{Gait}

Korac, General of the Icarean army and convicted war criminal, paced a rut into the black corrugated tiles comprising the floor of his prison cell. His swift stride back and forth along the nacre-resistant energy barrier kicked up his ankle-length black leather duster. Odd to find a replica of his Invasion Day gear among the clothes Lucas collected for him. That a certain gorgeous blond woman provided him.

No.

Don’t think about her. His thoughts might leak into her consciousness and distract her. Let her focus on the crazy shit happening on Earth. Worry about her later when it caused the least interference—

Sagan, General of the Two Armies, walked into the all-black cell with his battle axes on her hips. The Icarus hesitated only long enough to scan her for injuries before opening his arms to her. He tried not to linger on the nacre port in her chest as she melted into their embrace. Korac’s lover squeezed him tightly with a desperation he gladly relieved for her. Shorter than him by eleven inches, Sagan made up for it with four-inch heels and badassery. Her short blond hair nestled against his collar with her arms wrapped around his waist beneath the coat. He smoothed a circle between her shoulder blades and kissed the top of her head.

“What do you know?” He despised breaking this moment by asking, but he wanted to know how her people fared.

She shook her head against him, her nose pressed cutely into his chest. “I came here first. After…”

Hiding his appreciation for her priorities, Korac stepped back to examine the port. “I understand it’s painless?”

“That’s right. Pain free.” Sagan’s beautiful violet eyes refused to meet his pale ones as she took in the cell decorated in gifts from her travels.

Gently, he captured her chin and lifted her gaze. “I know your task evolved to require the port. Pehton delivered your message. Your dedication to the mission is admirable. Reminds me of a certain handsome, fair General.” He smirked at her with an extra crook. Just the way she liked it.

Elden, Sagan looked adorable when she blushed. And her scent… watermelon. Sweet and fresh—

He frowned. Vanilla. She smelled of—

“Razor gave me a pillow while I was unconscious,” Sagan offered, as if sensing his confusion. “Matt watched over me the entire time. I was careful.” She fidgeted with an axe blade in a nervous gesture, implying she feared Korac’s reprisal.

The Icarean male swiftly took the Progeny female’s hands in his and squeezed tenderly. “No matter what happens, I will not let you go.”

Relaxing visibly in the fall of her shoulders and the heavy exhale, Sagan repeated her vow, “I promise to never go where you can’t find me.” After a thoughtful frown and a cute scrunch of her nose, she asked, “Do you think he did it on purpose?”

“Definitely.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

She tossed her hands up and groaned. “I don’t get it. If he wanted sex, I think I’d understand—”

“I want sex.”

Sagan brushed off his blockmate’s intrusion without missing a beat, “—Hi, Remorse—But Razor genuinely doesn’t seem after that. I don’t know what he wants from me. I have no money. No power.”

Korac held up a finger, and she gestured for him to speak, “You have more power than you know, General.” He smirked a little extra for that one. “You’re one of only two Seamswalkers in existence. He wants you. Whatever that means to you, he’ll try to take you.”

Sagan hugged herself and leaned her side against the wall with a clang from an axe. He hated her delicate shudder. The lost look in her eyes. As she tried to make sense of the world around her. Fragile, it broke and crumbled. And in her powerful position, people expected her to piece it together again. With that in mind…

“I love that you came here. It means more to me than you know. But your people no doubt need you.” Korac went to her and chafed her arms. Kissed her forehead. Anything to relieve some tension. “When you have some time to spare, update me. I can’t help from here, but I care about… at least two of those people.”

Sagan bubbled into precious laughter until it melted away and left her older. “I’ll be back. I’ll bring mushrooms.”

They kissed goodbye, deep and lingering. But comforting. Korac knew what he wanted from her. There wasn’t time for it now. Later. Later sounded good.

She broke away suddenly and glanced down at his attire, recognizing it. After gaping, she quipped, “I swear Lucas is stalking us.”

He laughed, and her eyes sparkled in response. They loved each other despite the bizarre odds of their relationship working out. She, a Progeny, fought on the side of Earth when the Icari of Cinder invaded. He, a dashing Icarus, led the invasion with millennia old vendettas to settle. Both so lucky their two leaders understood and permitted it even with their own differences.

Nox. Rayne. The giant and the sprite. A legend arose from the ashes of their rivalry. They loved each other in secret. Nox staged the public assault on Rayne to throw off their enemies. Likewise, Rayne claimed to kill him when she actually freed him during their ultimate battle. So that one day the Icarean King would return to free the sleeping sprite from her imprisonment in the Martyr Complex.

Unfortunately, Korac knew better. While Nox intentionally assaulted her in public, it wasn’t staged. And Rayne definitely killed Nox. What happened to the executed King of Cinder’s nacre after? Well, the Icarean General never received full confirmation. But he suspected—

“Memory lane?”

Korac blinked and shook himself from his thoughts with a gentle smile. He eyed their shared axes as he said, “Reflecting on my good fortune to have someone who looks at me the way you do.”

“I plan to do more than look when I get back.” She pointed an axe at him in warning as she backed into the Seam.

“I look forward to it as always, General.”

With Sagan gone, Korac restrained himself from fretting. She was safe. She would be all right. But more importantly, his woman was a badass, and more than capable of looking after herself.

“If you don’t ask her to marry you, I will.”

Ahh… Remorse. Korac’s blockmate kept quiet over the last few days. “What’s kept you occupied?”

“My sleep cycle differs from yours.” The alien of unknown origin sounded defensive. “But you’ve entertained quite a few guests. Discover the identity of our wayward brother in the basement yet?”

The Icarus ran a hand through his white hair and absently noted its increasing length. Almost to his shoulders. Elden, it would take five years to grow back. On an afterthought, he muttered, “No.”

Silence stretched between them. One heartbeat. Two…

“She wrapped up with Razor?” Remorse’s voice held an edge of… concern? Tenderness?

Korac stepped to the nacre-resistant boundary and called, “Why?”

“Girl’s got one of those hearts you read about. Big and soft. We don’t deserve the love of the likes of her, you and me. With that said, Razor doesn’t even deserve to know hearts like hers exist. Do you understand?”

Taken aback, Korac considered the man’s sentiments. After another silent moment, he asked softly, “What do you know about the Pain Curator?”

“He eats little hearts for breakfast and will make a feast of your girl.”