{Gait}

Korac ruminated his gratitude for the advanced healing. The glass chains chafed his wrists the entire two years he wore them without reprieve. His knees ached raw on the stone and bled on several accounts.

But he didn’t care.

“…And so we sentence you to one million years on Gait. Two hundred alone for your atrocities on Earth…”

Two hundred years until he was free to hold Sagan. That’s all he cared about.

Eminent Lance bowed. Eminent Abresson sneered. And Eminent Celindria’s absence was “excused due to her indisposition of her laboratory.” Where she no doubt tortured her fellow First Wave Progeny, exploiting their abilities.

Was his life ever simple? Reasonable?

Images of violet eyes flashed. Blond lashes fluttered closed. His pale gray hands on her tanned, freckled—

Who wanted sense? He only wanted her. Two hundred years from now.

“Let’s go, Pretty Boy. Your cell awaits.”

When Korac stood, Pehton barely came to his elbow. But he knew better. Even though he bested her on the first day, the Icarus still considered the Lyriki Warden a threat. With a deadly beautiful voice, the siren race could shatter the nacres in their victims’ chests. Not that he needed to worry about that. Instead, their song left him with a debilitating migraine.

The tiny badass beside him mused as they transported him to the conduit, “Excited to change out of that kilt?”

Korac smirked down at her. “You gonna miss it?”

She cursed and looked away.

They traversed the rest of the way to Gait in silence.

Home.

When they crossed through the conduit, Korac needed time to adjust to the noise, lights, and activity that assaulted them upon entry. Two and a half million years… He never knew his actual age when Umbra rescued him from this hellhole.

It… matured. The pain industry transformed the formerly barren wasteland into a compacted colon of wicked abandon. With flying transportation and soaring structures. And blinding lights.

The prison lived in the center as a vigilant ziggurat, awaiting his return. Pehton wasted no time rushing him and his parading Monarch 3 drone escort inside.

Once they reached their third Tritan-tech lift some hundreds of stories underground, she turned to the drones. “Monarch 3’s escort stops here. Only Wardens can access this floor.”

The Mon3 soldiers narrowed their gazes, but ultimately acquiesced.

The last lift dropped the General and the Executive Warden a significant distance below ground. When it finally eased to a stop, she smiled up at him. “Welcome home.”

Korac shot her a bitter grin. The woman was clueless how close she came to the truth.

They stepped forward with the sound of his boots echoing down the sterile-smelling hall. Black metal. Abyssal. They passed twelve empty cells before reaching the largest on this corridor.

Pehton sang into the lock, and the nacre barrier fell, permitting his entry. “This is Infernus block. Reserved for the worst war criminals in the Vast Collective. You’ll never leave this cell. We will serve your meals here, including synthetic Vittle supplements. If you press your hand to that panel, the floor treads for your exercise. You can request books from the approved reading list. No visitors under any circumstances. Questions?”

Korac turned and stretched his cuffed hands behind his back to Pehton.

She unlocked them with a heavy sigh. “You won’t even beg for your freedom? I’m honestly impressed. I’ve never met an Infernus prisoner who didn’t bargain during their incarceration.”

He almost purred with the relief of losing his restraints. “They obviously never served under Umbra.” One million years in this cell is nothing compared to what he endured in service of Nox’s father.

“Clothes are on the cot.”

Korac suppressed a chuckle. A mauve jumpsuit. The color of Sagan’s eyes. The bottom would hit his knees. The sleeves couldn’t make it beyond his elbows. And that’s if he could fit it over his chest. Who had shoulders this narrow?

Holding it up to display the measurements, he cocked a skeptical brow at Pehton.

Her giggle was a pleasant sound. Unprofessional in every way, but he suspected Pehton wasn’t Executive Warden because of her professionalism.

“I might submit a special request for a tailor.”

So she was trainable. Splendid. “Much obliged, Executive Warden.”

“We take care of our prisoners here.”

He remembered full well.

After Pehton sang the barrier closed, she confessed, “I can’t believe you’re so cavalier, Korac. I admit your sentence is startlingly short for your crimes, but you won’t see daylight for one million years.”

“For two and a half million years, the only light I saw was a star exploding over our heads. Besides,” he shrugged casually, “you’ll find me out of this cell soon enough.”

Pehton shook her head and walked to the lift. She called over her shoulder, “I’ll get that tailor in tomorrow.”

The lift whispered as it returned his Warden to the surface. All alone. Korac rotated his wrists and stretched. Room enough to stretch his wings, too.

In one corner of his cell, water sprayed from the ceiling when he stood on a designated tile. He showered away the crusted blood, dust, and battle ink. He wrapped a sheet around his waist to protect the Executive Warden’s modesty. He certainly didn’t have any.

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After that, he searched anywhere for something that might pass for a mirror. Korac wanted to check the hack job on his hair. He kept recalling Sagan’s tears when it fell to the floor after Rayne’s Tribunal. The heartache—

Sagan stepped into his cell from thin air.

He blinked.

She wasn’t a dream this time. Axes gleamed at her hips. Her blond hair cropped close to her ears with spiky layers. Heavy makeup around her violet eyes. The sexy coat only accentuated her gorgeous curves—

“Elden, you’re a sight for this Icarus’ sore eyes.”

Without breaking her stride, Sagan demanded, “Put your hands on me.”

Korac met her half-way and wrapped his arms around her. Her lips trembled under his with yearning. Two years was a long time to someone raised with the expectation of a human lifespan. As the scent of watermelon filled the cell, he growled. Two years was too long. Lifespan be damned.

With rough pulls, he jerked the coat off of her. When Korac’s hands found his favorite General warm and bare beneath, he broke their kiss to consume her with his gaze.

“Always like this?”

Sagan blushed under her freckles. “In case…” Suddenly shy, she licked her swollen lips.

Korac purred in his chest and dropped the sheet. He couldn’t get enough of her skin. She confessed she couldn’t get enough of his hands. He found himself. In her. In love with her.

They christened his cell. Every. Surface. For hours.

“We can’t go that long again.” Sagan curled into him on the cot and tended a chain around her neck. They both gazed at the bruises and bite marks fading with her nacre healing. The burn from her lighter would take deliciously longer.

Korac pecked his lips on her freckled shoulder. “It’s charming how two years is long to you when I wasn’t expecting to see you for two hundred years.”

She turned in his arms, searching his eyes. “I wouldn’t let that happen. Nothing could keep me from you.”

He kissed a fingertip. “Your timing is impeccable. How did you know where to find me?”

“With the war, I never had time to tell you. I can feel you when you think of me across the Seam.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Your radar must work sporadically, or you—”

“I Seamswalked into Enki over three dozen times to find you on your knees waiting for the Tribunal. Anytime you thought of me, I came for you.”

Korac did nothing to prevent his grin at her choice of words.

She blushed and swatted him. “So, try controlling it a little until you want to see me.”

“I always want you to come for me.”

Sagan ignored him and brushed a finger through his hair. “It’s taking so long to grow back.”

Korac kissed her neck. “They keep cutting it.”

“Then I’ll kill them all.”

He growled possessively against her throat. Her protectiveness aroused him. Korac could count on one hand the number of people willing to champion on his behalf.

He clutched her tiny wrist. She was certainly the smallest. When he gazed into her eyes with the promise of pain, Sagan returned with trust and love. Certainly the strongest.

Unfortunately, Korac expected Pehton to return any minute and ruin his time with the General. “Sagan—”

“I can walk you out of here. Come with me. Please.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Damn. Korac released her and gently kissed her adorable bangs. “I promised Rayne. I serve my sentence for Earth, and she grants me asylum on Earth and Cinder.”

“I know.” She lowered her head with a sniffle. Something about the thick lashes around her eyes. Or the flush of her button nose. Or the wobble of her delicate chin. Sagan always looked beautiful in her tears. She disarmed Korac. Utterly.

He averted his eyes. “I won’t ask you to wait for me—”

“I will. All two hundred years.”

Mercy for his mind. “Thank Elden because I can only stand the thought of sharing you with Rayne. No one else.” Korac grinned. “Actually, I quite enjoy the thought of you with her—”

She punched him. He caught her fist before it landed. They both stared at the connection, panting with the acceleration of their pulse.

Korac pinned her hand to the cot. He matched the other. “Safety word?”

Sagan swallowed hard, tantalizing him with her throat. “Butterfly. All of it to you.”

He closed his eyes, basking in her faith. When she giggled unexpectedly, his eyes snapped open with a cocked eyebrow.

“Where are the guards?” Sagan squirmed playfully in his grip. “Are they too scared of the notorious Icarean—”

“In a twenty-eight hour day, they patrol on seven-hour rotations.” The male voice that answered sounded as deep as a chasm and spoke in a lascivious tone.

Sagan cried out as Korac blocked the view of her from the barrier. “What the fuck?!”

The voice continued, “One hour and ten minutes from now, they’ll make their way down here. Be sure to smile for the cameras. In the meantime, please continue as if I’m not two cells down.”

Korac turned to find Sagan dressing with her face flushed and her pulse beating at her throat. “I’m sorry, Sagan. I assumed I was alone on this hall.”

Her eyes darted wildly toward the source of the interruption. “It’s fine. I’ll get used to an audience with time.” She smiled reassuringly at him, spinning the axes before holstering them.

His mouth dropped open. How was he this fortunate? How was she this perfect?

Sagan snickered and bumped his chin to shut his mouth. “We’ll work a schedule out. Now, that you’re not in Enki, I can bring you clothes. Do you mind if you’re my anchor again? I only need to recharge every three months. But regular contact with you would steady me.”

Korac kissed the pulse point on her wrist. “Take from me what you need. I won’t complain.”

“Neither will I.” Their voyeur was relentless.

Sagan shuddered, and Korac planned to restructure his blockmate’s face. Then a notion occurred to him. “How are you able to withstand so long without contact?”

She beamed, and he committed every centimeter of her face to memory. In a futile attempt at privacy, she whispered, “I got help from Legir on Yu.” At Korac’s wince, her face warmed with compassion. “I know. Some of the story, anyway. I understand why it’s a difficult subject for you.”

He frowned. “How?” They never found the time to exchange histories.

Sagan glanced beyond him to the barrier. “I can’t say. But…” She retrieved a bound book from her knapsack. The same book Korac delivered to Xelan’s stronghold two years ago. “It’s not fair that I know these things without you sharing them. But it’s been invaluable to me. Understanding Rayne. Investigating leads. You.”

The Icarus accepted the book and peered back at her.

“Korac, do you know where I can find Razor—”

He cursed and turned away. Not that. Never that.

“—Or any intel I can use to engage him?”

His voice cracked as he explained, “You don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“Tell me.”

He did. Mostly. Once finished, he cupped her soft cheek. “I consider you an equal, so I won’t ask you to stay away from him. Instead, I’ll ask you to be cautious. Xelan never spoke of him for a reason. He’s dangerous. And you’re the perfect mark for his predation.”

She frowned prettily. “Because I like pain?”

“No. That’s not the only reason.” Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, he shook his head. “In your eyes, I can see a heart open to anything. Not to mention that curiosity attached to your intellect. I’d feel better if someone were watching your back.”

Sagan smiled. “We both know I’m a badass and can take care of myself.” Her soft fingers brushed his cheek. “I promise to be careful and check in with you often. So, how do I find this ultra predator?”

“When you’re ready, he’ll come to you.”

His favorite General left a few minutes later after their sweet goodbyes. Korac rubbed the back of his head where his heart ached. She’s strong. Worry for her later. Deal with the most pressing issue now.

He approached the barrier and called out, “Hey, thanks, wingman. Your intrusion on my good time was most appreciated. From hereon, you keep your mouth shut if you want to keep your tongue.”

The blockmate chuckled loudly. “Does she taste as sweet as she smells?”

Korac thundered, “Don’t get any ideas about her. Not only will you have to contend with me, but she can summon hell to do her bidding. Trust me. You don’t want that. Mouth. Shut. And be grateful to experience her existence, even cursory.”

He heard the mock-salute. “Understood, General.”

Celebrity-status. Great. “You’re not qualified to speak to me.” Korac turned his bare ass to the hallway and addressed the conspicuous state of his cell. Hurricane Sagan. He smiled.

“I much prefer the cursory admiration of your woman to the company below us.”

Korac turned with a frown. “There is no lower floor on Gait.” Infernus was the most secure block. For war criminals only. Which certainly didn’t recommend his blockmate for conversation. Korac was the most dangerous prisoner in the facility. The Tribunal said so.

The disembodied chuckle came again. “Aren’t you knowledgeable? But no one knows everything on Gait.”

“Who is it?”

“So deadly, he isn’t allowed space. So clever, he isn’t permitted interaction. So evil, he isn’t granted light. The bottom floor of Gait houses the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy.”

No. How could they…? She killed him. What had they done to him for the last two years? More importantly. How could he be saved?

Korac gripped the book in his hands and ground out, “Nox.”