4. Thyros
The corridor opened, and the bond slammed into me like a meteor strike. Naeris.
She stood dead center of the cell, braid half-undone, dark strands framing a face that made every dream I’d ever had look like pale shadows. Strong jaw. Sharp eyes. Curves I already wanted my hands on.
Mine.
The word tore through me, raw and undeniable.
My cock hardened so fast it hurt. I could smell her, citrus and rebellion mixed with the sweet, unmistakable scent of her arousal.
The bond flooded me with images: her thighs spread wide on my bed, my mouth between them, her fingers fisted in my hair while she came screaming my name.
Her tight heat clenching around me as I fucked her so deep, she’d feel me for days.
I wanted to shatter the barrier. I wanted to drag her against me and never let go. I wanted to mark her so thoroughly, the entire universe would know she was claimed.
Naeris. Her name slammed into me with the same force. Naeris, I repeated, before I took one deliberate step back, every ounce of executioner’s discipline the only thing keeping me from lunging.
She felt it too. I saw it in the way her pupils blew wide, the faint tremor in her hands, the way her thighs pressed together like she was fighting the same flood of need.
Her mouth curled in defiance. “You. Of course it’s you.”
My voice came out rough, cruel, because cruelty was the only shield I had left. “The nightmare you’ve been dreaming of for years. How disappointing this must be for you, little human.”
But even as I said it, the bond pulsed hotter between us, a live wire of raw lust and bone-deep recognition that made my aura flare darker, hungrier.
The others were talking. I barely heard them. All I could see was her. All I could feel was the terrifying certainty that she was mine, and that I was the one thing in the universe that could destroy her.
My hands clenched at my sides until the knuckles ached.
She was speaking Arkhevari. Not the clipped, battle-worn version we used among the Hall of Seven, something far older.
Ancient. Primal. An accent I had never heard in all my centuries, pure in a way that made the marrow in my bones hum with recognition.
The words rolled off her tongue like they belonged to the time before the First Collapse, before the wound, before we were ever broken.
Deep, instinctive parts of me I didn’t even know existed knew that cadence instantly, as if my blood itself remembered it.
How—? The question barely formed before I crushed it.
Through the haze of my emotions, I heard Xandros exclaim, "You understand each other?"
Zapharos stepped forward. “She speaks Arkhevari. It's an older form, purer, untouched by the Collapse.” I felt his curiosity bleed from him, his sensors probing my mind, and I locked it down. I would not give anything away about her.
Dravok’s shadows rippled, disbelief sharpening his tone. “How is that possible?—”
I barely heard them. She was looking straight at me.
Her gaze locked with mine, and the bond snapped taut between us like a live wire.
I felt her recognition hit her the same way it had hit me, raw, staggering, impossible.
For a single breath, her expression flickered with something dangerously close to hope. Then her armor slammed back into place.
Zapharos took over Xandros' palmtop and adjusted the settings to update all the translator chips for the mortals among us, and I supposed, Naeris.
Did she qualify as a mortal? She was human, but…
my thoughts stopped when I noticed my brothers' eyes on me. Zapharos and Dravok, two minds, one thought. Their realization pulsed through my mind like hammer strikes: Aelyth. She’s his Aelyth.
The word moved between their minds, unspoken but deafening.
I wanted to slam their skulls together.
I didn’t want this. I didn’t deserve this. The flaw inside me—the wound I had been born from—had no right to something as pure as her. I was the last of us, the broken one forged in the aftermath. The executioner. The weapon that should never have been given balance.
Stay away from me, Naeris. The thought was a snarl, directed at myself as much as her.
Ella stepped forward before the silence could stretch any further. Her voice was warm, steady; her calm centered Zapharos, and the few dark fissures that had appeared in his aura retreated.
“Hello,” she said gently, switching to the same ancient-inflected Arkhevari through the translator.
“My name is Ella. I’m human, like you. We’re not here to hurt you.
We came because something ancient is waking up, something the Arkhevari call the Harrowed One.
It lives in the Dark Abyss, and it’s been feeding on them for eons.
We believe the answers are on Earth… and that humans may be the key to stopping it.
That’s why we’re here. To find the truth before the darkness swallows everything. ”
Naeris didn’t move. Her eyes flicked from Ella to me and back again, wary and calculating beneath the cold white lights of the holding chamber.
Zapharos inclined his head slightly. “We need to know what you know about the Dark Abyss. About Earth.”
The silence stretched. Naeris leaned back against the wall of her cell, crossing her arms slowly.
“And I need to know why giant alien warriors are holding me prisoner,” she replied coolly. “Yet somehow I suspect only one of us is getting answers today.”
Xandros huffed something that sounded suspiciously like amusement.
Ella stepped closer to the energy barrier. “We’re not trying to hurt you.”
Naeris’ gaze sharpened immediately. “No, you’re just imprisoning me. Entirely different.”
I almost smiled. Stars, this female had claws.
Ella sighed. “Okay, fair.”
“That’s probably the first honest thing anyone has said to me in days,” Naeris allowed.
For a moment, we all just stared at each other. Then Ella straightened suddenly.
“Oh. Right. Introductions.” She pointed at herself awkwardly. “Like I said, I’m Ella.”
Naeris blinked once, like the concept itself surprised her.
Ella gestured toward Zapharos next. “Big brooding one is Zapharos.”
“I do not brood,” Zapharos rumbled immediately.
“You absolutely brood.”
Naeris’ mouth twitched slightly.
Ella pointed toward Dravok. “Tall, terrifying, and emotionally constipated is Dravok.”
Dravok looked unoffended by this description.
“Astoundingly rude for someone I rescued repeatedly,” he observed dryly.
Then Ella gestured toward me.
“And this is Thyros.”
The moment my name left Ella’s mouth, something changed. Naeris went very still. The bond between us tightened violently. Her gaze locked onto mine.
“Thyros,” she repeated softly.
Stars. The way she said my name sent heat directly through my bloodstream. The flaw stirred immediately beneath my skin in hungry response.
Mine.
I shoved it back viciously.
Ella either didn’t notice the tension or deliberately ignored it.
“And the grumpy mountain over there is Xandros.” Xandros grunted from the wall where Ashley stood beside him. "And his… wife. Ashley. Now these guys," she encompassed Zapharos, Dravok, and me, "are Arkhevari, while Xandros is a Pandraxian."
Ella paused and looked at Naeris. "Have you heard of the Arkhevari or Pandraxians?"
Ella must have caught Naeris off guard, the way she did with most people, just utterly disarming in her own charm, because Naeris shook her head.
Interesting.
Xandros looked almost affronted, and I suppressed a small sound of satisfaction.
Normally, there wasn't a soul in the universe who didn't know who the Pandraxians were.
They were one of the most powerful species in the GTU—Galactic Treaty Union—if not the most powerful one.
My smugness increased when Naeris admitted, "I've heard of the Arkhevari, not the Pandraxians. "
Ashley snorted loudly enough to echo through the chamber, elbowing Xandros with a wide grin. The Superior Commander took the small blow in strides.
Naeris looked between all of us slowly. After a moment, she straightened up, pushed off the wall, and uncrossed her arms. “Naeris.”
I had already known that, but still, the simple act of her offering her name willingly felt strangely important.
Ella smiled warmly. “See? We’re making progress already.”
“We are absolutely not making progress,” Naeris informed her flatly.
I failed to suppress my smile that time. Naeris didn't let her guard down for one second. I watched her carefully. There was not a trace of fear beneath the sarcasm. Mostly, it was fueled by anger.
The bond pulsed restlessly between us again, the impossible pull tightening every time she looked at me.
She felt it too.
I could see her trying not to.
Ella must have sensed the shift because her voice softened.
“We don't know anything about where you came from,” Ella admitted carefully.
Naeris didn’t move. Her eyes flicked from Ella to me and back again, wary and calculating beneath the sterile white lights of the holding chamber.
Zapharos inclined his head slightly. “Which is why we’re asking.”
Silence stretched. Naeris returned to leaning against the wall of her cell, re-crossing her arms slowly.
Ella kept talking, apparently deciding this counted as progress. “So…” she ventured carefully. “Who are those orange beings who were with you?”
The shift in Naeris was immediate. Her posture tightened almost imperceptibly. Hatred flickered across her face so quickly most would have missed it. I didn’t. Neither did Xandros. Nor, apparently, did Ella.
“They’re not your allies?” Ella pressed gently.
Naeris barked out a short, humorless laugh. “My allies?” Something cold entered her expression. “No.”
The single word carried enough venom to sharpen the entire room.
Ella exchanged a quick glance with Ashley before continuing cautiously, “Then where did you come from?”