“Don’t touch her.” A dark, malevolent, metallic voice resonated through Calexa’s metal-coated bones.

Scary.

It was Ares.

He sounded angry.

He sounded ethereal, as if his voice were coming from the portal of the fucking Netherverse itself. If Calexa weren’t so damn lethargic, she would bolt out of there immediately, because the Vradhu was dangerous and she was way out of her depth.

Shit, I’m going crazy! She was too cold to think straight. Her head hurt something epic, and everything—her body, her mind, her soul—felt sluggish, as if she were wading through a thick, sticky, frigid soup made of ilverium and confusion.

And Ares.

The Vradhu monster wrapped his arms around her. His tail snaked around her waist, moving up-and-down her body, rubbing her, caressing her.

He was molten lava dropping into an icy sea. He solidified, becoming tangible and real as everything around her turned into the stuff of nightmares and dreams.

Why am I still so bloody cold?

Impossibly, they plunged into the heart of the ship itself, drowning in a wild sea of twisting, writhing ilverium.

They fell through the floor. All she knew was the cold rush of air and Ares. He was all around her, cocooning her with his powerful body.

Calexa held her breath, anticipating the worst.

But the worst never came.

A whisper of hot breath feathered her ear.

“Makivari.” The word stood out amidst a torrent of alien-speech. He was speaking a language other than Naaga. She had no idea what the word meant, but the way he said it, in that rough, possessive voice of his, sent a thrill of anticipation through her.

It freaked her out, too. A sliver of fear wormed its way into her gut, causing old ghosts to stir.

Big bad aliens rarely turned out to be nice people. Calexa had learned that the hard way. Out there in the Universe, the general rule-of-thumb was that the bigger and more warlike the race, the worse they treated their captives.

Ares’s species had big, bad, and warlike written all over them. It was etched into their intimidating black markings. Images of the solemn violet-skinned warriors flashed through her mind.

Those Vradhu were definitely not nice people.

Dread carved an empty hole in her chest. The freezing cold magnified it. The ilverium storm tossed them through a maelstrom of shifting walls and floors, and for a split-second, Calexa wondered if she might be dying.

“Hold on,” Ares said, his grip on her tightening. Unable to stand the pressure in her head, Calexa closed her eyes.

She was in freefall. She’d lost control.

A torrent of dark memories flooded her mind, triggered by her feelings of helplessness.

The Khral stood over her, his flat yellow eyes flicking across her naked body as she tried her hardest not to shiver. She hated the fact that gooseflesh had risen on her bare skin. Her damn body was betraying her by showing the Khral weakness. It was so cold. His rough hands roamed over her, and he poked, pinched, and prodded her, grunting in satisfaction.

“Fuck you, pencil-dick,” she spat in coarse street-Earthian. He wouldn’t understand the words, but he would definitely understand the tone. The Khral froze. Slowly, he withdrew, saying nothing. His expression was unreadable behind that stupid mask they all wore.

Then he laughed and backhanded her so hard she fell to her knees. Pain shot through her head. She bit back a sob, glaring up at the Khral with all the venom she could muster.

I’ll kill you one day, she thought as he raked his fingers through her hair, yanked her head back, and pulled her to her feet. I’ll fucking kill you. She repeated the words in her mind like a mantra as he twisted her arms behind her back and frogmarched her to his chambers.

Calexa screamed.

“I’ve got you.” Then Ares was there, dragging her back into the present, rubbing her up-and-down with tender hands. “Stay calm. It’s over. I’m in control now.”

Ares? She couldn’t speak. Her teeth chattered. She wanted to lash out, to fight, but she couldn’t move. It was the worst feeling.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated in that scary-yet-tender voice, which was the same and yet different. Leaning in, he ran his hand over her shorn scalp and pressed her forehead to his. “My makivari.”

Her feet touched solid ground. The awful banana smell was gone. This new place—wherever they were—was deathly quiet. She couldn’t hear the Naaga. Calexa opened her eyes and came face-to-face with…

Silver.

Holy crap.

“Ares,” she said in wonder, blinking furiously. His overwhelming presence burned away the darkness, erasing terrible memories. She reached out to touch his shimmering cheek. “Wh-what happened to you? What are you?”

Her voice was a tremulous whisper. Her fingers were icicles. As they made contact with Ares’s burning skin, sensation flared back to life, and she felt something that was both razor-sharp and yet as smooth as silk.

Scales.

Before her very eyes, his purple-and-black skin was changing. He was growing scales.

“I… I no longer know.” Ares rubbed her shivering body with his hands and tail. His touch felt good. It grounded her. That was strange, because she usually hated that sort of contact.

At the same time, his touch left her cold.

He was fire and ice.

She stepped back, extracting herself from his arms. It was all too much. “You’ve changed. What happened?”

“The Hythra. She did something to me, and when your vir touched me…” He shook his head, his eyebrows knitting together. “I am now as much a part of this ship as it is a part of me, and I suspect I am no longer Vradhu.” His voice was tinged with disgust.

“Part of the ship? I don’t understand.” How could a person be a ship? How the hell did one control the walls, the floor—the very substance of the ship itself—drawing tendrils of living metal out of hard surfaces as if they were conjured spirits? How could someone be one with a machine?

“The Hythra is semi-sentient. Her link to the living Universe depends on the host.”

A small spark of realization flickered in her mind. “Y-you’re the host?”

“I am. She was not supposed to choose me, but she did. The bonding occurred as soon as I stepped onboard, too fast for the Naaga to realize what had happened. I do not know why she chose me, but I am the longest surviving commander of the Hythra.”

Host. Commander. Hythra. She reeled. “You control this entire thing?” A destroyer so massive it swallowed the stars. A ship far bigger than anything she’d seen in her entire career. She’d never heard of technology like this.

“I do.”

She couldn’t stop shivering. Unable to help herself, she reached out and traced the planes of his face. “You’re changing.”

“It seems I am.” His eyes were pure silver. His nostrils flared. Catlike pupils constricted then widened. Violet skin rippled as hundreds of tiny shimmering scales emerged. As he moved, the scales took on an opalescent quality, turning a myriad of different colors all at once.

His dark hair and sinuous tail were the only remaining traces of his Vradhu origins. Although his scale-armor was still intact, it was easy to differentiate between his iridescent skin and the gunmetal-grey metallic surface of his armor.

Entranced, Calexa traced her fingers down his jaw, his neck, his broad chest. His skin hardened under her touch, becoming as smooth as glass before softening to resemble warm velvet.

Calexa shook her head, trying to snap out of this surreal trance. Everything blurred. Fatigue made her see double. Ares shuddered in response to her touch.

Danger! Some weird instinct told her to remove her hand. Although he was warm, her fingers still felt ice-cold.

Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. They were in an oval-shaped room.

In the center was an imposing chair. It was constructed of dark grey metal, with a high back and soaring wings that reminded her of a bird-of-prey taking flight. Its thick metal legs joined seamlessly with the floor.

She looked down at her feet, which were encased in standard-issue technigard boots. In contrast, Ares’s feet were bare. He had three toes.

Beneath their feet, the floor glittered. Calexa’s eyes widened. The floor was fucking dazzling. Radiating outwards from the chair were intricate mosaics made of thousands of tiny glittering gemstones. Shades of blue, green, red, amethyst, amber, and brilliant white winked at her. The stones fractured the light into a million shards. She blinked as the patterns started to make sense.

They formed… pictures. Strange, godlike creatures stared at her. Their faces and bodies were decorated with an array of mesmerizing colors, and they adorned themselves with fine robes and ornate jewelry. Some of them wore crowns, while others wielded vicious weapons. The closer they got to the chair, the more frantic the pictures became. The creatures fought, frolicked, and fornicated.

The entire display was decadent and opulent—almost sinful.

One of the female characters stood out. She looked like a Vradhu, but she was covered in brilliant golden tattoos. A glowing halo surrounded her.

So beautiful, yet…

A chill ran through her.

The depictions had an ancient quality, reminding her of a cargo of precious Earthian mosaics they’d transported to Pax last year. Two things blew Calexa’s mind. One, the creatures had wings. Two, they looked like…

Holy hell.

They resembled Ares… what he was becoming.

“Apparently, the Drakhin had an affinity for opulence and a tendency toward the dramatic,” he said as he studied the floor. His pale lips curved downward in a disapproving frown. “They craved sex, violence, and power, not necessarily in that order.”

“Had?” Calexa ran her boot over one of the silver faces. The creature’s eyes were made of glittering amber gemstones. She gasped as the alien’s features twisted, his expression changing before her very eyes.

Now the floor was fucking playing tricks on her.

“Their arrogance was their downfall. This floating prison is the last of their destroyers; the only one that did not escape Khira.”

Why is it here? What is happening? Why are you in control? What the hell are these… Drakhin? A hundred frantic questions barrelled through Calexa’s mind, but before she could speak, Ares dropped to his knees.

He bowed his head, roaring in pain. Calexa’s sharp intake of breath seared her throat.

Sleek, folded wings rose from Ares’s back, emerging through slits in his armor. They were black, just like those depicted on the floor.

For all intents and purposes, he’d just transformed into a Drakhin male.

Is this real, or am I dreaming? After this, nothing would surprise her ever again.

“Ares!” Calexa reached out, but he waved her away as he rose to his feet, extending and flexing his new wings. He shot her a baleful look.

“Drakhin,” he said, looking decidedly glum. He held his head in his hands, his wings drooping. “This is…” Ares’s voice cracked. He shook his head, uttering a string of dirty-sounding words in his native tongue.

He looked so forlorn, so defeated, that Calexa went against all her instincts, raising her arms to…

What now? Are you going to give the big, bad Drakhin a fucking hug?

She wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, but she had to do something.

The transformation had clearly upset Ares, but before she could move, he straightened, shook himself, cracked his neck from side to side, and folded his wings neatly along his back. “What’s done is done,” he said quietly, and the storm in his silver eyes disappeared.

Tough bastard. Calexa couldn’t help but be impressed at how quickly he adapted.

His gaze softened, roaming over her face. Despite the cold and fatigue seeping into her bones, his expression filled her with sudden heat. He inhaled deeply. “Human, you have done me a great service. I respectfully request to know your truename.”

Truename? Why the sudden formality? Must be a Vradhu thing.

“If you’re talking about my name, it’s Calexa. Calexa Acura.” She was pretty sure her name meant nothing in this far-flung corner of the Unvierse.

“Calexa.” Ares whispered her name reverently, his voice a warm caress. He made her common Earthian name sound so damn exotic. “This unworthy one humbly requests your assistance.”

“Huh?” That was the last thing she’d been expecting. How could she—a broke and adrift human mercenary—possibly be of help to a guy who had a destroyer the size of a small country at his command?

“I need your help.”

Apparently, she could be of use. Summoning the little energy she had left, she crossed her arms and frowned. “I don’t work for free, Vradhu.” It was the basic rule of all mercenaries. One little favor and all of a sudden they expected the Universe for nothing. Besides, wasn’t it only a short time ago that Ares had refused to guarantee safety for her people? “Before we make any deals, you need to tell me exactly what is going—”

Whoa.

Calexa swayed on her feet. Although she was starting to get warm again, thanks to her thermosuit, whatever the Naaga had done with that little device had left her completely drained of energy. She could really do with a nice long nap right about now. If only she could disappear to somewhere quiet and warm, curl into a ball, and hibernate for a year.

That would be just grand.

Her vision went black for a split-second. The room spun.

“I’ve got you.” Ares was on his feet now. When had that happened? He scooped her up into his arms.

Oh, mercy. Changed or not, he felt good. Warm. Strong. When he held her, she felt as if nothing in the Universe could take her down. She laughed softly at the ridiculousness of it all. Calexa had never relied on the protection of another, and she’d never let a man hold her like this before, let alone some strange alien whose actions were incomprehensible.

Hell, she didn’t even know what he was.

He crossed the floor, carrying her effortlessly. He lay her down in the big metal chair, his movements gentle and deliberate, but although he radiated heat, Calexa just couldn’t get warm.

In fact, she felt bloody worse.

The terrible shivers returned. She was colder than ever, and oh-so weak. Her enhanced body became nothing but a sloppy bag of bones, unable to do anything but sink into the chair.

Stars, I’m so vulnerable right now.

As soon as he released her, a look of horror crossed Ares’s face. He stared down at his hands, shaking his head and cursing viciously in Vradhu, as if realizing something terrible.

What’s wrong? She tried to say the words, but she was fading.

The chair was far more comfortable than it looked. Its surface seemed to mold to her body as she curled up against it, and it was surprisingly warm.

Deliciously warm.

It almost seemed to caress her.

“Rest,” Ares sighed, lowering himself to the jeweled floor without touching her. He reminded her of some sort of big silver guardian hound. “It is only natural that you are fatigued. Rest. The Naaga got greedy, but do not worry. I will make sure they never touch you again.” The cold finality in his statement would have made her shudder—in a good way—if she weren’t so damn tired.

Thanks, but… How she wished she had her frag-guns and her exterian armor. How was she supposed to explain to this strange Vradhu-Drakhin-whatever that under ordinary circumstances, she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She hadn’t spent her hard-won Arena money on biometal enhancements for nothing.

“Calexa,” Ares said again, his resonant voice wrapping around her like one of his ilverium strands. “You don’t need to look at me with such defensive eyes. I will never hurt you.”

He sounded so sure of himself. His sudden declaration quietly blew her mind, because she actually believed him.

What had she done to earn such loyalty from this dangerous creature, and how could she be certain she could trust him?

Her head was saying no, but her instincts screamed yes. He was magical and scary and he possessed a healthy dose of arrogance, but he didn’t give off that creepy vibe that hung around certain species like a foul stench. The Khral had it. The Naaga had it.

Ares didn’t.

He was good. Safe.

A rarity in this age.

Her eyelids drooped. She fought to stay awake. Never before had she longed so badly for the quiet refuge of sleep. She didn’t even know whether she could sleep properly anymore. Life in the Fiveways had turned rest into a necessity rather than a pleasure. Normally, she slept in that uneasy place between unconsciousness and hyper-awareness, with a gun under her pillow and a handful of nightmares within arm’s reach.

But now she’d acquired a guardian Drakhin.

“Ares.” His name escaped her lips as a soft croak. She rested her head against the back of the chair, daring to close her eyes.

Just for a few seconds. I just need to sit here for a moment, then I’ll be fine. Just a quick little rest…

“Yes, Calexa?”

“How could someone like me possibly be of help to someone like you?”

“Because, my makivari, you are going to help me escape this living hell.” A small tremor rocked her chair as he growled.

Caught between the lure of sleep and the mystery that was Ares, Calexa dared to look down. Ares stared back at her, anguish etched into his glistening features. “I’m trapped,” he said quietly. “I’m just a simple warrior. I never wanted this curse. Help me return to Khira and I will give you anything you desire.”

A pang of sympathy pricked Calexa in the chest. Huh. She thought her heart had turned to stone a long time ago, but this tempestuous alien kept confusing the hell out of her.

Still…

“What about my people?” First things first. “You need to promise me they’ll be safe, or—”

“I am in control. You will see.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair. Tendrils of ilverium twisted outwards from his hands, knotting together as they covered the chair like fast-growing branches and roots. Energy rippled around them as Ares closed his eyes. “I think I am getting the hang of this,” he murmured. “There is no going back now. Rest, human. I will contain things. Your kin will be safe.”

What the hell is he talking about?

Calexa wanted to pick his brains, but she could barely keep her eyes open, even though this damned ilverium swirled all around her. Ares was so close they were almost touching, and yet he kept a respectable distance. His tail had disappeared; he’d probably tucked it around his leg again. She almost missed its reassuring presence around her waist.

“What’s a makivari?” she whispered, her voice fading away as her breathing deepened and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, lulled by the gentle caress of a metal chair and the unwavering presence of an alien who had overpowered her, abducted her, taken her weapons, forcibly inserted some sort of language-implant into her brain, and saved her from slender blue monsters.

She should be horrified, but somehow, he made her feel safe. Considering where Calexa had come from, that was no mean feat at all.