Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

LUCA

Padawan: Why are you threatening my brothers, Luca?

Sigh.

While Wolfgang wasn’t outright scolding me, his displeasure was clear, and I couldn’t blame him for the reaction.

It’s just another betrayal of trust on my part.

We both knew I’d just broken the first rule of our original agreement—the one where I’d assured twelve-year-old Wolfgang Suarez that newborn twins Andre and Gabriel would be treated as his responsibility.

Not mine.

It was a precaution we took for a couple of reasons. If my fellow council members discovered my biological connection to the Suarez clan, they could cite a conflict of interest—and possibly remove me from my coveted position of influence.

And we couldn’t have that.

Not until the game was won .

Glacial Girl and Apocalypto Man also kept our secret, if for misguided reasons. As powerful as the two formidable clan leaders had been, they were also painfully oblivious to any threats to their collective power.

They mistakenly thought the icy villainess had fucked her way into permanent council favor, but their biggest misstep was believing Wolfgang was their trained dog. I happily fed into their delusions, partly as a means to justify the ends, but mostly because I was terrified of being denied access to their— my —children.

All six of them, biological or not.

In the end, our sacrifices had been worth it, even if I was hardly a better parent than the deceased supervillains.

Case in point—my continuously hurtful actions toward my ‘first-born.’

For so long—in Earthling years, at least—securing Wolfgang’s place as clan leader was my only goal. His achievements, his challenges, all felt like mine, because he was the one who’d made me a father.

Yet, I still couldn’t be honest with him when it mattered the most.

Wolfgang had already assured me I was forgiven for keeping my Stellarian heritage a secret from him—that he understood why I’d done it.

He doesn’t really, though…

Because I still haven’t fully explained it to him.

Wolfgang believed my reasoning was so he could maintain a sense of supremacy, and this was partly true. His world was cutthroat, and to be a successful clan leader, one needed to behave like an untouchable god.

Literally, in his case .

The Hand of Death was regarded as undefeatable, but the very powers that made Wolfgang nearly invincible to his fellow supes were ones my kind had developed an immunity to. So, in order for our arrangement to work, Wolfgang needed to believe he had the upper hand in our relationship. Otherwise, he may have suspected I intended to take everything from him in the end.

But he’d already given me everything I wanted.

Or so I thought…

The truth was, I’d hidden myself from him for the same reason I was hesitant to tell Erich who— what —I was. Earthlings had acclimated to superhumans with deadly powers living among them, but an alien from another planet was an entirely different animal.

Or so they thought.

But I digress.

Nothing about me was human—nothing I hadn’t stolen, that is—and the fear of being rejected by those I’d found a home with had guided my actions for as long as I could remember. Even with the core Suarez clan knowing my true nature, I still found myself walking on eggshells, not wanting to be seen as a threat.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t expected a deeper, more primal instinct to take over.

The need to protect my mate.

Drawing this line in the sand with Wolfgang felt like a knife to the gut, but I knew denying my connection with Erich would be far more painful.

My sons are no longer allowed to use their powers on Erich Nachtnebel .

I knew me openly referring to the twins as mine—of reminding Wolfgang I could lay claim to them as well — was a defiance that would not go unnoticed. I also knew I was putting the Suarez clan leader in a difficult spot, because our social hierarchy—and our personal relationship—didn’t match the deference we’d established in writing.

Looks like it’s time for another lesson.

Let’s see how you handle this, Padawan.

The three dots that indicated Wolfgang was typing started and stopped a few times, and I suddenly regretted teaching my greatest student how to block me, and other telepaths, from reading his thoughts.

What I wouldn’t give to know what he’s thinking…

Padawan: It was standard protocol, Luca. You know this.

Padawan: Erich is an employee of my clan. Therefore, I need to keep tabs on him—not only for maintaining order, but because he’s mine to protect.

Not anymore, he isn’t.

Part of me wanted to reply and tell Wolfgang as much—to tell him my stellar collision was no longer under his jurisdiction—but I was even more afraid of what I might do if my son dared to come between us.

So I watched helplessly as more dots appeared and disappeared on my screen—indicating more excruciating delays in communication.

Padawan: Why exactly do you care what I do with Erich?

Even without the ability to get a read on him, Wolfgang’s hurt and confusion was palpable. A memory of the tearful 8-year- old boy I’d first encountered in the lifeless hallways of the USN flashed across my mind, and I winced, unsure how to reconcile this situation in a way that would inflict the least damage.

I don’t want to lose either of them.

“Is everything all right, Luca?”

Erich’s calm voice instantly settled my turbulent emotions. Knowing no good would come from answering Wolfgang at this moment, I set aside my phone and turned to where my mate had been focused on his laptop for the past hour.

Ever since he’d gloriously shattered for me.

Although he’d agreed in the heat of the moment that he was mine— that no one else would ever touch him again—I suspected Erich had no idea of the seriousness of this situation.

How I’d kill to keep him.

Luckily for everyone involved, unless threatened, Stellarians mainly showed their commitment through basic care and maintaining the nest. So, I’d focused my possessiveness on preparing a simple meal of bread and cheese for Erich to enjoy while he’d showered a second time.

I will need to speak with him about how he’s supposed to smell like me at all times…

Since then, we’d been quietly and comfortably existing in each other's company while the snow continued to fall outside.

I’d made a point to not bring my laptop along on this vacation, but I’d encouraged my mate to do whatever he needed while I covertly observed him and pretended to answer emails on my phone. In reality, I had no intention of checking in with the council while I was here. I ranked high enough that I answered to no one, and plenty of council minions were more than happy to handle the workload while I was gone.

I could walk away tomorrow, and it wouldn’t even matter…

This train of thought wasn’t entirely true—even if it was tempting—but Erich was still patiently waiting for a reply, so I gave him my full attention.

“What makes you think something’s bothering me?” I countered, ignoring my phone when it vibrated again.

Patience, Padawan.

Erich’s gaze flickered to my phone before returning to my face. “Well, I…”

He pinked, and I immediately unleashed a tendril to taste his emotions, even though I could already identify them loud and clear.

Embarrassment, nervousness, confusion…

“Stop that,” he huffed, waving my invisible tendril away.

How did he know it was there?!

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, slightly embarrassed as I dutifully retracted my tendril. “Please, continue. I want to clearly communicate.”

Like a couple of… humans.

Erich smiled gratefully. “It’s fine. I’m certainly in no rush to tell you I can, uh…” He cleared his throat, his expression changing to acute discomfort. “Well, it’s almost as if I can sense your emotions… in a way.”

That got my attention. Being tapped into another creature’s emotional state was one of the core indicators of a deeper connection at play. Supes knew this as the inventus bond, and Stellarians called these matches stellar collisions. Earth’s human population referred to such phenomena as ‘soulmates,’ but there was nothing scientific to back up that claim.

Aside from the power of intuition.

“Where do you feel it?” I leaned forward, incredibly invested in his answer. “And how?”

“First of all, bless you for humoring me.” Erich softly laughed and removed his headphones, setting them on the table next to his laptop before rallying. “I feel it in my chest. It’s a tightness… Nothing alarming, but noticeable enough. And this sounds extra ridiculous, but I keep seeing these flashes of color that seem to coincide with different emotions of yours.”

That was not what I’d expected to hear, and I sat back to consider. An inventus bond between supes, or supes and hybrid Stellarians, like Simon, resulted in the sharing of powers—where powers existed, that is. Baltasar had recently surprised us all with his ability to turn into a miniature Lacertus like his mate, but that mostly proved the serum Zion Salah had absorbed for years had indeed enhanced his existing powers.

The ‘Boot Camp for Supes’ Xander and Butch recently launched in Big City would help shed more light on that situation, since the formerly lesser supe students—detainees, really—had ingested the serum while dreaming of revolution.

But that’s a story for another day.

“It sounds like synesthesia… specifically chromesthesia," I murmured, mentally flipping through the vast catalog of knowledge I’d acquired over tens of thousands of years. “Like when an individual’s sensory or cognitive pathways are stimulated to associate specific sounds with specific colors.”

Erich’s face fell as disappointment flavored the air. “Oh. Yes, of course there must be a scientific explanation for this… ”

Instead of finishing his thought, my mate blushed deeper and turned back to face his laptop.

Wait.

“Not necessarily,” I argued, desperate to continue this conversation— as a couple of humans. “Is there… What else do you think it might be?”

Tell me, please.

Erich grimaced, clearly embarrassed, but he humored me by replying. “Being as involved as I am in the Suarez clan, I know all about inventus bonds—including how Wolfgang and Simon have one, even though I don’t believe Simon is a supe…”

He trailed off, and I smiled, imagining how otherworldly all of this seemed to someone like him. “He’s not, but he is something else. Partly.”

“Part alien, you mean?” Erich immediately replied, searching my face. “Because he’s Theo’s son.”

You’re getting warmer, little Earthling.

Before I could reply, he dropped his gaze and sighed. “But I should have known this wasn’t an inventus bond?—”

“It’s not,” I replied without thinking, and I immediately regretted my decision as I felt his sorrow like it was my own.

He wants this connection as much as I do.

“It’s something else!” I blurted out just as rashly.

A stellar collision.

Erich’s eyes widened at my outburst, and I was just as surprised to be laying my heart on the table.

And for an Earthling, no less .

When Stellarians matched as stellar collisions, we resonated for each other in our native language, which other species were unable to naturally mimic. This meant, despite my certainty that Erich was my mate, I would never hear him resonate for me.

And there is nothing more uncomfortable than experiencing an unanswered resonance.

However, as the Suarez-Salah-Stellari clan had proven, different genetic combinations meant these connections could solidify in different ways.

Even with the throat contraption superhero Micah Salah had created for himself to communicate with various alien races, there was no physical way to make his Earthling vocal cords match Ziggy Andromeda’s Stellarian notes. Ever the problem-solver, he’d therefore created a harp that could.

A musical instrument…

“Do you have access to the noise, er… music you played at the twins’ gallery opening?” I hurriedly asked.

Erich squinted at me. “Yes, it’s on my laptop?—”

“Play it,” I demanded, needing to prove my point.

To prove this is real.

He huffed in amusement but unplugged his headphones before hitting a few keys. A moment later, the sweetest sound I’d ever heard filled the small but cozy cabin space.

There you are.

Resonance was a challenging concept to describe, different for every Stellarian who experienced it. I hadn’t heard mine echoed back since I was first formed from the combined essence of my two creators .

I’d never thought about associating a color with the experience, but Erich’s words were igniting core memories, and I could suddenly vividly remember how it had felt to have my resonance sung to me.

My resonance sounded like safety—like uncertainty and fear fading into the background, until it became nothing but a low hum of white noise progressively replaced by comfort and calm.

I suppose it sounds like… yellow.

Euphoric was an appropriate descriptor, but this blissful harmony was short-lived. After a while spent sustaining the notes of one’s resonance, it became un sustainable, and a fixation arose. Like an addict chasing a high, one felt compelled to shift into something more complex, like the transition to a verse after the chorus.

This resulted in a flurry of input—sound and color—and while there were moments of sweet chaos, the goal was for the pieces to fall into place with precision, for all noise to smooth out and blend into one perfect note.

Like depthless teal.

Peaceful nothingness.

Resonance.

As Erich’s song continued, I couldn’t stop my eyelids from drifting shut. All lingering tension left my Earthling form, and my resonance roared to full volume in my chest—called to respond to the artificial tones.

How did he create such perfection?

When I opened my eyes again, Erich was watching me closely.

“Yellow…” he murmured. “Blue-green, like your… tendrils. ”

Like all of me.

“But you’re right,” he brusquely broke the spell, moving as if to turn off his mating song. “It’s simply a perceptual phenomenon?—”

“WAIT!” I shouted, halting him with his finger hovering over his keyboard. “The colors you just saw were not in response to your music. You’re responding to mine.”

Just take my heart.

Please.

Erich’s brow furrowed. “But… you’re not making… music…”

“I am,” I gasped, clutching my chest as my resonance called to him. “You shouldn’t be able to hear it, but it seems like you can. Because…” I exhaled and took the leap. “Because you’re my stellar collision.”