At first, it appears that she is presenting for further breeding, and my diijo gives a painful throb, my mind nearly blanking with white hot lust. But then I realize that she is struggling to get to her feet.
I take her by the arms and easily set her on her feet.
“Thangkyoo,” she says in her throat box language, quickly looking away from my intense stare.
The urge to pull her down to my sleeping mat and rut her until my dijio goes limp consumes me. It feels like forever since I was inside of her sweet hot and I am eager—very, very eager to return.
But she must eat.
With great difficulty, I turn my back to her and head to the food preparation station. After rummaging through my supplies, I find foodstuffs that I think will be pleasing to Zin’nia.
My Zin’nia…
Essh! Why do these possessive thoughts keep invading my mind?
I make a mental note to ask my friend L’Gon, a former commandee and the newly appointed Minister of Health, for a discreet medical check-up when I return to the royal city. For I can come up with nothing other than mind rot to explain these intense emotions and my willingness to forsake both duty and law for one hu’man female.
Despite these disturbing thoughts, I quickly put the meal together, eager to return to her. The sooner she eats, the sooner I can be inside her sweet hot again.
But when I come back to the spot I left her, with a plate of foodstuffs in hand, she is nowhere in sight.
The facilities door is still closed, I notice with a frown. “Zin’nia, is your stomach upset?” I ask, coming to stand outside of it. Of course, I receive no answer.
Remembering that she could not possibly understand my clicks and hisses, I palm the door open…then drop the plate when I find the facilities room empty and the window wide open.
I stare at the open window for a long moment. Then deaden my hearts to a warrior’s calm.
Zin’nia has run from me. Again. I will find her and after I do, I will rut her. Again and again until she is broken. For I may not be able to understand my powerful need to keep her, but she will soon come to know there is no escape from it. Or me.
Chapter Ten
Zinnia
One moment my brain was shutting down at the prospect of getting whipped. Like a slave in one of those dramas based on the old planet’s real and deplorable history. And the next moment there was nothing but black. And then what I can only assume was many hours later, I woke up in some kind of purple wood cabin with the golden Xal I thought was going to whip me, clicking and hissing at me, and offering me food. He turned his back. I ran. And now I’m…here.
Shivering in my—oh moons, possibly dead best friend’s clothing—as I goggle up at the trees of the woods into which I’ve escaped. But where is here?
Someplace cold as a winter night, even though we’re about to enter the scorching hot season on New Terrhan—which, by the way, I’m pretty sure isn’t the planet I’m currently standing on. For one thing, there’s three moons hanging in the night sky instead of two. Casting so much light I can see the trees in these woods aren’t red, but purple. And instead of leaves, they have needles, many of which pepper the crunchy floor underneath my bare feet.
The large timber reminds me of the ones old planet humans used for their winter festival decorations. Christmas trees, I think they were called. Yes, they look like purple Christmas trees, and for some reason they’re tilting sideways. Am I…am I on some kind of incline? Possibly a mountain like the one from which we mine iron ore on New Terrhan.
Again. Where the moons am I?
My leg throbs as I try to gather my bearings on the purple maybe mountain. I don’t know where I am, but I do know I need to get home.
There’s so much I have to do. Find out if Kira’s okay—she’s not dead I decide right then and there. I’d feel it if she was dead. But I’ve got to get back to New Terrhan to find out what happened to her. Nova and Glee also need m—
Snap!
My hybrid niece’s image blips from my mind when I hear the snap of the twig behind me. He’s found me.
I whip around, my bad leg barely keeping me upright.
But it’s not the golden alien staring back at me.
It’s an animal! Like a living, breathing mammal. Brown fur covers its entire body and it’s got pointed ears. Like one of those cats I’m always seeing in old planet entertainments. I might have even called it cute.
Except the thing is huge. It stands nearly as tall as me on four feet and has razor sharp claws, with two long incisors hanging over its bottom jaw. Like it was designed to draw you in with its cuteness before slicing you right up and sinking its vicious incisors into your meatiest parts.
I swallow, my throat becoming as dry as New Terrhan during the scorching season as I stare at the only non-bird animal I’ve ever seen in real life.
The thing stares right back, and it doesn’t look nearly as scared as me.
Then it crouches.
Oh. My. Moons.
Dread cramps my belly. I have no chance of outrunning it. No chance at all. But I turn and run anyway, primal instinct flipping on like an ancient switch.
I don’t get far. The animal pounces with a throaty rowr. Then sharp claws slice into my back, sending me flying to the ground, face forward.
I scream more out of surprise than pain. I’m sure once the adrenaline wears off, it will hurt like a motherfucker. But for now, my focus is on surviving this encounter.
That same primal run instinct tells me to roll when I hit the ground, and I narrowly miss the first swing of the creature’s sharp claws.
But that’s where my luck ends. A purple tree blocks me from rolling again, and the creature’s coming at me so fast. I don’t have time to do anything, but squeeze my eyes shut and raise my arms over my head as terror grips my heart. It’s a sad defense to getting eaten alive by the cute but deadly creature. One I’m sure won’t work.
But then instead of feeling the pain of teeth ripping into my flesh, I hear the animal’s surprised yowl. And when I uncross my arms and open my eyes, I find the golden Xal on the animal’s back, his arm around its neck.
The enraged mammal bucks and whips, trying to get the alien off. But the Xal holds on, twisting his body to avoid the thing’s long incisors when it tries to bite him off its back.
The golden Xal’s surviving, I realize with surprise, but there’s no way he can win against that thing no matter how big and muscular he is.
I need to help him. I desperately look around for anything I can use as a weapon and spot a large purple branch behind me. But just as I’m crawling over to pick it up, the animal emits a pained yowl.
And when I turn back around with the stick, the golden Xal is standing over the deadly creature with a photon gun, pumping bursts of charged energy into its body, until it vaporizes. Reverting to atomic dust, as if it was never, ever there.
The golden Xal stares down at the now empty ground for several long moments.
Then he looks up at me.
And what I see in his eyes scares me even more than the creature that just tried to eat me alive.
Chapter Eleven
T’Kan
“Foolish female!”
Clutching her shoulders, I pull her toward me and give her a shake. “You could have been killed! There are any number of wild beasts in this forest which you have no chance against. Had I not come, that k’vani would have sliced you to pieces!”
I do not care, cannot care, that she does not understand what I am saying. Rage flows through my blood demanding I yell at Zin’nia for her carelessness as I once again yank her off her feet and toss her over my shoulder.
Heading back to the cabin, I continue my tirade. “I have heard that hu’mans are not the smartest species in the universe, but running off into a forest you do not know? If you were not killed by a wild beast, you would have frozen to death. Foolish, foolish female!”
I should have whipped her, I think darkly as I stomp towa
rd the cabin. Then she would not have pulled such a stupid and dangerous stunt.
But I have something else in mind to teach her to never run from me. Something she will not soon forget.
I slap my palm against the cabin’s door, my mind hissing with fury as I carry her inside. Images of what could have happened to her run through my mind—yes, yes, I must impress upon her that I am her master in this place, I decide coldly. She will not defy me.
I stop in front of the sleeping mats and drop her into the center. She lets out a pained cry which I ignore.
This day, she will learn, I vow as I tear the coarse clothing from her body, shredding the pants and shirt with my claws. My diijo raging, I lower to my knees behind her and flip her on to her stomach before gripping her hips and pulling her to her knees—only to freeze.
Her back…there are now distinctive claw marks upon it. K’vani marks from which she is bleeding.
Without warning, my mind flashes back to the Last Battle, when the ship under my command was unexpectedly ambushed by the enemy. I see the Kaidorian appear behind my cousin, N’Thn, its pupil-less eyes battle black, its sharp horns gleaming under the ship’s lights. I hear myself calling out a warning to N’Thn. Only to break off, my breath freezing in my lungs when he is gouged right in front of me, one of the Kaidorian’s horns bursting through the front of his chest.
I failed to protect him.
Just as I failed to protect Zin’nia.
She is hurt because of me. Because I brought her here.
Rage fading, I look down at her. Her body trembles and she sounds very much like a small wounded animal as she presses her face into my mat with quiet whimpers of pain.
Shame sinks my chest, hot and burning like poison-tipped talons. And my diijo withers.
“Forgive me,” I click roughly, not sure if I am talking to her or my dead cousin. “Forgive me for failing to protect you.”
She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, her eyes squeezed tight with pain. She looks vulnerable, too breakable, and unexpectedly want to tend to her wounds more than I want to take my next breath.
Pulling my pants , I head to the facilities to retrieve ointment and liquid bandages.
When she sees me approaching, she makes more wounded animal sounds and tries to scoot away from me. Like I am the k’vani who was bent on hurting her. Worse than the k’vani.
My fellow Xalthurians revere me as their Xar. They speak with reverent clicks of my many victories and my triple digit kill numbers in the Three Generation War.
But in this moment, Zin’nia understands something my many admirers do not. So many kills, only to fail to shield those under my protection from harm. That does not make me a hero, it makes me a monster.
I am a monster. And she knows it.
But nevertheless, I gently move Zin’nia to her stomach to treat her wounds. “I must heal your wounds,” I explain to her with an apologetic click.
I flinch when I examine the long scratches oozing red blood, remembering how I did not to whip her because I could not bring myself to mar her onyx back.
Resolving myself against the shame, I probe her injury with my talon tip as gently as I can to determine how deep the k’vani slashed into her. Thankfully the animal did not tear any muscle. But as I make my examination, I cannot help but notice how soft the flesh surrounding her wounds is to the touch.
My diijo stirs. Not caring about my shame. Only wanting her, like an animal in mating frenzy. But I use the mental trick warriors usually reserve to achieve battle mind to ruthlessly suppress the craven desire and force it to soften.
Then I reach for the ointment. This particular medicine contains healing properties that will barely leave a trace of the attack upon her back. And though I admire her for surviving as long as she did with the k’vani, I selfishly do not want to be left with a reminder of my failure to protect her from all harm.
The ointment will also act as salve upon her wounds, numbing it, so that she will not feel the mending work of the liquid bandage. But her body is shaking so hard I fear I will hurt her if I try to apply it.
“Stop moving,” I click softly, pressing my hand on her lower back to still her.
Despite her not being able to understand me, her trembling seems to ease up, allowing me to apply the ointment to scarred flesh. Once I am satisfied with its application, I apply the liquid bandage, which will bond with the wound and eventually disappear as it heals.
The ointment starts to work almost immediately. She stops shaking and soon after that her eyes slowly drift shut. I watch until her breathing becomes steady, and then further proving that the ointment and liquid bandage has taken full effect she rolls over onto her back without a yip of pain.
After returning the medical supplies to the facilities room, I carefully ease myself down next to her.
It has been a long day, and I should sleep. But I remain restless with the hu’man female’s soft body so close to mine. Her scent no longer emanates like it did when I touched her earlier, but I can still faintly smell her breeding slit.
Sweet and hot.
Trying to ignore it, I do what a general does best. Coldly plan for future conflicts.
There is a possibility my seed has implanted in her womb. And if that baby is a male, I will have to figure out how to plant it among the rest of the collected babies when we return to New Terrhan for the next Breeding Ceremony.
But if she is not currently pregnant with my babe, I must use battle mind to suppress this mind rot and kill her, so that my lie is made true.
My stomach twists, hard and sick, at the thought of ending her life. But I have a duty. Not only to my family line but to my people who are depending on this accord to prevent the extinction of our race.
Killing her if she does not carry my babe, is the logical conclusion, and supreme reasoning. After all, I cannot keep her here forever. The royal city is over two hours away, and there are many eyes on me as the general expected to transition our military force from one of war to one of future progress.
The Kaidorian peace talks are only a few weeks away, and after that there will be bases to rebuild across the five solar systems. Also, I will be required to engage in many negotiations with both my Kel and the Xalthurian council to ensure my forces are given what they need to thrive.
Also, I have called my uncle’s mansion home since my mother’s death from the Extinction Virus. He will soon grow suspicious if I spend too much time at my cabin.
No, as excited as I was before she woke up, the near miss with the k’vani has brought me back from the edges of mind rot, back to my senses. If she is pregnant, I will deal with it. If she is not…
As Xar, I must suppress this mind rot, and do what it necessary to maintain the accord.
After all, Kel D’Rek can justify his actions. The other hu’man female spat at him, and then to add further injury, attempted to run from the Breeding Ceremony. Also, he did not lie about his taking of her from the planet. I did.
But that lie can be erased. With one flick of a wrist wrapped around the hu’man’s fragile neck, I would be left free to take part in the next Breeding Ceremony, and the accord would not be breached.
Either way, the last thing I should do is give into the temptation to breed her, even if the smell of her sweet hot is nearly more than I can stand.
Yes, you should not breed her…but that does not mean you cannot touch her, a voice says inside my mind. Most likely the mind rot, trying to once again take siege of my mind.
It works. I find my eyes upon her soft body, and I soon become mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts, as I remember how it had felt to touch them.
Just touch, the mind rot urges. That is all you will do. You are the Xar. You can control yourself from going any further than that.
Giving into temptation, I run a finger over her nipple again. As if expecting me, it once again comes to life beneath my caress, and she stirs ever so slightly but not enough to wake up. This
reaction emboldens me to further my exploration.
I trace her hips, so much fuller than a Xalthurian female’s, and much more intriguing. I soon find my hand at the triangle between her legs. I stroke the strange patch of hair above her breeding slit and find it damp.
Is it always in this state or is this dew in response to my touch?
In either case, the smell emanating from her breeding slit is even stronger now. It fills my nose, and my mouth waters, like a male starved.
You can also taste, the mind rot urges. Tasting is not breeding.
The mind rot is not wrong.
Just one taste, I agree, One mere taste to satisfy my curiosity about the intoxicating scent radiating from this hu’man female. With that promise, I ease two fingers between her thighs, just enough to graze the plump folds.
By the stars, she is just as wet as my diijo remembers! So different from the pleasure station whores who simply lie there, dry and unresponsive as their customers rut to their fill.
I rub my finger back and forth inside of her, wanting to cover them with as much of her strange biological lubricant as possible.
Zin’nia moans and tosses her head from side to side, but her eyes do not open. Not wanting to tempt fate a second more, I pull my fingers away from her and bring them to my mouth.
By the stars!
Her taste is not what I expected. It is much better, like all my most favorite foods upon my tongue all at once.
My diijo has once again hardened…but I cannot breed her, I remind myself.
Duty…the accord…I must be better than my lust.
Instead of fucking her, I lick my lips. Savoring the taste of her, even as I make myself roll over.
I give her my back, but as I fall asleep, an insubordinate thought invades my resolute mind.
I hope she is pregnant. I hope I am given a reason to keep her.
Chapter Twelve
An urgent blare rips me from my sleep.
His To Steal Page 5