They passed through a series of vaulted corridors, all illuminated by the same golden light that had bathed the command chamber. Calexa would have called it mood lighting if not for the fact that they were on a massive sentient destroyer full of blue metal-zombies and purple-and-black alien warriors with a penchant for violence.

And then there was Ares.

This Vradhu-Drakhin-shapeshifting-metal-lord-unreadable-dangerous-powerful-and-somehow-trapped alien male.

He walked two steps in front of her, his leathery black wings wrapped around him like a cocoon. Aloof. Secretive. Brooding. Terrifyingly beautiful. He doled out tenderness and cold menace in equal measure, and Calexa still didn’t know whether he was friend or foe.

She just didn’t know how to process him.

On one hand, he’d declared her makivari, and he seemed to be obsessed with protecting her at all costs. But whenever he looked at her with that terrible intensity, his sharp features took a lean, hungry cast, and something strange happened.

An electric ripple would shoot down her spine.

Warmth would spread through her chest, and her heart would beat a frantic staccato inside its metal-plated cage. A small, secret part of her wanted to fall under his thrall and say: ‘whatever you’re thinking of doing, just get on with it already’.

She’d never experienced this feeling before. Stars be damned, but she actually found him terribly attractive.

As they crossed into yet another huge chamber, a different kind of ripple crawled over her skin.

Danger.

Calexa spun around. Ares hissed. The metal floor rose up, just as she slammed her blade into one of the blue zombies.

It was pure reflex. In this sort of situation, she was wired to kill without thinking. The Arena had made her like this, and she couldn’t undo it.

“Unggh.” Blank metal eyes stared up at her as the creature emitted a desolate moan. As she withdrew her blade, tendrils of ilverium wrapped around its body, drawing the creature into the floor.

That would be Ares.

“A stray,” he said softly as he turned, coaxing the surroundings into stillness. As if responding to his mood, the lights flickered, throwing deep, wavering shadows up into the vaulted ceiling. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she muttered, staring at the cold metal floor in disbelief. That freaky ability of his took some getting used to. “I can handle the occasional stray zombie.”

Ares’s eyebrows rose a fraction as he studied the blade in her hand. “A small tip for you. They’re animated by the essence of the ship. If you want to kill them, you must separate the head from the body.” His lips curved into an almost-smile. “When we finish here, remind me to retrieve the scabbards for your swords. You can’t be carrying them around in your hands all the time.”

“Don’t you control the, uh, essence of the ship? Why can’t you control these zombies?”

“We call them the Corrupted,” he corrected. “They were made that way before I took over, so even now they remain as soulless husks. They are already half-dead, Calexa. I can’t change what has been done. All we can do is make sure they leave this mortal plane for good.”

“They’re different to the other Naaga, aren’t they?”

“Indeed. The ordinary Naaga are very much alive.”

“Why are they…” She shook her head, correcting herself. “What are they?”

“The Corrupted are those who attempted a bonding with the ship and failed. They exist somewhere in-between life and death, with no awareness, no consciousness, and no free will. They only know hunger, for she has taken their souls.”

Calexa shuddered. The blank-eyed ones truly were zombies. She made a mental reminder to swiftly decapitate any Corrupted that crossed her path in future. “I take it the Vradhu and the Naaga don’t exactly get along? What are they to you?”

His deep, bitter laugh echoed throughout the vast chamber. “They see us as a means to an end, nothing more. We were brought—forced—to come up here and exterminate the Corrupted. We were to remain and secure the vessel until the Naaga found their new host. They just never expected the host to be me. Drakhin history goes back millions of orbits. They should have studied the ancient records before forcing a full war-pack of Vradhu to enter the Hythra, but they are a young race of fools. A made race.”

“But… how can they make you fight for them?” She frowned, not really understanding anything. “They don’t strike me as the aggressors in this situation, and you’re obviously a lot stronger.”

“They use magrel to blackmail us. If we don’t do their bidding, our people will die.” His voice was like the distant rumble of thunder before a storm. “It is complicated, Calexa. I would not expect you to try and understand the history of our people in the span of a single conversation, just as I would not expect to understand you in such a short time. We are from two different worlds, after all.”

“True.” Her legs trembled as Ares’s words brought home the enormity of it all. Suddenly, she wanted to sit down.

They were the very first humans to encounter the Vradhu and their mysterious planet, Khira, and maybe…

Maybe they were stuck. If Monroe couldn’t fix the Medusa; if the damage sustained from the Paxnath attack was too great, they might never return to the Fiveways.

“Do not worry, my makivari. I will find a way to end this madness.” As Ares leaned in, Calexa caught a hint of his scent. He smelled of something she’d only experienced once in her life. The time before rain. She’d been on Earth when it had happened. The oppressive humidity had suddenly given way to a cool gust of air that carried with it the promise of the falling heavens. That smell! It had been the stark opposite of the filthy, polluted air of D5. It was the Earth and the seas and the wind and the snow-capped mountains, all contained in one heady gust.

That was what Ares smelled like. Why was she only noticing it now? And how was it that his starlight-encrusted, sharp-featured, alien face was suddenly so fucking fascinating?

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. Unable to help herself, Calexa reached out.

“Don’t.” He pulled back.

“Are you a mind reader, Drakhin?” Her reply was just as sharp, just as abrupt. Had he sensed her reaction to him? Had her undeniable attraction—admit it girl, this is the first time you’ve found an alien attractive—put him off? “Don’t what?”

But Ares was already moving, turning away from her in a blur of silver and black. “I’m not a mind reader. I’m nothing of the sort,” he said, his voice deepening into a metallic echo. “We should not be tempting fate. Remember, if you touch me, I drain your vir. I most certainly do not want to do that.”

“O-of course.” With his overwhelming presence right in front of her, the danger had slipped from her mind. It was hard to be aware of something one couldn’t see.

Calexa’s feet moved even before her swirling thoughts became coherent. Holding her swords low so that the blades almost scraped the metal floor, she quickened her pace, struggling to keep up.

The bastard could be damn quick when he wanted.

She had no choice but to follow him. Ares was plugged into the ship. No matter how fast she ran, no matter how skillfully she could hide, he would find her. She had no doubt about that.

But it was more than that. For some weird reason, she was starting to trust him. He had promised to protect Calexa and her people. He had a plan to get them off this crazy death trap, and he was a native. A guide. Stars knew she needed one of those right now. This big, bad Drakhin was a little bit stuck-up and overly formal, and he occasionally scared the crap out of her, but he was an honorable sort, something that was vanishingly rare in her Universe.

Seriously, what were the chances that Calexa Acura, former debt-slave of Dashki-5, Khral-slayer, and free mercenary for hire, would trust a complete stranger—a male who could probably kill her without breaking a sweat, and an alien at that—enough to follow him into the unknown?

Especially after everything she’d been through.

But somehow, this felt right. In so many ways, he felt right.

Trust your instincts. In her world, decisions hinged on hair-trigger feelings; on a warning prickle down her spine or a spark of fear or a warm, pleasant sensation in her chest. Ares stirred all of those things in her.

And for the first time in her life, Calexa yearned.

For knowing.

For closeness.

For a male who saw through the chinks in her ugly armor and didn’t care.

Shut it down, mercenary.

Ares had widened the gap between them. Seriously, how does he move so fast? She broke into a run, her long legs eating up the distance as she chased her mad Drakhin deeper down the rabbit hole.