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Chapter Fifteen

Cylo wanted nothing more than to force Wren to step back, to let him into her room. One glance at the bed behind her almost made him succumb. She wasn’t his. And doing anything with her, no matter how much he longed to, wouldn’t be honorable or fair to the male she truly belonged to.

He’d allowed himself the barest of kisses, enough to inhale the unusual beverage she consumed. It hadn’t been enough.

When the door shut, a blast of anger had him punch the Maloidian steel bulkhead. His knuckles split, but the sharp pain couldn’t compare to the agony within. How could this woman invoke so much when she wasn’t his Dar Eth?

He headed to Qaff’s quarters in medical and chimed the door.

“What is it?” the male asked, ushering him inside.

“Why is she not mine?” Cylo fell into a pace.

Qaff sighed, halted Cylo, then scanned his bleeding hand with a med-gun. The dull throbbing ceased. “All of her must be seen to trigger the Ethera, and what you are seeing is not who she is. Not her true hair, eye, and skin color.”

Cylo sank onto the comfy. “If we return her to who she was, then I will kneel?” Maker . He hoped so.

“I cannot say, especially when we might not be able to stabilize the genetic modifiers.”

Cylo froze. She was his but could never be due to the Maloidian chemicals. He was doomed to die on the battlefield, unpaired. But this knowledge also meant she would be no other male’s Dar Eth. For the same reasons applied.

He tapped his O.D.I. “Olin, investigate Wren. She is wanted by the Earthian authorities. Get me the details.”

“You could just ask her,” the male grumbled then ended the comm.

Cylo planned to, but truths could be manipulated, and most viewed their past through their perspective. Regardless, he’d battle anyone attempting to take her against her will. Including himself.

“Get some sleep.” Qaff gestured at his door.

Cylo smiled at the blatant dismissal. “My thanks.”

He headed to the comm to check on Fyca. The giggling alone implied he needn’t have bothered. In the barracks’ passage, he stared at Wren’s door. If he chimed, would she let him in, let him—

He entered his quarters and let the door shut behind him. Sleep. Qaff was wise to suggest it.

“And do not mate with her,” Qaff said via Cylo’s O.D.I. “The addition of your DNA might play havoc with her condition.”

Cylo glowered at his forearm. “So only kisses?”

Qaff hesitated. “Yes.”

“Alodon’s balls,” Cylo muttered and sat on the edge of his bed. Exhaustion pummeled him, his emotional state in turmoil. He tried to control his thoughts, the urges she invoked, but that only circled his focus to her, to their future.

“You used the Chokaar?” Adviser Kanzo demanded, his face appearing on Cylo’s display vid.

He leaped to his feet. “I had no choice. The Yithian vessel fired first; not to mention, they were suspicious of our presence on Yithia.”

Kanzo’s expression turned to confusion in the narrowing of his eyes and crinkled brow. “The facility, I see. I hope this will appease our king. He does not take too kindly to the unjustified use of the Chokaar.”

Cylo clasped his hands behind his back. “I have three women aboard; two are Dar Eths. It was justified.”

“You are correct. Thank you for the information.” The comm ended.

Cylo slumped, then faced his room. A cleanse then rest; both would do much to strengthen him for what was to come.

“To feel human,” Lady Terry had said. He unlatched his boots, stripped off his armor, and stepped into the cleanser for the third time that day.

He raised his arms above his head, splayed his fingers on the bulkhead, and let the water stream over him.

The constant ache in his groin would have to wait until the morning chore to be dealt with.

He stroked his hard malehood, his breath catching when images of Wren flooded his mind: a flash of a perfect breast, the smoothness of her inner thigh.

And in his visions, her skin was still purple, but her hair was a pale blonde. A gasp not his own came from his O.D.I.

“Enough, please, Cylo,” she whispered.

He froze, and the imagery vanished. “You can sense me through the bulkhead?”

“Apparently,” she said, yawned, then hummed. “You’re affecting my dreams.”

“My apologies, ensa.” He squeezed his eyes shut to soothe their burning.

“Night,” she mumbled.

He released his malehood and left the spray.

The water cut off. He ignored the air dryer to sprawl on his bed.

His wet braid soaked the linen, but he didn’t care.

Controlling his thoughts mattered, so he focused on his breathing and on what tasks awaited him when he returned to Malo’s side.

He flicked his gaze to the lump of gold on the table.

Finding that couldn’t compare to Wren’s kiss.

Coercing information from a prisoner didn’t affect him like the perfume of her skin did.

He tucked an arm behind his head and willed his mind to clear.

It was harder than he expected, not used to having to keep his thoughts off a female.

He pictured a drone, navigating it to a passing asteroid.

In his mental hand was the console, allowing him to shift the drone’s direction with his thumbs.

“I can’t sleep,” Wren said, ruining his descent into slumber. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about? It…feels boring.”

Far from it. He exhaled. “In my spare time, I drone-mine asteroids.”

“Oh?” Her voice perked up. “Not dull at all. You were picturing this?”

“Yes.” Or trying to.

“Do you have a drone on board?” Her excitement sparked his.

He chuckled. “Yes, only one. I left the others on the Gladio . Finding you was more important.”

“So, all we need is a passing asteroid?” she asked. “If we get lucky, that could be fun.”

He tried not to focus on the excitement raising the hairs on the back of his neck. That she might share his enjoyment of his favorite pastimes hadn’t been something he’d thought he’d value.

“Tell me, Wren, what did Anthony Pierce mean when he said imprisonment?” He’d planned to ask her in the morning anyway, but now would suit just as well.

She fell silent. “The biggest betrayal of my life. Yeah, it sounds overdramatic, but I trusted when I shouldn’t have.”

Not knowing what to say, he waited.

“I’ve always understood technology, how it worked, how to manipulate it.

When E.A.F. asked me to help bring down a corrupt organization, well, the challenge was too tempting.

” Her laughter lacked warmth. “Foolish me. I was arrested, tried, found guilty, then banned from doing anything computer-related. Pierce got me a welding job on Demeter Station as a favor to my brother. I was halfway through my time served when E.A.F. announced that my sentence was extended for unknown reasons.” She sniffed, sending a crushing weight through Cylo’s chest. Is she…

crying? “Then I got kidnapped. Which made things a thousand times worse,” she blubbered.

“E.A.F. thinks I ran away, which will add decades to my punishment when they catch me.”

He bolted, entering her room without bothering to chime. She was curled on her side, facing the bulkhead between them, her fingers splayed across its Maloidian steel like she longed to touch him. He climbed onto the bed behind her and gathered her against him, letting her cry.

“Ensa, you have me now,” he whispered. “We will fight your justice system on your behalf.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “And if that fails, I will kidnap you permanently.”

She sniffled then giggled. “Thanks, I think.” She rolled over and snuggled into his embrace, then jerked back. “Cylo… Please tell me you’re not naked?”

Her caress across his collarbone made him shiver. “I am. Does my nudity bother you?”

“No,” she rasped. When she pressed her lips where her fingers had been, he stiffened his arms, bringing her closer.

“Ensa.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “We cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Qaff believes my DNA might worsen your—”

“I don’t sleep with a man without protection,” she mumbled, feathering her lips across his skin again.

Anger rushed to cloud his vision. “Why would you need protection when sleeping? Do your males harm you when you are most vulnerable?”

Her lips relaxed into a smile when he was far from joyful. Any male who’d hurt her would feel the wrath of an Etterian operative with his virak of poisons at his disposal.

“No, protection means a condom, a way to prevent pregnancy.”

Condom? Images flooded his mind, explaining its purpose.

He froze, his thoughts reeling even as darkness consumed him.

“You stop the creation of damu?” Appalled, he wanted to shove her away from him but couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“How can your species do this? Damu are precious, to be cherished.”

“Because I don’t want to be giving birth every nine months. We haven’t colonized enough planets to handle that big of a population.”

He sat up, bringing her with him. “Explain. Every nine months? How is that possible when our females are only fertile once a year?”

She gasped. “Cylo, sweetheart, we’re fertile every month.”

“Ah.” He cupped her cheek to run his thumb across her bottom lip. “I see.” His fingers trembled when he activated his O.D.I.. “Qaff, what about human condoms?”

The male groaned. “Cannot thwart the strength of Etterian sperm, so no. Just kisses.” The comm ended with a mumbled, “Maker, save me from—”

Cylo laughed at his grumpy battle-bond, but his humor faded when he gazed at her face. “A pity.”

“Tell me about it,” she said and slumped, resting her temple against his chest. “Just hold me.”

“Anytime.” Pulling her down with him, he tucked her head under his chin while running his hand up and down her tunic-covered back. Desperation drove him to slide under her garment to touch her skin, but he dared not.

Time dragged by. His thoughts drifted to what she’d been through and how best to save her.

Her breathing deepened, and yet, sleep eluded him.

In the darkness of her room, her outline was clear to him.

When her head fell back, he took the opportunity to study every delicate feature from her pointy chin, narrow jawline, tipped nose, and pale blonde eyebrows.

Why weren’t they different colors like her hair?

He ran a thumb over one, finding its silkiness fascinating.

Her lips parted on a gasp, then her hair changed, the colors fading until the shade from his vision appeared. He froze. How… How had she done that?

Without waking her, he shifted until he could reach his O.D.I. “Qaff?” he whispered.

“Enough,” the male hissed.

“To Wren’s quarters now.”

The door swished open a minute later. “What?” Qaff demanded, venturing in. Stilling at the sight of her hair, he raised his med-gun and ran it over her. “How…” He cleared his throat. “I will study the results.” Waving his med-gun at Cylo’s nudity, he said, “No mating.”

“So you have said,” Cylo grumbled. When the door shut, he resumed stroking her back, lest they’d disturbed her. He doubted they had with how low they spoke, but any intense emotion he or Qaff experienced might have.

He dozed off, somehow at peace with her in his arms. When she began to stir hours later, so did he, relishing this moment. Waking with a woman was a new experience for him.

She moaned, nuzzled her nose along his neck, then leaned back to meet his gaze. “Morning.” She pulled away before he could respond, clambering over him amid a flash of smooth thighs and blonde hair.

“Ensa, you have changed.”

She faced him then diverted her gaze as if his nudity did bother her. He smiled, liking that she found him distracting. Repeatedly snatching his focus from her bare legs to her toes took discipline. His was fast dwindling.

“Stop that,” she said, offering him her back.

“Stop what? Looking at you?” He sat up while the bulkheads flickered. “Opacity: mirror.”

She gasped, stumbled forward, and stared at herself. “One: wow. That your walls are interactive—”

“They change colors, too,” he said, content to admire her animated face in her reflection.

She cleared her throat. “To be tested later. Two: what happened to my hair? The dye cost me a fortune.” Feathering her fingers through her locks mesmerized him.

“You were dreaming,” he said, resting an elbow on his knee.

She gaped at him. “I did this?” she squeaked.

He laughed. “Yes.”

She headed to the door. “I’ve got to tell Qaff—”

“Did already.” Cylo stood and stretched, slowing each movement under her fascinated gaze.

Her cheeks darkened. “You’re gorgeous.”

Appearance didn’t matter to an Etterian, but her admiration of his physical form swelled his chest with unexpected heat. “As are you,” he managed. He gestured to her tunic. “Perhaps you should dress before leaving your quarters?”

“You, too.” She chuckled and veered toward the replicator. “Meet you in the med bay?”

He headed to the door and peered over his shoulder, catching her ogling his backside. “Agreed.”

She whipped away, pretending to order garments.

He chuckled, pleased at how he flustered her.

“I feel that,” she called as her door closed behind him.