Second (Intergalactic Warriors #2)

Chapter 1

THE MARAUDERS’ facility reeked of metallic decay and damp despair. Each breath Zar’Ryn drew was tinged with the bite of rust and stale air, as though the walls themselves were corroding with malice.

The rough texture of the floors underfoot seemed to amplify every sound, echoing faintly down the corridors. Adim, flickering light struggled to illuminate the space, casting eerie shadows that danced like specters against the scarred, pitted walls.

The low hum of alien machinery pulsed in the background, arhythmic reminder of the sinister purpose that thrummed through the facility’s very core. The air was heavy, filled with a choking mixture of stale smoke and the sharp bite of burnt metal. Faint traces of something sickly sweet lingered—perhaps the remnants of some alien chemical used in the machinery. The walls were streaked with grime, their surfaces etched with crude carvings that spoke of violence and chaos and obscenity.

Every step Zar’Ryn took was accompanied by the faint squelch of moisture underfoot, the floor perpetually damp from condensation dripping from the corroded pipes overhead. It was the kind of place that seemed to breathe hostility, its very atmosphere designed to sap hope from anyone trapped inside.

He moved silently through the maze of corridors, his senses on high alert. The oppressive mechanical was a constant backdrop, broken only by the occasional grunt or hiss of distant guards. He had infiltrated countless strongholds like this one, yet the weight of this mission felt different. There was an urgency he couldn’t entirely explain—an unspoken need to succeed beyond the demands ofduty.

He approached a reinforced chamber, his sharp vision scanning for signs of traps or ambushes. The door, aheavy panel of dented steel, bore the markings of the Marauders’ crude handiwork. Zar’Ryn’s fingers danced over the control pad, his movements quick and efficient as he overrode the lock. With a faint hiss, the door slidopen.

The sight inside gave him pause.

Chained to the wall was a woman, her wrists bound high above her head with glowing restraints. She was naked and painfully helpless in her nudity. She possessed the dark hair of an Intergalactic Warrior on his final flight, the soft, black curls falling in tangled waves past her waist, partially shielding her exposedbody.

She was small and dainty in comparison to Vettian females, making him think of the delicate flitfurs that darted through the air in his homeland mountains. Like the flitfurs , her body was toned with a lean, gently curved musculature. But there the comparison ended.

Someone had beaten her. Repeatedly. Bruises and cuts marred her pale skin, particularly on her breasts, abdomen, and thighs. He didn’t doubt if he turned her, he’d find more on her back andass.

The marks appalled him, especially considering she had breasts that were a lovely handful, tipped with dark rose areolas and nipples that peeked through her snarled hair. His gaze slid lower still to the tiny waist that dipped inward and the hips that curved outward offering a male a generous handful.

Finally his gaze settled on her mound covered in tiny curls a shade darker than the hair on her head. Had they raped her? By the Gods, he hoped not. But these were Marauders, capable of all manner ofevil.

As though in response to his attention, she twisted against the manacles that held her, as though she could somehow hide her nudity fromhim.

His eyes lingered longer than he intended, drawn to the way her vulnerability contrasted sharply with the defiant strength in her posture. It was a strange juxtaposition that unsettledhim.

He had seen captives before. Many were broken, some barely clinging to life. But this woman was different. The sight of her stirred an unfamiliar conflict within him, an awareness he couldn’t suppress. Why did she affect him this way? And why, against every rule he had lived by, did he feel a need to protect her beyond the bounds of his mission?

He had a code he lived by: no attachments, no emotions, no exceptions. And yet… His gaze drifted back toher.

Her skin was pale and delicate in comparison to the hardened warriors and aliens Zar’Ryn had encountered and it glistened under the harsh overhead lights. For a moment, he simply stared, his analytical mind cataloging her features: the burning pain glittering in her hazel eyes, the vulnerability in her posture, the defiant lift of her chin even in her exposed state.

He hadn’t expected her. Not like this. The report had mentioned captives, human women taken for reasons the Marauders hadn’t made clear, though presumably for the slave actions. But the reality of it, the fragility and raw fear that radiated from her, hit him harder than he’d anticipated. Worse, she invoked a desperate desire he’d never experienced on any other mission in the 400 years he’d been an Intergalactic Warrior.

So much for no attachments, no emotions, no exceptions.

Zar’Ryn’s life had been one of unrelenting purpose, aprecise execution of his role as a warrior. And yet, in this moment, he felt something shift. Something unfamiliar.

She turned her head, her eyes locking onto his, glittering with shards of green and gold, speared with brown. Fear and humiliation warred in her gaze, but there was a flicker of determination that piqued his curiosity.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp despite the tremor in it. She pulled against the restraints, her muscles taut with effort, but the glowing bonds didn’t budge.

Zar’Ryn stepped fully into the room, his movements deliberately slow and non-threatening. He found her vulnerability startling against the harsh reality of the Marauders’ cruelty. For a moment, his purpose faltered beneath the weight of what he saw—her fear, her defiance, her agony, and the raw degradation that no warrior could ignore.

“I am not here to harm you,” he said, but even as the words left his lips, Zar’Ryn felt a strange hesitation. What was he here to do? To fulfill a mission? Or to answer a call he didn’t yet understand?

Her dark eyes searched his face, and for the first time in years, he questioned not the mission but himself. As though aware of his conflicted thoughts, her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I’ve heard that line before. More than once. Each time it was a lie.”

Her accusation lingered in the air. Zar’Ryn approached cautiously, his gaze unwavering. He could see the tension in her frame, the way she pressed herself against the cold wall in a futile attempt to shield herself.

He found the human instinct for modesty strange. Among his kind and others across the Nine Galaxies, nudity rarely generated shame. Still, her discomfort felt palpable, and he experienced an unfamiliar pang of something akin to guilt for seeing her in such an exposed position.

“You are a prisoner of the Marauders,” he said evenly, his deep voice resonating in the confined space. “I am here to free you.”

Her laugh escaped, soft and brittle. “Free me? Is that what they call it now? Another game to break me faster?”

He could tell she tried to harden her resolve, to keep the trembling in her voice at bay. Based on her words, this wasn’t the first time she’d been confronted by a stranger promising release, only to find new depths of cruelty. Trusting anyone now must seem like walking into a trap. And yet, as she studied him the tiniest flicker of hope shifted across herface.

He kept his expression calm, his voice steady. “I am not one of them,” he said, his tone firm but measured. “My name is Zar’Ryn. Iwas sent to retrieve you and the others.”

“Retrieve us?” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. “What makes you think we’re just going to trust you? You could be leading us into something worse.”

“I could,” he acknowledged. “But I am not.”

Her defiance faltered, replaced by a flicker of doubt. Zar’Ryn took another step forward, noting how her breath quickened, the way her body tensed as if preparing for the worst. He stopped a safe distance away, lowering himself slightly to meet her gaze more evenly.

“What is your name?” he asked.

She hesitated, her lips pressing together to keep them from shaking. “Elara.”

“Elara,” he repeated, testing the sound of it. Her name suited her, delicate yet strong. “I will release you. But you must remain calm.”

Her laugh lacked humor. “I’ll do my best.”

With a nod, Zar’Ryn reached for the restraint controls. The glowing cuffs hissed softly as they disengaged, and Elara’s arms fell limply to her sides. She staggered, but he moved swiftly, catching her before she could collapse. Her limbs trembled, her skin cold against his palms.

The moment lingered longer than it should have. Though used to detachment and treating every mission as a series of objectives to be accomplished efficiently, this one was different. He wasn’t just rescuing a prisoner or a victim. She affected him in some strange way, making him acutely aware of her presence, her vulnerability, and the fragile strength underlyingit.

Her chill against the warmth of his skin unsettled him, cutting through the layers of discipline he had built over centuries. He didn’t understand why he felt so drawn to her, why this interaction shook his usually unyielding composure.

He found it an unwelcome sensation, foreign and disquieting, yet impossible to ignore. But the feel of her distractedhim.

“Let me go,” she muttered, twisting weakly againsthim.

His grip tightened fractionally before he released her, stepping back with deliberate care, giving her space. She stumbled but remained upright, crossing her arms over her chest in a vain attempt to cover herself. Her gaze darted toward the open doorway, then back to Zar’Ryn.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almostwary.

“Because you need help,” he said simply. “And because the Marauders must be stopped.”

She studied him, her eyes narrowing. Her gaze swept over him, taking in his tall frame, the bronze sheen of his skin, and the faint luminescence of his eyes. Next she focused on his long, white hair, his inverted brows and pointed ears, before settling on his amethystgaze.

“You’re not human.”

“No.”

“You look like… like Jo’Nay.”

The mention of his comrade stirred something in him. “You know Jo’Nay?”

She nodded cautiously. “He’s my friend. Or… he was.”

“Then you know I am not your enemy,” Zar’Ryn said. “I am here to protect you, just as Jo’Nay would.”

Her posture softened slightly, though the tension in her shoulders remained. “If you’re really here to help, then we need to get the others. They’re in worse shape than me.”

Zar’Ryn nodded. “We will. But first, you need to dress.”

Elara’s cheeks flushed, and she tightened her arms around herself. Zar’Ryn frowned slightly, then removed his armor and swept his shirt over his head, leaving his torso bare. His skin shimmered faintly in the dim light, the musculature of a seasoned warrior evident in every line of his frame. Without a word, he extended the shirt toher.

Her eyes darted to his chest, then back to the shirt, hesitation flickering across her face. Her mind raced, and he could tell she was torn between the instinct to take what he offered and the vulnerability of accepting help from an alien stranger. He suspected the sight of his bare torso—awarrior’s frame, impossibly strong and almost otherworldly—only deepened her unease.

Hot color burned across her cheekbones, aconfusing mixture of embarrassment, anger, and something he couldn’t quite define. Why did he unsettle her like this? Slowly, she took the shirt from him, her fingers brushing his as shedid.

Zar’Ryn stiffened at the contact, an unexpected jolt running through him. Her touch was fleeting, yet it lingered, awarmth that seemed to etch itself into his skin. It disconcerted him—how something so small could pierce through the carefully constructed walls of detachment he had maintained for centuries.

His gaze skimmed over her face, catching the transient flicker of hesitation in her eyes, and for a moment, he felt unmoored, caught in a strange tension that he couldn’t define but couldn’t ignore.

She pulled the shirt over her head, the fabric hanging loosely to just past her knees on her smaller frame. Her scent lingered faintly on the air, warm and human, and he found himself unexpectedly aware of it. Then she bent and snatched a pair of glasses from off the floor and settled them on her nose. One lens was cracked and the earpieces appeared bent, but they were serviceable, he supposed. Odd that humans didn’t have the capability to permanently correct poor vision. He gathered up his armor and swiftly refastenedit.

As he reached to guide her, his hand brushed against a wide bracelet encircling her wrist. It was metallic, intricately designed, with small jewels embedded along its surface. The moment his skin made contact, ashock ran through him—aburst of heat and light that made his breath hitch. He pulled back instinctively, but far too late. Asecond bracelet, identical to hers, materialized around his own wrist, glowing faintly.

“What—” Elara began, her voice trembling.

The bracelets pulsed in unison, afaint hum vibrating through the air. Alow but persistent sound emitted from them, aresonance that seemed to sink into Zar’Ryn’s bones. Asurge of heat rippled from the band on his wrist, spreading upward through his arm, and into his chest like a living force.

Elara let out a choked gasp, clutching her wrist as her dark eyes darted towardhim.

His breath hitched as a cascade of emotions, sharp and unrelenting, crashed into him. The tremor of mistrust. The burn of raw vulnerability. Fear so visceral it stole his breath. Anger tinged with humiliation. And a desperate undercurrent of hope all mingled in an endless torrent. The sensations didn’t belong to him. His vision dimmed momentarily, his body struggling to reconcile the onslaught.

Kibl! They belonged to her.

He staggered, his head spinning as the flood of emotions hit him in an unending tidal wave. His pulse thundered in his ears, his usually disciplined mind battling the chaotic sensations flowing from her. The hum of the bracelets grew louder, filling the air between them with an almost tangible pressure, and when he looked at her again, heknew.

She felt him, too.

He radiated a rigid control that he’d always clung to, as well as a surge of protectiveness he couldn’t suppress. But worse of all the desire that had swept through him when he’d first seen her burned there, as well. They were all mirrored in her wide, disbelieving gaze. She shook her head in instant denial. And yet, that desire mirrored something within her, aswell.

A wave of heat spread from his wrist, radiating up his arm and into his chest. It was as though the metal band had a heartbeat, syncing itself to his own, then syncing to hers. His vision blurred for an instant, not from physical pain but from the surge of emotions flooding him. They weren’t his, but they gripped him as if they were. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus, but the connection was unrelenting.

Elara gasped audibly, clutching her head as her gaze darted to him. He could feel her bewilderment and dread, mingled with something deeper—an ache of mistrust warring with the faintest spark of reluctant hope. The sensation twisted in his chest, unfamiliar and unsettling.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I do not know,” Zar’Ryn replied, his tone rough. The glow of the bracelets dimmed slightly, but the connection remained, aconstant presence pulsating at the edge of his awareness.

“This… this is bad,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Agreed.” Zar’Ryn flexed his fingers, the alien sensation of shared emotions making his skin crawl. “But we do not have time to figure it out. The Marauders will not wait.”

Elara nodded reluctantly, her gaze flicking to the open door. “Let’s get the others.”

Zar’Ryn gestured for her to follow, his mind racing as they stepped into the corridor. The weight of her emotions pressed against his own, an unrelenting reminder of the bond that now linked them. Whatever had happened, he knew one thing for certain.

Their fates were no longer their own.