Page 9

“I cannot betray Yithia, Malo. They have my estuuba.” Smez’s eyes pleaded as only soulless, black eyes could.

Holding the dagger to Smez’s finger, Malo whispered, “What family? I know you too well for that lie to affect me.” He angled the blade to catch the light. “You only have three fingers. It would be a shame to lose one.”

Smez pinched his lips in open defiance.

Malo sliced the finger in one clean stroke, the bone not impeding the blade. The Yithian screamed, curling his remaining two fingers into his palm. His silver finger lay in gray blood.

“I said I would not ask you again, Smez. What I will ask is which finger is next? I will allow you the illusion of choice.” Malo arched a brow.

“You are a bastard, Malo.” Smez clutched his hands to his chest.

Malo grabbed his wrist and twisted. The prisoner squeaked but couldn’t prevent Malo from pinning his wrist to the table.

Smez’s gaze followed the descent of the blade. “Iphara. There’s a laboratory on Iphara.”

Malo frowned, stopping the blade just above Smez’s middle finger. “Why a laboratory? To what purpose?” He cast a glance at Cylo.

Blind fury consumed Cylo. He tightened his hand on the blaster, ready to fire.

“We seek to understand the attraction,” Smez panted. “Why do Etterian males prefer Earthian females?”

“That is illogical. This does not serve Yithia.” Malo brought down the blade.

Smez twitched his fingers. “Compatibility,” he spat. “If Earthians are compatible with Etterians, they may be with other species.”

“You wish to sell them.” Malo blinked.

Sell Dar Eths? Cylo stepped closer.

“As pleasure slaves.” Smez’s shoulders slumped.

“Where on Iphara?” Cylo demanded, raising the blaster.

“In an underground chamber. Few Yithians are aware of it,” Smez blurted.

“How many females are there?” Cylo roared and withdrew his blade.

Malo scowled. Cylo didn’t care if his reactions disappointed his commander. Females were in danger, bartered like kreso, as…sex slaves.

“Seven,” Smez stammered, his solid-black gaze riveted on Cylo. “They showed no warrior skills, were too weak. Nor did they resist the soldiers sent to retrieve them.”

“How long have they been there?” Malo demanded.

“They were delivered four days ago,” Smez mumbled, then trembled. Sweat dripped off his chin even as his skin paled under fresh cracks. “May Calzantu forgive me.”

Cylo glanced at Malo, asking to kill this male. When Malo inclined his head, Cylo struck, slipping the tip between the Yithian’s two vertebrae at the base of his neck. He fell forward. His death was swifter than Cylo would’ve liked, but finding these females took priority.

“Take a scimitar, liaise with the patrolling battleships, and save those females. Once you have them, ensure the laboratory is destroyed from within. There must be no indication of our involvement,” Malo commanded. “And deal with this.” He gestured to Smez.

Cylo hoisted the male over his shoulder.

“Leave the finger,” Malo growled. “Have Trav deliver Uloz.”

“Yes, Operations Commander.” Cylo marched out of the Hallow and dumped the body on the first operative he came across. He spun on his heel and headed to the comm. Afax was in the pilot’s seat, as usual. Males went about their duties. “I need a pilot, a data officer, a medic, and four operatives.”

Afax didn’t flinch. “Sending them to the scimitar Kevol .”

Cylo released a long exhale. “My thanks.”

“All of Etteria is with you.” Afax’s blessing reached Cylo long after he’d left the comm—the wonders of Etterian enhanced hearing.

Seven males waited for Cylo when he strode into the docking bay.

“I will brief you en route,” he said as he marched up the ramp into the shuttle bay. Fully stocked, he wasn’t surprised to find a kuta taking up most of the space.

Once they were inside and the bay doors closed, he addressed them. “Pilot Fyca, the destination is the island of Iphara. Data Officer Olin, monitor the buzz for any information on random Yithian ships heading to and from the island. We aim to rescue seven Earthian females.”

Medic Qaff stiffened, spinning the med-gun between his agile fingers. “Are they unwell? Why would the Yithi—”

“Kidnapped while we guard Earth. This is unacceptable.” Cylo met each one’s gaze. “Malo ordered us to save them and destroy the facility. Any objections?”

“So, full fusion pulse?” Fyca arched a brow as he exited the common.

Within minutes, the battleship Gladio was behind them, and a critical task lay ahead.

While sipping a giyua juice from the rehydrator, Cylo watched his males train, using the limited facilities the scimitar could provide.

So far, only males of rank had met their Dar Eths.

The buzz was that at this rate, it would be ages before the ordinary warrior would find his soul’s salvation.

He didn’t believe that nonsense. Circumstances had interfered.

Prince Enyl stumbling on the first Dar Eth from among humans had been the catalyst. Kanzo wasn’t a commander or royalty.

He was elite but a warrior whom the Maker had blessed.

Any operative meeting his female would prove that the superior ranks weren’t keeping the humans to themselves. Desperation was behind these rumors, but to Cylo, that smacked of a lack of faith.

As a youngin, he’d often thought of his pairing.

Then, it had required a trip to Issneen to attend a pairing ceremony in the hopes his Dar Eth would be there.

If she was, what would follow was supposed to be mating once per day for three days and a chance to learn to love his lifemate.

He would save her as much as she ended the void’s expansion within him.

To find such a female was a blessing he’d never truly yearned for. It was rare. And required the right circumstances for every Etterian.

His breath hitched at the possibility of a human female being his. The few he’d seen had varied in appearance. They weren’t like Etterians who shared the same hair and eye color. He didn’t care what his Dar Eth looked like.

Hope blossomed like the Magnus sun dawning on his home village of Vahnal.

He tamped it down with one thought. Whoever she was would change his life.

It meant no certain death, but it also could mean leaving his chosen career.

His position as an operative had been his goal for so long.

Would she stay on a battleship with him?

Maker, I hope so.