Spearing the Dragon

SEVEN

High-heeled black boots marched down a corridor of dark green paneling, the hem of a long, black coat brushing the floor as she walked. She strode inside the operations deck of her personal dreadnaught as they dropped out of hyperspace. She passed the technicians who were smart enough not to meet the gaze of Terynzia the Terror. She gave one of the operators cruel black eyes.
     "Open a channel," she said in a deep, cold voice. When a Midgardian male's face appeared on her viewscreen moments later, she straightened her spine, vaguely disappointed she hadn't surprised them. The chilly blue eyes that met her looked like they hadn't been surprised for quite some time.
      "Midgardian," she said in a voice of cold authority her people used for those outside their race. "Open your docking bay."
      "Not before I know who you are."
     She narrowed her full black eyes at him, but this one didn't flinch.
     "Terynzia Belzarac," she said in a voice dripping with venom. "Now open your docking bay before I blast my way in."
     "We have received the Dokkalfar delegation, I was not made aware of another ship—"
     She leaned forward, giving him a look that made her own men tremble.
     "I have come to aid you in the coming fight, you insignificant little worm. Obey me before I start putting holes in your ship."
     Those icy eyes that almost reminded her of a Dokkalfr met her gaze unflinchingly. The image cut and she growled deep in her throat.
     "The docking bay doors are opening, mistress," one of the operators said as her gloved hands made fists at her sides. Terynzia the Terror turned and strode from the operations deck, the sheathe for her weapon of choice bouncing against her back.

The doors to the bridge opened and Commander Brandt turned away from speaking with a lieutenant to give Chancellor Loridian a frosty greeting.
     "I was informed another vessel arrived."
     The Midgardian's gaze didn't appear intimidated by him in the least. He saw something rather dangerous in those eyes, like an unspoken warning, a spring ready to pop.
     "I do not appreciate being surprised, Chancellor." His voice was diplomatic, even polite, but those eyes told another story. "I was not informed that another vessel would be arriving from your people."
     Loridian's gaze intensified. "What vessel?"
    "She announced herself as Terynzia—"
    "Belzarac?" Loridian felt a chill. "You allowed her on board?"
     Those eyes turned calculating. "Is she not one of your people?"
     "Absolutely. She is one of our leading enforcers. But this is a diplomatic mission. We haven't entered combat yet."
     He turned and left as the commander opened his mouth. William turned and gave the lieutenant he'd been speaking to a harsh look.
     "I want tabs kept on that woman. Send Feyerdeyl and Brellen."
     The young man gave a short nod before typing on the device in his hand.

It took Loridian the better part of an hour to find her, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He walked into a dark suite, recognizing the chill of the darkness.
     "You arrived early," he said as the lights came on. She stood in the center of the room, looking as terrifying as the last time he'd seen her. At six foot four, she was the average height of a Dokkalfr enforcer, dressed in tight black material underneath the black coat that touched the floor.  Her eyes were full black, representative of her emotional state of aggression, usually only appropriate for battle. He waved a hand.
     "You can drop the Terynzia the Terrible facade, we're alone now."
     When her eyes only filled with cold resolve, he looked over her shoulder, noticing she didn't wear her sheathe. He turned and strode toward the bedroom, stopping short, his extremities going numb when he recognized his new pupil hung on the wall from enforcer restraints, stripped, her head hanging, unconscious.
     Loridian turned to see she filled the threshold of the bedroom, those scorpion eyes sharp and calculating. She tested him, as she had many times before. No sadistic pleasure filled her gaze, only the cold efficiency of a predator doing what they did best. In a moment, her eyes flashed back to aquamarine, but they hadn't warmed.
     "What kind of mate would I be without preparing a gift for my beloved?"
     The word used as a term of endearment felt like a slab of ice in his heart.
     "Release her, now," he said with a low growl. She straightened her spine, looking at him with pure malice.
     "So protective over your half-breed Ljosalfr whore," she said in a low voice. His heart filled with old hatred for this demon in leather who had plagued his steps for far too long. She walked around him and he stared into space with a hardened jaw, his hands fists at his sides. "She has unexpected stamina for having their blood," she said and he flinched when he heard a body drop. His mate leaned close to his ear and he felt a chill on his neck.
     "Don't worry, sweetheart, I only warmed her up for you."
     Once again, he yearned for a killing instinct as he watched her leave, fantasizing about her blood staining the carpet.