Onidus 14
Solara gets up. “Please don’t go.”
“I’ve made plenty of bad decisions. Protecting you is not one of them. But I’ve never been this exposed before. I don’t like it. I don’t have training for it,” I admit.
“Whose opinion matters?” Solara takes my hand in hers.
“Fuck them. All of them. Anyone who looks at you weird for the battles you’ve endured and survived is an out-of-touch dumbass.
They should be scared of you. And I think they are; they just cover their fear with laughter because they’re uncomfortable for you. ”
My insides squirm from the same heightened alertness that I feel when a battle goes sideways, and I don’t have any intel on why. “I need silence and space.”
“Come on, I know the perfect place.”
“Alone, Solara.”
“Not a chance in hell.” She leads me along a path that winds around the hedge maze and up a gravel trail through the trees on the shorter hill beside Mount Milli.
I don’t know why I let her, only that the idea of being alone with her is more powerful than my embarrassment. I don’t want to be exposed any longer than I have to.
“I saw this spot on the map when I was studying the race.” Solara leads me to a bench on the backside of the hill near the top and takes a seat. “I wanted to come here so I could look up at the stars with less light pollution.”
I sit beside her and lean against the backrest.
Solara releases my hand, reaches up to her neck, and disconnects something. As she does, her skin shimmers into a patchwork of broad scars. I don’t need much light to see them shine.
I remember the red marks on her skin when we fled the caves on Delsfein. My Vibrance dims, sick inside that she endured such damage. “Solara…”
She leans back and looks askance at me with a soft smile. “You see, you’re not alone. But I am a coward, hiding my true self because of the repercussions. I don’t want to be rejected. But I hoped I’d have more interest here. I see now that I don’t.
“Every interest, save for the Leosantian, has taken a bribe to try and get me in bed and then likely dump me the next day. So…” She puffs out a breath and shrugs.
“I’m just going to look for an aid position, see if someone will hire me as a medic or something.
At least then, I would be working with people I understand who will respect me because I’ve been where they are. ”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. In my excitement I lose control over my mouth.
“We need a medic. You could serve in our fleet. Silvian needs medics, no matter the species. But…” I cringe, regretting saying it.
“I won’t ask that of you. It’s not an easy life.
It takes years of training and even more years of missions into the void to really start to climb the ranks. ”
She looks up at me with hope.
“But it’s always possible to end up in another fleet.
Chromis, under General Slious, often works out in Nytheralian territory.
Gildon Fleet is led by General Calshoul, who likes to patrol in ghost-mode out around Derorsin, Denarso, and Novark territories.
If I had to recommend one other than Silvian under General Viriden, it would be Palathion with General Ashaena.
She prefers to stay closer to the Leosantian solar system, but checks in with Amphirans and Drathious.
Her fleet is more into engineering new weapons rather than clashing with Nebs on fringe worlds. That is definitely more our thing.”
I glide the back of a finger down her scarred thigh. “But you’ve been through enough.”
“Oh, stop fussing. I’m fine. I mean, Neb weapons hurt like hell. But I survived. That’s what matters, right?”
I can’t take looking at her damaged skin any longer. It’s destroying me inside. So I lean back and look up at the stars.
For several long moments, we sit in silence, looking up, just her and me against the vast emptiness again, no longer burned from shadow soldier weapons’ fire but scarred from it and finally together—on the other side.
“Stunning isn’t it?” she asks. “How something so filled with pain and emptiness can sparkle in such a way?”
I draw her under my arm and lean my head against hers. “I agree. And thank you for not running from me.”
“You know why I didn’t.”
I don’t. I wish she’d tell me so I could know for sure if it has anything to do with her liking me, not just tolerating my brokenness because I’m her friend. “I’m sorry they called you my mate when that’s obviously not true.”
“Obviously.” Solara gives me a strange look that I can’t decipher. “You know, most humans look up and dream about what’s possible, about amazing worlds and powerful species, and better lives. We know.” She nestles closer to me. “It isn’t pretty.”
“Maybe not. But you are.”
She hums a note of disagreement. “With all my flaws and scars and traumas?”
“They tell your story. And that is beautiful to me.”
She turns her head and meets my eyes. She’s so close I can feel her warm breath through the gaps in my mask. “Is it so far-fetched to think someone could feel that way about you?”
“I am scarred in ways deeper than my body.”
She touches my mask. “You mentioned your Vibrance trouble. But it seems to be working fine.”
“My life is war.”
“No exceptions?”
I sweep my thumb over her shoulder, realize what I’m doing, and stop. “I am not just a Smolder. I can do things my brothers can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m an Aural Master, Pyronic Master, and a healer, though not as good as Ulian. But even before Azrim healed me, I had these moments of power access far greater than any other Smolder I’ve ever met, even the generals. And I am like Ferrims. I can move metal with my mind. Very few of us can.”
She sits up and wraps her towel around her shoulders, and then leans close to me again, resting more of her body against mine. “What does it feel like?”
We’re just friends.
Right?
It takes me a moment to find my tongue and control the rapid pace of my pulsing core. “I feel this emptiness in a moment of desperation, and I just open the channel. It’s like a portal in my chest that converts the universe’s energy and bends it to my will.
“I turned an entire squad to ash, hovercar and all. Another time, I torched a Neb fighter ship. When I was on the Nebulous mothership, fighting my way to Azrim, who had been taken hostage, I may have sanitized an entire hangar. Twenty shadow soldiers, three fighters… Just ash.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I’m likely an Ison, the most elite of all our soldiers.
In your culture, you’d call it a Phoenix.
I nearly die and rise again in another form, but always building on my power.
That’s why I didn’t want to run this race.
How can I expect a female to be okay with that kind of life?
I have to fight because of what I am. General Viriden sent me here on a mission. I will never come here again.”
“So what are we supposed to do about this predicament?”
I don’t know. And I don’t want to suggest an option for fear of her response.
Solara curls herself against my side. “Sure got cold fast.”
I hesitantly wrap the towel tighter around her and consider drawing her into my lap. I’m always warm. But I’m afraid I’ll give away just how much of an effect she has on me.
When she shivers, I can’t take it any longer. I slide my arms under her, pull her close, and get to my feet.
“Where are you taking me?” she sleepily asks.
“You need to be somewhere warmer than this.”
“Your room?”
I can’t tell if that’s what she wants or if she’s scared that I’m going to take advantage of her the way the others tried to. “No. Yours.”
I carry her down the pathway and can’t help but steal glances over her skin and her sleeping eyes. My core thrums with bond pulses, and my body glows a brighter shade of white, even though I wish it wouldn’t.
She giggles softly and blinks up at me. “Why are you doing that?”
“Path is dark. It helps me see.”
“You have an augmented eye, Onidus. You’re lying.”
“To protect you.”
“From what?”
“Pressure.”
She rests a hand on my chest. “So…fast.”
My heart is racing. Her fingers over my exposed flesh only make it worse. Blood rushes through me because I’m finally carrying Solara to comfort her like I always wanted, not just because she’s injured and can’t walk any longer like back on Delsfein.
If no one else wants her or will care for her, then I will. But I won’t ask her to be mine.
I won’t.
The ache in my soul threatens to make me stumble. But I keep going, carrying her around the maze and toward the complex.
I desperately want to ask her, but I’ve been trained to put duty first and self last.
Racers turn to look, but I don’t care.
Solara hooks her arm around my neck like she wants me. I memorize the feeling as I pass through the doorway, slow my pace so I can hold her longer, and take the stairs to the second floor.
A green, scaly Retterwan male tilts toward me as he moves aside for us on the landing. “Drink too much?”
“Cold and sleepy.”
“Ah.”
The second-floor door opens for us.
“Have a good night, my friend,” he calls after me. “Badass, by the way.”
“Uh, thanks.”
His double lids blink, and he lifts a hand, then clumsily forms a thumbs-up sign with a goofy, triumphant grin as if he’s proud of himself for finally remembering how to make the gesture.
I walk to Solara’s room, swipe her band, and carry her inside and to her bed. Settling her into the sheets, I cover her with the blankets that I can find. She looks so innocent and perfect that I sink beside her and consider staying. But every moment that I’m with her makes me want another.
Too tempting.
I have to ease this deep longing somehow. Just one touch. If I could feel her somewhere that can handle delicate contact, maybe it would be enough to hold me over for another decade.
I reach up to my mask and hesitate.
Please don’t wake up.
I unclip my mask from my brackets and lower it to my lap. I want to believe she would love even this part of me, but I definitely don’t. I want to feel her, memorize her scent and her softness so I have the strength to keep going and to let her go when she does find a mate.
She deserves someone who can give her everything she dreams of. That’s definitely not me.
I lean down to her forehead and weave my fingers through her soft hair. Every sensation of her is the opposite of everything I embody.
Taking my time, I kiss her just above a golden brow and savor the plushness of her, the way the loose strands of her hair tickle my face, and how much I wish I could be like this around her…natural. Normal. Without fear of rejection.
Ryz says I’m antisocial. But he doesn’t have the mark on his face that I do, the one that nearly claimed my eye.
Life never lets me have what I want. So I sit back, settle my mask into place, aurally shield my presence, and close Solara’s door behind me.
This is best.