Colliding Worlds Trilogy 02 – Implosion Read online

  Implosion

  Part 2 of the Colliding Worlds Trilogy

  Berinn Rae,

  author of Collision

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Berinn Rae ISBN 10: 1-4405-6115-X

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6115-3

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6116-8

  eISBN 13: 978-1-44056116-0

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © istophoto/klubovy; 123rf.com

  For the piano man.

  Acknowledgments

  With thanks to:

  Jennifer Lawler, Jess Verdi, and Barb Wilson for making my stuff look good;

  Elle J Rossi for critiquing my stuff;

  My husband for hearing about my stuff (over and over); and

  You for reading my stuff. Thank you.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  About the Author

  More From This Author

  Also Available

  Prologue

  Beyond our world lies the unknown. Countless planets with endless possibilities. On one of those worlds, many galaxies from our home, an epic war has started a chain reaction, sending the war on a collision course with Earth. In the bloody aftermath of the Noble War of Sephia, the conquered Draeken flee, and the triumphant Sephians give pursuit. The first habitable planet in their path is a small, temperate planet called … Earth.

  We are no longer alone.

  Not yet public knowledge, the gold-skinned Sephians have reached a precarious peace with our military in their efforts to drive the winged Draeken from Earth and to extinction. As human-Sephian forces peck at Draeken defenses, we quickly learn that things are never as simple as right and wrong, good versus evil.

  A Draeken commander reaches out to a human leader tied with the Sephians in hopes for peace. But simmering tempers at the clandestine meeting quickly erupt into a disastrous battle. In the ensuing chaos, a Sephian warrior-woman is captured by the most feared of all Draeken, a man with deadly secrets and deadlier intentions. As tensions within the Draeken ranks rise, the chance for a world war looks inevitable.

  And it’s a war no one may survive.

  Chapter One

  Draeken Hidden Camp in the northwest United States

  Nalea lay on her side, feigning sleep, until the guardsman walked past her cell, whistling an old tune that reminded her of Sephia. The tips of his leathery wings brushed the floor as though bored, matching the slow, staccato rhythm of his steps echoing through the hall. His senses would be dulled from the monotony of his late night shift. Hers were primed.

  She forced herself to breathe deep and steady as she waited … and waited until his footsteps faded into the silence booming in her ears, signaling that this was her chance. She’d had months to memorize the guardsmen’s schedule. If the gods were on her side, the hallway would remain empty for at least another hour.

  Now!

  Her body tensed. She sucked in a breath and surged toward the barred door of her cell. Her muscles were alive and ready. Her hair was short. It would stay out of her way. The lights were dimmed for the night. They wouldn’t blind her sensitive eyes. A good thing now that her dark glasses were destroyed. With one last silent prayer to the gods, she pressed against the bars that kept her imprisoned within her enemy’s Earthside stronghold.

  The cold metal protested movement. She pushed harder, and the barred door swung outward. Her escape mechanism fluttered to the floor, and her breath hitched. It worked!

  Hard to believe a little piece of Earthside plastic was all it took to bypass superior Draeken technology. Wync, the jackass guardsman on shift, had been too busy taunting her for being wingless as he escorted her back to her cell after interrogation today. He’d failed to notice her sliding the lens from her dark glasses against the locking mechanism as he pulled her cell door closed.

  An alarm should’ve sounded immediately. Fortunately, the Draeken were facing an energy shortage, just like her people — the Sephians — were. Otherwise, the system would’ve sounded an alert if the bolt was blocked in any manner. She smiled. She had no problem taking advantage of any chance for escape.

  Nalea crept from her cell, carefully pulling the door closed behind her to avoid raising suspicion. She didn’t even glance back at the small cell that she’d called home for nearly a year. After tonight, she’d never be imprisoned on the other side of that door again.

  Flattening herself against the wall, she peeked around the corner and down the hallway, looking first left, and then right. To the left she would find freedom and could be miles away before her captors noticed her absence.

  She turned right instead.

  Some things were more important than freedom.

  Her bare feet made no sound on the cold floor as she hurried down the hallway. Every step was deliberate and quick. She knew this way well, the empty cells, a locked supply room, even the guardsman station where Wync had undoubtedly stopped by to catch a quick nap. Scowling, she’d wished she had more time to ensure the racist would breathe his last. You’ll get yours, Wync. Some day.

  It wouldn’t be much farther now. Long seconds passed before she reached the door she sought. She double-checked the sign to the right of the closed door. It read Lord Commander Roden Zyll.

  Nalea clenched her fists, fighting to remain steady. Precious seconds bled out while she calmed her breathing. Her muscles burned with tension, as though they were warning her, run! The ends of her short hair clung to the edges of her sweaty cheeks, another reminder of why she must do this.

  Sephians normally wore their hair long. But Roden, thinking to punish her, had her hair cut short after she’d refused to allow him to brush the snarled length. Instead, she’d considered it a personal triumph. Every time she made her captor lose his temper was a step closer to finding his mortal weakness. She hadn’t yet found that weakness, but she’d run out of time. Tonight was her last chance. He’s only a man.

  Focusing on the keypad, she inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, recalling the unique tone each key made as Roden entered them eve
ry time he’d brought her to “dine” with him, which was his polite term for non-physical interrogation. He’d yet to raise a hand to her, instead preferring to fuck with her mind, acting as her host rather than captor, all the while hinting for information she’d never surrender.

  And so the stalemate had stood for months. Nalea with her silence, refusing to betray her people, and Roden with something up his sleeve, for that could be the only reason why he hadn’t tortured or killed her yet. The only way to win this game was to make her move first.

  Convinced of the passcode that she’d played over and over in her mind a hundred times a day, she reopened her eyes, and punched in the six digits her memory had shown her. The small light on the key pad flashed blue before going dark. Success! The door opened with a nearly silent whoosh that translated into something more like a sonic boom to her ears. The air hardened in her lungs. Would Roden awaken at the sound? Worse, could he still be awake at this late hour?

  No turning back. Defeating the Draeken meant stopping Roden. Steeling her nerves, Nalea stepped inside just as the door closed behind her.

  No one rushed her. No sound of movement. It was nearly pitch black in the room, only the charcoal of a cloudy night gleamed through a small window. As her vision easily adjusted to the soothing darkness, she scanned the room. Draeken, like humans, had to wear special glasses to see in the dark. Sephians, on the other hand, evolved on a planet with three moons and no sun. To put it mildly, Nalea had excellent night vision.

  And, just as this planet’s inhabitants absorbed the sun’s rays through their pale Draeken-like skin, her people’s golden skin was optimized to draw as much lunar energy as possible. The dark exhilarated her.

  On her first day as a prisoner at this Earthside base, Roden had surprised her by giving her a pair of dark glasses to ease her sensitivity to the light, almost certainly in an attempt to build a false trust. Nalea knew plenty about Roden Zyll, a man famous for his viciousness. Yet he was also an enigma. The only thing she truly knew was that he never did what anyone expected.

  A Draeken lord, second only to Grand Lord Hillas Puftan, Roden’s strategies were a dichotomy of ruthless assassinations, outright attacks, and — in her case — charming mind fucks. The moment he gave her the dark glasses, she knew he had something planned for her. And, that thought haunted her every waking moment since.

  Without glasses for protection, Nalea needed to make her escape and find shelter before sunrise, when Earth’s bright day star would blind her. Until the moment of dawn, in this room, she needed no glasses. The darkness felt natural, and it comforted her as her gaze fell upon the man on the bed. With one muscled arm resting over his head, his chest rose and fell strong and slowly, his darkly colored tattooed wings spread out loosely beneath him.

  Oh sweet, gods, thank you. Relief soothed Nalea’s frayed nerves. Retribution was so very close now. She crept first to his desk where his weapons were laid out in symmetric order. Her hand skimmed over the blasters and glided across the knives, pausing at a long blade embellished with etchings. She hefted its weight in her hand, and smiled. It would do.

  Keeping her gaze fixed upon the sleeping man, she closed in, step by excruciatingly slow step, holding the blade in front of her. The sliver of moonlight through the window glinted off its dark metal, producing shimmering lines across her golden skin. It would have been better if the clouds completely hid the moon this night. Then, Roden wouldn’t be able to see her coming even if he awoke.

  All it would take was one quick slice. One quick slice and Lord Commander Roden Zyll would no longer pose a risk to the Sephians or to the inhabitants of this planet … or to her.

  The light across her hand trembled, and she realized she was shaking. She gripped the blade with both hands to steady herself. A whimper threatened to betray her to her enemy. Nalea paused, inhaled, took a step closer, scolding herself for her weakness.

  After all, it should be an easy thing to kill a godless Draeken. She’d killed dozens, hells, hundreds of the bastards already. Why did this one have to be any different? She wanted to kill Roden. She needed to kill him more than any other Draeken. Especially since this particular one happened to be her captor, and something far, far worse … her destined tahren. Her soul mate.

  Of all males in the universe for her dysfunctional soul to latch onto, why did it make her body crave her most hated enemy? Since he was a Draeken, he would never be crippled by the tahren bond; he’d never feel the soul-deep emotions that would flood her should she allow the bond to take hold. If he discovered her secret, he’d have the cruelest form of torture available at his hands.

  He was sharp, and she needed to escape before he grew suspicious. He already questioned her with unending perseverance, rather than turning her over to his underlings for more traditional torture methods. Had he thought to convert her to the Draeken side? Surely he must have known she’d die before betraying her people. More likely, he’d kept her alive to trade her for his officers the humans had captured last year.

  No matter his intentions, only one option was acceptable. I must kill Roden Zyll.

  Resolved, she lowered the blade toward his neck. Her irrational insides wanted to scream, in a hostile clash with her rational mind. Her body was fighting itself as the natural instinct to protect one’s mate pushed against her resolve with all its might.

  He’s not my mate. Not yet.

  The bond, while slithering just below the surface, had not yet taken hold. It wouldn’t until they consummated, and even then, she must open her soul up to him. And that was something she knew would never happen. Until Roden was dead, Nalea must be stronger than nature. Suvaste, I control my own destiny!

  Furious, she yanked her arms above her head and brought the knife down with the force of all her rage behind it. Just before the blade would have skewered his black heart, a vise gripped her wrist and twisted. Sharp pain shot up her arm, and she cried out. Cold fear washed over her. She tried to scramble back but was yanked forward, spun, and shoved against the mattress. “Oomph!”

  Nalea shoved at and struggled with Roden, but he easily overpowered her. Forced her arms above her head. Even though she was in prime health, he held her down as though she were just a girl, both of her wrists bound all too easily by only one of his larger hands. His body pressed hers hard against the bed, giving her no opportunity to move, let alone escape. He still had a hand free, which she suspected now held the deadly blade.

  Her spirit crashed. I’ve … failed.

  “Lights,” Roden ordered, and the room brightened in response.

  Nalea clenched her eyes shut against the light and against the view of her captor. The gods had forsaken her. She’d failed her people, the people of this world, and herself. She was lost.

  “Let me see your eyes, Lea.” His words brushed over her like a velvet caress, and she hated him all the more for it.

  Her eyes snapped open to give him her harshest glare, trying to channel all her hate into him through her hard gaze, except the brightness caused her to wince.

  “Lights. Dim.”

  The brightness no longer blinding, she gave him a proper glare while he frowned down at her. His wings, each tipped with a sharp bone spike, spread out behind him as though to shade her from the light. She’d often wondered how many opponents he’d slayed with those wingtips, how many women had grabbed onto them during sex. The sudden thought caused her to twitch. Don’t go there, she reminded herself bluntly.

  He ran a finger down her cheek. Chills raised across her arms and legs. She jerked her face to the side, only to have him grab her cheek and yank her back to face him. He forced her to face him, his silver Draeken eyes scrutinizing her in the now dimly lit room. Those eyes focused on her like none had ever done before. A tragedy they belonged to her enemy.

  “Ah, Lea, you vex me.”

  She wrenched her gaze away. “The name is Nalea, and I hope you rot in all twelve hells.”

  He gripped her jaw and made her look at him once a
gain. Then he smiled, revealing a hint of white teeth. Desire burned through her veins whenever he looked at her like that, as though she mattered. She wondered what those lips would feel like on her neck, wondered how those teeth would feel when they nipped at her breasts. But it was Roden, he’d likely bite. And it would hurt. Reality was the best cure for her distracting thoughts.

  “You know,” he said, skimming a finger down her neck and her body shivered in response. “If you wanted to come to my bed, you had only to ask.” He moved against her at that moment, and she felt the hardness between his legs.

  She sucked in a breath between her clenched teeth. Even her anger wouldn’t hold back the goose bumps flitting across her skin. She tensed. Then tried — unsuccessfully — to shove him off. “The only thing I want is to see your blood flow through these halls like a river,” she snarled, pulling at her wrists, but it was useless. The bastard didn’t even budge.

  “Such hostility,” he murmured before leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear. “I’m sure you can think of something more interesting for your tahren.”

  Frozen, she gasped and stared, slack-jawed. Denial screamed in her soul. He knows!

  “I know a great many things,” he whispered, as though reading her mind. “Remember the first time we met? When my people attacked your Earthside base?” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, and she realized a tear had escaped. Odd. She never cried.

  “When we tussled,” he continued, making the word tussled sound utterly erotic. “And I disarmed you, it was at that moment, the moment when I touched you, and your beautiful onyx eyes widened. I knew then, at that instant, something shocked you to the very core. For a Sephian, what else could it be than you have found your destined mate?”

  He cocked his head slightly. “You didn’t think I’d notice? Tut, tut. I am not Lord Commander by not being perceptive. Why do you think I have led your interrogation?” His smile then grew intimate, and his wings lowered slightly, as though to cocoon them. “Because, my dear, forcing you to be near your destined tahren day in and day out is the sweetest torture of all. Tell me, Lea. What does it feel like to yearn for your enemy’s touch, to yearn for the touch of a Draeken?”