Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
He felt the heat first. No matter how many times it had been explained in writing, or by other males, nothing could describe what it felt like to transform into the Virilian primal form. He felt as though he had been dipped in fire that couldn’t burn his skin.
The smell of his helmet melting off stung his nostrils.
He looked down to see his suit blacken and peel away from his body.
Only the yulian leather pants remained, the forever staple of every Virilian male since they were sourced from a yulia—a creature that thrived in the lava pits on the other side of the planet.
His arms and chest bulged with red, veinlike striations.
“Get off my ramp,” snapped Trak from behind him, “before you melt it.”
Drex strode off the ramp into the ruins of his once beautiful garden.
The Sifters who remained—two of them ran off—stood frozen in awe at the Virilian who stood before them, exposed to the elements that should have killed him quickly.
They probably remained to see how long it would take for him to drop.
But Drex would not be dying any time soon.
The primal form could withstand the toxic conditions of the surface.
It had evolved to be nearly invincible. He stormed up to the Sifters before him.
None of these facing him were Virilians, but even if they had been, Drex wouldn’t have thought twice about pulling back his fist and smashing it into them.
One attacked, wielding a white, metal blade with deft, skilled movements. Drex dodged the slashes and flashed out a hand. He gripped the Sifter by the neck. The intense heat of him burned straight through the attacker’s suit. The Sifter dropped his long blade and writhed in agony.
Drex turned to the next. He fought, seeing through the film of red flickering in front of his eyes.
He could feel the weight of the pair of red, flaming horns that curved up off his skull. Great suns, he hoped Madison had listened and was not watching him.
But he knew she was. He could almost feel her gaze on him from the ship, shadowing his movements.
He fought like the demon he was. He received more blows than he dealt, but his were more deadly. Soon, the Sifters who had stayed lay still on the ground. Blood ran from his wounds but he felt no pain.
All Drex heard was the roaring of flames and his own pounding heartbeat. Strength pumped through his veins. He could keep going. He could keep fighting and killing and raging.
The beautiful garden was no more. The pacca tree with its fragrant blossoms was a shriveled husk. The bodies of flitflies littered the ground, their delicate wings turning to dust in the harsh air. This place of beauty was ruined.
A Sifter’s dead body lay sprawled over Tuli’s grave marker. Drex gazed down at it, unable to muster the will to move it. Unable to do much at all, with the chaos in his mind and the raw power surging through him.
“You love her very much,” said a voice behind him.
Drex spun to face his brother. It had not occurred to him until then that his feelings for Madison had grown into something so much more than fondness and lust. Perhaps he had been in denial. Perhaps his terror that loving again would mean losing again, had blinded him to the truth of his feelings.
But here he was, in his primal form with one female on his mind—not the one who had died so long ago. “I must,” he replied. “In order for this form to emerge.”
Trak’s face turned sad. He lifted the Sifter’s white sword and examined the edge. “Ah, Drex, you bloody fool.” He held up the blade. “This is a rare glekian alloy.” It winked in the bright light of two of the three suns. “You don’t want this do you?”
He shook his head, then gestured to himself. “You’ve done this? Transformed?”
“Yes.” Trak stuck the blade in his belt.
“How long does it last?”
Trak’s lips twisted. “You mean how long do you have to sleep on hard surfaces before you aren’t setting beds on fire?” He shrugged. “It’s different for everyone.”
“Madison…”
A look of pity crossed Trak’s face. “She’ll be fine.”
Drex clenched his fists. “But she won’t understand. She’s never seen me like this.”
“We will explain it to her,” said Trak gently. “She will get over it.”
That was a strange way to put it, but his brother often had a strange way of seeing things. He had to trust that Trak and Anna would be able to tell Madison about the Virilian’s primal form and what it meant.
When the city was safe and cleared of any potential leftover Sifters, he would talk to her.
He would tell her that he wanted her to stay. Permanently. As his mate, life partner, whatever she wished to call him.
He set his mind to other pressing things, like cleanup and reconstruction of the city. There had to be a crackdown on the Sifters. They’d evolved from marauding the open sands to organizing the takedown of a legitimate—and decent, he liked to think—Virilian king.
For now, he could use the extra strength he gained from his primal form to move some of the rubble from the corridors and check for the remaining Sifters.
He paused before striding into the palace.
“You’ll talk to Madison?” he asked Trak, then held up his red-veined hands. “Explain to her what all this means?”
“Yes, brother.” No half-brother taunt. No sarcasm. Trak bowed his head in a rare and uncharacteristic show of deference. His expression was sympathetic, which alarmed Drex.
Did Trak think Madison wouldn’t accept him? Did he know something Drex didn’t? “I will also contact King Virak on your behalf.” Trak twirled a finger in Drex’s direction. “Since you won’t be wearing a communicator for a while.”
“Thank you,” said Drex with a short laugh. “I won’t be wearing much of anything for a while.”
Trak left before Drex could muster the courage to ask more questions about Madison.
There was too much swirling through his mind to process the possibility that she wouldn’t want him.
That maybe all she’d gone through recently had been too much for her and that she’d want to go home, after all.
He strode into the rubble-strewn corridors of his palace to deal with the few things he could control.