Darax growls deep in his chest.
“Why didn’t you say any of this to Dalox?”
“Getting my crew back was more important.”
Darax folds his arms, narrowing his eyes.
“I heard a rumor about you.”
I huff out plenty of smoke because the last thing I want to deal with right now is Darax being some sort of commander all over again.
“What?”
“That your mutation is something other than being able to heal rapidly without becoming your Sarkarnii.”
“And what if it is?”
“Then I understand.”
“You do?”
“So do I.” A deep growl emanates from the doorway where Dalox is watching.
My wings flare because my shift is not under my control, and also having both Dalox and Darax in my sector is not doing my rut any good either.
“You,” I snarl.
“Did you really think you could keep it under control without me knowing?” Dalox’s gaze rakes over me.
“Like the sarkarnlings?” Darax adds.
“Sarkarnlings?” Dalox moves his deadly gaze to Darax.
The pair stare at each other for a long time.
“Your mate is with sarkarnling,” Dalox says eventually.
“Dante has sarkarnlings.”
“It’s all to do with the Gonoz.” I look between the two warlords. “Now, if you will both leave my sector before I tear your heads off, I have my crew to rescue.”
“Gonoz?” Dalox queries.
“I’ve already told him it’s a myth.” Darax says.
“And the wormhole?”
“You were hallucinating.” Darax blows out a perfect smoke ring. “I doubt it’ll be the first time.”
Dalox studies me like he’s working out which part of me to bite off first before blowing out a little flame.
“But if it is Gonoz…” He rubs his chin, making a rasping sound.
“There are no wormholes. I would know,” Darax says, flattening his hands and extending his claws.
“Find me evidence, Dante, and we’ll deal with them as we have dealt with all the other threats to Vorostor,” Dalox growls. “And keep your head.”
“No chance there,” Darax responds.
