by Zoey Draven
“Good morning, Kat,” he said.
He’d adopted the human expression shortly after Kat and Vaxa returned from their mating ceremony. The older Luxirian was wearing blue robes, gold cuffs gleaming on his wrists.
“Vaxa’an has asked me to take you to the archives once you have eaten. He had to be at the command center early this span.”
After what happened last night, Kate didn’t know if he simply hadn’t wanted to see her this morning. Not really knowing what to say, Kate went with, “He has been really busy lately, hasn’t he?”
Bidan’s nod made her feel a little bit better, but her emotions were all over the place the past couple of days. “He has been having some…political difficulties. It has not been easy on him.”
Had Vaxa confided in Bidan, but not her? Did he think that she couldn’t handle the truth of the uprisings?
“Right,” she said, her voice sounding a little strangled.
“Would you like to eat at the…” Bidan trailed off, peering at her more closely. “Lavrix’an, what happened to your wrist?”
Kate jumped a little at the question, instinctively huddling her arm closer to her body. When she looked down at her wrist, which she’d noticed in the bath, the bruise looked a whole lot worse than the actual pain. Her skin was mottled and blue, which would fade to yellow in the coming week. Kate had always bruised easily—Beks had affectionately called her a banana—but this one took the cake.
“Oh,” she murmured, racking her brain. She’d purposefully chosen a dress that Keriva had made for her, that had loose sleeves that trailed down her arms, in hopes of concealing it. But Bidan had always been observant. “I accidentally bumped it against some scrolls at the archives.”
Really, Kate? Could that excuse be any lamer?
“It doesn’t hurt,” she assured him, figuring she’d already told a little white lie. One more wouldn’t hurt. “Humans just bruise a lot. You should’ve seen me as a kid.”
“Perhaps I should take you to Privanax,” Bidan said, frowning. “I am sure that Vaxa’an would take you if he were here.”
“But he’s not, is he?” Kate said, swallowing. “Really, I’m perfectly fine. Bruises are harmless.”
Bidan studied her. Kate always got the sense that he could see everything about her. He just had that air about him. She blew out a small sigh of relief when he let it go and said, “What would you like for your first meal?”
“Oh, I’m not really that…” she trailed off, when she saw the stern look on Bidan’s features.
With an innocent tone, he said, “Well, if you do not wish to eat, then we will have time to see Privanax.”
Why that little…
Kate narrowed her eyes but Bidan simply waited, content to let her make her decision. What was with pushy, bossy Luxirian men?
“Breakfast sounds wonderful,” she said.
* * *
Sweat and blood dripped down his body and yet Vaxa’an rasped, “Again.”
He’d taken to training three times a day to prepare for the Trials. He had half of a lunar cycle to prepare. And the Trials had been capped at five opponents. Only five could challenge a Prime Leader during the Trials because it was said that a Prime Leader should possess the strength and endurance of five warriors. An old saying, but one that they still respected.
Ever since those first two warriors had challenged him, the rest of the spots had been filled quickly. The Trials would happen in rounds. Vaxa’an would face each of his challengers, one after another. He would see to it that every single warrior would lie in a pool of their own blood by the time he was finished with them.
He was born to be the Prime Leader of his proud Luxiria. He had come from a long line of Prime Leaders, whom had all been challenged at some point during their rule and all had stepped forward victorious from the Trials. Vaxa’an would make sure that his outcome was no different. Not only would he fight for his Luxiria, his home, but he would never let harm come to his mate or offspring. If he were to lose, if he were to die, he was not sure that even he could ensure their safety.
Even though it had been centuries since a Prime Leader had reached the cap of five opponents, Vaxa’an simply wouldn’t fail. He refused. He would train every moment of the span if he had to, to build upon his endurance, to push his body harder. He’d been through worse during military training, he reasoned.
Lihvan and Rixavox were overseeing his training session. Rixavox nodded and summoned forward two more warriors into the pit.
They both inclined their heads, a sign of respect for their Prime Leader, before the next round began. He’d already defeated three warriors and he wanted to make quick work of these two before he called a break to the session.
The fight began.
It was short, mostly a blur of sharp claws, blue blood spatters, and searing gashes that would turn to scars with time. Vaxa’an took advantage of every opportunity he could to make contact and he did so without shame. The Trials didn’t have any rules. It had one truth: one lived, one died. In Vaxa’an’s case, five would die.
With a gouge of his claws and a bone-tingling crack, he defeated one of the warriors. Fatigue began to dull his body, slow his movements, but he pushed forward, thinking of his mate heavy with their child. He would be there to welcome their child into this world.
Vaxa’an made no sound when his opponent caught him on the upper thigh, shredding his flesh like delicate paper. Blood loss made him stagger.
But the session continued. Finally, Vaxa’an saw an opening when his opponent misstepped, allowing a brief moment for him to strike.
His opponent fell to the stone ground with a hiss when Vaxa’an made contact.
“Enough, Prime Leader,” Rixavox said quietly, approaching him. “We need to close your wounds.”
Vaxa’an gave a sharp nod, his breaths coming fast. He looked down at his thigh and saw his entire leg was covered in blood. He might have to take his morning session off tomorrow if it didn’t heal in time. The wound was deep.
Lihvan dismissed the other warriors from the training room and they all filed out until it was just the three of them left.
“Keep training like this and there will be nothing left of you for your opponents to bloody,” Lihvan commented.
Vaxa’an made a growling sound in the back of his throat. “I did not ask your opinion.”
Lihvan huffed out a breath. “You have been on edge this span. Here.” He thrust a flask at him. “You need this more than I do.”
Vaxa’an took it, tipping his head back to drink. The strong brew burned his throat and helped numb the pain radiating from his leg. He took another long pull from the flask before thrusting it back.
Lihvan shook his head and gave him a smirk. “Keep it, friend.”
Rixavox stole it from his hand and after taking a swig, he tipped the flask over Vaxa’an’s wound.
Pain seared him and he glared at Rixavox, cursing at him in Luxirian. His stomach clenched as his leg—and all the other claw marks adorning his flesh that the dark brew had managed to catch—pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
“I will summon Privanax,” was all Rixavox had to say. “That needs to be mended with his lasers.”
Vaxa’an continued to drink, prepping himself. Privanax arrived shortly after but wisely didn’t say anything once he saw his leg. Vaxa’an pulled on the flask while the doctor lasered his wound shut, gritting his jaw as the pain sparked up his spine.
“May I ask how the lavrix’an is doing this span?” Privanax asked as he worked. “Has she any concerns since I saw her?”
“I do not know,” Vaxa’an rumbled. Except upon waking, Vaxa’an had not seen or spoken to his mate that span. He’d touched their blood bond a few times to make sure she was well, but beyond that he didn’t know.
In truth, he had not handled the previous span well when it came to his mate. He had hurt her, taken his anger out on her, and he’d pushed her away. And instead of facing her this morning, he’d avoide
d her, like a coward.
His Instinct demanded that he reconnect with his mate. He felt her absence with every part of him; he longed to hold her, scent her soft, pale skin, and listen to her strange heartbeat. But Vaxa’an worried that he would only raise the tension between them. He did not want to tell her why he had been away from her so much. He did not want to tell her about the Trials. Soon, he wouldn’t have a choice.
If he fell in the Trials, he would need to make preparations. His ambassadors would ensure her safety if worse came to worse. Vaxa’an would not let his warrior pride take precedence over his mate.
Lihvan and Rixavox exchanged looks. His mood was already sour and the brew made his tongue loose. For reasons unknown to him, he growled, “I have not told my mate about the uprisings. Or about the Trials.”
Rixavox’s face morphed into surprise. “Do you expect to keep it a secret? News is already spreading. She will learn about it soon enough, probably from that gossip of a female she works for.”
Vaxa’an remembered the way his Kat hissed in pain when he’d grasped her wrist and suddenly, he wished that the warrior had cut his leg even deeper. Hurting a female was the ultimate sin in his culture and he could hardly bear the knowledge that he’d harmed his own mate.
He looked up at Rixavox and then his gaze turned to Lihvan. He leaned back as Privanax finished lasering the wound closed. “It seems I have been keeping many secrets lately,” he murmured.
“What does that mean?” Rixavox asked, narrowing his gaze, his eyes flickering to the other war general.
Privanax interrupted, quickly gathering his supplies, “I will take my leave. Is there anything else you require, Prime Leader?”
Vaxa’an shook his head. “No. I will bring my mate to you in a couple span for another exam.”
Privanax inclined his head and left.
Rixavox stood like a pillar, watching him. “Cruxan, Kirov, and Vikan have their suspicions, Vaxa’an. As do I. We see you and Lihvan discussing matters in private and it makes us wary.”
He may as well just tell the truth, if only to get one secret off his chest. “I have tasked Lihvan with infiltrating the Pit.”
Rixavox went still. “What?”
Lihvan shifted on his feet, keeping his voice low. “We are planning an attack after the lunar cycle. Once the Trials have concluded.”
“For what purpose?” Rixavox asked, his voice rising. “In doing this, we invite war with the Krevorags.”
“I do not wish to start a war,” Vaxa’an said. “But my female made me realize that we have all been hypocrites when it comes to the Pit. We stand by and allow such an event to happen. We allow unprotected and vulnerable females to be won. Yes, there are honorable males that fight at the Pit, who would not hurt the females, but then there are species, like the Jetutians, whom we know use them for depraved purposes. All for the profit of the Krevorags. They are a weak species. If it comes to war, I am positive that they will fall easily and swiftly against us and our allies.”
Rixavox processed his words and was silent for a brief moment, before he rumbled, “There are warriors in my outpost, as I am sure are in others, who have requested my permission to journey to the Pit.”
Vaxa’an started. “How many?”
“Seven or eight. They have heard of your victory, of your luxiva. Now that you have announced that she carries your offspring, I fear more will want to fight as well. Which bears the question…if you do succeed in your mission, what will happen to the females?”
“We will bring them here for safety and then make arrangements to return them to Earth,” Lihvan answered.
“We have a limited supply of Luxirian crystals powerful enough to journey to the Fourth Quadrant,” Rixavox argued. “We cannot waste them.”
“Then they will be used for this purpose,” Vaxa’an murmured. “I will give my own family’s crystal if I must. Any who wish to return to their home will be given safe and quick passage.”
“And how many of these rescue missions are you planning? The Krevorags will simply attain more females to use.”
“I have already begun petitioning the Urunian Federation to put an end to it,” Lihvan said. “We are awaiting confirmation that they will take it to a vote.”
Rixavox scoffed. “That could take several rotations before anything is done.”
“Which is why force is needed,” Vaxa’an said. “The Krevorags, although they are weak, are intelligent enough. With our allies, they know better than to challenge Luxiria and all who stand with her. I believe that they will cease once we have made our intentions clear. But we do need a display of strength so they will take our threats seriously.”
“This is much to take on, especially at this moment, my friend,” Rixavox said.
“Which is why I have tasked this to Lihvan and why I am telling you now. I need you to inform Kirov, Cruxan, and Vikan. I will leave this in all of your hands until the Trials end.”
Rixavox studied him, but then gave a sharp nod. “We will support you in this.”
Vaxa’an inclined his head, feeling a slight relief. It lasted for only a moment and then he blew out a sharp breath. “One more matter…” His ambassadors straightened at his somber tone. “If I am to fall in the Trials—”
“You will not,” Lihvan said. “You are a far superior warrior than your challengers. You are stronger, quicker, more calculated.”
“If I were to fall,” Vaxa’an continued, “I need your promise that you will ensure that my mate is safe and that no harm will come to my heir.”
Lihvan shook his head. “There is no need—”
“Your promise,” Vaxa’an urged.
Lihvan was silent. But then he reached down to clasp Vaxa’an on his shoulder. “You have my promise, brother.”
Vaxa’an looked at Rixavox.
Rixavox inclined his head. “You have mine, as well. You can go into the Trials knowing that no matter the outcome, she will be safe. And so will your child.”
SIX
Kate had learned to be good at confrontation. It had taken time, years even, but now, she thought she handled problems relatively well.
Last night didn’t sit well with her. Vaxa had pushed her away, which was so unlike him. And yes, she knew that he must be dealing with a lot of stress, being the Prime Leader and all, but it didn’t give him the right to take it out on her, especially after the argument they’d had earlier in the day.
So, all morning and afternoon, she’d moped around. And she hated being that person that moped around after a fight. When Bidan had picked her up from the archives after her day at work and dropped her back off at her house with her promise that she would send for food, she was more than ready to confront her curiously absent mate. She was positively itching for a fight.
But all the fight went straight out of her when he eventually came home later that night. Because he looked awful. God awful.
He emerged from the hovercraft with a limp and Kate gasped, rushing to meet him, when she saw that his leg—and most of his body really—was covered in blood.
“What happened?” she demanded. He was bare-chested and she saw claw marks and gouges adorning his flesh. He had a deep cut on his cheek that looked as if it had narrowly missed his left eye.
“Don’t tell me this is from training,” she said, her eyes focusing on the thin, bloodied line that ran from the edge of his knee almost to his groin. It looked closed up and cleaned, but she could see no stitches threading through his flesh.
“It is,” he murmured, his deep voice acting as a temporary salve. He didn’t sound in pain, but he’d always been good at hiding it from her. His strange, familiar bright blue eyes ran over her features, as though trying to memorize her. As if he hadn’t memorized every inch of her already.
In that moment, she found that she forgave him a little for his behavior last night. The way he looked at her…he longed for her. It was evident, written plainly on his face. So why wouldn’t he touch her?
“C
ome on,” she murmured, turning on her heel towards their bedroom. “You don’t want to drip blood all over the floors.”
He fell in step behind her, his footsteps heavy, his limp evident. But then, suddenly, he stopped her. Kate blinked as his arms wrapped around her from behind, squeezing her to his body. His head dipped down and he scented her neck, inhaling deeply. They stood there in silence and Kate let him hold her. And for some reason, tears sprung into her eyes before spilling down her cheeks.
Her hands came up to squeeze his wrists, clutching them close to her breasts. Then she turned in his arms, gripping his neck, uncaring about the metallic scent of his blood that filled her nostrils and the stain that now drenched the front and back of her dress.
She loved this man. How could she not? Her hand tangled in his dark hair, unwilling to let him go. She was ashamed now for her thoughts last night. She was ashamed that she’d doubted him.
“Come,” she whispered into his ear. “Let me take care of you.”
She threaded her fingers into his and led him into the bathroom. Their hot spring pool was warm and steaming, but she ignored it for now. Instead she filled a small basin with clean water and grabbed a soft cloth, dipping it in. Vaxa gingerly peeled off what remained of his pants until he stood nude in front of her.
The washroom was silent as she gently dabbed at the worst of his cuts with the water, cleaning off the blood that had collected and dried. She wiped at his chest, smoothing the cloth over his strong, shifting muscles before wringing it out. The basin turned blue with his blood and she had to dump out its contents for fresh, clean water, but at least most of it wouldn’t wash away in their bath.
Vaxa’s gaze was on her the entire time. His eyes never moved away from her face and she felt the intensity of his stare. It spread awareness to the tips of her fingers and the tips of her toes, tightening her nipples in the warm room, and prickling her spine. The room was filled with things that both of them wanted to say but that they couldn’t quite voice. Not yet at least.