Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Screams bounced off the cold white walls of her cubicle. Blood splattered against the clear glass of the window that separated them, obscuring her vision somewhat.
In a flash, all four humans were dead. Rykal had killed them with his bare hands.
He was back.
Her fierce, terrifying warrior was back.
Strangely, she didn’t feel any regret for the humans he’d killed. A weird stillness had settled over her. She didn’t feel much of anything. She was cold all over, and she was willing Rykal on.
Arin watched the terrible tableau play out before her. She could do nothing but watch, even as Rykal dropped to his knees beside one of the corpses, facing away from her.
She couldn’t quite see what he was doing anymore; he was below her line of sight.
She heard crunching and squelching, as if he were tearing through flesh and bone.
At last, Arin turned away, staring up at the ceiling as she granted Rykal a brief moment of privacy, because whatever he was doing, she suspected he wouldn’t want her to see it.
Not that she cared. Survival wasn’t always pretty.
Arin closed her eyes and thought about Earth. The brief time she’d spent on Nova Terra before returning to the Hendrix II had reminded her how good it felt to be on home soil. The sunshine and the salty sea air had evoked a strong sense of nostalgia.
Just a few minutes ago, she’d thought she’d never see Earth again.
She began to shiver. It was more than just the cold air brushing against her bare skin. Arin wasn’t the sort to cry easily or give in to her vulnerabilities; she’d been the leader of a squad on a remote mining station, she’d done her job damn well, and she could hold her own against any soldier.
But the way she’d been treated just now had evoked some powerful memories, memories she’d tried so hard to bury.
“Arin.” A soft, familiar voice dragged her back into the present, and it was the best thing she’d heard in her entire life.
“Rykal?” Her voice trembled. She sounded so weak; so vulnerable, and she hated that, but her body wouldn’t stop shaking.
“I’m here.”
She hesitated, not wanting to open her eyes just yet. She didn’t know what she’d see. It wasn’t that she was afraid; never that. It was just that she didn’t want to see the full extent of Rykal’s suffering.
He didn’t speak again, but she could feel his presence, even though he was as silent as ever. The first thing he did was pull down the thin gown she wore so it covered her groin and thighs, preserving her modesty.
Then his hands, bare and smooth and intact, were sliding over her wrists.
He grunted and snapped the restraint over her right wrist as if it were nothing more than brittle plastic. He brushed his fingers over the tender area where the restraint had dug into her skin, a low growl issuing from his throat.
He did the same with her left wrist, before moving to her ankles. Arin moved her arms experimentally. She was a little stiff, but otherwise okay.
After her legs were freed, he moved to her side, wiping the tracks of her tears with the soft pads of his thumbs. His gentle movements were in stark contrast to the room full of bodies he’d left behind.
“Open your eyes, Arin. It’s only me.”
Slowly, she did just that, blinking against the harsh light.
Rykal’s face swam into view, the bright white light forming a halo around his moonlight-crowned head.
She gasped.
He was whole again. The smooth silver skin of his face was intact. He had lips again. His elegant nose was perfectly formed. Long, beautiful lashes framed his eyes.
Arin was reminded of an angel, except this one dealt swift, bloody death.
Black nanites writhed under his skin like swarms of minuscule ants, occasionally coming to the surface to repair some unseen wound before disappearing again. Those impossible nano-particles had rebuilt Rykal from the inside out, remaking him in his own image.
He took her hands into his, his touch impossibly gentle. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling Arin up into a sitting position. She swiveled, swinging her legs over the side of the bench so that she was facing him.
“What for?” She brought her hand up to caress the side of his face, not quite believing he was real. He was naked before her, but he wasn’t at all bothered by it.
“For not being able to get you out of here sooner. They should never have been allowed to touch you.” His eyes burned with the heat of a thousand suns as he took her hands into his.
“It could have been a lot worse.” Arin shuddered at the memory of that asshole straddling her. Another image flashed through her mind; she’d been younger then, an idealistic, fresh-faced officer, and the man who’d tried to rape her had been in a position of unassailable authority.
She hadn’t allowed him to go there. Her fists were strong, and she’d used them. But there had been a price to her defiance, and her promising career as an officer had been cut short.
They’d dispatched her to the shittiest backwater of the galaxy, a mining station full of misfits and criminals called Fortuna Tau. It was a dumping ground for soldiers who’d fallen out of favor or stepped on the wrong toes, and she hadn’t been expected to last a month.
But she’d survived and flourished. Her promotion to sergeant had taken everyone by surprise.
She was strong. She’d always been a survivor. So why couldn’t she stop fucking trembling?
Rykal’s tenderness was tugging at her heart. “Never again,” he whispered fiercely, twining his fingers between hers.
Arin stroked his cheek. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she said. “You have no idea. I don’t know how your body does what it does, but you’re incredible.”
He’d healed so quickly. Kordolian technology was so far advanced that it could have been magic for all she knew.
“Hm.” Rykal’s ears twitched as he inclined his head, his amber gaze turning hard as it flicked towards the door.
“We’re about to have company.” He placed his hands on her waist and helped her slide off the table.
The floor was cold underneath Arin’s bare feet.
“You are in no way dressed or equipped to handle a fight.”
“This thing is somewhat skimpy.” The white medical gown reached to about mid-thigh. Her fingers itched for a trigger. If only she had a bolt gun, she’d feel a whole lot better.
The guards she’d seen stalking around the bridge had guns. Now that she was considered fully expendable, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her.
“I am very sorry, my ashika, but I’m going to have to ask you to go into that back room, the one where I was held. They’re going to come through here first, and I can’t have you getting caught in the crossfire. I get the feeling they will shoot to kill.”
“Stop apologizing, Rykal,” Arin said. “I’m a soldier too, remember?
From a tactical perspective, it makes perfect sense.
” She didn’t want to do anything that would undermine him.
She didn’t want to end up a hostage, and she didn’t want to be a liability.
He was right. Without weapons or armor, she was in no condition to fight.
Rykal nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m apologizing because of the mess I made. Please try not to look at the mess on the floor, but do stay below the window line.”
Sharp black half-inch claws had appeared at the ends of Rykal’s fingertips. Arin’s eyes widened. Pretty-boy was full of surprises.
She stared at him in shock for a split second, then the doors slid open and she ran, ducking behind a patch of wall as Rykal prepared to fight.
Try not to look at the mess on the floor.
She couldn’t help it.
She was surrounded by bodies. Blood was everywhere. The dead guy slumped closest to her was by far the worst; there was a gaping hole in his chest. It looked like he’d had his freaking heart ripped out.
Arin stiffened, the shock of recognition shooting through her like a jolt of electricity. She knew the guy. He was the one who’d been on top of her, who’d touched her as if she were nothing more than a piece of meat.
Had Rykal known?
She shuddered as she crouched down and made her way across the floor, trying not to be seen as she searched for a clean place to hide. Arin forced herself to get back into the mindset of a soldier as she glanced around, searching for a weapon.
In the next room, the sounds of violence were rising to a bloody crescendo.
Shots from bolt-guns punctuated the air, and one hit the glass window above her, cracking it.
Of course, it didn’t shatter like old-fashioned glass, because it was made of an ultra-strong polymer, but the powerful hit of concentrated electricity was enough to create a network of fine cracks across its clear surface.
Shouts and curses rang out in between grunts and screams. Rykal didn’t make a single noise, but occasionally, there was a crunch, a thud, or a squelch, and then the sound of bodies hitting the floor.
As if in answer to her prayers, a bolt rifle skidded through the open doors, coming to a stop by her side.
Arin picked it up, checked the charge, then crept up to the edge of the door, where a narrow strip of wall protected her from sight and fire.
She peeked around the corner and quickly withdrew her head as a blast shot past and struck the metal bench in the center of the room, sending it careening off into a trolley of medical equipment.
Once again, she chanced a look. This time, she saw Rykal fending off two attackers. One of the guards charged him from the front, the other took the back, aiming his bolt rifle at Rykal’s head.
Rykal was fighting naked, and he’d taken hits. There were rapidly healing burn marks all over his body, and he wasn’t moving as quickly as was usual for him.
Perhaps he hadn’t yet recovered enough to be able to summon his full armor-suit. After all, the guy had just been hit with four nuclear missiles.
Arin raised her rifle and squeezed off a shot. It hit Rykal’s rear attacker in the back, and he collapsed to the ground.
Rykal managed to shoot her a grateful glance just before he took on the other guard, sustaining a point-blank shot in the chest as he grabbed the guard with his bare hands.
Rykal slashed his neck with his claws, and the guard went down in a spray of crimson.
And then, silence.
Just like that, it was over. It had all happened so quickly. Arin looked around the corner, then ran to Rykal as he dropped to his knees, his chest heaving.
His hands were coated in blood, but as Arin watched, the strangest thing happened. Swarms of black nanites rose to the surface of his skin and absorbed the blood, leaving not a single trace of it.
She shrugged. The bizarre sight didn’t bother her. Nothing much could shock her anymore, not after what she’d seen and done. As for the humans who had just gone down?
They were definitely the enemy.
Rykal wasn’t her enemy. Never. Kneeling amongst the death and destruction he’d wrought, he looked up at her, and his gaze softened. His expression became tender as he reached out to her, his hands now smooth and clean, his sharp obsidian claws retracted.
“You protected me?” he murmured, a boyish smile gracing his dark lips.
“Just returning the favor,” Arin said, marveling at how good it felt to stand before him, even in the midst of all this carnage. He was the calm after the storm, even though he was the storm, the tempest, and the fucking hurricane.
Rykal’s smile faded. Disquiet flickered across his face, and his golden eyes narrowed.
“Rykal, what’s wrong?”
He gasped and looked down, a strangled sound of pain escaping his lips. “I…”
“Rykal?” Arin stepped closer, threading her fingers through his silken hair. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I…” For some reason, he refused to look at her, his voice cracking as he bowed his head. “I remember everything.”
Arin heard pain and confusion in his tone. Rykal dropped his head into his hands, shaking it over and over again.
And Arin realized he was having the mother of all flashbacks.