You are back.
I see you standing there. You are hovering at the edge of the steam like a pervert ghost haunting a locker room. Do not look so surprised. I know you are watching. I am the Vice Captain of the Xeca. It is my job to know everything that happens on my ship and apparently even what happens outside of it.
Welcome to Uranus...
Specifically welcome to the Azure Sulfur Springs. It is the most exclusive, expensive, and ridiculously opulent resort in this sector of the galaxy. The air here smells of money and rotten eggs. Mostly money.
The water is a vibrant, unnatural blue that glows under the artificial starlight of the dome. It is hot. Hot enough to boil a lobster. Or in this case hot enough to boil an Inquor and his... her... Vice Captain.
I am naked.
Yes. Take a good look. I know that is why you are here. You want to see the 'Ice Queen' melt. You want to see what is under the red uniform that I button up to my chin every single day.
Well here I am. My skin is flushed pink from the heat. My hair is down, clinging to my wet shoulders like damp seaweed. My nipples are hard, reacting to the temperature contrast between the hot water and the cool air of the dome.
But you are not looking at me are you?
You are looking at him... no... you are looking at her.
Ragia is sitting across from me.
The water laps at her chest, just barely concealing the tips of those breasts that shouldn't exist. She is leaning back against the smooth, natural rock of the pool's edge. Her eyes are closed. She looks peaceful.
But she looks different.
I do not just mean the female body. I mean the aura.
Her hair is floating in the water around her. It is no longer black. The roots have bled out, taking over every strand until it is a deep, violent crimson. It looks like blood dispersing in the water. It is beautiful in a terrifying way.
And her face...
She opens her eyes.
I shiver. It is not from the cold.
Her pupils are vertical slits. They are reptilian. Predatory. They are the eyes of a Krall.
When she looks at me like that, with those alien eyes set in that delicate, beautiful face, my stomach drops. My breath catches in my throat.
And God help me I am so wet.
It is a sick reaction. I know it is. I am looking at the face of the enemy superimposed onto the face of the man I love. It should repulse me. It should make me run for my Gatling Rose.
But instead it makes my thighs clench. It makes a heavy, throbbing heat pool between my legs. The fear is an aphrodisiac. The danger is a drug. I want those dangerous eyes to look at me with hunger. I want that predator to lunge across the water and tear me apart.
"You are staring, Iya," Ragia says.
Her voice is soft. It is a melodic purr that vibrates in the humid air. It lacks the deep resonance of his male voice, but it has a new quality.
A siren song.
"I am observing," I correct her. My voice is steady, but I know she can hear the lie. "You spent a fortune on this, Ragia. Reagalus is going to audit us until we die of old age."
Ragia laughs. It is a light, bubbling sound. She lifts her hand, watching the blue water cascade off her pale skin.
"Let them audit," she says dismissively. "I told them I needed a specialized bazooka to penetrate Gyra's armor. They bought it. They always buy it. I am the hero. I am the golden goose. They will let me lay a few expensive eggs if it means I keep killing Krall."
She shifts in the water. The movement causes a ripple that travels across the pool and laps against my breasts. It feels like a phantom touch.
"Come here," she whispers.
She pats the space next to her on the underwater bench.
I should say no. I should maintain professional distance. I should remind her that we are on a schedule.
But I am weak. When it comes to Ragia I have always been weak.
I wade through the water. The resistance feels heavy against my legs. I sit down next to her. Our shoulders brush. Her skin is burning hot. It is the fever of the transformation, the energy of the Inquor burning through the female vessel.
She wraps an arm around my waist. She pulls me closer until my side is pressed against hers. I can feel the softness of her breast against my arm. I can feel the curve of her hip.
"It is nice," she murmurs, resting her head on my shoulder. "Quiet. No alarms. No screaming. Just us."
"Just us," I repeat.
I lean my head against hers. Her hair smells of sulfur and that unique, spicy scent that is purely Ragia. It fills my nose. It clouds my judgment.
We sit there for a long time. The steam swirls around us, hiding the rest of the world. It feels like we are the only two people in the universe.
"Iya," she says suddenly. Her voice takes on a serious edge. "If I die... will you go back to being a Ronin?"
I freeze.
The word hangs in the air like a toxic cloud.
Ronin...
You probably do not know that term. You think Melitos just move on. You think we just find a new Inquor and start over.
You are wrong!
A Ronin is a ghost. A Melito whose Inquor has died. The connection is severed, but the Melios remains. It is a curse. We cannot menstruate. We cannot get pregnant. We are frozen in a state of eternal combat readiness, but without the fuel to use our weapons. We become mercenaries. Wanderers. Hollow shells looking for a war to die in because we have nothing else to live for.
I was a Ronin.
For a year. Before Ragia found me. Before he took me in.
I remember the cold. I remember the emptiness. I remember waking up every morning and wishing the Krall would just finish the job.
"Why are you asking that?" I whisper. My throat feels tight.
Ragia pulls back slightly so she can look at my face. Those slit pupils are wide, searching my expression.
"Because I am scared," she admits. "Not of dying. Dying is easy. I am scared of leaving you behind. I am scared of you wandering the void alone again. I am scared of Explorer 7 becoming a squad of ghosts."
She reaches up and touches my cheek. Her fingers are slender, elegant.
"I was thinking," she continues, her voice trembling slightly. "If it looks bad... if I know I am not going to make it... I should fire you all. I should break the contract before my heart stops. If I sever the bond voluntarily, maybe your cycles will return. Maybe you can go home. Maybe you can have normal lives."
She smiles. It is a sad, broken smile.
"You could find a husband, Iya. A real man. Not a genetic freak who turns into a girl when he works too hard. You could have babies. You could be happy."
Rage...
Pure, white-hot rage explodes in my chest.
It mixes with the lust, creating a volatile cocktail that makes my hands shake.
How dare she? How dare she sit there, looking so beautiful and so terrified, and try to push me away? How dare she try to be noble with my life?
I move before I can think.
I grab her by the shoulders. I spin her around, pinning her against the rock wall of the pool. The water splashes violently around us.
"Shut up," I hiss.
Ragia's eyes widen. "Iya?"
"Do not you dare," I say, my voice shaking with fury. "Do not you dare talk about firing me. Do not you dare talk about me finding a husband."
I press my body against hers. Hard. I want her to feel me. I want her to feel the anger and the desire radiating off my skin. My breasts are crushed against hers. My thigh is wedged between her legs.
"You are my husband, you idiot," I snarl. "In every way that matters. You are the only one I want. I do not want normal. I do not want safe. I want you."
"But I am dying, Iya!" she cries out. "Can't you see it? I am fading! The female form... it is lasting too long! My eyes... look at my eyes! I am turning into a monster!"
"I do not care!" I scream.
I grab her face in my hands. I force her to look at me.
"Let you turn into a monster," I whisper fiercely. "Let you grow a tail. Let you turn red. I do not care. I will love the monster too."
I see the shock in her eyes. I see the tears welling up in those vertical slits.
"And if you die," I continue, lowering my voice to a dangerous growl. "If you dare to die on me, Ragia Quarso... I will not become a Ronin. I will drag your soul back from hell. I will restart your heart with my bare hands. I will revive you just so I can kill you myself for leaving me."
Ragia stares at me. She is trembling.
"You are crazy," she whispers.
"I am a Melito," I correct her. "We are all crazy."
I kiss her.
It is not a gentle kiss. It is a collision. I crush my lips against hers. I bite her lower lip. I taste the salt of her tears and the sulfur of the spring.
She gasps, opening her mouth to me.
I invade her. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, demanding, claiming. She tastes like wine and danger.
She melts against me. Her arms come up, wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer. She grinds her hips against my thigh.
I feel it.
She is wet.
Even in the water, I can feel the heat radiating from her center. She is slick. She is ready.
The fear is gone from her, replaced by the same desperate hunger that is consuming me.
"Iya..." she moans against my mouth. "Touch me. Please."
I slide my hand down her body. I trace the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. I move my hand between our bodies, seeking the heat.
My fingers brush against her clitoris.
She jolts, arching her back. A low, guttural growl escapes her throat. It is the Krall side of her responding. It is primal. It is terrifying.
It is the hottest thing I have ever heard.
"You like that?" I whisper, nipping at her jawline. "You like your Vice Captain touching you?"
"Yes," she pants. Her eyes are rolled back, the red irises glowing in the dim light. "More. Deeper."
I slide a finger inside her. She is incredibly tight. Hotter than the spring water. Her internal muscles clamp around me instantly.
"God," I groan. "You are so..."
I look at you.
Yes, you. The voyeur. The one still reading this, hoping for the money shot.
Stop right there.
Do you think this is a show? Do you think I am going to let you watch this?
This is not for you.
This is not for the report. This is not for the archives. This is not for your entertainment.
This is mine.
He is mine. She is mine. The monster, the hero, the dying star... all of it belongs to me.
I am going to make love to her until the water turns cold. I am going to make her scream my name until she forgets about death. I am going to remind her that she belongs to the living, and specifically, that she belongs to me.
And I do not want an audience.
So get out.
Close the book. Turn off the screen. Walk away.
I said get out!
This chapter is over.