Calexa was awake, but she wasn’t. Dull, hollow moans echoed in her ears. Someone—something—shuffled clumsily around the room, closing in on her.

She couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t move her arms or legs. She was trapped.

Fucking sleep paralysis. It was that moment of limbo in-between sleep and waking, when one was conscious but couldn’t move. Panic rose in her chest. No! Dark memories flooded her mind. It was always the same. She could never shake off the feeling of helplessness that visited her every time she rose from sleep.

The bionic enhancement surgery had probably fucked up her brain a little bit. Life had done the rest.

Ares stirred at her feet. He said something dark and threatening in his native Vradhu. His voice was familiar to her now. It was comforting.

She tried to open her eyes.

Nope.

Her heartbeat became a frantic staccato.

Wake up, stupid!

A familiar sound sent her pulse into overdrive. It was the sickening crunch of flesh and bones.

Wake the fuck up!

It was enough to jolt her out of her frozen state. Thank the stars! Her eyes snapped open just in time to see a spray of blood hit the floor.

Green blood.

“Whoa!” She gasped in horror as a Naaga was dismembered just inches from her face. Ares’s tail whipped across her vision and curled around the torso of another victim. With a sharp flick, the Naaga was thrown across the room.

So that was why the Vradhu kept their tails so tightly restrained. They were devastating weapons.

Suddenly, she could move again. She sprang to her feet. All around her, Naaga lurched toward the chair, their arms outstretched. There was something different about these blue creatures. Their movements were rigid and awkward, and their opalescent eyes had been replaced by flat silver orbs.

Ilverium had grown over their skin, forming a network of tendrils that resembled tiny silver roots. In some places, the skin and flesh had given way to solid silver, as if they were being consumed from the inside out by the mysterious substance.

Zombies. These blue-and-silver creatures were different to the Naaga she’d seen earlier. They actually reminded her of fucking zombies.

“Do not worry, Calexa.” Ares spread his arms wide and the entire room trembled. “I have this under control.”

“But—” Stars, they’re everywhere! She glanced around, searching for some way to defend herself. The bone blades lay at the foot of the metal chair. She picked them up, surprised that they seemed heavier than before, but perhaps it was because she was still so damn tired.

The floor opened up and swallowed the Naaga. Ares moved around the room like a silver-and-black whirlwind, dispatching the creatures with his bare hands.

As she stood in the eye of the storm, Calexa stared at Ares in open-mouthed shock. Everywhere she looked, Naaga were being devoured by the floor or slaughtered by Ares’s lightning-fast hands. He was actually tearing them to shreds. He moved so fast that at times he was nothing more than a blur of motion. He was everywhere at once. He was the fucking storm.

Drakhin. A demon made flesh. She shuddered. Because of her implant, she understood the word. Did the laws of this new universe allow for shapeshifting and sorcery? Despite the sheer ferocity of Ares’s death-dance, nothing touched her, not even the tiniest speck of blood.

And then as quickly as it had started, it was over, and silence once again reigned across the vast chamber. The dazzling floor rippled outwards like a disrupted pond before settling back into its original state, intricate mosaics and all.

The Drakhin in the floor stared back at her with a kaleidoscopic array of expressions. They were brazen and fierce and defiant, as if to say: we were here long before you were conceived, child, and we will be here even when you are dead and your bones have decayed into insignificant stardust. You are nothing.

Ares moved toward her, trails of ilverium following him like silver mist. Instinctively, Calexa raised her swords. Her heart raced. Her mouth was dry. Adrenaline sharpened her senses and melted away her fatigue. That was the effect this vicious, dazzling creature had on her. His danger was palpable, seeding the air with tension. Brilliant emerald-colored blood seeped between the gemstones in the floor, creating disturbingly beautiful patterns. She’d woken into a surreal nightmare where nothing was as it seemed, and fear went hand-in-hand with fascination.

“Don’t be afraid, Calexa. I’m not your enemy.”

“What are you, then?”

Ares stopped just inches from her twin blades. “I’m the one who will protect you from the life-stealers.”

“I’m not exactly toothless, you know.” She brought the tip of her blade alongside his neck, where his pulse beat a steady rhythm beneath scale-encrusted skin. It was a futile gesture—she was no match for him in his current form—but she had to do it. She had to know that he wouldn’t be brutal with her, even when threatened.

All that power, and yet he didn’t try to wield it over her like before.

Something had changed.

Ares closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Believe me, I know.” A tremor rippled through his voice, sounding like barely restrained tension. “As I said, you have hard hands. You are strong, but you alone can’t fight the coming storm.”

Calexa shuddered. “You said something about life-stealers. What does that even mean?”

Ares caught the end of her blade between two long, claw-tipped fingers, gently pushing it down. He opened his eyes and closed the distance between them, entering her heavily guarded personal space. Calexa’s skin prickled all over. Her first instinct was to go on the offensive, because nobody got close to her like this without her permission, ever.

But it wasn’t every day that her personal space was invaded by a shapeshifting, scaled, winged alien who could control the very ground on which she walked.

“Now that you have replenished it somewhat, I can feel it. I am sorry. I should have realized earlier. Every time I touch you, I steal some of your life-force.” His voice was thick with disgust. “Being close to you helps me understand the endless hunger of the Drakhin. This cursed form of mine craves vir.”

“Vir?”

“Your essence. Your lifeblood. Your energy. Don’t worry. I am a Vradhu trapped in a Drakhin skin. I won’t touch you again without your consent. Actually, I can’t touch you.” He inclined his head, studying her. “You don’t like being touched, do you?”

“How did you know?” His perceptiveness was startling.

“You are tense and wary. You look at me as if I’m about to devour you whole, and you will fight to the death to stop it from happening.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Of course not. My self-control is legendary.”

“Modest, aren’t you?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm that seeped into her voice.

“No. I have no reason to be.” He was actually dead serious. Maybe Vradhu didn’t understand sarcasm. Ares moved the tip of her blade over his chest, placing it slightly to the right of his breastbone. Perhaps that was where his heart lay. How romantic. “The creatures I just killed are contaminated Naaga. They were already dead, their bodies and minds destroyed by ilverium. They are her failed attempts at creating a Drakhin.”

“Her?”

“This vessel, this Hythra, possesses a consciousness. For a long time, she has been trying to find her rightful commander.”

“And… I’m guessing that would be you?”

“For now. She has had many commander, but none in recent memory have been strong enough to control her. Sooner or later, she swallows them all.” A fleeting look of pain crossed Ares’s glittering face.

Calexa momentarily forgot about her swords and became entranced by his startling features. It was as if the stars had been crushed and painted onto his skin. She was overcome by a sudden urge to touch him; to make sure he was indeed real.

The alien’s narrow pupils constricted. He took a deep breath. His wings rose and settled. His tail flicked gently against his lower leg. The ilverium walls and floor were still, their surfaces flat and glassy beneath the golden-hued lights. She was reminded of a reptilian predator lying in wait; he was deadly, coiled stillness.

But predators didn’t give promises of protection with such steely-eyed earnestness, did they?

“I have a plan. Listen to me carefully, Calexa. Your vir flows freely, and that makes you incredibly valuable to the Naaga. They will keep coming for you, and if they were ever to catch you, they would suck you dry until you were just an empty shell.”

Bile rose in her throat. “I would rather die than be… used.”

“You will not die.” Ares raised his hand as if to touch her, then thought the better of it. “They won’t lay a finger on you. I won’t allow it.”

Part of her wished he would touch her, but the Khral-slayer in her recoiled in horror, even though he’d just pledged his protection. “What’s your plan, Drakhin?” And when can I get back to my crew?

His pale lips curved into a bitter smile. “Escape. Your people have a vessel. The damage is repairable, is it not? Promise me you will give the Vradhu safe passage to Khira, and I will make sure all the Naaga on this floating hell die a slow and painful death.”

Oh. They wanted to use the Medusa? Did this floating monstrosity not have its own escape vessels? Her heart skipped a beat as Ares’s smile widened, turning gloriously vicious. Silver fangs gleamed. Silver eyes—more dragon than feline—glittered. Suddenly, he was like one of the jeweled mosaics on the floor, fierce and mythical and godlike. This new Drakhin skin was growing on him.

“That’s very kind of you, Ares.” Because promises of granting slow and painful deaths to one’s enemies were always kind. “Y-you would do that for me?”

“Of course.” He seemed to relish the idea. “There is something else you must do for me, though.”

Unease trickled into her chest, and the tip of the bone blade trembled against Ares’s metallic armor. “What’s that?” Suspicion sharpened her voice. She should have known the deal sounded too good to be true. What else could this infinitely powerful creature possibly want from her?

“First, you must eat,” he commanded. Slowly, he looked her up-and-down, and for the first time, Calexa appreciated how big and truly intimidating he was.

Vradhu with scales and wings. That’s what a Drakhin was. Ares was still Ares, but with certain… modifications.

“Eat?” Calexa’s voice rose an octave. Had she misunderstood something? “I’m not hungry right now.”

“Unfortunately, your rest was interrupted, and we are running out of time. You’re going to need all the energy you can get for what I am about to ask of you, so you must eat.”

“Can you please be a little less cryptic?” Frustration got the better of her, spurred on by a lick of fear. “I don’t do well at guessing games, Drak.”

“Ares,” he corrected sharply, his eyes narrowing. “There isn’t time for long-winded explanations, and even if I told you, you probably wouldn’t believe me. It’s better you see for yourself. Then you will understand everything.” Abruptly, he turned, his tightly folded wings creating distance between them. “Come.”

The last time Calexa had hesitated, Ares had damn near killed her, so this time she simply followed him, the long Vradhu-made bone blades held firmly in each hand.

After all, what choice did she have? Calexa was a fighter—she’d done some risky and downright stupid things during her colorful mercenary career—but even she knew when she was outgunned, and this was definitely one of those times.

One did not mess with a creature who could turn the walls into molten metal and slaughter a room full of alien zombies in the blink of an eye, especially when said creature seemed to take his role as a protector very seriously.

Makivari. Even without explanation, she was beginning to understand what the word meant, and it terrified the living daylights out of her.

But it also made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. That split-second decision to follow her instincts and protect Ares in his time of need had resulted in the unthinkable; her own personal guardian demon.

Now if only she could shake off the strange, irrational feeling that he wanted to devour her.