A real fight.
The kind where adrenaline drowned out every thought except survival. The kind where death roared in your face, and you roared right back. The Moggaddesh were still sprawled across the deck around us, their enormous bodies leaking glowing ichor through cracked armor that resembled molten stone. Even dead, they were terrifying. I had never seen anything like them. They were monsters from the darkest corners of myth.
And I had just stabbed one in the eye. A breathless laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. By the stars, that had been fun. The thrill still raced through my veins. My skin felt too tight. My heart pounded with the intoxicating rush that always followed combat.
And then there was Thyros.
I turned toward him.
He stood amid the carnage like some avenging deity. His golden aura blazed blindingly, his sword dripped black blood, and his amber eyes were still bright with battle fury. His enormous chest heaved, while his biceps flexed, like he was still fighting for control. The memory of what he had done sent a delicious shiver through me. The sheer strength it must have taken to sever a Moggaddesh arm in a single strike.
Not just strength. Precision. Control. Absolute lethal power wielded with devastating accuracy.
Heat unfurled low in my belly. Fighting had always aroused me. Apparently, watching my impossibly large, impossibly beautiful mate carve through monsters like a god of war intensified that reaction to frankly alarming levels.
The golden thread between us flared, carrying a pulse of possessive satisfaction that made my cheeks warm. By the look on his face, he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Before either of us could act on the heat crackling between us, distant roars and weapons fire echoed through the ship. My exhilaration sharpened into focus. The fight was far from over. Thyros turned toward the sounds instantly, every line of his body taut and battle-ready.
He spared me a glance over his shoulder. “I don't suppose you intend to join the other females in the safe room?”
I snorted. “Yeah. Big chance of that happening.”
A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. Stars help me. Even splattered with blood and standing over the bodies of slain monsters, he was devastating. Perhaps especially then.
Without another word, he took off down the corridor. I followed at his heels. The ship shuddered beneath our feet as more impacts reverberated through the hull. Alarm klaxons blared overhead, bathing the passageways in pulsing crimson light. We rounded the next corner and ran straight into chaos.
Zapharos was engaged with four Moggaddesh. The sight stopped me for half a heartbeat. I had seen him fight before, but never like this. He moved with terrifying efficiency, each strike of his blade precise and merciless. Golden energy crackled around him as though the air itself had become a weapon. One Moggaddesh charged, roaring.
Zapharos caught its plasma axe on his sword, twisted, and drove his second blade through the creature’s throat in a burst of molten blood. Praetor of War was the perfect title for him. Where Thyros was all calculated coldness and precision, Zapharos was fury unleashed.
Nearby, Dravok stood before a reinforced door, his hands spread against the control panel as streams of dark energy flowed from his palms into the sealing mechanisms. The massive door slid shut with a final metallic clang. The safe room was the bridge, which now housed Nadine and Ella. Protected.
Dravok turned at our approach, his dark expression as composed as ever despite the chaos raging around us.
“Excellent,” he greeted. “Hold on while I reopen the safe room.”
He reached for the control panel. A massive shadow lunged out of the smoke. One of the surviving Moggaddesh charged straight toward him, its molten eyes blazing, its claws extended.
I launched myself forward before Dravok could touch a single control. If he thought I was going to be herded into asecure compartment and told to wait while everyone else had all the fun, he had clearly not been paying attention.
The Moggaddesh swung a claw the size of my torso. I dropped into a slide beneath the blow, feeling the rush of displaced air over my head. Sparks showered around me as I slashed my knife across the glowing seam behind its knee.
The giant roared and staggered. I came up on the other side, grinning like a lunatic.
“Safe room?” I called over my shoulder. The creature spun toward me, enraged. “Not a chance.”
It charged. The deck trembled beneath each thunderous step. I darted sideways at the last possible instant. The Moggaddesh crashed into the bulkhead hard enough to dent the metal. Before it could recover, Thyros was there. He moved like living lightning. One moment, the creature was turning toward me, and the next, Thyros’ blade flashed in a brilliant arc. The Moggaddesh reeled as the strike cut deep into the glowing fissures across its chest. I vaulted onto a nearby storage crate, pushed off, and drove my knife into its remaining eye. The beast roared, swiping blindly. Thyros seized the opening and delivered a final crushing blow that sent the creature collapsing to the deck with a resounding thud.
For a heartbeat, we simply stared at each other over the fallen giant. His amber eyes blazed. My blood sang. The bond between us surged with exhilaration, admiration, and enough raw desire to leave me breathless. Dravok looked from the dead Moggaddesh to me, one dark eyebrow lifting.
“I take it,” he commented dryly, “you will not be requiring protective custody.”
I twirled my knife with a satisfied flourish. “Absolutely not.”
Something suspiciously like amusement flickered across his normally impassive face.
“Good,” he nodded, turning back toward the battle. “Because we have more incoming.”
