Boundless: Pandora, #2

By Kali Argent

After years of hard work and sacrifice, Aeryn Chase is finally in possession of her own merchant ship. Piloting the Nightshadegives her purpose, security, and most of all, freedom—or so she thought. Touching down on Nekron for a scheduled trade stop, she didn't expect to be detained by guards or have her ship ransacked, nor did she anticipate meeting the likes of Lieutenant Xavian Tira. 

 

Enlisting the Earthling's help to track down a fugitive, infiltrate a high-stakes auction, and locate a missing Legacy didn't figure into Xavian's plans. With the clock ticking and no alternatives, he reluctantly agrees, but from the moment they arrive on Earth, things only go from bad to worse. As Aeryn's life hangs in the balance, Xavian is faced with an impossible decision—the death of one, or the death of many. 

 

But how can he possibly choose between the woman he loves and the survival of an entire race?

• Language: English
• Publisher: PECCAVI PRESS
• Release date: Oct 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781940637303

Kali Argent

Born with a silver tongue and a pen in her hand, Kali spends her days crafting scandalous romances filled with flawed heroes and kick-ass heroines. When she's not writing, she can be found curled up in her favorite chair with a good book and a steamy cup of coffee.  Self-proclaimed introvert and supporter of the selectively social, Kali currently resides in North Texas with her insane family, including two lazy dogs and one tragically misunderstood cat.  Seriously, though, the cat is evil. For More Title by Kali Argent, Visit: www.kaliargent.com/library

Book preview

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Planet Nekron, Year 2984

Bracing himself against the frigid winds that swept down the mountain face, Lieutenant Xavian Tira rounded his shoulders and flipped the collar of his black uniform jacket up to cover his nape. He hated the night, loathed all one hundred and ninety-two moon cycles of it. He missed the sun, the warmth of its rays, and the way the light glinted off the now-frozen ponds at the base of the mountain compound.

In the distance, the neon lights from the capital city of Taldor illuminated the sky, blotting out the stars in the east. The planet’s moon hung low near the horizon, casting its cold, silver radiance over the snowcaps as if mocking his discomfort.

You look like someone kicked you in the balls. Balancing atop the narrow railing of the sixth-floor catwalk that surrounded Pandora, Lieutenant Vane Schiva studied him intently, his dual-colored eyes narrowed. You’re thinking about that Atrean asshole again, aren’t you?

At the mention of Asa Brax, Xavian’s mood darkened further. It’s been weeks, and there’s no sign of him. He probably hopped the first cargo ship off the planet as soon as he left the commander’s office.

The Nekron guards had searched every inch of the city and surrounding villages to no avail. The Atrean dignitary’s ship remained under close watch in the landing fields, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t found another way off the planet. Incoming and outbound vessels were all being searched, but too little too late.

Vane nodded, his golden hair whipping around his face in the wind. You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it your fault. Jumping down from the railing, he landed silently beside Xavian, his booted feet making no noise against the steel grates. No one is blaming you, and blaming yourself isn’t going to solve anything.

Xavian grunted. He had every reason to blame himself. When Asa had requested a meeting to discuss a possible uprising on the Morphling planet of Promena, Xavian had scoffed and rolled his eyes. A demon-like race of warriors, the Morphlings wouldn’t allow themselves to be controlled by the Atreans forever. Everyone had seen the uprising coming. Everyone, except the Atreans, apparently.

Matters had been complicated, however, when Asa had brought up the discovery of Atrea’s lost princess—who just happened to be Vane’s new mate. Charlotte Rousseau wasn’t just any Atrean, though. She was a Legacy, the last remaining child of her bloodline able to wield the power of the Jewel of Atrea. In her hands, the jewel had the power to bring untold fortune and adoration from her people.

Of course, Charli wanted no part of it, and Vane had flat out refused when Asa demanded he hand over his new mate so that she might be groomed for the throne. When he’d suggested Atrea would be willing to go to war to ensure the return of their princess, Xavian had heard enough.

Asa Brax had manipulated them all, and Xavian had fallen for it like an idiot. Hoping to avoid war, he’d suggested Vane use the female he loved in a dangerous power play against the Atrean High Council. Instead of having his friend’s back, he’d argued with him, chastised him for not putting the greater good above his own desires.

All because it had been the easy way, the path of least resistance.

He liked Charli, but he’d had to consider his duty to his people, to think of the needs of the many versus the needs of one.

He hadn’t realized his mistake until far too late, not until after Vane and Charli had both been assaulted, kidnapped, and spirited away to Atrea. If not for an unlikely ally in the form of a rogue Morph, he might never have seen either of them again—not without waging the war he’d been so desperate to avoid.

Upon Vane’s return to Nekron with his mate, Xavian had promised to right his wrongs, to make right what he’d broken. The best way to honor that oath was to hunt down Asa Brax and beat some answers out of the little bastard.

You’re still thinking about it, Vane accused, rubbing his gloved hands together and ducking his head against the icy gusts. Frowning, he looked over the railing, to the catwalks below. What the hell are we doing up here anyway?

Patrol. Security had been tightened since Vane and Charli’s abduction, and the Morphling who had helped them escape Atrea had been busy pointing out all the flaws in their protocols. Speaking of which, we should get moving.

For longer than anyone could really remember, Pandora had been home to some of the most mysterious and dangerous artifacts from across the galaxies. On the lowest level, closest to the tunnels that ran through the mountains, Division One housed the least threatening of those confiscated relics. There, they stored things like Voodoo dolls from Earth, talismans from Crimnia, and a cup that forever refilled itself with wine, taken from a Stravoris’ ship.

As the lifts rose through the mountains, each level became increasingly more hazardous. Division Six, where they currently stood, contained items like the Jurdanian Eternal Embers. True, the flame produced by the embers didn’t literally last for eternity, but the last time they’d been unleashed, right there in Pandora, the fires had burned for more than a decade.

Still, nothing compared to Division Eight.

On the highest level, under several layers of security, Division Eight was comprised of a single room not much bigger than a closet. Within it, they kept the most precarious and unpredictable of magics. It was there the Nekros had placed the Legacy Relics, seemingly harmless bobbles from many of the known races. Some had been entrusted to them for safekeeping. Others, they’d forcibly taken, and all of them posed a threat with the potential to spread to the far reaches of the universe.

Because you’re stubborn, and you never listen.

Squinting against the battering winds, Xavian looked up at his friend with a raised eyebrow. What the hell are you talking about?

Vane held his hand up, index finger extended, his other hand cupped around his ear to block the wind from his commlink. He nodded a couple of times, his eyes softening as his lips curved upwards at the corners.

Only one person could put that look on the Lieutenant’s face.

"Yes, prya. I said I’d be there, didn’t I? Yes, I’ll pick it up on the way. No, I won’t forget. No, no, I don’t want to talk to—" Vane closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

Part of Xavian wanted to laugh at the utter look of defeat on the male’s face, while another part of him, small but growing louder, envied the love his friend shared with his mate.

Hello, Mother, Vane answered after a brief pause. Yes, I’ll be there. I know what time dinner starts. Yes, I remember what happened last time. His tone took on a hard edge. "Charlotte is already there. How could something possibly happen to her while I’m traveling? He deflated instantly and bobbed his head again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips on a billow of smoke. Yes, Mother. I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll be there after the meeting. I love you, too."

In many respects, Xavian and Vane were in complete contrast to one another. Where Vane had long, golden locks, Xavian’s tresses flowed down his back in an inky curtain as black as the night. Vane was tall and lean with a narrowed waist and broad shoulders. Xavian, while tall, was stockier, more muscular, and he never missed an opportunity to test his strength against his friend.

Vane had been born into a family of overachievers, and as the son of a commander and a council elder, he’d had his future laid out for him before he’d ever spoken his first word. Xavian, on the other hand, couldn’t remember his parents. Logically, he knew he’d had parents, but they’d died shortly after his fourth birthday.

With no other living relatives, he’d been filed into the Orphaned Child Initiative, shuffled between host families, and generally neglected until he’d met Vane. They’d both been nineteen at the time—still just babies in the eyes of Nekron society—and both trying to find their place in the universe.

They’d been inseparable ever since.

Commander Bael and Elder Neith Schiva had welcomed Xavian into their home, lavished him with the kind of affection he’d always craved but never known. They’d accepted him as a son, praised his accomplishments, encouraged him to work harder, and pushed him to be better. In every way that mattered, they were his family, and while he and Vane didn’t share blood, the male was, and would always be, his brother.

Which only made Xavian all the more eager to redeem himself after his monumental screw up with Asa Brax.

Come on, Vane groused, interrupting Xavian’s internal diatribe. "Let’s get this meeting over with. Apparently, I have to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner. Not just any wine, either. Charlotte insists it has to be iwahni wine."

Xavian whistled. Made from exotic berries and wildflower petals found on the planet Jura, the honeyed wine had become known throughout the galaxies not only for its taste, but for its euphoria-producing effects. With only a couple of hundred bottles produced every year, the resulting price tag could easily set a buyer back a few thousand units—if they could find it at all.

This late in the season, Xavian had his doubts.

"Where the hell are you going to find a bottle of iwahni wine?"

Vane grunted as he grabbed the railing in both hands and hurdled over it, falling twenty feet to the catwalk below with a slight bend of his knees. Grinning at his friend’s theatrics, Xavian followed, dropping beside Vane with only a muffled clang of the grates beneath his boots.

There’s a merchant vessel landing soon, Vane said as he led the way to the lifts at the end of the walkway. The pilot is bringing my mother’s order from Jura. Instead of waiting for it to be delivered tomorrow, however, it was suggested that I meet the ship and pick up the bottle tonight before dinner.

Xavian bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. With two strong-willed females in his life, the lieutenant had his hands full. Still, the only person Vane loved more than his mother was his mate, and he’d do anything to make either of them happy. So, while he grumbled and complained, he really didn’t mind as much as he pretended.

Oh, come on, man. You know you can’t wait to see them go all moon-eyed over that damn wine. Clasping his hands together as they entered the lift, Xavian tilted his head to the side and batted his lashes while Vane swiped his security ID over the reader. When you walk into the kitchen with that bottle of wine, you’ll be the conquering hero.

Vane glared at him, the effect ruined when the corners of his lips twitched. After only a few seconds, he gave up the pretense completely, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

Yeah, okay, that part is kind of fun. Charlotte has the cutest little crinkle in her nose when she smiles, and my mom will do that thing where she waves her hand around. He flapped his hands in front of him. It’s funny to see her get so excited.

Dude, you look like you’re having a seizure. Xavian had never heard his partner refer to anything as cute before he’d met his mate. Hell, he hadn’t even been sure Vane knew what the word meant. You, my friend, have it bad.

I do, Vane admitted, still smiling.

The lift slowed to a crawl before stopping on the lowest level with a pressurized hiss. Exiting the platform, they turned right, following a steel-plated walkway that led to the entrance of the tunnel system below Pandora. Vane swiped his access card again, then leaned forward, eyes wide, for a retinal scan.

The heavy doors parted with a quiet whine, revealing a long, brightly lit passageway. The vast tunnel wound and curved, intersecting with dozens of other circular corridors, creating a maze that stretched for miles beneath the mountains.

In the course of his nearly three thousand years, Xavian had battled shapeshifting Morphs, dueled magical Crimnians, and fought against the wild and savage Jurdanians. He’d led armies into wars, and he’d even died once—if only for a few minutes. Yet, as he walked the familiar path to Commander Schiva’s office, his palms slicked with sweat, and his mouth became arid and sticky.

Bael Schiva was a rigid, hardnosed male with little patience for diplomacy. He’d commanded Pandora for nearly a millennium, and in that time, there had only been one security breach.

The infiltration of Division Eight and the theft of the Atrean Jewel had happened on Xavian’s watch when a Morphling had rendered him unconscious, then stolen his identity to gain access to the high-security area. Of course, he took full responsibility for the incident, and while he hadn’t faced any disciplinary actions, he still had a hard time looking the commander in the eye.

Outside of the sliding silver door of Commander Schiva’s office, Xavian slid his ID badge across the blinking green scanner. Sucking in a deep breath, he held it for a moment as the door slid open, then released it slowly before entering the clinically white room.

Where is everyone?

They’ll be here, Vane assured him. We’re a couple of minutes early.

Xavian continued to frown. The commander rarely left his office, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had been important enough to drag him away now.

Pale blue lights gleamed off the chrome surface of the commander’s desk, as well as the long, glass table in the back of the room. The only splashes of color came from the plush, burgundy carpet, a handful of leather-bound books on