Fated Blades

CHAPTER 9

The city of Adra glittered like a jewel held near a flame. The sky above it turned the deep purple of late evening, the estates surrounding it surrendering to the twilight, but the city itself was bright as day. Countless lamps, simulated torches, and lanterns held the darkness at bay as the happy crowds flowed through its streets, munching on food from the vendors, flying glowing kites, and throwing brightly colored glitter that would melt into nothing by morning.

Ramona moved with the current, acutely aware of Matias beside her. She wore a translucent skirt that shifted colors like an opal, pale at her waist, flashing with green and red as it reflected the light, then darkening to a deep crimson at the hem. Her top, a matching white, left her arms and her midriff bare. Her hair streamed loose over her shoulders, held back from her face by a delicate diadem attached to a diaphanous crimson veil that overlaid her hair. She would have preferred a combat suit, but they needed the element of surprise. The city had assigned the kruga to Kamen Plaza. And the kruga called for veils, gradient skirts, and naked waists.

It was worth it to see Matias in the traditional garb. He wore a white shirt that clung to his chest, formfitting white pants tucked into knee-high crimson boots, and a long vest that resembled a trench coat without sleeves with its hem split into three pieces at midthigh. The light from the lamps played on the carved muscles of his bare arms, and more than one person had given him a long appraising look as they passed. She couldn’t blame them. He looked like the hero of some First Wave saga, except that his short hair ruined the illusion. It should have been in a ponytail that reached to his waist. Yes, the hair was definitely a problem, and so was the expression on his face.

“Will you stop scowling?” she murmured. “We’re supposed to be having fun.”

“I feel like a jackass.”

“You look fine. Smile, Matias. You might like it.”

He growled under his breath.

An alert sounded in her head. Karion calling. She took it, subvocalizing her words. “Yes?”

“They’re here.”

A still image unfolded in her mind—Gabriel and Cassida walking across Kamen Plaza, eight guards behind them. Her husband looked dapper in a dark-blue doublet. It set off his blond hair. She allowed herself half a second to scrutinize his face. Golden tan, bright smile, not a trace of worry in his light-blue eyes. Next to him, Cassida radiated tension, her mouth set in a narrow line, but Gabriel was having a lovely time. She could recite what was going through his head, probably word for word. What a lovely party, look at all the pretty people just like us, soon we’re going to get paid, and then we’re going to go somewhere new and exciting . . .

She gritted her teeth.

Another image. Cassida tugging Gabriel closer, exasperation plain on her face.

That’s it, dear. That’s all there is to him. Don’t worry, we’re on our way, and it will all be over soon.

They sped up at the same time. Matias must have gotten the same report from his people.

They had briefly considered setting a trap by the plaza and snatching their spouses off the street. But with the bodyguards, the risk of bystander casualties was too high. The Vandals would not give up. They wanted the seco tech, and the only way to stop them was to wipe them out. Letting Gabriel and Cassida join them gathered all their targets in a convenient location they couldn’t easily escape.

The street gently curved around a narrow plateau rising from the city like a stone sword. They wove their way through the crowd until they reached the Kamen Gap, a narrow canyon between two plateaus. The crowd thinned. All those without reservations would be barred from entering the plaza, and for a moment they were alone, marching full speed through the passage, round amber lanterns sprouting from the living rock illuminating their way.

All her worries evaporated. The last traces of tension that had settled on her shoulders since she watched the recording of her husband’s betrayal left her. It was simple now. Live or die. Succeed and win everything, or fail and lose it all. Either way, it would be decided tonight. She felt light, strong, and ready.

Matias caught her hand and squeezed it. She gripped his fingers, searching for that same connection she’d felt when they danced. It pulsed into her, binding the two of them together, true, honest, without any subterfuge or pretense, and she leaned into the powerful current, eager to test it.

The entrance to the plaza loomed ahead, the two walls on its sides thrusting out like the jaws of some great beast. They walked toward it hand in hand.

A kissing couple lingered on the left, a blonde woman and a man half-hidden by a long pale cloak. As they passed, the man raised his head, and she stared at Karion’s face. They kept walking.

“My brother has a girlfriend,” she murmured, bewildered.

“Or at least someone willing to kiss him,” Matias said.

The enormous stone gates towered before them. The dancing troupe was already here, the couples milling to the right, just outside of the gate, wearing similar clothes. Matias and Ramona joined the dancers. A dark-haired woman nodded to Matias.

A drumbeat started, measured and light, a precursor of things to come. The first pair of dancers joined hands and strode through the gate in time to the beat of the drum.

Flutes joined in, weaving around the drumbeat. One by one, the dancer couples entered the plaza.

The strings caught the melody. The pace quickened.

The last of the dancers walked through the gate. It was their turn. Matias raised his hand. She put her fingers into his. The connection flowed between them, and they glided through into the plaza.

A square of paved stone thirty meters across greeted them. Textured walls rose on both sides, sheer until the top, where ornamental parapets fenced in the spectators seated in small groups at low tables. An older woman in a bright-yellow gown looked directly at them. Nadira, Matias’s aunt, sitting at a table with Adra’s mayor. Ramona glanced to her right and saw Uncle Sabor smiling at her from the other wall.

Directly ahead, the facade of the hotel emerged from the sheer cliff, its columns and reliefs carved with such care they seemed draped with velvet. Eight people sat on the balcony. Varden, two lieutenants, a large man standing behind them, and to the right, Gabriel and Cassida with two bodyguards.

At the base of the walls, the Vandals sat in small groups, on the traditional padded quilts. They were out of armor, weapons concealed, but their identical haircuts and rigid spines gave them away.

Where was Varden’s secare?

The first pair of dancers spun into the plaza, moving in a large circle. The second followed. One by one, the couples caught the rhythm and joined into a choreographed human whirlwind. The pair in front of them took off. Ramona counted to three in her head, and she and Matias twirled into the circle of dancers, taking their place.

Matias’s hand under her fingers was rock steady. He caught her waist, and they moved, turning, spinning, breaking apart, and coming together in perfect sync. She counted the Vandals by the walls as she and Matias dashed around the square. Fifty. The party guests were all here.

One circle around the plaza. Two . . .

She breathed in deeply and looked at Matias. Their gazes met. A hot, feral fire danced in his eyes. If he’d had fangs, he would have bared them and howled. Excitement filled her. If they waited too long, she’d burst.

They were about to finish the third circle. The music kicked into high gear. The pair of dancers in front of them slipped to the side, seamlessly escaping toward the entrance.

The group of Vandals was directly in front of them, four men drinking something from tall crystal glasses.

Matias gripped her arm, twisting her sharply, combining his momentum with hers. His fingers opened, and she almost flew at the four soldiers. The seco slashed out of her arms in twin blades. She sliced through the man on her left, and before his head slid from the stump of his neck, she severed the other trooper’s skull. Her seco caught him just below the ear. The top of his head flew, flinging blood into the air. Before the remaining two realized what had happened, she stabbed both of them through their necks in a single precise thrust and kept moving.

The other dancers were still spinning, fleeing the plaza pair by pair, and their flowing skirts and flying vests gave her a couple seconds of cover from the other side of the plaza. Nobody on that side saw the kill, and she was moving so fast.

The three Vandals at the next quilt had no time to react. The closest man’s eyes widened, and then she was on them, mincing flesh and slicing bones like butter.

Shots popped from the left, and then Matias was there, shielding her with his seco. She painted a bloody line across the third soldier’s throat. Matias caught her, and they charged in unison.

The next group jumped to their feet, three Vandals, eyes open wide, pulling sidearms from under their quilts.

It was her turn to shield. She splayed her seco out, while Matias fell on them. They moved back to back. Her force fields swallowed the incoming energy fire, the impact reverberating through her arms. Matias attacked. He ducked, he cut, he thrust. It was over in seconds.

The Vandals at the other wall ceased fire. The remaining soldiers on their side withdrew and formed a silent line blocking the two entrances to the Kamen. The music died.

A slow clap echoed through the plaza. On the balcony Varden stood up. Gabriel stared at her, open mouthed. Cassida’s face was bloodless.

During his entire marriage to her, Gabriel had never seen the seco in action. He had witnessed her training, but he’d never experienced the brutality of the actual combat. He never saw the cross section of a human body revealed as the seco cut through flesh. He never smelled the inside of a person suddenly exposed to air. She was sure Cassida had been equally spared. Matias wouldn’t have wanted to traumatize his wife.

This was the side neither she nor Matias had shared with their spouses. The killer side, the ruthless side, nurtured and trained since early childhood. The rude awakening must’ve shocked them.

“Not bad,” Varden said.

He wasn’t an idiot. He had to have realized that not a single face on the wall seemed surprised, but he didn’t seem rattled.

He turned and walked toward the doorway leading from the balcony.

A man shouldered through the Vandal line in front of them. He wore a black combat suit that clung to him, flowing over the contours of his body as if painted on. Muscle corded his tall frame. His skin was spacer pale, his brown hair was cut short, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw the same predatory fire she had seen in the eyes of the original secare unit. It seared her, and for a moment she couldn’t focus on anything else.

Varden walked through the line of soldiers and stood next to Lukas.

“You made me wait a week for this?” Lukas nodded at them.

“It’s worth it.”

“I’ll charge you double.”

“Get me their arms intact, and I’ll pay it.”

Her shell-shocked brain finally processed what she was seeing. They looked similar: same spare, hardened build without a trace of softness, same harsh set of the square jaws, same merciless stare, same height . . . twins.

Twins.

The two men split, circling them from opposite directions.

Her instincts kicked in. She turned left, facing Lukas as he stalked across the stones. Matias’s back touched hers as he tracked Varden on the right. The brothers moved well, too well. They didn’t look upset. Their eyes held no excitement.

“You look soft,” Lukas told her.

She didn’t say anything.

“Soft and slow,” Lukas said.

Fine. She looked at him as if he were a piece of trash she needed to clean up. “You sold your skills to a butcher, just like Leland. Your bloodline is rotten. We’ll end your shame today.”

He laughed. “Show me.”

She sensed Matias’s movement, the coiled power in his body shifting. The connection between them seared her, and she moved with him unconsciously, knowing where he would set his feet and which way he would strike.

Two crimson seco rapiers shot out of Lukas’s arms. He thrust, almost too fast to see. Her own seco burst from her arms in short straight swords. Ramona leaned out of the way, smashed her right blade onto Lukas’s seco, forcing his arms down, and slashed at his throat with her left sword. He dismissed his seco and leaped back. She’d missed him by millimeters.

Varden hammered at Matias with heavy, powerful blows. Matias blocked, knocking Varden’s right arm aside, and moved out of the way.

Lukas summoned two slender curved sabers, inviting her to chase him. Instead, she slipped into the space Matias had vacated, her right seco snapping into a rapier, and stabbed at Varden’s exposed side.

Varden leaped back, avoiding the blade by a hair.

Matias cut at Lukas and withdrew.

Ramona brushed against Matias, the connection between them surging through her in a hot current. They were still back to back. They had simply switched opponents. The whole thing took a fraction of a breath.

Lukas scrutinized her. He moved left. She turned to follow, and Matias moved with her.

“A pair,” Lukas said in a clipped voice.

“You finally noticed,” Varden said.

“I’ve never killed a pair.”

“I told you it would be worth it.”

Matias attacked.

She felt his intent and threw her seco up in two round shields. Varden pounced on her in a whirlwind of strikes and slashes, shifting the size and shape of his blades on the fly. She blocked him in a controlled frenzy. He hit like a space freighter. Her arms shuddered under the strain. One small mistake, and they were both dead.

Behind her Matias was fighting, fast, precise, and she moved with him blindly, putting all her trust into the connection between them. She felt Lukas attacking and knew Matias’s counter. While Lukas lashed and stabbed with calculated viciousness, looking for an opening, Varden hammered at her, trying to overwhelm her with sheer strength and ferocity.

They think I am the weak link.

If Varden could break her down with his blitz, Matias would be caught between the two brothers. They thought she wouldn’t last. They were spacers. Neither of the brothers had ever run fifteen kilometers up a mountain carrying a weighted pack and then been told to make his way back if he wanted water.

Welcome to Dahlia. Neither of you will leave here alive.

Matias slashed with his left seco, curving it in midstrike. Lukas smashed his short seco blade onto Matias’s sword and thrust with the other seco, forming it into a narrow spike. Matias leaned right, she leaned with him, and the seco missed them by five centimeters, so close she saw its deep, furious red out of the corner of her eye.

A searing agony lashed her shoulder. The scent of blood shot through the air, and for a moment, she didn’t know which one of them had taken the wound.

Matias. Lukas’s seco had grazed his arm. He was hurt. She couldn’t tell how badly. It could be a scratch, or his arm could be hanging by a thread.

Lukas snarled like an animal and launched a flurry of attacks, throwing himself against Matias’s injured side. Matias parried. Varden lashed at her, each slice designed to stagger her. The world melted into combat.

Strike, cut, dodge, shield, slash, strike . . .

She had no idea how much time had passed, but all of them were growing tired. Her breathing was labored. Sweat beaded on Varden’s forehead. The strain of matching his moves was sapping her strength. This was unlike any fight she’d ever experienced.

He carved at her, aiming for her chest. She formed her seco into two round shields and thrust them in front of her.

Varden’s seco flashed, the heavy blades mutating into rapiers. They slid between her shields, curved, and Varden yanked them back, locking his seco with hers and trying to pull her off balance. She dropped her left shield, breaking free, shifted it into a wide blade, and lashed at him. He pounded at it with his other seco, throwing his entire weight into the blow. Her arm dropped. She saw his other blade coming, but there was no time to avoid it. She twisted her arm, trying to block him with her seco.

Not fast enough. Varden’s red blade glanced off her seco and sliced her right forearm.

She shied back, Matias moving with her. Hot blood drenched her arm, dripping to the stones. She willed her right seco into a shield, and the red force field obeyed. The arm still moved. He hadn’t hit anything vital.

Varden smiled at her.

Rage flooded her, hot and boiling, not her own, but streaming from Matias through their connection.

They had to end this.

Varden leaped. The world slowed, each instant stretching, each line of his body crystal clear. His seco turned into narrow curved blades running the entire length of his forearms like two oversize ax heads. She saw him above them, knew he would come crashing down, but she had nowhere to go. She thrust her shields up, ready for the impact. He would knock her down. There was no doubt about it.

Drop.

It wasn’t a voice or a thought. It was an impulse, and it didn’t come from her.

The twin seco smashed into her shields, Varden’s full weight behind them.

Instead of bracing, she dropped, letting him push her down to her knees. Varden’s face loomed above her, colored red by her seco shields. His teeth were bared, his eyes burning with a mad, hungry fire. He looked demonic.

Matias twisted his body. A streak of red shot from him, forming a long slender blade, and bit into Varden’s throat. She dropped her seco, pivoted around Matias’s legs in a crouch, and thrust her right seco straight up, cleaving Lukas’s groin and stomach in a single devastating stab.

Lukas collapsed in a gush of blood and entrails. Behind her Varden’s body crumpled to the ground, his hands on his neck in a futile attempt to stem the blood spilling from a second mouth Matias had opened in his throat.

It was over. She was so fucking tired.

The silence was deafening.

A moment passed. Another . . .

The crowd roared.

Matias offered her his hand. She gripped it and rose to her feet.

Matias stepped toward Varden. The fallen secare was still alive, clamping his throat.

“Nicola convoy. Eight years ago.”

Varden’s eyes bulged.

“Kurt Sommers and his crew are waiting for you on the other side. Tell them I said hello.”

He slashed Varden’s throat. His head and severed fingers rolled clear.

Fifteen meters away the line of Vandals stared at their beheaded commander.

“Kill!” a voice roared from the balcony.

Ramona jerked her shields up a fraction of a second before the energy fire from the Vandals hit them.

“Ramona?” Matias asked, blocking the barrage next to her.

“How bad?”

“I’m fine. You?”

She gritted her teeth against the pain vibrating in her arm. “Never better.”

“Good. Let’s fucking end this.”

They moved in unison, carving into the Vandal line in front of them, shielded from the crossfire by the mass of the soldiers’ bodies. They worked their way through, turned, took out the group by the other wall, doubled back, and sliced through the front doors. They cut their way up the stairs and burst onto the balcony.

Varden’s two officers and a third soldier to their left, Gabriel and Cassida all the way to the back, on their right.

The huge Vandal soldier hauled a massive cannon to his chest. The plasma launcher fired with a telltale twang. She dashed right, Matias sprinted left. The plasma load landed between them in a brilliant burst of white.

She raced forward, veering in a zigzag. On the right, Matias tore past the group and doubled back. They fell on the three remaining Vandals like blades of shears closing. All three had combat implants. None put up a decent fight, and when she sliced the last of them in half, watching him fall to the ground was almost an afterthought.

Matias dismissed his seco and straightened. His shoulder hurt like hell. The seco had only lightly kissed his skin, but it had left behind a ten-centimeter-long gash that burned like fire. A few millimeters to the side and he would have bled to death by now.

Ramona stabbed the first aid syringe into his arm. He saw her coming and let her do it. A cool current flowed through his veins, soothing the pain.

“Ow,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. Blood drenched her right forearm and caked the back of her hand. Anger punched him the same way it had during the fight, when he’d first realized they’d hurt her. He would not let anyone hurt her again.

She saw him looking at her arm and shrugged. “It happens.”

“Let me see.”

She raised her arm. It didn’t look good.

“You need a medic.”

She made a fist. “It’s fine. I pumped it full of coagulant and painkillers. Same thing I gave you. Stop staring at my arm, Matias. We have unfinished business.”

What?

Oh.

He pivoted toward his wife. The bodyguard next to her held his firearm by the barrel with two fingers and gently lowered it to the ground. “I’m out.”

Matias looked at the remaining guard. “You?”

“Out.” The bodyguard took off nearly running, skirting the bloody bodies. His buddy followed.

Cassida stared at him, her face white as a sheet.

“Hello, dear.”

Her gaze flickered to the bodies. “You . . . you killed all of them. You’re a butcher.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t kill me, Matias. My father—”

“Has left the system by now, I would imagine. In disgrace. Or don’t you watch the news?”

“It was you,” she whispered. “You ruined everything.”

“Yes.” He felt a lot of cold satisfaction from uttering that one word.

She stared at him. “How are you still alive? So many people tried to kill you.”

Her tone was bewildered, as if she truly couldn’t understand why he was standing in front of her. There was no frustration, no anger, just stunned surprise. She was in shock, he realized.

His wife wanted him dead. A week ago, he would have felt something, some splash of bitter emotion, but today it no longer mattered.

“You were supposed to die. Why aren’t you dead?”

He nodded at the plaza below painted red with blood. “Because I killed everyone.”

Slowly she turned to the plaza, then flinched.

“Look very carefully,” he told her.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“This is what secare are. This is what we do. You and your family never understood that.”

She took a step back. Horror twisted her face. Compared to the people she’d gotten in bed with for this deal, he was a saint. But now wasn’t the time to explain it to her.

“The files.” He held out his hand.

She offered no resistance. “I gave them to Varden.”

He stepped to the balcony’s rail. Below, his people and Ramona’s were moving through the bodies strewn over the plaza. He called to Solei’s implant. “Our data banks are on Varden’s body.”

Solei walked out of the crowd and headed for Varden’s corpse. From the other side, Karion did the same.

Matias turned back to his wife. A bit of color had come back to Cassida’s face.

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Your stupid company. Your demented research. I ran away with another man, and you don’t even care.”

“On the contrary, I care a great deal.”

“You—”

“Quiet,” he told her.

She winced and clamped her mouth shut.

Solei emerged from the staircase onto the balcony, carrying a tablet. He brought it over and nodded. “Data recovered.”

Karion had performed the same maneuver, offering his own tablet to his sister. Ramona took it. Her face had shut down. Her stare was flat.

Matias wanted to walk over, put his arms around her, and whisper in her ear that they were alive, and everything was going to be fine. Instead, he called up the divorce agreement on his tablet and put it on the table in front of Cassida. “Sign.”

She raised her chin. Her hands trembled. “And if I don’t? Will you kill me?”

“Do you really want to be married to a butcher who ruined your father?”

She shut her eyes, clenched her fists, and faced him. “I want a settlement. It’s in our contract. I’m entitled—”

“No.” Fury sparked in him, but he kept it in check.

“Matias . . .”

“You stole from my family. You betrayed me. You’ll get nothing.”

She recoiled.

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel said. “Varden’s payment should be enough.”

Cassida turned to him. “The transfer never went through.”

Gabriel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There is nothing in the account,” she told him. “I’ve been watching it, and there is nothing. There was no transfer.”

This was painful.

“There would have been no transfer,” Matias said. “They might have honored their word if your father had remained useful, but without him, you have no leverage.”

“These men slaughter children for personal enjoyment,” Ramona snapped. “They massacre civilians. Why should they pay you when shooting you in the head is so much cheaper and likely more satisfying? Did you not do any basic homework to research the people you were dealing with?”

Cassida opened her mouth, looked at Matias, and swallowed. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he said. “My patience is growing short. Sign it, Cassida. Before I lose my temper.”

She grabbed the tablet, signed her name, and sealed it with her thumbprint. The tablet flashed green. The divorce was filed.

Ramona turned to her husband.

Gabriel gave her a soft smile. It took everything Matias had to keep from punching the man in the face.

“I suppose it’s time to go home,” Gabriel said.

“No.”

Ramona’s voice cut like a seco blade.

She thrust her tablet at Gabriel.

He took it and studied the screen. His expression turned mournful. “My family won’t like this.”

“Your family can go fuck themselves.” Ramona sounded merciless. “I will send them the recording of your theft, your adultery, and all of this. They are welcome to come down to the planet and talk to me about it.”

Gabriel looked at her. “You’re so angry.”

“Sign,” she ground out.

“Let’s talk about this,” he said. “I don’t want to go back. We can make this work.”

“It never worked. You never tried.”

“We had fun,” he said.

“You betrayed me.”

“It was a very small thing. I know I shouldn’t have left, but she was pretty and persuasive.”

“You fucking coward,” Cassida snarled.

“It was an interesting adventure. Now I am ready to come home. It’s not fun anymore.”

Ramona made a choking noise.

Gabriel smiled again, the weak smile of a spoiled child who would take his scolding knowing no real consequences would follow if only he waited it out. “I never meant any harm. I wouldn’t have left the planet.”

Ramona stared at him. It was a harsh, predatory stare, and it radiated so much menace it penetrated even Gabriel’s thick skull.

He took a small, hesitant step back, his expression confused rather than scared. He was obviously not afraid of Ramona. He must’ve become convinced that no matter what he did, she wouldn’t hurt him because he was weaker than her and she’d consider injuring him beneath her. That’s how he had gotten away with all of it, Matias realized. He’d simply avoided presenting himself as a threat, and now he was trying to do it again.

“Sign the annulment, Gabriel. You’re a chain around my neck, and I’m tired of carrying your deadweight. I would hurry if I were you, before I decide to cut myself free.”

Gabriel’s expression turned sad and slightly chiding. “I don’t want to,” he said. “I would be all alone.”

That was more than Matias could stand. He grabbed the other man by the throat, dragged him across the table, and held him at his eye level.

Alarm flared in Gabriel’s eyes.

Matias opened his mouth and pronounced each word clearly. “I will break you.”

Alarm burst into fear. Gabriel turned to Ramona, his eyes wide. She looked back at him, making no move to help.

Matias gripped his throat tighter and squeezed until he saw the precise moment Gabriel realized that no help would be coming. He clawed at Matias’s hand. Matias held him for another second and then dumped Gabriel on the ground at Ramona’s feet. She held the tablet out. “Sign.”

Gabriel signed the annulment and sealed it.

Ramona stared at the tablet as if it was dipped in sewage. Her brother stepped forward, picked it up, slid it into his doublet, and smashed his fist into Gabriel’s jaw. Gabriel’s eyes rolled back, and he went down like a log. Karion smiled.

“Got it out of your system?” Ramona asked.

“Mostly. I waited years for that.” Karion inclined his head slightly to his sister. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t do it sooner. I have our aerial ready.”

No. Matias stepped forward. His instincts told him that if he let her walk away, he would lose her. “Let me take you home.”

Ramona hesitated.

“He’s a Baena,” Karion said quietly, a warning vibrating in his voice.

Ramona gave him a long look. Matias held his breath.

“I know,” she said. “We have some things to discuss. I will see you at home.”

Karion sighed and looked at Matias. “She’s the head of the family, but she’s also my baby sister. You will bring her home before sunrise, or tomorrow I will start a war.”

He turned and walked away.

Ramona glanced at Matias. “I’m ready.”

They walked together across the balcony toward the stairs. To the left, above a distant mountain range, a star burst like a firework.

Solei’s voice echoed through the plaza. “The Vandal cruiser refused to surrender. Rather than confronting our fleet, they detonated their drive. There are no survivors.”

The spectators on the walls stood up and cheered.

Ramona closed her eyes, feeling the slight vibration of the aerial as it sliced through the wind.

After leaving Kamen Plaza, they had stopped at a small hotel booked by Matias’s people. She was able to shower and change clothes, and a medic had patched her arm. It was securely sealed now, the searing agony of the seco blade a distant memory.

While she had showered, Karion had sent an image of a big glowing wreck that used to be the Vandal cruiser. It would be up to the diplomats and politicians to sort out the aftermath. She and Matias had done their parts.

Ramona looked out the window. They were flying over the forest, the night sky endless and deep above them.

Matias hadn’t said a word since they’d boarded the aerial. A faint scent of balsam from their damp hair spread through the cabin.

“The temple,” he said.

She saw the glittering silver threads of the cupola below. Eventually this flight would end, and everything would be over. She would never sit next to him again. She would never hear him call her name or feel his strong arms around her.

“Matias?”

“Yes?”

“I’m no longer married.”

He spun the aerial into a hair-raising turn. “Neither am I.”

They landed on the terrace. She clicked her harness open, and then he was right there, leaning over her. She touched his cheek, the dark stubble sharp under her fingers, looked into his eyes, and kissed him. She poured all of herself into it—her want, her despair, her overwhelming need to love, even if only once, a man who was worthy of it.

She felt the exact moment he lost it. He crushed her to him, half lifting her out of her seat. His right hand caught her hair, and he kissed her like he would die if he didn’t.

She pulled at his clothes. They spun in the cabin, bumping into the seats and the walls, unable to let go of each other. Her back hit the cargo hold door. He pinned her to it, his left hand blindly groping the wall for the sensor. She ran her hands over his jaw, his hair, his arms, wanting more, and almost cried from the need and the desperation. He kissed her neck, nipping at her skin. Electric heat burst through her, all the way into her fingertips. Ramona moaned.

He hoisted her up onto his hips, his hard shaft digging into her flesh in just the right spot. She licked his throat, right over his carotid, the place where a small cut would end one’s life. He gripped her tighter, pressing into her. She licked him again, knowing she was the only one on the entire planet he’d allow to touch him there.

The door slid open, and Matias stumbled into the cargo hold and lowered her to the floor. His hands gripped her tunic. He pulled it up, over her head, trapping her wrists with it, and licked her left breast. The sudden heat over her tight nipple sent another jolt through her, and the connection between them exploded, a torrent of sensation that burned through every capillary in her body in an instant. She welcomed it, opening herself to it without reservation, and felt Matias do the same.

They synchronized, and the connection between them roared into life.

Pleasure flooded Ramona. She moaned and arched her back. He pinned her arms, sliding an iron-hard thigh between her legs, and kissed her again, sucking on the tight bud of her nipple, his thumb brushing the other. Her breath came out in ragged, hungry gasps.

An insistent heat began to build between her legs. The power of their bond crackled in her, sending tiny shocks through her body every time they touched.

He caressed her as if he loved her, as if each taste of her was a gift.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. She pushed against his hand. He let her go, and she yanked the shirt off her arms and pulled at his clothes. He stripped off his shirt. His body was perfect, hard and strong, each contour of the muscle shaped by fight and practice. His pants followed, and then he was naked and huge and all hers. He dragged her closer, pulled her trousers off, and tossed them aside. For a moment he was above her, on his hands and knees, and his eyes were on fire.

Breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, unable to look away. She loved everything about him. Every line of his harsh body, every scar, everything. The want in his eyes made her giddy. No man had ever looked at her like that. She’d had no idea it was even possible.

“Ramona . . .” His voice was a ragged growl.

She pulled him to her, running her hands over the thick cords of muscle on his back, and whispered into his ear, “Please.”

He thrust into her. He felt like heaven, and she gasped.

His hard length filled her, and he thrust again, driving into her in a wild, fast rhythm. She matched him, relishing each thrust. The connection between them vibrated with power, and she melted into it, savoring him in pure bliss.

He shifted his weight, dragged her hips closer, bending her legs, and pushed into her. Nothing else mattered. He made love the way he fought, all in, and she met him halfway in that feverish place where only the two of them existed.

The pressure building inside her crested. She shuddered and climaxed, drowning in ecstasy. His body shook above her, rigid with tension, and he came.

They stayed together, the aerial silent except for the sound of their breathing. Slowly he moved and lowered himself next to her. She curled up beside him, rested her head on his carved biceps, and closed her eyes.

Rain drummed on the roof of the aerial.

It’s over.

They had to go back to their lives. Thinking about it hurt. She tried to imagine letting him go and couldn’t.

“Marry me,” he said.

What?

She raised her head to look at his face. He couldn’t have said what she thought he’d said.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

She sat up and opened her mouth. All her conflicting feelings tried to come out at once, and she just stared at him, mute.

He sat. His eyes were clear and resolute. “I don’t care what my ancestor did three hundred years ago. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t a part of that. You weren’t a part of that. Nobody who was there back then is still alive today. It’s ancient history. I’m in love with you. Don’t leave me.”

She finally managed to make her mouth work. “Are you serious?”

“I have never been more serious, and since it’s me, that’s saying something.”

Yes, yes, yes . . . Ramona stomped on her own brakes. It wasn’t just about her. It was about him, his life, his family.

“What if it’s not real?” she asked. “What happens when the adrenaline wears off and you regret this?”

“Never.” He swore like it was a vow.

If he did end up regretting it, if they disappointed each other, it would hurt so much she wasn’t sure she would survive it. “Matias . . .”

He looked desperate, like a man whose life hung by a thread. “I know this more than I know anything. It’s never going to get old. It will never wear off. I’m not given to rash decisions. This is real. I know it. I feel it. I know you feel the same. Stay with me. Say yes, Ramona, and I promise you will never regret it.”

She had to say no. They had known each other less than a week. No was the most prudent answer, the most careful answer, the answer that would keep the peace in both families, that would give them both a chance to redefine their happiness . . .

There would be no happiness for her without Matias.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll marry you.”

He grinned at her, and she laughed. Suddenly she felt so light and free, as if she’d grown wings. He was everything she wanted, and he loved her. He was hers, this man that made her lose her mind. And she was his.

“You’re insane,” she told him.

“Probably. Do you care?”

“No.”

He kissed her. It was a tender kiss that promised love and care, and she believed it.

They lay back down, and she curled up next to him. “The families will howl bloody murder.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then the only question is, How much does your favorite uncle love you?”