To Discover A Divine: Rise of the Stria Book One

By Tessa McFionn

When Kahlym cal Jhuen, freedom-fighting leader of the Chandar Stria, breaks into a prison ship controlled by the Rimmarian Thrall, he only expected to rescue two of his crew. But when he discovers a terrified female during his escape, he is immediately captivated by her unique beauty and makes a snap decision to bring her with him. However, his

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tessa McFionn
• Release date: Jul 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733321310

Book preview

Chapter 1

U hh, guys? Any idea why there’s a girl in the hallway?

Kahlym cal Jhuen skidded to a halt and blinked slowly behind the tinted visor of his battle helmet. Nope. His eyes were in proper working order. There, crouched at the feet of a pair of Rimmarian prison guards, was a female. Shock at the bizarre discovery froze his hand in place against the comm unit wired into his helm.

What the hell was a civvie doing in this part of the secure unit? All the intel placed this as the High-Risk Block, housing only the most violent offenders. Or, in his case, two of his crew. He had fulfilled his half of the rescue, discovering their ship’s healer, and had sent him toward the landing bay when all hell had broken loose.

I’m not sure if I heard you right, kid. You did say ‘girl,’ right? Dhaerin’s deeply accented voice buzzed in his ear, giving him time to scan the corridor one more time. Yup. She was still there, unarmed and bloodied.

His brain churned as klaxons blared all around him, screeching and jarring him back to his present situation. One of the guards raised his gun, aiming at the frightened young woman, and Kahlym sprang into action. Racing down the narrow passageway, he fired at the exposed back of the distracted soldier. The blast tore a hole through the clean white uniform and redecorated the wall in black and crimson.

Is she cute? Qaen, the primary reason for this side trip, chimed in. At least that meant the other team was successful and his navigator was not only back on the ship, but also back to his usual horn-dog self. The bastard might be the best damned nav in the entire Seventh Quadrant of the Dantaran Galaxy, but the man would screw anything on two legs. Hell, he’d even heard rumors of that rule being bent on more than one occasion if the prize caught his eye.

Qaen, you ass, he hissed into the comm mic. Leave it to you to think with your cock.

Like he’d care if she was cute. I think his question is better translated to ‘Is she naked?’ Kahlym’s brother, Brel, chimed in. Kahlym had insisted he and Dhaerin, their two heavy gunners, remain behind on the ship to keep the potential violence to a minimum.

Hindsight was always such a bitch.

The op was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab. Secure codes were bought and paid for, the timing was perfect. Three-man team waltzes into one of the most highly guarded detention ships of the Rimmarian Thrall, pops the locks during a shift change, and just walks out with the two knuckleheads who got themselves nicked for a bloody transport violation.

With a growl half to himself, and half to the Fates, for his overly optimistic appraisal of the original situation, he shifted his focus back to the present. The second guard was slow as he turned, giving Kahlym time to fire off one more charge. The direct hit cleared the corridor, leaving him with quite a mystery on his hands. He knelt down to better study the terrified girl before him. A nasty bruise swelled along her ivory cheek, the hint of impending purples and blues contrasted with the deep brown of her wide eyes.

He let his hand fall from his helm as he stared. Her dark hair shone like a rich bloodwine, burgundy and mahogany tones blending and weaving through the thick mane tumbling past her shoulders. His gaze drifted down, finding lush curves shrouded in some unfamiliar thin fabric emblazoned with swirls of white, symbolic images on an inky background, her arms encased in the same lightweight, flimsy stuff. Her legs tucked beneath her, were wrapped in some kind of form-fitting black material and her feet were clad in bold and brightly colored short boots. The longer he stared, the more captivated he became.

He reached a cautious hand toward her, careful not to frighten her. His mind raced, and he fought to keep at bay the images of what she might have already endured.

Are you okay?

Her eyes flared wide as she scooted further away from him. He raised his hands, hoping to ease her fears.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.

You wanna step this up, Kahl? Things are getting dicey down here. Brel’s normally calm voice shouted over the blasts echoing through the link.

Working on it, he muttered. He turned his focus back to the cowering female. Even in her fear-stricken state, she fascinated him. Everything about her was unlike anything he had seen in all his travels throughout the Dantaran galaxy. Her wide brown eyes transfixed him until all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss away her alarm.

Without warning, his frozen ward grabbed one of the guard’s discarded weapons at his feet and fired a quick volley over his shoulder. Spinning, he drew his own gun, but not before the Thrall soldier crumpled in a mangled heap.

Holy crap. He rounded his gaze back to her, the blaster held out before her with trembling arms. This mysterious female just saved his ass. He blinked as the gravity of her actions sunk in.

Soldiers and warriors exchanged blood debts as easily as others exchanged handshakes. It was assumed when the time came, the thankful marker would be repaid in kind and no one truly kept track. But to have a civilian, unarmed and innocent, step into the fray and protect the life of a fighter, those rare favors were given the utmost reverence.

His life was now hers to command, a blood debt he was eager to honor with each passing second. His movements smooth and passive, he extended a gloved hand toward her. He wished he could remove his helm so she could see his eyes and read his intentions, but if the surveillance cameras caught a glimpse of his face, he would put his crew, not to mention the rest of his allies and their families, smack in the center of the Rimmarian crosshairs.

In another unexpected twist, she flipped the blaster in a flourish, offering the handle to him. Panic continued to bleed from her shivering body. A smile warmed his lips behind the protection of his visor. Shaking his head, he patted her hands, wrapping his fingers around hers to cradle the pistol. Still with the hopes that she understood his body language, he pushed the gun back to her before he stood. His gentle embrace guided her to rise next to him. Yet, she reached her full height long before him, the crown of her head barely reaching his armpit.

Kahl! Now! We can’t hold them off much longer!

Explosions and loud voices poured down the hallway. Together, they looked toward the billowing smoke as it rounded the corner. Time to get the hell out. Her head swung back to face him and, to his surprise, she grabbed a hold of his gauntleted hand.

Kahlym wrapped his fingers around hers and gave her a sharp nod before he took off.

We’re coming in hot, Dhaer. Make sure the door is open and for the love of Ishtanti, don’t shoot us.

The pair ran in complete synchronicity, his gun trained on any obstacles in front of them while she handily guarded their flanks. Soft, exotic murmurs fell from her lips like a litany and blasts ricocheted off the walls as they raced on. Never once did she tug his arm to slow his breakneck pace. Alarms blared in angry pulses as they turned the last corner.

"Oh, c’mon, Dhaerin chuckled over the comm link. It was just that one time and you survived, so what are you whining about?"

The heavy guns of his ship boomed, scattering the pursuing sentinels like toys in a child’s tantrum. Cargo sailed through the air from a nearby answering shot, and when the force of the blast knocked his companion into his back, he quickly scooped her up as he made the final dash for safety. He didn’t stop as he passed Qaen at the door gun, the mounted ion light cannon sizzling as the suppressing fire rained death on the advancing guards. The navigator appeared a little worse for wear from his four-day stay at Club Dread, one eye ringed in black as he shouted insults in his native Praxxiran. His normally impeccable charcoal-gray flight-suit was splattered with flecks of red and dusted in ash, slashes cut along the sleeves exposed more of his shimmering lavender skin.

This is for my suit! Cleaning ain’t cheap, bastards! Three more blasts coughed out of the massive barrel before the hatch locked in place.

Please tell me Yhan’tu is onboard.

Kahlym moved past without waiting for a response, heading for the cockpit. With great care, he deposited his featherlight cargo into the closest open seat. He trailed the padded fingers of his glove against her pale cheek, giving his head a slow nod. Her head bob brought another hidden smile to his face as he left and vaulted the two steps into the pilot’s chamber. He stopped once he bumped into the back of the suspended chair.

All present and accounted for. Let’s say we leave this party. Dhaerin kept his eyes glued to the flickering display, his fingers flying over the keypad as the ship lurched forward. Ahead of them, thick metal doors began to slide close, narrowing their window of escape at a terrifying rate.

Kahlym white-knuckled the chair’s steel frame. Uhh, Dhaer?

He barely finished the word before the lithe vessel rocketed toward the vanishing exit, banking hard as it approached. A couple parting cannon blasts knocked out the enemy fire, and they sailed between the clamping jaws, emerging unscathed into the black vastness. Letting out the breath he was holding, Kahlym released his death grip and forced air back into his lungs. He unsnapped the restraints on his helmet as Dhaerin spun around to take his obligatory victory bow.

Have I ever let you down, kid? The pompous grin colored his voice, his shaggy golden hair shaking as his toothy smile grew devilish. Besides, I don’t plan on punching my final ticket saving that jackass. Gonna go out doing something truly heroic.

Kahlym smirked and rolled his eyes at his casual arrogance. Why does this not surprise me? He clasped his old friend’s shoulder and gave a thankful nod of his head before stepping out of the cockpit.

No longer worried about their immediate demise, he returned to their newest crewmember. She sat in stoic silence, her deep-set nut-brown eyes slowly scanning the ship’s interior. Her face appeared paler than when he first found her in the stark corridor, her breathing ragged and shallow. He yanked off his battle helm before kneeling down in front of her, hoping his helmet hair didn’t frighten her too much, not to mention the lovely fragrant blend of sweat and blaster fire. The gun was still clutched in her small hand as it rested in her lap.

"It’s okay, ziat’xahn. You’re safe now." Little one seemed the appropriate thing to call his diminutive companion.

Ποιος είσαι? Τι κάνω εδώ? Γιατί δεν μπορώ να καταλάβετε?

Kahlym stared, stunned and slack-jawed as the beauty spouted a completely undecipherable language. Keeping his eyes on her face as she shrank away from him, a terrified frown pulled her slender eyebrows together.

Qaen poked his head around the corner into the passenger cabin. What the hell was that? Is the unicomm on the fritz again? His spiky cobalt blue and white hair bounced as he rubbed dry his face, the water washing away the lingering evidence of his incarceration. He elbowed the link on the wall, calling out as he finger-combed the knots from the tangled mass. Falka? The comm ain’t working.

With Qaen’s strange announcement, more members of his team crept out of the woodwork, curiosity pulling them from their workstations. Brel was the first to arrive, tying back his long black braids at the base of his neck while Lozzan peeked in from another corridor. Unaccustomed confusion painted dark rings around the Ninoxian’s wide round eyes while his head cocked so far to one side his cheek nearly rested on his shoulder. The frown on his brother’s face was not as pronounced, but the same questioning look reflected in his citrine eyes.

What’s this about? I thought Falka got that fixed last week. Brel halted, frowning. Kahl, did you get hit?

Kahlym shook his head and gaped for an answer before he jerked his eyes toward their terrified passenger. The female scooted further back in the limited confines of the simple seat, her gaze sweeping back and forth as she spoke again.

Πού είμαι? ?

Her slender fingers gripped the arm rests, her breaths coming faster and faster as her panic spilled deeper into the ship.

Kahlym watched in mute disbelief as her cheeks turned ashen gray. His trepidation grew as he cast his gaze down to the smeared, sticky crimson across his chest and a familiar scent caught his nose.

Blood.

He reached out to her just as her eyes disappeared back into her head and she collapsed into his outstretched arms. Something warm and wet met his fingertips as he touched her back.

YHAN’TU!

He yelled over his shoulder as he eased her gently to the floor. A quick visual inspection showed him a deep wound cutting across her narrow back, the line shifting where it hit bone. His mind flipped backward fast, replaying their escape until he remembered her faltered steps. Dark and red, the blood pooled on the cushion and dripped to the tiles below.

Even though Kahlym knew that she could not understand him, that didn’t stop him from pouring soft words of encouragement against her thick hair as it teased his skin.

"Stay with me, ziat’xahn. Please. I’ve got you. I’ve got you."

Chapter 2

Yhan’tu Emoc had never lost a patient before and he had no intention of breaking that streak today. But the woman bleeding out in his captain’s arms looked like she was going to turn the tables.

For big strong men, they did tend to scream at the slightest injury.

When he first heard Kahlym’s call, he ambled down the hall, grumbling as he limped on his aching legs. Granted, his stay at the Rimmarian stronghold had been much easier than that of his more sanguine friend, he had not escaped unscathed. Fortunately for him, the facial marking he bore identifying him as healing cleric saved him from more violent repercussions.

I am not deaf. You do not need to… By the stars, what happened? He knelt beside the paling young woman, forgetting his earlier discomfort. The blast had scored a jagged line from just below her shoulder blade across her back to come to an angry halt shy of the opposite hip. Red leaked and stained the singed soft fabric that sheathed her body.

I… I don’t know. I found her outside one of the open cells. Kahlym snapped terror-stricken eyes toward him, the blatant fear taking him aback in stunned surprise.

Keep pressure on the wound, Captain. He hoped his soft and direct words would focus his nervous friend.

Please, Yhan’tu, you have to save her. She… she saved my life.

The ship even joined in the collective gasp of shock, the engines sparking as they jumped the transit lanes. Brel was the first to break the silence.

Kahl? Are you telling me…?

Kahlym met his brother’s incredulous stare. She holds my blood debt, Brel. I can’t let her go.

Yhan’tu splayed his fingers against her chest, the heart beneath his palm pounded in a desperate, stuttering rhythm. His own pain pushed aside, he stood quickly and with a sharp nod of his head, he led the way back to the med bay.

She is weakening. Come. We must hurry.

The trip down the corridor passed in a flash. Once inside, he prepped the room in a flurry of exactness, covering the operating table with a clean drape just as Kahlym set down his tender burden. On cue, Dhaerin slid into the room, his finger’s grip on the doorjamb serving as a brake.

What the hell did I miss?

Yhan’tu merely tipped his head toward the supply cabinet. Please gather the surgical blades and sutures. I sense this may require a second pair of hands. He returned to his examination of his new charge, knowing the pilot would follow his requests without explanation. Many times in the past, he had relied on the man’s steady hands and steel nerves.

Kahlym, however, was less than useful. After he deposited her on the table, he continued to linger, leaning over Yhan’tu’s shoulder and breathing down his neck. He understood the young captain’s apprehension, the sound of his footfalls ebbing and flowing as Kahlym paced the room. The Goddess Ishtanti knew each member of the tight-knit crew had exchanged a blood debt, the vow of a life for a life, each time they took on the fight against the overbearing and strangling hold of the Rimmarian Thrall. But he sensed this was somehow different.

Yhan’tu steadied his wandering mind as he peeled away the tattered shreds that had offered her no protection. He was confused seeing her dressed in so lax of a manner. Even the servants of the royal families of the Seven Houses were never without reinforced garments. A collection of small gadgets jangled in a pocket on her outer layer, and he set the whole bundle aside.

He shuffled a half-step back as he eyed not only the damage but also the alien flesh exposed by the wicked wound. Pale and fragile dermis covered ropy bands of muscles. The poor girl was severely burned, and there was no telling what kind of internal injuries she might have sustained. Practiced calm kept his movements steady as he took small samples of blood, skin and tissue. If she was going to be staying among the living, he wanted to know all he could about her. The med-tab swung closer, and he slid the specimens across the scanners.

While the equipment whirred and worked, he did his own visual assessment as he applied gentle pressure to the weeping gouge. A basic skeletal structure was evident; a couple of bony rib tips peeking out from around the blackened edges. She appeared bipedal in nature, two legs and two arms with five digits extending in a semi-radial pattern. Studying her profile as her cheek rested on the table, he catalogued two oval eyes, a delicate nasal extension and a proportioned mouth filling out her heart-shaped face. Her hair was of a unique deep reddish-brown color, flashes of blacks and purples added to the dark hues.

Her back rose and fell, lungs obviously pulling air into her body, and the blood beginning to coagulate was a familiar shade. Her physiology did appear similar to many of the races that inhabited the Seven Quadrants, specifically reminiscent of the captain’s own people, the Raedynese, which should make his job slightly easier. He hoped his assumptions were right or else this would be a sad day for their young captain.

The ping at his back did not bode well. He felt the breeze shift and Dhaerin stood across from him, craning his neck to read the distant news. By Mordan’s cock…

He could only nod in agreement of the pilot’s initial assessment.

No Data Available.

What? What was that sound? Dhaer, what is it? Yhan’tu nearly stumbled into his patient as Kahlym pressed close to his back. He sighed, the anxiety of his friend becoming too much of a hindrance.

And that simply would not do. He kept his eyes fixed on the readouts as he tapped the comm link on the desk.

Brel? I am needing you to collect your brother. I fear he will wear a permanent path around the table and I do not wish to trip.

Dhaerin