His To Steal

by Taylor Vaughn

  Maybe T’Kan doesn’t hear my brother. Instead of addressing Dan like he did the other two people who asked him questions, his eyes suddenly find me in the crowd.

  “People of New Terrhan, I have been appointed the Kel Regent your planet,” he informs everyone, while holding my gaze. “But you may address me by my martial title, Our Xar.”

  “What’s a regent?” someone asks quietly on one side of me.

  “And what does he mean, we can call him our Xar?” another person ask on the other.

  My lips thin as I angrily stare back at the golden alien I thought I’d left behind on Xalthuria.

  “Regent means he represents the Kel in all things down here,” I answer, red hot rage burning inside my chest. “Basically, we all answer to him now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  T’Kan

  My many months of learning to read, speak, and comprehend the New Terrhan language is put to the test as soon as I make my announcement. I am bombarded with questions from the hu’mans.

  Answering each inquiry to the best of my ability takes much mental energy, and I find myself having to take my eyes off the hu’man I have not seen in nearly five moon cycles when one of the hu’man males demands why my presence is necessary. Only for a few beats, but when I return my gaze, Zin’nia is gone and no longer anywhere to be found in the questioning crowd.

  “That will be all for now,” I abruptly tell the people of New Terrhan, stilling my nose ridges so that they do not ripple with annoyance. “Any further questions will be answered at a later time.”

  I board my ship and head to the throne room which is almost a replica of my Kel’s but not as grand. The walls are decorated with holo pictures of every Xar to head the Xalthurian military, myself included. White crystals both decorate the ceiling and bathe it in warm light.

  A large bejeweled chair sits on top of a raised dais. This is where I supposed to receive audiences in my new Kel Regent position. There’s also a large rectangular table sitting in the middle of the room, where all official meetings between myself and New Terrhan’s board of leaders would take place.

  Everything has been readied for me to act in my new role, but instead of preparing my mind to do my best to honor my new posting, I pace the throne room. My thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only.

  Zin’nia…

  I am once again in my mountain cabin. Asking myself what I have done.

  She ran, yet here I am, the Xar—the former Xar of Xalthuria now that F’Syn has taken over my old position—not heading a great army, but tending to hu’mans so that our Kel and Qel might safely turn their minds to other matters. Like the establishment of a mental health protocol that might help my brother and the other prisoners of war with broken minds.

  “My Xar…”

  I turn to see one of my newly assigned guards start to swipe a hand over his nose, before remembering himself and touching a hand to his nose ridges. The respect due a Kel.

  “Yes, L’Rzo?”

  “My Xar, the hu’man Zin’nia has requested an audience with you.”

  My hearts seize.

  Is it true? Did she really decide to come to me?

  “Escort her in,” I instruct him, once again having to work hard to keep my ridges neutral. “And you are dismissed after that. I will give her private audience.”

  L’Rzo bows his head and backs out the room

  I am not fond of sitting on the ornate throne, and did not use it once on the voyage here. But as soon as L’Rzo disappears into the hallway, I rush to perch on the edge. “You may send her in.

  Seconds later Zin’nia walks in—without the babe, I note, though I read that many of the New Terrhans carry their Xallings everywhere in a bark cloth wrap for their child’s first few months.

  A strange disappointment courses through me. Xalthurian males do not bond closely with their female children. It is considered unnecessary. But I had hoped to catch a glimpse of the babe she bore, see if our mix of onyx and gold came out as beautifully as I suspected.

  That disappointment deepens as I take in Zin’nia. She is even more beautiful than I remember and the sight of her shoots through me like one of her metal-tipped projectiles. Her onyx skin glistens, almost seeming to glow. She has changed her row braids, instead of several tiny ones, she wears them in two large ones. Her body has changed as well. Her breasts are full, and her hips are wider. Is her stomach bigger as well, I wonder? Does it now bear testament to her carry of my babe within her?

  My diijo awakens at the thought, and I have to shift in my seat to adjust myself.

  She looks around the throne room and purses her lips. It is much more opulent than the cabin, but she seems unimpressed.

  Instead of making great study of all the technology in the room as she did the simple appliances in my mountain home, she returns her gaze to me and says, “I wish to speak to Kira.”

  I studied human tone when I learned the language and though I am no great interpreter, I can tell there is no emotion in her voice. It is cold, almost as if we are strangers. My hearts constrict as if someone is crushing them in their hands.

  “This is all you have to say to me?”

  She blinks, her expression softening. But then the moment passes and her face becomes hard again as she demands, “I want to speak to Kira,” her eyes glittering with anger.

  But she is not the only angry one. She would come into my throne room and instead of offering apology for leaving the planet without so much as a goodbye, she would start making demands?

  A cold rage settles over me as I answer, “Access to Xalthurian technology is only granted to those who agree to be bred by a Xalthurian male. Are you offering your body to me for that privilege?”

  Zin’nia jerks her head back, as if I’ve hit her. “So now that you’re in this new position your crony the real Kel gave you, you’re just going to use your authority to overpower me?”

  It is an infuriatingly accurate assessment of what I am doing.

  But instead of acknowledging that, I copy her tactic of cold repetition. “Are you offering your body to your Xar.”

  She stares at me for many furious moments. Then she says, “You are nothing but a bully. A useless piece of pigeon shit. I would rather die than to have you touch me again—”

  Before I realize what I am doing I have come out of my throne chair and closed the gap between us. Pulling her roughly to me, I slam my lips against hers while cupping her face, willing her to remember what we once shared. The gratitude she once showed me.

  For just the briefest of moments, her soft body melds to mine. But then she presses her hands against my chest and shoves me away. And the next thing I feel is the sting of her blow as she smacks me across the face.

  “Assaulting your Xar is a crime punishable by death on Xalthuria,” I tell her my nose ridges flattening with fury.

  Zin’nia stares back at me, her expression completely unrepentant. “We aren’t on Xalthuria, and you”—she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth as if my lips have contaminated hers—“you are no better than my brother!”

  With that, she backs away. Then runs out of the room.

  Several disbelieving moments pass as I stare after her.

  Then with a great hiss of rage, I overturn my throne chair, feeling as crazed as the cousin I left behind on Xalthuria.

  We are now both on New Terrhan, but she is further away from me than ever.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Zinnia

  The good news is I don’t have any dirty dreams that night. Guess there’s nothing like a good old dose of reality to remind your subconscious why your alien baby daddy is a total tool and not to be trusted.

  The bad news is Phil knocks on our door, even earlier than yesterday, before a certain Kel Regent’s arrival.

  “Is this really necessary?” I ask when I open the door to Phil’s smug smirk.

  “Boss’s orders,” Phil answers ogling my breasts. “But you know, if you’d just agree
to spend a little time with me tonight, I could probably come up with a better way to wake you up.”

  I sigh, because… “I’ve already spent time with you. A very little, disappointing time. I’ll endure a thousand unnecessary knocks on my door before I put myself through that again.”

  Phil glares at me. “You know what, you’ve become a real bitch since the aliens fixed your leg and fucked a halfie into you. You think you’re better than me now?”

  “No, Phil of course I don’t,” I answer, shaking my head emphatically. But then I voice harden my voice to add, “I was better than you way before the aliens fixed my leg.”

  With that, I slam the door in his face. Only to instantly regret my actions, when I turn around to see Mom and Dad, standing there with Stevie, at the time Phil yells on the other side of the door. “Hope you and Kira’s parents have a whole lot of fun picking ruchis today!”

  Dad’s shoulders already sloped from years of working in the fields, slump even further at Phil’s announcement.

  “Mark my words, that boss boy will be showing up even earlier tomorrow,” Mom says, bouncing Stevie with a weary tut.

  Guilt tightens my chest. Yes, it felt great to give Phil a piece of my mind, but I’m not the only one who will have to pay for my insolence now. And the ruchi fields are the worst.

  The botanical fruit taste great on sandwiches and enables Mom to throw together New Terrhan versions of old planet favorites like marinara sauce and salsa, but they grow on thorny vines, which make them hard to harvest. And they’re much heavier than berries or even corn, which means dragging along a woven basket that only gets heavier and heavier as the day progresses.

  Ruchi harvesting was hard work even when I didn’t have a baby strapped to my back. I can only imagine how much worse it will be today, especially for Mom and Dad.

  “Sorry,” I tell them. Meaning it.

  Dad harrumphs. “Somebody should go talk to that new regent or Xar or whatever he’s supposed to be. Maybe he can do something about the way Dan and his boys have been treating you since you got back.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mom agrees, kissing the black tufts of hair on top of Stevie’s head. “I mean the ruchi fields—”

  “I can handle it,” I assure. Trust me, I’d rather be on ruchi rotation for a month than ask that golden asshole for anything.

  “Maybe.” She hands Stevie off to me for her morning feeding. “But the ruchi fields aren’t no place for a new mama and her baby.”

  They’re right, but I won’t have it. “I’ll talk to Kira about it when she gets here,” I answer.

  “Why wait for Kira when we got this Kel regent here now?” Mom asks, frowning.

  Dad nods. “Those Xals are scary, but this one might be interested in Stevie’s plight.”

  Mom also nods. “Yes, yes, I think he might want a better way of life for our lil’ Stevie than strapped to your back in the ruchi fields.”

  They both keep their voices casual, but I know what they’re getting at. I never talk about Stevie’s father or what happened during the non-Kira part of my months on Xalthuria. But it’s obvious they think the golden Xar’s sudden appearance on our planet four months after my arrival is more than a coincidence.

  “Trust me, he’s no better than Dan and Phil,” I answer, disabusing them of the notion of T’Kan saving me from anything—at least not without a bed price. “Not all of them are like Kira’s husband.”

  T’Kan is no Alien Prince Charming. I’m right. I know I’m right.

  Better not to even think about seeking out his help again. In fact, I should probably just pretend he doesn’t even exist until Kira comes back in May, I conclude as I head toward Phil’s hut with my adoptive parents to receive our official work assignment. Since we already know what it’s going to be, we’ve brought along our largest gathering baskets. I’ve also strapped Stevie to my back, with an extra-long strip of bark cloth, so that she won’t fall off during all my bending over.

  However, pretending last night’s alien overlord arrival didn’t happen becomes a little hard to do as soon as we reach the corn field where we have to check in everyday for our row assignments. Five Xals stand at the edge of the field, their colorful platelet skin and silver body armor gleaming under the morning sun along with the photon guns strapped across their chests.

  “What are they doing here?” Mom asks me, like she expects me to know.

  “Don’t know,” I whisper back.

  It feels like we’re walking along a row of huge statues as we pass by them, they’re that still. But they’re not statues. I discover that when I glance up and find them all staring at me. Like they’re tracking my every move.

  Somehow, I manage to pretend I don’t feel the heavy weight of their eyes. I leave Mom and Dad in their usual shady spot and get into the line to receive our row assignments, just like I do every morning.

  “What are those Reapers doing here?” Someone at the front of the line asks Phil.

  “No idea,” Phil answers, throwing a nervous look at the row of alien soldiers.

  None of us humans stand nearly as tall as the now seven-foot corn stalks, but the Xals loom over them. “They just showed up this morning and they haven’t said a word.”

  The line progresses as usual, but people throw the aliens quite a few looks and Phil has to say the same thing to a couple of more people without bionic hearing before I reach the front of the line.

  “You know anything about this?” he asks as soon as it’s my turn. Instead of leering at my breasts, he eyes the golden swirled baby on my back. “Jin-Hu said she’s never met this new Xar king.”

  I know exactly why he’s asking. Stevie is the only golden girl in this year’s crop of hybrid babies, and Jin-Hu gave birth to the only golden boy a few weeks before me.

  But I stare at him blankly, pretending to have no idea what he’s talking about, until he mumbles three row numbers in the ruchi fields and calls next.

  “We’re in the east ruchi field,” I tell Kira’s parents, my tone regretful. Not just because I know this harsher than usual assignment is all my fault, but also because it means we’ll have to walk past the row of Reapers again.

  Several of the New Terrhans give the Xals a wide berth as they move past them and I decide that’s what we’ll do, too.

  But just as we’re about to scoot on by, a purple one steps forward and reaches out an arm to keep us from going any further. I recognize him as the same soldier who escorted N’Maryah and me down to the planet a few months ago, then promptly split.

  “Oh no…” Mom whimpers behind me.

  And Dad warns. “Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything to get them riled up.”

  I love Kira’s parents, but they’ve never been brave, and I can tell they’re still traumatized by their real daughters’ past encounters with Xal soldiers.

  That’s the only reason I keep my voice contrite as I say, “I understand if you need to keep me here, but can you please let them past? They have nothing to do with this.”

  I add gestures to my request, hoping that will be enough to get the point across to a soldier without a translation chip.

  But to my surprise, he looks down and answers. “Our Xar has commanded that both you and our Qel’s parents be held here until his arrival.”

  Fear pierces my chest. I should have known. Should have known he’d use Kira’s parents against me. Dan threatened to do the same thing back when I tried to help Nova.

  “This has nothing to do with them,” I say, “Please, just—”

  I’m cut off when not only the purple soldier, but also the other four Reapers all raise their hands to their ridges and say, “Our Xar!” as one.

  I follow their deferred heads to see T’Kan approaching. He’s also wearing a standard silver uniform, and his long black hair hangs in a tight braid over one shoulder. When he stops in front of us, he seems even larger than the five soldiers.

  So large… the unbidden memory of how he’d easily looked me i
n the eyes while fucking me from behind flashes in my mind. And a wave of desire rolls over my body.

  What is wrong with me? I shake the memory away and turn to tell him, “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you’re scaring Kira’s parents. Please let them go.”

  His cold violet gaze drops from me to the two old people cowering behind me, their arms wrapped tight around their harvest baskets. His eyes briefly flicker toward Stevie but his face remains expressionless. Then he clicks to the soldiers. “You will let them pass.”

  Kira’s parents let out an audible breath of relief when the purple soldier stands down and indicates that we can all go ahead.

  I might have felt relieved, too. But T’Kan falls in beside us, as soon as we start walking. Like he’s part of our group.

  “Give me your baskets to carry,” he declares.

  “I don’t need you to—” I start to answer, only to get interrupted by Mom.

  She snatches my basket and stacks her smaller one inside of it before I can stop her. “How nice of you, Mr. Xar. You’ve got manners. Doesn’t he have manners, Joel?” she asks Dad, stacking in his basket, too, before handing all three over to T’Kan.

  Dad nods in agreement. “You don’t see manners like that anymore. Not these days. Un-unh.”

  T’Kan touches his nose ridges. “It is an honor to be of service to the parents of our Qel.”

  “So, is he being nice to them because they’re Queen Kira’s parents or because that’s his baby?” a New Terrhan whispers behind us.

  Let me tell you, I am beginning to regret this bionic hearing along with a whole host of other things as we come to our assigned rows in the ruchi fields.

  “This is my row,” I tell T’Kan. “Thanks for the carry, but you can go now.”

  However, instead of giving the baskets back, T’Kan says, “You will tell me what is required of you this day, and I will undertake that work assignment for the three of you.”

  “I can do my own work—”