Chapter 43 The Navigator
The Navigator
Sage
The stars are quiet tonight, but not for long. Most of the crew of the Starlight Dominion sleeps soundly in their cryopods, oblivious to the chaos that erupts with a blaring alarm. An alien vessel approaches from the port side…
Ibreathed in through my nose, and out through my mouth as Victor took a step closer from the left, willing my body into a show of submission. My shoulders relaxed, my head swiveling every so slightly, and I leaned towards him.
“Good, Sage,” cooed Vorthain.
We’d been at this for… I didn’t even know how long. And we wouldn’t stop until I reliably sought out closeness to Victor.
My alpha.
My… mate.
Victor broke out into a soft purr, his hand running down my back.
They hail you, an act of neutrality. But the alien language coming through the comms is unknown, your translator chip not recognizing the clicks and hisses. What do you do?
“I think you’ve earned yourself a break, darling. You’ll have water and a steak salad.”
I don’t answer right away, instead routing power to the Dominion’s linguistics core to initiate a probabilistic scan.
The screen flickers.
Threat assessment: Inconclusive
Emotional tone: Cautious
Intent: Unknown
“Starlight Dominion to unidentified vessel,” I say evenly. “You are within restricted space. State your purpose.”
“Thank you, alpha.”
* * *
I never got to be the Navigator.
That was Kaleb’s role. And he was good at it, too. He had a million different voices, and could quiet a room with a single, dramatic pause. A look. A breath.
His stories were detailed and immaculate, his grasp on the hard, and not so hard, science made everything believable. At least to someone like me, who took everything at face value.
An alien species that existed as a sentient cloud? Sure, sign me up.
He’d made it seem so effortless, but I knew he’d spent months crafting these expeditions. He’d bought all the manuals, and when we were dating, would always ask me for my opinion and input.
“I want it to be fun for everyone at all levels,” he’d said. “And since you’re a beginner, you’re the perfect baseline.”
He’d always been so considerate like that.
He was gone now, though. And so were Nellie and Conan.
Someone needed to tell the story, and it all fell to me. Because Ronan wasn’t ready yet.
* * *
Victor sat at his desk, reading the latest reports on the city-state’s expenditures.
A small chair had been pulled up so I could sit beside him, and he kept one hand on the back of my neck, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. His other hand rested on the mouse, his middle finger slowly moving the scroll wheel with soft, gentle clicks.
He didn’t like any noise while he worked, whereas I’d always studied with some sort of music in the background. Silence had always made me nervous, forcing my attention on every sound in the background rather than what mattered.
Maybe it was a witch thing. Our cauldrons were almost always bubbling with some potion or concoction when we were at home.
Damn, I missed my cauldron.
His hand on the back on my neck tightened, almost like he knew my mind wasn’t on him. A reminder to stay focused.
But a quick look at his screen told me it wasn’t anything I’d done.
Apparently, there’d been some anti-vampire attacks at Sanguiel’s shrine in Fenmoor in retaliation for Victor’s treatment of Accalia, as well as some hexes against his Magik by witches for disrespecting his mate bond with me.
He was reading a statement written for him by the Communications Director condemning the violence.
“… These actions, carried out in apparent retaliation against my personal relationships, are an unacceptable escalation of violence that threatens the fragile balance among the city-states…”
I knew what I was supposed to do, even if I didn’t want to.
I am aligned. My instincts follow.
I leaned towards him, offering my wrist, which Victor took wordlessly, sinking his fangs through the thin skin and taking a long pull. The pain was soon dulled by pleasure and lethargy, which caused me to lean into him further, my face resting on his arm.
With a small lick, he sealed the wound, gently massaging my neck.
“Thank you, darling. You knew just what I needed.”
After a few changes, he sent the statement back and then patted his knee expectantly.
Again, I knew what I was supposed to do, even if I didn’t want to.
I am aligned. My instincts follow.
I sat on his lap, and his arms wrapped around me, purring as he tucked my head under his chin.
“This is how it was always supposed to be,” he said. “My mate, by my side.”
Doing nothing. A doll. A prop. A bite-and-fuck toy.
Well, at least there was still no fucking. I wasn’t sure all the conditioning in the world could get me back to a place where I’d enjoy sleeping with Victor. Before Ronan, I had accepted the escape. My only outlet to feel something other than constant misery.
After Ronan, though…
I could fake this. Cuddling, touching, submission. I could learn to do this without flinching.
But Victor wanted me present in bed, for as much as he wanted me vacant in everything else.
“What would you like to eat for dinner?” he asked.
The alien responds, another series of clicks and hisses. The tone is placating, but you know nothing about this species. What do you do?
I paused, wondering if this was some sort of trick. Victor had never, ever, given me a choice before. Not like this.
I reroute auxiliary power to the linguistics array and let the ship’s computer run predictive pattern matching again.
Threat assessment: Medium
Emotional tone: Pacifying
Intent: Questionable
I assume this is a trap, and begin powering up the shields. But SOLIS—Safety of Life in Space—Laws dictate we must help those in need. We will lead with peace first.
“Anything is fine. You know best, alpha.”
“Do you require assistance?” I ask.
I could feel the slightest change in his demeanor, his annoyance a small blip on the radar.
The alien doesn’t respond, but their weapons are moving into place.
“This is a reward for your good behavior. Do not dismiss it so lightly.”
The aliens click again, the ship moving closer, engaging a docking maneuver. They want to board your ship.
The computer dings, a match finally hitting on the language and vessel.
The Striogians are a proud race, the screen reads. To meet their hospitality with suspicion will incite violence. What do you do?
“I’m sorry,” I replied, nuzzling closer. “You’re so generous. Can I have lamb stew with lentils?”
His anger pulsed through me again, and I flinched.
Dammit. And I was doing so well, too.
He pushed back his chair and dumped me on the floor. “You have lamb stew with lentils once a week! I’m giving you a chance to eat anything, and yet you answer with what you think I want to hear.”
“I’m just trying to make you happy…” I sniffed. I’d landed hard on my ass, and it really hurt.
He buzzed his secretary in the next room. “Send in Vorthain,” he growled.
The door opened and the dark priest entered, head bowed low. “Premier,” he greeted. “Why don’t you help your mate off the floor?”
Victor picked me up roughly by the arm, and Vorthain tutted disapprovingly. “Now, now. She needs to trust you’re her protector. Her omega instincts are in flux because—”
“I know!” he yelled, his grip on my bicep tightening. “But she mocked my generosity.”
My mouth dropped open. “Gen… generosity? Are you fucking serious right now?”
So much for alignment.
Victor’s red eyes focused on me again, his chest heaving. I tried to shrug him off, but he was just too strong.
“Are you seriously telling me that if I’d asked for chocolate chip pancakes and mozzarella cheese sticks for dinner, you would have given it to me?”
The muscle in his jaw ticked, and I scoffed. “Yeah, exactly. So you can take your generosity and shove it up your—”
His free hand grabbed the back of my neck and he slammed me down onto his desk, pulling up my skirt and ripping my underwear in one fell swoop. His foot pushed mine apart and then I heard the unbuckling of his belt.
“Only one of us is getting something shoved up their ass, darling, and it isn’t me.”
But as quickly as it started, it ended, and Victor’s hold on me disappeared with a rush of air, and the sound of a body hitting the wall behind me.
“Control yourself,” Vorthain hissed.
I spun around, heart racing, and gasped to find Victor pinned by the dark priest, his gray, taloned hand wrapped around his throat.
As I’d expected and feared, Vorthain was stronger, and the look of fear in Victor’s eyes was unlike anything I’d seen before.
“You will ruin all of my hard work because of that stupid vampire pride. So like your creator.”
Vorthain turned slightly towards me. “Go, Sage. Your mate and I need to have a discussion.”
I paused, just for a moment to make sense of what was happening, when Vorthain bellowed, “Now!”
It wasn’t an alpha command, but it moved me all the same, and I bolted for the door.
Once I was out in the hallway, though, I realized I’d never been by myself in the mansion before, and I wasn’t entirely sure where to go.
My arms wrapped around my chest protectively as I looked up and down the corridor. Today had been my first day in his office, and my eyes had been trained on the floor the whole walk here, “like a good omega.”
As much as a little voice in the back of my mind told me to run, to find a door that led outside and never look back, I knew I’d never even make it off the grounds.
“Ms. Hexwood?”
I turned around, an armed alpha vampire guard approaching slowly. He wore the same uniform as all the other guards, but there was something about the way he moved that felt different. Even his aura was strange. Powerful, like Victor’s, but more controlled. More…
Safe.
It didn’t hurt that he was quite handsome, too. Tall. broad shouldered, and lean, with dark, slightly tousled hair and deep, thoughtful eyes.
He reminded me of Ronan in a way, which, perhaps stupidly, made me want to trust him.
“Please,” I asked, wiping away the tear that had fallen down my cheek. “How do I get back to the Premier’s room?”
He didn’t answer right away, just inclined his head toward the hallway. “Follow me,” he said, his voice low and calm.
My footsteps were swallowed by the carpet, while his were heavy and echoing along the walls. I looked up for the first time, taking note of all the oil paintings of Victor’s family, the Premiers of Noctis, going back hundreds of years.
They stared at me, unblinking eyes full of disapproval, and I shivered under the weight of their haunted gazes.
After several twists, turns, and stairs, we stopped in front of a familiar set of doors.
“Here we are.”
I reached out to open them, but they were locked.
Just my luck.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a key, would you?”
He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “I could get you in without one, but I don’t think the Premier would be happy about that.”
A guard who joked? That was a new one.
“I’ll find someone who does, though. Just stay put.”
I gave a sad chuckle. “I mean, it’s not like I can go anywhere else.”
He paused before he stepped away, leaning in close, placing a hand on my shoulder. His voice was barely above a whisper. “When the time comes, stick with me.”
I closed my eyes, the feel of his touch so different from Victor’s. Calm. Steady. There was something about the way he moved and spoke, his voice a rich baritone… could he sing? I bet he could sing.
Then the words registered. “Wait, the time? What time? Wh—”
The “why” died on my lips as the guard disappeared around the corner.
My back hit the door and I slid down until my butt, still sore from Victor throwing me off his lap, landed on the floor. I brought up my knees, resting my cheek on top of them as I thought.
Why would he help me? Had…
No. There was no way Ronan could have orchestrated anything like an extraction out of the Premier’s Mansion. He was strong, but he didn’t have the resources or connections to launch any kind of mission of that magnitude.
He had to be talking about someone else, then. Accalia? Or maybe one of the other Premiers wanted to kidnap me to get to Victor.
It couldn’t be worse than here.
The Striogians enter through the docking bay, heavily cloaked and hiding their true appearance. They extend an object. It glows, iridescent, the light pulsing like a heartbeat.
Threat assessment: High
You back up in caution, and the Striogians hiss their displeasure.
Your hand reaches for the photon gun at your side, but you have no idea if it will even do any damage.
Then the stars move.
Space folds inward, light bending around a presence the computer cannot classify. No transponder or warning.
The Striogians retreat instantly, and all that remains is the knowledge that there is something even this mighty race of warriors are afraid of.
And they have left you to face them alone.