Ignis

by Lula Monk

  Caught by surprise, the Ardan’s head jerked to the side.

  Ignis turned his head back to Clea, a small rivulet of blood slowly sliding from the corner of his mouth.

  He licked his teeth, removing the blood that covered them. “Easy shot,” he said, flexing his fists at his sides. “I dare you to try that again.”

  Clea’s body took control of her mind in that moment, muscle memory activated. She squared up. Her stance was strong, her center balanced. She drew her fists up close to her chin.

  Ignis laughed. “What is that?”

  Clea faltered. “What is what?”

  “What are you doing with your body?” Ignis asked again, this time with a laugh as loud as booming thunder. “Your positioning is all wrong; it’s too tight. You aren’t going to be able to deliver a decent blow lik—”

  Clea lashed out, punching Ignis in the face again, her fists moving like quicksilver through the air.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  The sound of her fist striking the alien’s face filled the room.

  After delivering the last blow, she pulled back quickly, getting outside of Ignis’s swing range. If the Ardan tried to hit her back, he would have to step forward, opening his sides to one of Clea’s signature power kicks.

  But the Ardan didn’t step forward. And he wasn’t angry.

  Instead, he stared at Clea with admiration, blood still oozing past his smiling lips.

  “Well done, Earth woman.”

  Clea straightened up, lowering her fists to her sides. “What?”

  Ignis reached a thumb up at wiped the weeping blood from his mouth. “I said well done.”

  Clea sunk back down into her defensive pose. This was a trick. It had to be.

  “What are you playing at?” she asked the still-smiling alien.

  He lifted his palms in a good-will gesture. “It was a genuine compliment. I’m impressed.”

  Clea stood up straight again, unable to believe that this angry, feisty, furious creature was glad that she’d punched him four times in the face.

  No way.

  “Well,” she said slowly, a small seedling of pride sprouting in her heart. If the Ardan thought she’d done a decent job at throwing a punch, she must have. True, she was confident in her own abilities, but when the ruler of a freaking war planet said you’d landed a mean hit? That was a damn fine compliment. She smiled at him. “Thank yo—”

  Clea didn’t even see Ignis move; she only felt the sharp pain radiating up her jaw and through her skull as the Ardan’s fist landed against her chin.

  She doubled over, cupping her face, the metallic taste of blood sharp and hot in her mouth.

  “What the actual fuck,” she screamed as she set herself to rights, standing up tall and flinging her braids over her shoulders. “That was a chicken shit mo—"

  The Ardan struck out again, this time punching her broadly in the shoulder.

  Clea’s shoulder felt as if it was on fire.

  Panicked, she looked down, relieved to find that no flames were glowing hot and bright on her shoulder. Glaring up at Ignis, her mouth contorted into its own feral grin; she knew it was wicked enough to match his own.

  If this is how the Ardan wants to handle it, thought Clea, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the stone floor, I’m down.

  But from her mouth, she said nothing. Instead, she faked a punch in Ignis’s direction, feinting in the last moment to pivot her lower body and smash her powerful leg into the alien’s side. He’d been shifting away from her oncoming fist, putting himself in the perfect position to get the brunt of her sidekick.

  He tottered on his feet, unsteady. Grinning, he said, “Now this makes you tolerable.”

  “Tolerable?” asked Clea, her teeth bared. “After all I’ve done to take care of your pathetic ass se—"

  The Ardan struck out again, once more smashing his thick fist into Clea’s face.

  Instead of recoiling in pain, Clea reveled in the sensation of heat that spread through her jaw like a burn.

  Like fire.

  When she picked up her head and looked at Ignis, the Ardan’s gaze made the space between her legs throb.

  Everything about this moment was arousing, and Clea never would have imagined that getting her ass kicked by an alien would make her want to fuck.

  Her chest rose and fell heavily, each breath marking the passing of time between the last moment their flesh had touched. And, she was surprised to find, she wanted it to happen again. She wanted to feel Ignis’s flesh upon her once more, in fists or lips or legs. She didn’t care which.

  As if sensing her desire, Ignis lowered his fists, crossing the space between them and taking Clea into his arms. His eyes bore into hers, asking a question Clea knew she didn’t have to answer with words.

  Instead, she let her lips answer for her.

  Taking control of the situation, Clea, snaked her arms around the Ardan’s neck, pulling his head down closer to hers. Her hands in his thick hair, she pulled him closer still, basking in the taste of his mouth when she thrust her tongue into it. Their tongues sparred, warring as if trying to decide which mouth they should occupy.

  Ignis let her kiss him for a few moments, but he then pulled back, breaking the kiss while still keeping Clea’s body close to his.

  When he spoke, his voice rasped against her mouth. “I don’t know why you think I’d let you rule this moment, coward.”

  He said the insult as if it were a term of endearment, as though calling Clea a coward in this moment was akin to calling her beloved or darling or my love.

  Clea smiled as the alien pressed his lips against hers, his teeth raking over the tender flesh of her lower lip, biting it just enough to cause a thrill of pain to shoot down the full length of her body.

  Her heart was hammering wildly, and the stupid word floated into her mind unbidden. Such stupid words, and before she spoke them, she knew she would regret them. Because falling for an alien was just about the worst thing she could do.

  But damn it if that wasn’t what was happening.

  “You are such a dick.”

  Eyes closed, Clea’s stomach twisted as she felt Ignis smile beneath her lips at the words.

  He ensnared his hand in her thick braids, gently pulling until her head was upturned. His mouth raided hers like an warrior determined to conquering new territory.

  To claim it.

  Clea sighed against him, the area between her legs now throbbing, her channel clinching and releasing in anticipation.

  With his free hand, Ignis reached down and grabbed her by the buttocks, lifting her high, their kiss never breaking.

  He carried her to the ruins of the bed. As he laid Clea down, the charred mattresses split, sending small clouds of black soot puffing into the air.

  Smelling the remnants of the horrible fire Ignis had released into the room, a flood of memories poured through Clea’s mind. Memories she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried.

  Help me, Clea! Please!

  Kyesha’s voice was the last straw.

  Clea pulled away from Ignis’s firm grip and crawled away from the pitiful mattress. She rose to her feet and fled to the other side of the room, the sobs already pushing past her lips. She couldn’t stop them.

  She breathed in and out, in and out, struggling to push the memories of that horrible night back into the box where they lived in her mind. She wished they were tangible things, things she could wrap her hands around and squeeze until the life drained from them.

  Then she could bury them for real.

  For good.

  Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her.

  Tears rolled down her chin, dripping onto the stone floor. She didn’t want Ignis to see her like this; she knew how much he hated water, and despite the part of her mind that knew she shouldn’t give a shit what the Ardan thought, the larger part of her mind wanted Ignis to like her.

  Holy fuck.

  A loud sob burst forth from her mouth, and her body bega
n to quake. She couldn’t handle these memories of Kyesha and her own budding feelings for the alien behind her.

  Both the sorrow of her sister and her fledgling love for Ignis were too big – too gruesome – to occupy the same space in her mind and heart. Her body was about to shatter from the from the strain of containing them both.

  A warm and heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

  “What’s wrong,” the alien asked softly.

  Clea’s heart skipped a beat. She’d expected Ignis to be furious that she was crying. She’d not expected him to be tender.

  She stood for a moment more, trying to control her weeping. If the alien wanted her to turn around and talk, she would try to contain herself first.

  But he didn’t let her.

  A second heavy hand landed on her other shoulder, and before Clea could stop him, Ignis spun her around, pulling her close to his chest.

  The feel and sound of the Ardan’s flesh bubbling under her face at the contact from her tears made Clea feel sick. But not from disgust. No, she felt sickened that something her body had produced was causing Ignis harm.

  She tried to pull away from him.

  “Let me go,” she begged, trying harder to stop the flow of tears snaking down her face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The alien laughed, but it was a sorrowful sound. “You could not hurt me if you tried, Earth woman.”

  Clea let Ignis pull her back into the warmth of his embrace, relief washing through her at the feeling of being held. Of being safe.

  They can’t get you here, Clea, she told herself. You are lightyears away from Earth.

  Another small sob shook her body, and Ignis squeezed her tighter.

  “It’s alright,” he whispered against the crown of her head, his breath skittering across her scalp.

  And Ignis wouldn’t let them hurt you.

  Soon, the tears stopped flowing. And still the Ardan held her tightly, as if still knowing she had some soul work to do.

  Safe and secure in the warmth of Ignis’s embrace, Clea packed up the dark memories of that long-ago night. Or she tried to anyway.

  “What is it that burdens your soul, Clea?”

  A chill ran down her spine. She didn’t want to talk about Kyesha and what happened to her, didn’t want to breathe new life to the evil things that had happened that night.

  Didn’t want to shine light on her weakness.

  “I’m not strong enough to talk about it,” Clea admitted, feeling small in the large alien’s arms.

  “Bullshit,” Ignis said, his voice hard. “You are a human, and you had the balls to hit one of the most feared war kings of the Adrasta Galaxy in the face. Four times.”

  Clea gave a small chuckle, but only because she knew Ignis had been trying to make her laugh.

  “Let it out,” he said again, this time more softly. More gently. “I know the pain of carrying too much in one’s soul.” It was his turn to shudder in her arms. “The weight of memory can be the greatest of burdens.”

  Clea sniffled and pulled away from him.

  “I’ll talk to you,” she said, “but only if you agree to tell me your story as well.”

  Ignis’ eyes darkened, but he nodded.

  “Very well,” he said softly. “If you reveal your darkness to me, I will show mine to you.”

  Chapter 16

  Ignis

  The Earth woman before him began to tremble, as though the mere memory of the story she was about to convey was wracking her body with unendurable sorrow.

  A feeling I understand well, thought Ignis, as visions of Gylenda in her prime swirled before his mind’s eye.

  “It was a long time ago,” Clea began. “When I was a child. We lived in the southern part of the United States…”

  Ignis furrowed his brows. Clea looked at his face, and seeing the confusion there, explained. “It is the most southern part of the our country.”

  Ignis nodded in. Country boundaries he understood, for even on Incenda, where all the Ardans fought as one, there were still civil disputes. Gas founts to be argued over. Steel mines to be exploited. Stolen. Boundaries were good where assets were involved.

  “Anyway,” continued Clea, “in the southern part of our country… people can be cruel. Especially to people like me.”

  “Like you?” Ignis asked. “You are strong. Cunning. Kind. There should be no fault found in any of those characteristics.”

  Ignis watched the blush creep into the woman’s dark cheeks, tinging her flesh a deep shade of purple.

  “Thanks, but not everyone thinks so.” She paused for a moment to twist her braids around a finger, a habit Ignis had come to find endearing. “A long time ago, but not so long that people have let go of their prejudices, my people – that is to say, people with skin like mine – were enslaved. Treated little better than cattle, and a lot less better than people like you.”

  “They enslaved your kind because… you are dark?” Ignis chewed over her words for a moment, not quite understanding.

  “Mostly because my ancestors were available. They were tribal, you see, living their own lives and having their own cultures and systems across the sea, in a place called Africa. When they were discovered, they were exploited. Captured and sold, some by their own kind or enemy tribes. And then they were sold across the sea, forced to toil under the hot skies of a new land, far from the places of their births.”

  “What does that have to do with you, though?” asked Ignis. Then, a harrowing thought entered his mind, one which made his blood boil with rage. He felt his flames surging up his spine, burning the core of his back, demanding to be released. To seek retribution. He asked her, “Were you a slave still? Before Galactic Continuity acquired you?”

  Clea’s lips set in a firm line. “No. Slavery as an institution was disbanded in our country around a century and a half ago. Er... many, many annum ago,” she clarified, as if remembering that Ignis didn’t keep track of the passing of time in Earth units.

  But I should. I should want to know this woman’s life. Her past. The way her people do things. I want to know her.

  The thought struck him as odd.

  Before being tortured by Slep, right when vengeance for Gylenda’s death was in his grasp, Ignis had not cared about Clea as a person. He’d admired her spirit, and her desire to save herself at all costs. Her spunk. Her courage.

  But he had only cared for the warrior, not the woman.

  Knowing that he had laid a ruined thing in their bed for who knows how many rotations, and the dark woman caring for him carefully and attentively all the while, had warmed him to her. He owed her for helping him heal, but a small part of his heart had softened towards her as soon as he awoke.

  And her fist crashing into his jaw had caused that small spot to grow, raging like searing hot flames through his soul. She was a fighter, and she was afraid of nothing.

  Well, almost nothing.

  “Go on,” Ignis said, wanting to learn what it was that could terrify a woman of her strength.

  Here, Clea looked away, as though embarrassed. “Even though we were no longer enslaved, many people where we lived – in a placed called Mississippi – could not forget our past. Could not forget how low we once were. And there were all sorts of other things, too. Stupid things, like thinking we were less intelligent than other kinds of people. That we were evil. Dangerous. Biologically designed to fuck up and do bad things.”

  Her words struck a chord in Ignis, for what she was describing – that kind of prejudice – was what the Ardans had always been told about the Smolds. In fact, her words were almost the same words his own great-grandsire had used to teach him the sins of Cyndar’s ancestors.

  But I will not think differently of the bastard heir, no matter what the Earth woman says.

  His flames released then, slowly creeping up his back to encase his head. Like a halo. Like the crown that was his right by birth.

  “Can you please put those away,” Clea asked, her voice shaki
ng.

  Ignis remembered himself, feeling ashamed for not controlling his flames like the Earth woman had asked. Shame was a new sensation for him, and he wore it the way a one warrior wears another’s suit of armor – not well, and uncomfortably.

  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, using all his mental focus to recapture his fire and submerge it into his body. When he felt the last bit of heat reenter him, he opened his eyes.

  “Thanks,” said Clea.

  Ignis cleared his throat, the shame still sitting thick on his tongue. “My apologies.”

  Clea nodded, then continued with her tale. “My family kept living in Mississippi for generations, partly because they couldn’t afford to move anywhere else, and partly because people have a bad habit of getting used to what they’ve always known. Even if it is being treated like shit.” She shrugged. “You just kind of expect things to always be the way they are. It’s hard to see a better way of being. A better way of living.”

  Here she paused once more, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She took a moment to calm herself, to hold the beasts that plagued her mind at bay.

  “And that’s how we all lived, until the night of my eighth birthday party.”

  Ignis did not know why the day of one’s birth was celebrated on Earth; the day of one’s noble and glorious death should be venerated, because such a thing was the person’s own doing. Birth, one had no control over. But he kept silence, waiting for the Earth woman to continue.

  “I had a sister,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Her name was Kyesha. She was still little, not even five yet. We did everything together. Climbed trees. Went swimming in the lake.” Her voice broke. “Mama let me teach her how to swim that summer. I’d felt like such a grownup, teaching my baby sister how to hold her breath and kick her little legs in the water. And Kyesha had clung to me. Had trust me to keep her safe. But when the time came that she actually needed me…”

  Clea paused, her eyes large brown eyes two liquid pools of pure sorrow.

  Without consulting his mind for approval, his hand reached out, lacing its fingers between the dark woman’s, squeezing her hand. Giving her strength.