Colliding Worlds Trilogy 02 – Implosion (15 page)

Gix gasped. “We must tell our people. Once they know the truth, they will kill the imposter. You are the natural replacement.”

Roden held up a hand. “A day more will not matter. I need time to discover what schemes Otas has initiated over the past two weeks.” Roden paused. “Tell me, has there been news of Hillas’s daughter?”

“I never knew the Grand Lord had surviving children.”

“Answer the question.”

“There has been no news about a daughter,” she said hastily.

Roden’s heart clenched.
I failed her.
While he’d been on his back, Nalea was being tortured and executed. And it was because of him that she’d been taken the first place. He’d captured her in the heat of battle. Sure, he’d rationalized that she was a bargaining chip, but the real reason was selfish. He’d wanted her, plain and simple. And now he’d never get the chance to have her.
But, I will avenge her.

He turned to the guardsman. “How many have sworn loyalty to me?”

“There’s over a thousand Draeken loyal to you Earthside. More in the core ships, but they can’t get here with Hillas’s stand-down orders. Most are at our new base a short flight from here. There’s still some imprisoned at the Grand Lord’s, er, I mean the imposter’s Earthside base. More yet are still in hiding on his base and on the core ships. We’re ready to attack at your command.”

“That’ll be all,” he said, dismissing her. “And quit slouching. Build those back muscles. Your wings will be stronger for it.”

“Yes, sir.” At the door, Gix paused. “That woman,” she said. “The one you wanted to go back for. Was she Hillas’s daughter who you spoke of?”

He cut her a hard look. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Roden waited until Gix scurried from the room before he turned back to watch the autumn trees swaying in the breeze. Gix wore her heart on her sleeve. She was nothing like his Nalea. All he had now was the mission. At least the end game was still in play. Vengeance was all he could give his
tahren
now. But, their numbers were pitifully few. Without help, they didn’t stand a chance against the full power of Draeken core ships. There was only one place where he could get help they needed.

The same place that had orders to kill him on sight.

Taking a seat at an old wooden desk, Kreed sighed. Who would’ve ever thought that maintaining two identities would be so exhausting? Playing the good military man while lining up the pieces so that all would fall into place at exactly the right time. Fortunately, he soon would no longer need both identities. Once his people had the support they needed, there would no longer be any need for Kreed Zylk.

The Grand Lord had declared war on anyone who pledged fealty to his Second. That directive only made those already loyal to Roden all the more dedicated. Wync had even mentioned earlier today the growing list of names loyal to Roden from Hillas’s Earthside camp.

After decades, the tides were finally turning in Kreed’s favor. Most Draeken felt that Hillas had failed them, but yet they were afraid of the break from tradition. A Puftan had ruled the Draeken people through centuries of peace and decades of war. Even Kreed had to admit that he felt a pang of something akin to remorse for the change he was steering his people toward. But, knowing in his heart that what he’d done — and was about to do — was the only way to preserve what remained of Draeka.

He stretched his wings, the bones cracking and popping a little more each year. Just one more task and then perhaps sleep would find him tonight. Kreed checked his room and set up the portable electronic dampener before dialing the secure code that only he and Apolo knew. This setup wasn’t as secure as what he’d had on the base, but he needed to get news of the war to Apolo. The risk of being caught was worth it. He needed Sephian support now more than ever.

Seconds passed. Seconds became minutes. Minutes became tens of minutes.

“
Fyet
,” he cursed as he fell back in his chair. His wings flicked in irritation. Apolo had never missed a call before.
Never
.

He could only hope that some menial meeting detained Apolo. If the Sephians were no longer on good terms with the humans, what hope did the Draeken have? Unlike the Sephians who could now return home, the Draeken were stranded here. The next closest planet would take several years to reach, and even with the upgraded power cells, the core ships weren’t equipped for such a journey. Earth was their only chance.

Except, without Apolo, Kreed had no bridge to garner human support. And without human support, Kreed would be forced to rely upon Roden to broker peace with humans. With the reputation Lord Commander Zyll had earned during the war, Kreed would have a better chance navigating the twelve hells than seeing peace come to fruition for his people. For his people’s survival, Kreed must succeed.

Fyet.
He thumped the desk with a fist.
Answer my call, ta deiti.

If he were discovered now, the Draeken people may believe Kreed was the traitor, but he knew who the real traitor was. If he did nothing to stop Otas, his people would die. But, if he continued his plan without Apolo’s help, he’d die, but his people might survive. No choice, really.

He leaned forward and dialed the secure code again. And again, no response. Apolo had always been there for him. Even when his father beat him within an inch of his life for not winning an archery contest, it’d been Apolo — not his Draeken friends — who sat by his side and nursed him back to life.

Goose bumps flitted across his skin, and he hated himself for feeling any kind of weakness. He’d come too far, sacrificed too much, to succumb to fear now. He would still succeed with his part. He couldn’t afford to fail. And when he was finished, he’d have to count on his people’s collective intelligence and need for survival to find an end to war.

Like every night, Roden haunted Nalea’s dreams. Tonight was no different. Just below the shell of consciousness, she’d known the fantasy wasn’t real, because if it were, she’d punch him, not seduce him. By morning, she’d label it a nightmare, the pleasure of it too much. Still, she let herself fall deeper into the fantasy.

A strong male body pressed hers against the soft mattress. Skin against skin, the tactile contact exhilarated her senses, made her crave more. It was as though she was a spoiled child and he was her favorite toy. Reaching up, she cupped his face. “You came.”

“Always.”

Broad wings spread out to form a protective cocoon around them. With his arms propped up on his elbows as not to crush her with his weight, he bent down and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then — hesitantly — her lips. “Ah, Lea.”

The words held so much depth, so much passion, she found herself sighing into his mouth as she opened to receive him. His tongue found hers, and the decadent taste of him reminded her of sweet, dark chocolate with the bite of whiskey.

Wrapping her arms around him, she caressed the thick muscle where his wings merged into his back. He groaned, and she knew she’d found a sensual hot spot on her lover. She’d known Draeken wings were sensitive, but she’d never considered that information useful except for battle. She ran her palms outward, across the smooth skin of his wings, and they fluttered in response. “They’re as soft as a moth’s.”

He bit down on her neck, sending shivers across her skin. A deep chuckle vibrated from his chest. “And you’re the flame that draws me.”

She spread her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer to where she needed him tonight. His cock was already hard and ready to claim her. She gripped his arms and writhed against him, attempting to entice him with every movement.

Where Roden was patient in everything else, in bed he was demanding. He slid a hand under her butt and lifted her enough to angle the head against her opening. He pressed into her, and she cried out at the welcome intrusion. She begged him for more, to go deeper, to go harder, to never stop. She didn’t stop begging when her words became nonsensical between moans and cries. His thrusts detonated an explosion within her. All the sensations in her body came together in her core and then shot outward. He came soon after but continued to thrust, and together they rode the passion that could only be found when two fractured pieces fit together to make a whole.

After the throes of their lovemaking lessened to tremors of raw, natural bliss, his wings blanketed them, and he kissed her, always holding her against him as though she was delicate, a dichotomy to how he fucked.

For only an instant, his weight had become like air. “Not again!” he cursed as he squeezed her against him. He held her tight enough, she found it hard to breathe, but she didn’t care. She clutched at him, trying to hold him to her. Cold air assaulted her skin. She could see through his wings, into the void behind him.

As he faded in and out of the darkness, they clung onto one another in desperation. But it never did any good. As he became more and more incorporeal, she begged. “Don’t leave me.”

He yelled out in frustration before surrendering to the inevitable abyss. “I’ll come for you.”

“Yes,” Nalea whispered as awareness pulled her from sleep. She would have preferred to stay in the fantasy, to forget that she lay in a room deep within enemy territory. She was surprised she’d dreamed of Roden, having thought the disjunctor would’ve removed him completely from her thoughts. With it, she felt
nothing
from him. While she thought she’d find the absence of his emotions a pleasant break after the intensity she’d felt after the bond taken hold. But, instead, she felt hollow at the
aloneness
.

Running her hands through her hair, she shrugged off the remnants of her dream. She had enough shit to deal with already. Like pretending to be the daughter of the man who looked like the father she’d hated her entire life. Talk about irony.

Speaking of Uhl, or as the people on this world say, the devil …

She slipped on her dark glasses and came to her feet just as the white-haired Draeken stepped through doorway, his wings just brushing against the floor. He wore a formal uniform. A long black and crimson kilt met tall boots that betrayed no signs of wear. His shirt, simple crimson on the front, had been turned into a gaudy display of flare. Colorful ribbons, each signifying something for Hillas Puftan, fluttered with every step. Even with all that, her gaze was drawn to the royal crest proudly emblazoned over his heart. It covered nearly a third of his chest, clearly meant to be seen.

In some ways, Otas was no different from the man he impersonated. He was a proud peacock, impressing the world with his plumes so that they didn’t see his faults or lies.

Otas had spent most of his life mimicking the Grand Lord, yet he was only a shadow. He lacked the famed brilliance of his predecessor. He clearly idolized Hillas, and would follow the dead man’s ambitions to the grave, simply because he couldn’t come up with anything on his own. His entire world was built on mirroring, not creating.

Upon seeing her, Otas smiled. While the gesture was meant to be warm, it made Nalea uncomfortable. Shivers crawled over her skin. There was nothing fatherly or friendly about a smile that hinted at sadistic pleasures. When this Hillas looked at her, she always felt that he was undressing her, that whatever he was scheming was something very
un
fatherly.

“Good morning, Nalea. I see you’ve adjusted to Earth days with ease.”

She nodded tightly. Even without shoes, she stood the same height as this man, which made him very short for a Draeken, where males were commonly seven feet tall. Other than the uniform, there was nothing militaristic about Hillas. His belly was round, his wings nearly transparent from lack of use. Right now, with the way he watched her, she felt as though she were a plump insect in a hungry bird’s path.

As she stepped forward, he took a step back. Nalea gave a tight smile. “Why are you here,
father
?”

He frowned, and she noticed that, while he demanded she play along with his farce, he disliked the term. “I trust you are doing well?”

She lifted her hands slightly in response.
I’m alive, aren’t I?

He moved closer and she stood firm. He brushed a finger down her neck. “The disjunctor is working properly?”

Swallowing the rising bile in her throat, she nodded. “I feel nothing.”

“Good,” he said, a corner of his lip curving upward. “You are free from Roden Zyll.” He turned and began to pace, an annoying habit she found he did whenever he was thinking. The man was outside of his ability and he knew it. “I do not hold you accountable for getting ensnared in the devious webs he weaves. After all, you were no more than a weapon to him, simply a ruse in his coup to destroy what I’ve built.”

What Hillas built, you mean.

“His need for power knows no bounds.”

Funny. Roden said the same about Hillas.

“And I look for you to help me prevent his coup from escalating further.”

What?
She frowned. “How can I do that?”

“You will make your public announcement tomorrow. In that, you will acknowledge that you are Lord Commander Roden Zyll’s consort, and, as being of Puftan blood, you wish to unite those under Roden to our cause.”

Nalea grunted. “Roden is still out there. You really believe they would listen to me?” While the Draeken were a traditional people, she couldn’t see them listening to a bastard child who appeared out of nowhere.

“I do believe that,” Hillas said. “Because you will also say that Roden has betrayed our people. You’ll talk of how he tried to assassinate me in his bid for power, and is hereby stripped of title and command. Those who continue to follow a pariah will not be tolerated.”

Nalea’s muscles tightened. And despite the disjunctor, she could almost feel her
tahren
still inside. He’d used her and then left her behind so she should feel nothing toward him. Yet she wanted to believe he was better than that, which was why betraying him sat like a rock in her gut. “You’re asking me to instigate war among your people.”
To instigate a war against Roden.