Chapter 16

Chapter 15

Banic lay on his bunk, Beth's soft, pliant body curled against his side with her head resting on his chest. His little mate was deep in slumber, her breathing slow and even, her face relaxed and free of the frown he frequently saw her wearing.

A warm feeling washed through him, flowing from the center of his chest outward. He couldn't stop looking at her, couldn't stop drinking in every detail of her delicate features and committing them to memory like a man possessed. The dark sweep of her lashes against her cheeks, the gentle curve of her mouth, the way her hair spilled across the pillow in a cloud of silken curls...

She was perfect—a miracle, a dream made flesh—and somehow, impossibly, she was his.

He still couldn't quite believe it. Couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she'd even let him touch her, never mind hold her or worship her with every fiber of his being. That she'd let him claim her, had welcomed him into her body with softness and gentleness took his breath away.

Gods. He didn't deserve her. Deep in his bones, he knew that. He was nothing more than a monster, a beast forged in blood and pain and endless, aching Rage. He had no business laying hands on something so precious and pure, something so beautiful and utterly beyond his reach.

She should have run screaming from him in terror. But she hadn't. Instead she looked him in the eyes and saw the male still holding on within. And… she wanted him. Despite everything, despite all the darkness and violence that lurked inside him, the voice of his Rage riding his bones, she still looked at him and saw something worthy. Something good.

That was a gift he could never hope to repay. Not if he lived to be a thousand years old or saw the universe turn to dust and ash.

"Our mate," the dark voice in his head purred, smug satisfaction dripping from every syllable. "Human procreation is so messy but effective."

Banic blinked, startled out of his reverie by the unexpected intrusion.

"What do you mean, effective?" he asked silently, a frown creasing his brow.

The voice chuckled, a low sound that echoed in the back of his mind. "The act. The joining. It served its purpose, did it not? Relaxed you, emptied you, curbed the anger that burns your blood, clouding your thoughts."

A flicker of unease threaded through his gut. It was true. He couldn't deny that. The release, the bone-deep satisfaction of losing himself in Beth's warmth, her sweetness... it had calmed and centered him in a way nothing else ever had. As far back as he could remember the anger had always been there, even before the mutation had been found. He'd been with females before coming to Parac'Norr, but he'd never felt this—the calmness.

It was more than that, though. It was more than just physical pleasure and a momentary respite from the constant, clawing hunger that lived beneath his skin. It was a connection... a bond, forged in each touch, each caress and her body against his. Around his.

It was physical and soul deep all at the same time, something he would feel tying her to him until the day he drew his last breath. Even if his skin failed to ever show bond marks, he knew. Deep inside, he knew. She was his mate.

And he wanted that. Wanted to believe their intimacy meant something. He wanted it to bind her to him, not just in body but in heart, mind, and soul as well. The romance novels on her tablet computer, the ones the records told him she'd read over and over again, spoke of such things. Spoke of the power of intimacy to draw two beings… people together. Spoke of making them one in ways that defied logic and reason.

He wanted that with a desperation that bordered on madness greater than the Rage and insanity that flowed through his veins. The need ran deeper than blood or breath or the relentless pounding of his own heart.

The voice chuckled in the back of his mind again.

"She hasssss conceived," it hissed, a softer edge to the words. "Your ssssseed has taken root, spawned new life in her body. Can you not scent it, the ssssshift in her scent?"

Banic froze, shock rolling through him to war with the hope that welled up from the heart he'd long thought he didn't have. She couldn't be… could she? Surely it was much too soon.

"Liar," he snarled in his mind, forcing his hands to remain soft and gentle on his mate's skin when all he wanted to do was curl them into fists and pound the creature inside him for giving him such an idea. Planting the seed of an impossible dream in his mind. "You twist the truth, play games with my mind. It is what you do, what you have always done."

"We know!" the voice roared in outrage, a sound of pure, primal fury that shook him to his very core as the force of its anger slammed into him. "We always know!"

And then, suddenly, horrifyingly... he saw it. A vision burned into his mind's eye with brutal, searing clarity: a monstrous figure, towering and terrifying, its hardened skin black as pitch and its body rippling with coiled, inhuman musculature. Claws tipped unLatharian hands and feet, and its maw was filled with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. Red eyes, burning like coals from the very pits of the seven hells, pierced him to his very soul.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but stare in mute horror. It was the thing that lived inside him. The demon, the monster, the twisted reflection of his worst nightmares. This was what it looked like. He saw echoes of it in the claws his mutated body could produce and in the blackened tough armor that covered his shoulder and side where he'd been injured the worst.

And then, as quickly as it had come... it was gone. A breath of relief punched out of his lungs as he lay there, shaking and sweating as his heart pounded like a war drum of old in his chest.

"What are you?" he whispered, his mental voice hoarse. "What foul creature spawned you? What dark pit of hell did you crawl out from?"

The voice was silent, a heavy, brooding weight in the back of his mind. When it finally spoke again, its tone was different. Subdued… and almost resigned.

"We are... reduced," it admitted, a note of ancient sorrow in the words. "A shadow, an echo of what we once were. But even diminished, even broken... we endure. We survive."

Banic turned his head, his gaze seeking out Beth's sleeping face and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She looked so peaceful, so content, so utterly unaware of the danger that lurked mere inches away.

The danger in his own flesh.

"I would not hurt her," the voice said softly, as if reading his thoughts. "Ever. She issss the future. She isssss hope, even though sssssome of ussss do not yet sssssee it."

Banic frowned, confusion and wariness warring with a desperate, aching need to understand. "What do you mean, the future? Hope? Who are ‘we'? More than you? Are there more of you? How many?"

But the voice was gone, retreating back into the shadowed recesses of his soul to leave him alone with his thoughts and the warm, solid weight of his little mate in his arms.

Almost without realizing it, he found his hand drifting down to rest against the flat plane of her stomach, his palm splaying wide. As if he were cradling, protecting the fragile spark of life that even now might be nestled within her.

His child.

It was impossible. Unthinkable. A dream too wild and beautiful to ever be real. Yet... if his Rage was right. If she carried his youngling beneath her heart, that changed everything.

He allowed himself a slow smile. It would make her his, irrevocably and eternally. The mother of his young, the keeper of his heart, his soul. His mate… in every sense of the word.

The thought filled him with a fierce, savage joy and a possessive pride. He knew, with a certainty that went beyond reason or logic or the frail boundaries of his own battered soul that he would do anything to keep her safe. He would protect and guard her with every last ounce of strength and will in his body.

Even if he had to kill every other being on this cursed planet to do so…

?

Beth leaned over the microscope, her brow furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the focus. The sample on the slide was fascinating, a complex tangle of DNA strands and cellular structures. She was sure it held the key to unraveling the mystery of the Izaean mutation… She just had to figure it out.

But her focus was scattered. As much as she tried to lose herself in the work, she kept catching sight of Banic out of the corner of her eye. Every time, he hijacked her attention, all her thoughts of their little interlude in his cell only hours ago. All she could think about was his hands on her skin, his mouth hot and hungry as it claimed hers with his bigger body over hers, taking her with a power and passion she'd only been able to dream of before.

The clink of ceramic on metal startled her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Banic standing beside her, holding a steaming mug of coffee and a flaky, golden-brown pastry on a plate.

"What's this?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She really should be getting on with her analysis, but instead she was ogling his broad chest, remembering how she'd mapped the lines of his muscles with her lips and tongue. All apart from the area with the blackened armor. He hadn't let her touch him there.

He shrugged, a smirk on his lips. "Nutrition. You forget to eat when you're working."

She raised an eyebrow, amusement and something warmer and softer uncurling in her chest. If she didn't know better, she'd have said he was trying to look after her.

She leaned against the back of the stool. "And how exactly did you procure said nutrition? Last I checked, you weren't exactly free to roam the corridors."

His smirk widened to a grin, a flash of white teeth. "I have my ways."

She reached for the pastry, her stomach grumbling. "Oh no, you have to do better than that."

He shrugged as he set the plate down next to her and pulled up a stool. "Let's just say Kal and Tor were more than happy to play delivery boys in exchange for a few lessons in feral fighting techniques."

She glanced over at the two boys, huddled together at a workstation on the other side of the lab. They had their heads bent over a series of logic puzzles she'd assigned them earlier. She smiled. They were so young, still gangly and awkward in their adolescence, but she could see the potential in them, could see the keen intelligence and fierce determination there.

"They're good kids," she murmured, something that could have been pride swelling in her chest. "Smart, eager to learn. It's refreshing, actually. Most of my students back on Earth couldn't be bothered to show up for class, let alone tackle extra credit assignments with such enthusiasm."

Banic's expression softened, a flicker of something warm in his crimson eyes. "They admire you. They want to make you proud."

She ducked her head, feeling a flush creep up her neck.

"Well, you certainly didn't need to bribe them to get them to fetch the coffee and pastries," she teased, trying to lighten the mood and take the focus off her. "Admit it, you just wanted an excuse to play big brother to those boys. To take them under your wing and teach them the ways of the feral warrior."

Banic didn't smile or rise to the bait as she expected, though. Instead, his jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he stared across the lab with an expression that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Tor will be feral within months," he said, his voice gravelly and low, pitched not to carry. "He needs to learn, and fast, if he wants to survive what's coming."

Her breath caught in her throat, and a cold knot of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She glanced around, making sure Kal and Tor weren't paying attention to them before leaning in closer.

"Is the northern continent really that bad?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper. She searched his face for some hint of reassurance, some hint of hope that Tor would be okay.

But Banic just looked at her, his eyes fathomless and unreadable.

"It's not the northern continent he needsss to worry about," he said, and she heard something strange in his voice, a sibilant echo that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "Hisss… inside him. It's one of the strongesssst. He musssst massster it."

Her brows snapped together. "The strongest? Strongest of what?"

Banic blinked, a sudden flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Huh? What do you mean, ‘strongest of what?'"

"What you just said," Beth pressed. "About Tor, about the thing inside him being one of the strongest, and how he must master it. Strongest of what, exactly?"

Banic paled, the color draining from his face as he stared at her. "Beth... I didn't say anything. Not after I told you he needs to learn to survive."

And then it hit her, a realization so stark and stunning it stole the breath from her lungs.

"It wasn't you," she breathed. "Shit. It spoke to me. Your Rage, or whatever it is... it spoke directly to me."

Before he could react, before he could even draw breath to respond, she was right there in front of him, so close she felt the heat of his body and the electric crackle of his energy against her skin. She reached up to frame his face with her hands, her fingers splaying wide across the sharp, stubbled line of his jaw as she searched his eyes with her own.

"Let me talk to it again," she demanded. "I need to communicate with it directly. It could change everything, could be the key to unlocking this whole mystery."

He just laughed, a wry sound as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close against him.

"Would that I could, but it doesn't work like that, little human," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "It's never spoken to anyone else before, not like this. And it's gone now, retreated back into whatever dark corner of my psyche it calls home. I can't summon it at will, no matter how much either of us might want me to."

She huffed, disappointment and frustration warring with the sudden, dizzying awareness of his proximity, the way his scent filled her head and his touch set her nerve endings alight. She opened her mouth to?—

The alarm shrieked like a banshee, the sound ripping through the lab with a violence that sent her heart slamming into her throat. She jumped, but Banic's arms tightened around her like bands of iron, holding her upright and anchoring her to his strength.

Zeke and Sy charged through the doors, their faces grim. Their bodies were coiled and tense as they ripped metal counters from their moorings and heaved equipment across the room, building a makeshift barricade with a speed and efficiency that spoke of too many battles, too many close calls.

"What's going on?" Banic demanded.

Zeke whirled to face them, his yellow eyes blazing in the harsh, unforgiving light.

"We're under attack," he snarled, the words short and sharp as the sound of laser fire in the corridor outside. "The fortress has been breached. They're in the corridors."