Claim

by Tana Stone

  He pushed all thoughts of the ship, his Dothvek brothers, and the offworld females onboard it out of his mind. First, he needed to find Bexli. Then they could worry about the ship.

  He topped a high sand peak, and his heart stopped. Below him, Bexli was rolling out of the way of a giant burjal, as the creature snapped at her and drove his curved tail into the sand. He didn’t have time wonder why the deadly creature was out during the day or to register the fact that he’d never even heard of one as big as the one going after Bexli. Or that the female was completely naked.

  As soon as his heart had lurched to a stop, it seemed to swell. She was alive. He hadn’t been too late.

  His jebel stuttered to a stop, rearing back when he saw the burjal. Tommel slid off its back and ran down the sand dune, throwing himself in front of the attacking animal with both blades drawn.

  Behind him, Bexli panted for breath, her face red from exertion and her usually sleek hair a tangled, sandy mess. “How did you—?”

  He didn’t wait for her to finish her question. “Get behind me.”

  She did as he asked, scampering onto all fours and then standing a few paces behind him. Tommel crouched into an attack position between her and the beast, his blades glinting in the bright sunlight.

  Now that he was looking more carefully at the burjal, he noticed that the animal seemed to be swaying on his legs. His pincers wobbled as they swung in front of him, and his arched tail listed to one side. The creature was weary. He was not used to being above ground in the heat. He was used to attacking at night, and Tommel knew his vision wasn’t great during the day. A fact of which he planned to take full advantage.

  “Back up and keep going,” he said to Bexli, his eyes fixed on the burjal. “Don’t look back.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” Her words escaped between jagged breaths.

  He growled. Even weak and clearly outmatched, she was still stubborn. “I will be fine. You need to get away. Head to the rocks.” He paused. “Please, Bexli.”

  After a moment, he heard the sound of her feet shifting in the sand away from him, and he returned his full focus to the creature he was facing off against. The tapping of the hard pincers had slowed to an intermittent clack, and the animal’s movements had grown even more jerky. He suspected if he waited him out under the suns, the burjal might fall over on his own.

  But he didn’t have time for that. He needed to make sure Bexli was okay and get her to shelter. A quick glance had told him that she was already exhausted, and he wasn’t sure why she hadn’t shifted into some sort of creature who could better defend herself. Perhaps she was too weary, he thought. He did not know how her powers worked.

  Tommel gauged the distance between him and the burjal before dashing to one side and running partway up the closest dune. He leapt into the air and twisted, coming down hard on top of the curved tail. He was jolted as his head slammed onto the shell, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood as he swallowed hard, then he felt a rush of satisfaction. He’d landed exactly where he needed to be—above the poisonous stinger, and out of the reach of the razor-sharp pincers.

  The creature shrieked as it swung his tail wildly, but Tommel held on. He could see Bexli as a blur in the sand as he was tossed back and forth. She had not gotten as far away as he had hoped, but luckily, the animal was far too busy trying to dislodge him to worry about going after Bexli again.

  After flailing desperately for what seemed like an eternity, the burjal slowed enough that Tommel could pivot his body and slash through the segmented shell below him. The end of the tail he’d been riding on was instantly severed and as it fell, Tommel extended another blade and drove it down into the back of the wailing creature. With the poisonous stinger lying bloody in the sand and a blade plunged into his back, the animal reared up and let out a high-pitched scream.

  Tommel slid off its back and landed in the sand, rolling as far away as he could to avoid being trampled as the wounded animal staggered and stumbled. The pincers were still deadly, and Tommel ducked under one as it swung over his head. He scrambled up, a blade still in his hand, and backed away, one eye on Bexli as she lay on the sand, and one eye on the dying burjal as it finally flopped down hard, sending up a cloud of sand around its motionless body.

  When he was sure the animal would not get up, Tommel wiped his brow and turned to Bexli. She lay hunched over, not far from where she’d started from.

  “I thought I told you to run.” He crouched down next to her naked body and brushed a sweaty strand of hair away to uncover her face.

  His gut hardened into a cold ball as her saw that her eyes were closed, and her skin was paler than usual. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she fell back onto the sand. He quickly scanned her body and saw a gash on one arm, blood seeping from the cut, as well as something greenish-yellow oozing from it—burjal venom.

  Bexli had been hit by the creature before he arrived. His heart plummeted. Although the cut was not large, he knew the venom was deadly in any amount.

  Tommel wanted to scream as agony tore through him. He could not lose her. He would not. Pressing his ear to her chest, he could hear her heart beating, and he exhaled in relief. It had not yet reached her heart. There still might be a chance to save her, he thought, his own heart knocking against his ribs.

  Sitting back, he steeled himself for what he knew he had to do, cupping her face in one hand.

  “If I fail, we both die,” he whispered, knowing full well that death was not worse than losing someone else, but wishing he could have one last chance to talk to her. If he failed, she would never know how sorry he was. He let out a shaky breath. “Then I can’t fail.”

  Tommel lowered his mouth to her arm and carefully began to suck out the poison.

  Fourteen

  Bexli’s head ached as she opened her eyes. She’d expected to see the punishing glare of the suns burning bright overhead. That had been the last thing she remembered before collapsing on the sand—the two orbs high in the sky that became four and then eight, and then disappeared in a haze of white light before everything had gone black.

  But she did not see sun or sand. The space she was in was dimly lit and held the scent of moisture. The ground was not powdery, and did not shift as she moved. It was hard and cold. Definitely not the afterlife—at least, she hoped not. The Lycithian afterlife was supposed to consist of wide open-fields and tall grass as soft as feathers. Not rock, or the faint aroma of sulphur.

  At least she didn’t hear the clicking of pincers. That had been the last sound she remembered—the tapping of hard shells as they’d snapped near her head. She couldn’t see or hear the terrifying scorpion she’d been fighting before.

  The last image in her mind was the sand scorpion over her as she rolled naked across the sand. She groped at her body, and realized she was dressed. Who had dressed her?

  Bexli sucked in a sharp breath. Tommel. Had she been imagining things, or had the Dothvek really arrived to save her? She peered through the shadows, her eyes able to make out the hulking shape against a stone wall. “Did you dress me?”

  “You were cold once we were away from the suns.” The low burr of his voice reverberated off the arched, stone walls of the cave.

  “You’re real?”

  “Yes.”

  “Always so chatty,” she muttered under her breath, pushing herself up to a sitting position using the arm that didn’t throb with pain. “Where are we?”

  “A cave.” Tommel unfolded himself and stood so that he towered over her, his head skimming the ceiling.

  She shook her head, but the motion made it throb, so she stopped. “A cave? Weren’t we in the middle of the desert? Are we underground?”

  He let out what she swore was almost a chuckle. “No. I brought you to the rocks as soon as I could move you. You needed shelter and a place to recuperate.”

  “Recuperate? From what?”

  He took a few long steps to close the distance between them and knelt down in front of he
r. “From the burjal venom.”

  Her gaze darted to her throbbing arm. Yellow leaves covered the area that hurt, and she touched them gingerly. “Burjal?”

  “The creature that almost killed you.”

  So, the scorpion-looking thing was called a burjal. Bexli hoped she never needed a reason to use the word again. “How did…?”

  “I sucked the poison out of your arm.”

  Bexli swung her head up to look at him, her mouth falling open. She desperately wanted to be cold to him for walking out on her the night before, but now he’d gone and saved her life, the big bastard. She let out a string of Lycithian curses mixed with human ones.

  Tommel cocked his head at her, his translator clearly working overtime to decipher the mix of profanity. “You are upset I removed the poison from you? You would have preferred for your heart to stop?”

  “No,” she huffed. “It’s not that. I appreciate you saving me, but you’re making it really hard to stay angry at you. And if you didn’t know already, I’m still angry at you.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Because I walked away from you last night.”

  “You mean screwed me and then ditched me?” Her voice rose as she glared at him. It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it would be to be both grateful and furious.

  He stood. “I did not ditch you.”

  “You literally pulled out, got up, and walked out of the tent without looking back at me.” Her voice had gone from loud to shrill, and the sound bounced off the stone walls. “If that isn’t ditching, I don’t know what is.”

  Tommel dragged a hand through his hair as he paced a small path in front of her. “I regret my actions. As soon as I knew you were gone, I went after you.”

  “Speaking of coming after me, where are Caro and Rukken?”

  “I went ahead because I would be faster. They are behind me with extra jebels.”

  Bexli let out a snort of laughter. “I’ll bet Caro loved being left behind.”

  “She did not.”

  Bexli felt a pang of longing for her friend, mixed with regret that she’d left her. “Was she mad at me for leaving?”

  “Mad at you?” Tommel stopped pacing and glanced over at her. “No, she was only angry at me.”

  Bexli couldn’t stifle a grin. “That’s my girl.”

  Tommel made a choked noise in his throat. “My actions were dishonorable. She had every right to be angry with me, as do you. I never should have given in to my desires.”

  Were males universally clueless?

  “You do know the sex isn’t the part I’m mad about, right?” she asked. “The sex was great. Better than great, and way better than I expected.”

  He tilted his head at her. “I do not know if that is bad or good.”

  She flapped a hand at him. “It’s just that you’re so serious all the time, and you always seem to be scolding me. I never would have imagined you’d let go like you did.”

  “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “It was a mistake.”

  Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. So, he thought she’d been a mistake. He wasn’t sorry for walking away from her. He was sorry she was angry about it. “So, walking away was exactly what you meant to do. It’s what you’re doing again, right now.”

  “I’m not walking away from you. I came for you.”

  “But not to be with me, right?”

  He jerked his head up. “I cannot be with you the way I was last night. I can never be what you need.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that loud and clear.” She hated that her voice was thick with emotion.

  She looked up at the ceiling and blinked hard. She would not cry in front of him. She didn’t even know why she was reacting like she was. It must have been the aftereffects of the venom making her so emotional. She’d never wanted more than a fling anyway, although she thought that Tommel might have felt more for her. It wasn’t the first time she’d been dead wrong about someone.

  When her eyes had stopped stinging and she was sure she wouldn’t cry, her mind returned to her friend. “So, Caro and Rukken don’t know where we are?”

  “No, but I told them where I was heading. We all suspected you would be following the ship.”

  “Well, we have to go find her. She’ll be worried about me.” Bexli tried to push herself up using the wall for balance but her arm buckled, and she fell back down on the rock floor with a thud.

  Tommel was at her side in a flash, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. “You are still weak. The venom drained your energy. Even though I was able to suck it out, some of it still traveled up your arm. You need rest.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Tommel cut her off. “Caro was not worried about you being safe. She said your shapeshifting skills make you impossible to catch or kill.”

  Bexli swallowed hard, the stark truth rushing back to her. She had not been able to shift when she needed to. It was something that had never happened to her before.

  She sagged onto Tommel’s arm, the heat of his skin sending comforting pulses through her body, even as her mind raced to find answers.

  “Why did you not shift when you were fighting the burjal?” Tommel asked, his voice soft.

  She pressed her lips together, afraid to say it out loud. “I couldn’t,” she finally admitted. “I tried, but I couldn’t transform.”

  “Maybe the heat affected you,” he suggested. “I know you do not come from a planet with two suns.”

  She shook her head. “Heat can’t keep me from shifting. Actually, no external force can keep a Lycithian from transforming. It’s part of our DNA.”

  “Maybe the venom—?” Tommel wondered out loud.

  “No.” She cut him off and shrugged his arm off her shoulder. “That came after I tried to shift.”

  He backed away from her slightly. “You are afraid. What are you not telling me?”

  Sometimes she hated the fact that the Dothveks were empaths, and that this one in particular could sense her feelings so accurately. She looked away from him, training her gaze on a point on the floor. “There are only two times in a Lycithian’s life when they lose their power to shift. One is at the end of our life when we are too weak, and our life force is leaving us.”

  She heard him inhale sharply, but she shook her head. “Don’t worry. That’s not me. Lycithians have a very long lifespan. I’m a long way away from that day.”

  “What is the other?” He asked, his voice barely audible.

  Her voice shook as she hurried out her next words. “When a female Lycithian is pregnant.”

  The air seemed to be sucked out of the cave, as neither of them spoke. When Bexli dared to look up at Tommel, his expression was as hard and cold as stone.

  Fifteen

  There was no noise in the cave, save the rushing of blood in his ears. He almost didn’t hear the soft words that had spilled from her mouth and hung in the air between them.

  “Impossible,” he croaked, finally shattering the stillness. His voice sounded harsher than he’d intended, but he was reeling from the shock. It couldn’t be. She had to be mistaken.

  She choked on a laugh. “Hardly. You do remember—?”

  “That was only last night.” He shook his head as he tried to breathe normally. “Not even a single rising and falling of the suns.”

  “Lycithian pregnancies move faster than other species. It would have started to affect me only hours after we…”

  He turned and braced his arms on the stone wall, squeezing his eyes shut as emotions stormed through him. He tried to keep the memories at bay, but they rushed forward, crowding his mind with images of his mate dying with their unborn child inside her. The pain jabbed at him like a blade. He could not go through it again. He knew he could not survive it if he lost another mate. Or another child.

  “Tommel,” Bexli said. “I know you’re freaked out right now. So am I.”

  He forced the torturous memories from his mind and shifted his attention to her, sensing her own fear
and frustration. She wanted this even less than he did, and she was furious that it was already changing who she was.

  He dropped his hands and turned to her. “This is my fault. If you want to be angry, you should be angry at me.”

  “It’s not all your fault. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I wanted every bit of it. I mean, I didn’t want to get knocked up, but I should have known that my contraceptive implant was at the tail end of its life. I was supposed to get a new one when we stopped at the next outpost with a med facility, but then we got marooned here. It didn’t even cross my mind.”

  Tommel did not know what most of what she’d said meant, but at least her voice was calm. She seemed calmer than he felt, although he could sense the nervous hum of her panic fluttering under the surface of her words.

  He squared his shoulders and blew out a long breath. “Are you completely sure?”

  She laughed. “Pretty sure. I can already smell more sharply than I could before. That’s another one of the signs. I don’t know what affect you being Dothvek will have on the gestation, though. There has never been a Lycithian-Dothvek baby before. I guess now we know it’s possible, so that’s something.”

  Tommel’s gaze drifted to her midriff. If she was right, his baby was already growing inside her. A baby that was half Dothvek and half Lycithian. A baby that would look like a mix of him and Bexli. He didn’t even know how that would work. Would the baby be a shifter?

  Bexli shrugged as if she could read his mind. “Who knows what it will take from you and what it will take from me? To be honest, if it’s a girl, I hope she has my hair. Oh, and you haven’t asked yet, so I’m guessing it’s a barbarian thing and you don’t have other options here, but I’ve already decided to keep it.”

  Tommel flinched, the idea of not keeping a baby something that had never entered his mind. He crossed to her, his hand hovering over her stomach but not touching it. “Of course, you are keeping it, and you are both now mine to protect.”