepped between the women and Cylo. “Not at this stage. A cleansing would awaken her; she must do so on her own. Interrupting the analysis could be hazardous.”

Terry glared at Qaff. “Listen here, Etterian—”

“Please.” A black-haired woman placed a hand on Terry’s arm. “A shower can wait.”

Terry pulled away. “Ronda—”

“I will ensure she is well and receives whatever she needs.” Cylo pressed his fingers to the dome. “In the meantime, those who have not met their Eths—”

“A what now?” a young woman asked; her damp hair, almost brown, soaked her tunic.

“When an Etterian meets his soul mate, it triggers what they call the Ethera.” An older woman grimaced. “It changes his eye color to neon blue. He becomes your Eth and you his Dar Eth.”

“Soul mate?” Ronda squeaked.

“Yes,” Cylo said, silencing their gasps and murmurs.

“He will kneel for you. I must apologize. This is your Eth’s responsibility to inform you, but the situation is dire.

A shuttle will fly you to the battleship Phoenix where you can decide your destination.

A scimitar or two will meet you halfway to escort the mother to Earth—”

“Donna, did you hear?” the woman with the damp brown hair split the crowd to hug another.

“Truly?” Donna asked, raising her green gaze to Cylo.

“Indeed. Etterians do not lie, for it is dishonorable. The scimitar will speed you home, and if you speak to any supreme commander orbiting his battleship around Earth, he will ensure your damu are rescued or guarded as needed.”

Donna crumpled to the floor with a sob.

Cylo’s chest cinched tight. Alarmed, he took a step—

“Thank you,” the woman chanted, rocking back and forth amid her weeping.

He flicked a hand at the common. “For those remaining—”

“Why would we stay?” Terry gripped her hips, challenging him.

“An Eth cannot be separated from his Dar Eth. It is certain death for him. Together, you may choose to stay or leave. When he approaches you, I only ask one thing: please, show him kindness. To find one’s mate is a gift from the Maker. You hold his life in your hands.”

Terry folded her arms across her chest. “You say Wren will be secure, safe, but why is she inside this machine? How can you promise she’ll recover?”

“The chemicals the Maloidians injected into you were easy to eradicate. Wren has too many and too much.” Cylo gazed at Wren, amazed at how she still breathed.

“Our only hope to save her is for our greatest medical…teachers to assess her. We bring her to Issneen where we can best help.” She was his to guard; that was all he could focus on.

“Her vitals are stable, but the med-E.D. cannot slow the modifications happening to her genetic code,” Qaff added.

“I vow to you, milady, that Wren is under my protection. I will defend her with my life.” The compulsion to be by her side was beyond anything Cylo had experienced, driving him to admit he’d die for her. Not just any woman, but Wren herself.

“What those assholes did to us was barbaric,” Terry growled. “Thank you for saving us.” She faced the women. “I’ve nothing waiting for me at home. I’ll stay.”

That the female insisted on remaining with Wren like he wasn’t good enough? Anger erupted so fast, Cylo struggled to control it. “Do you not trust me? Believe I lack honor?”

Terry staggered back, her hands raised. “No… Not at all. I just thought a friendly—”

“I am hostile?” Cylo roared. He gathered the shadows around himself and loomed over the argumentative and insulting woman. “Can you tell us what was injected into any of you? Is your Earthian medicine far superior to ours? Would we harm her in any way?”

“Violet is my Dar Eth. She will remain with me on Kevol .” Durok weaved among the women to stand behind an older woman with a lovely gray hair color.

She lifted her chin, clenched her fists at her sides, but didn’t glance at Durok over her shoulder. “Seems I’m staying.”

“Then this matter is resolved.” Cylo turned his back on them and took a few seconds to calm the volatile emotions simmering under the surface. He focused on Wren, trying to gauge whether her skin was less purple.

“Operations Commander Malo on comm.” Fyca’s voice snapped Cylo from his daze.

He rolled his shoulders then tapped his O.D.I. “Patch him through to medical.”

Malo appeared on the display vid mounted to a bulkhead. “Cylo, I have read the report. Well done.” He glanced at the med-E.D. “May the woman survive.”

“I pray so,” Cylo said, resisting the urge to look away from Malo.

“Data Officer Olin has assured me that you have made the necessary arrangements for the women, and that a few of our males have found their Dar Eths. Indeed, King Xeus and I are well-pleased.”

A few males? Who else? Cylo bowed his head.

“I could not have done this without my males. Olin is trawling through the data retrieved. Perhaps, soon, we will have a better understanding as to what the Yithians and Maloidians are up to. In addition, this…” He gazed at Wren.

“…Woman befriended a Maloidian who is on board the scimitar and is willing to share what he knows.”

Malo grinned. “Excellent. Since she serves as a distraction, ensure Olin continues to update me.” The comm ended.

Cylo grimaced. As a reprimand for not attending to the report himself, he’d endured worse. He activated his O.D.I. “Olin, my thanks.”

“None needed,” came the male’s response.

“Yet a favor is owed.” Cylo disconnected the comm and faced Qaff. None would mention how costly favors for an operative could be.

Wren was warm, comfortable, and yet, not herself.

Something was odd. No pain twinged through her, disturbing her sleep.

It almost felt like it was her off-day and she’d slept in.

She stretched then wiggled her backside, searching for a comfortable spot on her lumpy mattress. That spot was elusive, so she gave up.

How many hours….no, days, had she been asleep?

Time felt different, distant. A sense of weightlessness lingered.

She was no doubt on a leap. Her eyes wouldn’t open to let her gaze upon the beauty that was Pluto.

Splice zinged through her veins, adding a little heat.

Images flashed like memories, but they were so far-fetched, they had to be fiction.

Silver sharks with fangs, yellow-tentacled, black-spotted aliens, and a purple liquid.

She shook her head, trying to shove them aside.

No, she wanted to remember the hero who’d stormed in to save her.

Piercing dark blue eyes, the kind she could drown in.

Long, black hair in a thick braid that swayed across his tight ass when he moved.

A sharp jawline, even lips, led her gaze to his long nose and low-arched, black brows.

When he’d touched her knee, peace had descended, calming her frantic heartbeat.

Why was she scared? That didn’t matter. He’d gotten her to follow him.

Probably with his smile hinting at a dimple in his left cheek.

She’d never seen a more attractive man. What a weak-assed description.

He was a stunner, she’d admit that. But what the hell was he doing strolling through her dreams?

No such men existed on Demeter, well, except for Pierce, and he didn’t count.

She snorted. Not that she’d met every man on the station. Her stomach churned into a hot, tight, mess when her dimpled man called her ‘ensa.’ The tone had the sexiness of ‘sweetheart,’ so she leaned toward it meaning that.

A gasp tore through her.

Was he Etterian?

She’d read about them in digi-mags. In person, any of them would be quite impressive. Still, what had made her mind conjure this specific man, down to the details? Her overactive imagination couldn’t have brought about her nightmarish adventure. Which meant…

Shit . Yithians and Maloidians had played a part. And her hero was real?

Her eyelids fluttered open. A tinted bubble surrounded her but not so clouded that she couldn’t see beyond it. The place was empty, with a nighttime atmosphere if she judged the silence. Only the beep-beep of a machine registered.

A face appeared, familiar… She gasped, blinking at her hero, his handsomeness sending a flush of warmth through her and liquifying her limbs. Her lungs forced her to suck in a breath. Wow.

“How do you feel?” he asked, pressing his palm to the dome as his deep baritone rolled over her.

“Where am I?” she managed, her voice hoarse. At least she could speak. The delicious sight of him made her swallow her tongue.

“On the Kevol . We are rushing you to Issneen.”

“Where’s that?” She frowned. “Why?” Wiggling her limbs only got her spinning within the pod until her ass pointed at him. Heat exploded across her cheeks. Flaying her arms didn’t help either.

“Qaff, is the med-E.D. done?” he asked another Etterian she hadn’t noticed.

Air whooshed out, and she found herself face down on the bed.

Before she could flip over, her man gripped her by the hips and hoisted her into a sitting position, her legs hanging off the edge.

He slid his fingers from her hips, along the sides of her thighs to her knees. Had he done that on purpose?