My father’s grip tightened on my arm.
“Gem,” he said softly. The hesitation clear in his voice. When I looked over at him, there was a bead of sweat dotting his forehead. Indecision played out over his face.
Whatever he was going to say, however, died in his throat and I heard his hard swallow. There was a flash in his eyes. Guilt. Sorrow. But determination as well, and it made my heart sink.
It was my father who pulled me forward this time to approach the three figures: my new husband, his witness whom I barely noticed, standing in a darkened corner, and the Nulaxian male who was overseeing the brief ceremony.
When I stepped up next to the Kylorr, it was jarring how massive he truly was. He towered over me. Though he didn’t carry the large, intimidating bulk of other alien species—like the Nulaxian male before us —he was finely sculpted like a marble statue, taut but lean enough to surprise me.
He’s a berserker, I reminded myself.
An alien-vampire berserker.
The Kylorr’s battle rages were infamous for a reason. Because their strength could be triggered.
By what? I couldn’t help but wonder. Would he grow in size?
As if I couldn’t help myself, I chanced a peek up at the Kylorr. An heir to the Kaalium. Whatever that meant. But it was obvious he was wealthy. That he came from wealth, had been born into it.
His clothes were finely made—the stitching on the leather precise, not a thread out of place. It was a hardened black leather from the looks of it but appeared supple to the touch. There were tailored cutouts for his wings and large straps across his back which made an X shape, hammered steel shapes pressed into the straps, words—Kylorr words?—stamped into the metal. A dagger was at his hip. The handle looked well worn from use. His pants were made of the same material as his tunic, though there was flexible plating that protected the front of his thighs.
And on his hands…gauntlets. Gunmetal gauntlets that covered the tops of his hands, running up to the middle of his forearm. His knuckles made sharp metal points.
Armor, I thought, my mouth going dry.
He’d come to this wedding like he was preparing for battle.
The Nulaxian male made a warbling sound, like a clearing of his throat, as if he sensed the sudden tension in the courtroom, suffocating and heavy.
My father had stopped behind me with Fran. It was only the Kylorr and me standing before the Nulaxian male, facing him.
“Do you come to this joining of your own free will?” the Nulaxian male asked, peering at me with bright blue eyes.
Of course they would need to ask that. It was a common tradition these days with trafficking ports at every major colony.
I nearly laughed. Instead, my fists squeezed at my sides.
“Yes,” I said, the word sounding strong. Strong enough that I saw the Kylorr turn to peer down at me. Even I could see the frown on his face and the narrowing of his eyes. Did he want me to be frightened? Did he want me to turn on my heel and flee at the sight of him?
Perhaps he did. Perhaps he got off on fear and that was why I was here.
Perhaps he’d heard that human women were submissive. That they were malleable to their master’s needs. Was that what this Kylorr wanted? Sex? A human woman chained to the foot of his bed, to frighten and fuck whenever he pleased? Was that what hundreds of thousands of vron were worth to him?
The Nulaxian male, I noticed, didn’t ask my intended husband the same question.
“Then let us begin,” the clerk said, tapping on his Halo tablet, projecting a contract into the air before us. Words in the universal language were enlarged, the paragraph scrolling slowly. “Do you agree to the terms of marriage laid out before you, Gemma of House Hara, daughter of the Collis?”
My heart was throbbing in my throat. The words were jumbled in my mind, though they were clearly projected before me in blue, non-flickering pixels.
Truly, it didn’t matter. The vron to pay the debts were in holding as of this morning, according to Mr. Cross. They would be released to my father’s debtors the moment the marriage contract was filed. My family could be free of them tonight.
That was enough to draw the word out from between my lips.
“Yes.”
“Then you may sign.”
I took the stylus from the Nulaxian male, silver in color and incredibly worn. I wondered how many females had signed similar contracts in this very courtroom. My signature was a messy scribble.
“Ah,” the Nulaxian male said next, flitting a quick look to the silent male next to me. “One more. For the Kaalium’s archives.”
Much to my confusion, he procured a second contract from behind his podium, though this one was on thick linen parchment. Identical to the first from what I could see, written in the universal language.
Just as I perceived the Kylorr moving next to me, I heard a soft metallic hiss. The flash of the dagger that had been sheathed at his hip shone in the light as he handed it to me, those red eyes pinned on mine. His expression was a glare, and the cold gleam in his gaze was enough to make me wordlessly accept the dagger from him, as if he’d cast me a spell on me.
“Sign with your blood,” came the Nulaxian’s warbling voice.
My breath was sharp and I looked up at the Nulaxian. I was all too aware that the Kylorr’s wings flared again at my reaction. Even the smallest of movement from his wings made a tendril of hair blow across my cheek.
Show no fear, I reminded myself, looking down at the dagger. The blade was clean. Well cared for and wickedly sharp. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of my fear.
I pressed the sharp edge into the pad of my thumb. A bead of red blood rose. Beside me, the Kylorr stiffened as if he could smell the metallic tang.
Hurriedly, I dipped the tip of the stylus into the small bead and used it to sign my name. The scrawl of it was even messier than the first, and I dropped the dagger onto the podium as if burned, the stylus too.
Then I pressed my thumb into my white dress hard, pinching the fabric between my fingers, hoping to stop the flow.
The Nulaxian male turned to my almost-husband, speaking to him directly for the first time since I entered the courtroom.
“And you? Do you agree to the terms of marriage laid out before you, Azur of House Kaalium, son of Thraan, and the High Lord of Laras?”
Azur.
Somehow knowing his name made this even more real than the stinging of my thumb.
Azur of House Kaalium. Son of Thraan. High Lord of Laras.
Who is he? I couldn’t help but think. Who am I marrying?
Azur said nothing. His answer was the flourish of his signature on the floating contract. I watched the way his gauntlet flexed and moved like a second skin with the movement.
Then he snatched up his dagger.
He dragged the blade across the entirety of his gray palm, and I watched as black blood pooled into the lines of his flesh, like streams of ink.
His blood signature joined mine on the parchment. Black against my red. Only, he signed over mine, our signatures becoming a jumble of grotesque lines. As if he were staking his claim already, an allusion and insinuation of what was to come.
Azur straightened. He turned to aim that cool gaze at me, as if daring me to speak. When I said nothing, he turned his head over his shoulder. This time to look at my father.