{Earth}
Kyle sat at the massive desk, filling out paperwork for The Brethren. The desert fortress’ observatory served as his base of operations for screenings over the last two years. The eastern and western walls boasted millions of years of Icarean history in books lining wooden shelves. An enormous telescope took up a third of the room. Glass comprised the northern wall and ceiling for an unhindered view of the stars and dunes. Wood and leather furniture scattered across the rest of the space.
It wasn’t really Story Taker’s style. But the Progeny male liked the idea of claiming Nox’s desk after Rayne sent that fucker to Hell or Eternity or whatever they called it.
Fuck. Him.
He glanced at the copy of the bastard’s Verse that Andrew left him to read. Covered in dust, untouched.
No, Kyle settled for taking pleasure in cleaning up that waste of space’s mess. Speaking of. He reviewed the preliminary findings Pablo sent him on the device Tumu left them for secure document transfers.
No instances of nacre memory malfunction in current known history.
Shit.
Kyle would have to reach out to Tameka for access to the Tritan archives on Enki. And he really hated the idea. She kept her kid a secret from him until a year after Pax came into the worlds. Not that he blamed her. It just hurt.
Standing, he stretched and tried to keep the groaning to a minimum. Peeking over at his puzzle, Kyle took another cursory examination of their feral refugee.
Feral. Naked. Refugee.
They covered her with a sheet. He kept reminding himself she was old. Ancient. She looked barely a day over twenty. Athletic, for a heavy sleeper. Strong, too. However, those weren’t uncommon traits for an Icarean female.
But her hair… black with a bright blue stripe down the right half of her bangs. It draped down to her feet after sleeping for so long. And those gunmetal gray eyes of hers also raised some red flags. Supposedly they looked like King Umbra’s. Sire of the previous Mr. King of Cinder.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Kyle tilted his head to the side as he wondered what her Atramentous looked like. Ultimately, that was dark mode for Icari. Her eyes should change, and her voice should layer in three pitches.
A good voice, too. Deep. Soft.
The twenty-year-old man crossed the room before he realized it. The thick midnight-blue carpet suppressed his steps. He stared down at the sleeping woman in nacre cuffs, not as if she were a threat. But as if she were a pleasant distraction from his daily headaches and constant reminders of him betraying his friends.
Kyle lit a joint to relieve the migraine he currently nursed. He let the herbal aroma soothe him—
The sleeping woman groaned and stirred.
Take a step back? Or get closer to subdue her?
The woman’s eyes fluttered open and examined her nacre cuffs. When she sat up, she didn’t try to cover herself as the sheet fell to her lap. But what did he expect from a woman who walked naked across one planet onto another? Her head tilted this way and that as she puzzled over her restraints. She made no other reactions to indicate panic or aggravation.
And, no. He didn’t have a problem keeping his eyes on her face. Beautiful, yes. But Kyle dealt with beautiful Icarean females all day every day. He still conducted his work professionally and prided himself on it.
Might as well get this out of the way. “Sorry for the cuffs. At first, we mistook you for a starved servant borne. We get a lot of those. But we checked, and you have warrior blood. We’re running an analysis now to see how many upgrades you’re behind. It will help us age you and estimate when you went into hibernation.”
The woman stood, and the sheet fell to her feet. The only hair on her entire body cascaded from her head like a curtain to shield her nudity. On long legs, she walked over to him and held the cuffs up between them.
Kyle tensed, uncertain what approach to take. Naked women gliding up to him seemed like a great thing. But nothing made sense to him since April 2006. So, he took a hit on his joint and fiddled with the pendant on his neck.
She smiled. Like a Julia Roberts Pretty Woman bright lights beam. Perfect teeth. Perfect lips. Sparkle in her gray eyes. Just beautiful.
And then she broke the cuffs.
“Fuck! Cypher!”
The woman kicked Kyle square in the chest, sending him a few steps back. His wingman and crew busted through the double doors just in time to catch the female open her glorious wings.
Blue.
Every Icarus he ever met possessed black wings. Some, like Tameka, had colored accents. But nothing like solid blue.
The warrior woman narrowed her eyes at him before rocketing through the glass ceiling. Shards rained down on him and Cypher’s men. They covered their heads and looked away.
Once settled, Kyle stepped into the middle of the room and took in the mess he made.
Naked. Blue wings. Awoken.
“Son of a bitch.”