Taken to Voraxia

by Elizabeth Stephens

  Her gentle brown gaze flits to my brows and she releases the pleasure sound. “Kiss me, please.”

  “You…you want me to deliver you the kiss?”

  “Hexa.”

  “But…you…” Never have I been less articulate. “I do not understand. I failed you.”

  Now confusion becomes her. I am getting better at reading the human expressions she makes now. “How? Did you…” And then her eyes widen. She tenses and a ripple of pain rips across her cheeks. Her hand dives over the blanket and caresses her stomach. “Oh no…did we lose the baby?”

  My stomach drops and an explosion of satisfaction prowls through me. “Nox,” I tell her, placing my hand over hers. “We did not.” It pleases me to no end that she says we.

  “Oh okay, xhivey.” She settles again and the pleasure expression consumes her. It consumes us, I hope, equally. “Then why did you fail me?”

  “I underestimated the cunning of Rhorkanterannu and allowed him to take you from me. From our own werro. It will not happen again. I just hope…that you can forgive me.” I wait, the breath held in my lungs.

  She reaches up with her other hand, the one not trapped beneath mine against her belly. She traces the outline of my ridges, which are now certainly pink, then lets her hand fall to my cheek, to my nose, to my lips. I close my eyes, relishing in the pleasure that I feel at her touch, at her acceptance, at her Xanaxana. Dare I think, at her love?

  “You did not fail me. You came for me. I’m just so sorry that so many died.” Her voice breaks on the word and my heart breaks for her.

  I take her palm and press it to my mouth. She still wants me. She is still mine. There has never been so cool a balm against so great a heat. “You are their Rakukanna. It was their honor.” I intend to leave it here, but she still looks so hurt…I cannot keep it from her.

  “Rhorkanterannu used many non-lethal weapons, particularly against the female xcleranx. Some of the ones who guarded you in your lab were only stunned. Those that were attacked with lethal force have been, for the most part, restored in the merillian tanks, including Ixria. Only two of ours died in his attempt to steal you. Veto’Roth and Ser’Roth, two noble xcleranx whose deaths will be honored.”

  Her eyes widen. “Really?”

  “Truly.”

  “I mean…that’s still awful. And so many of theirs died…and all for what? For nothing. Just to take me and Sv…Svera! Stars!” She lurches up, but I press just the tips of my fingers to her shoulders and keep her still. “Is she…how is…”

  “She will live.”

  “Did they…”

  “Nox. It would appear that she was not…violated in that way. And the cuts on her face will fade. As will her bruises. She woke even before you did and declined to be placed in the merillian tank. She said there were others more needing of it.”

  “Oh comets, Svera,” Miari curses.

  I feel the pleasure expression light up my own face. It is a strange thing to feel after so many rotations of feeling nothing at all. This half-human hybrid has brought out more in me than I could have ever hoped for and dreamed of. So much goodness.

  “Krisxox said much the same, in many more words. Many threats too. But Svera would not heed him.”

  “Did he tell you that he…” She stops and I note the surprising shyness that seems to cross her face. With my hand on her chin, I draw her stolen attention back to me. I want her to stare into my eyes as I stare into hers — deeply enough to be lost.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Miari,” I scowl, taking her hand in mine. I press it to my mouth, tongue snaking out to taste the back of her palm. The sweetness of ranxcera blossoms fires through me and my xora jumps greedily towards her.

  I wonder if she does not feel the stirring of the Xanaxana equally because she meets my gaze, swallows and licks her lips. “Did he tell you that he saved her life?”

  “He wishes for me to lash him for his inability to prevent you and Svera from being taken, and for the injuries you each sustained.”

  Air jerks into her lungs. “You cannot.”

  I plant the kiss on the inside of her wrist and lower onto the pallat beside her, rolling onto my side. My other hand moves from her stomach up and then down, gently stroking her from breast to hip, this beastly fur separating us. Calm yourself. She is injured and has been through much.

  “I will not.”

  “Good. It’s barbaric.”

  “So am I.” My voice deepens. My xora stiffens to the point of pain. I rip the covers from her chest and bare her breasts to the light. As my gaze pours over her darkened peaks, I growl, “Do not have fear. I know you bear injuries still. I just want to look.”

  She quiets, except for her rough intake of breath and I feel desire course through my bones, fueling the desperate violet that my ridges are now.

  My Miari reaches out and touches my neck. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nox.”

  “Then I don’t just want you to look.”

  “Miari,” I groan. “Do not tempt me.”

  “Do you not want me?” She says and I know that she baits me with her words. Her legs begin to shift and very slowly, she pushes the blankets down to her hips. She stops, leaving that one most delicate part of her covered.

  I bite down on my tongue, hoping that the pain may be enough to clear my thoughts. It is not. “Miari, how could I not want you? You are my Xiveri mate. The female I care for most in this world. You are my whole universe and now you will bear my youngling. I still cannot believe it.”

  She beams up at me, her face radiating light as her laughter floats through my werro tree, making it my home. “You mean that you could get me pregnant without that stupid belt? I told you so.”

  “Nox,” I say and I release the pleasure sound too. “That I could deserve such happiness. That I could deserve you.”

  She quiets for a moment and I am merely content to let her stroke my face. Until her soft fingers begin moving down over my neck and chest and my xora roars. “So, you aren’t mad at me then?”

  “For what?”

  “For calling out your name in front of all those people? For shouting Xoran…”

  I exhale, leaning over her, unable to stop the madness she has stirred in me. I lean into her mouth, waiting for her to open and I am surprised and bewildered and elated and above all else, pleased, when she does. As I am every time. The taste of her warm wetness, tongue spearing against hers, seeking her jujji berry essence, and the excitement it brings does not diminish with time. It increases. Ten fold. Exponentially.

  In between her kiss, I whisper, “Miari, you may call me whatever you like to whomever you want so long as you live. Never leave my side again. I have too much of this love for you. And now I have this love also for our unborn youngling. I worship you, my universe. My Miari…”

  She gasps and a sudden lightness dazzles my eyes. I know that my ridges are in full bloom, every inch of the love she inspires in me flowing from them in abandon I cannot control and do not want to. But when I pull back from her, I notice that in her cheeks, Miari now has color too. She has colors. Every color of the universe. I cannot breathe. I can only stare, shock rendering me numb.

  “Comets, am I…” She touches her face, fingers tracing the outline of the color as if she’s trying to capture it and see it for her own. But she can’t. Because her color…right now…it’s only for me. And it will only ever be for me because I am hers and she is mine and she is the greatest gift I could have ever hoped for.

  I shift my body between her thighs, spreading them with my knees. She inhales sharply and pulls on my neck, but I resist and hold myself off of her with my arms. “I will mount you, but you will remain still and accepting of the pleasure I give you.”

  She grins. “Hexa, my Raku.” I can tell that she teases me, but as my xora lines up with her folds, which are already smeared in wetness I want to taste — and will — I do not care. I hunger too deeply. And I love h
er even more.

  23

  Miari

  “Xoran, what is this? Where are we going?” I laugh as he leads me blindfolded across the sandy forest floor.

  “Shh no more questions now,” he says, voice stern — or as stern as it can be these days. The pregnancy has made him such a softie. An overprotective softie.

  Since the Niahhorru attack seventeen solars ago, I’ve only been out of the house three of those. And only after insisting that I wanted to see Svera and using both promises and threats to get my way. So far I’ve kept them all.

  Svera’s scabs and bruises were hard to look at, but she’s in good spirits, as ever. Kiki is also healing quickly and should be up and out of the merillian any day. Va’Raku doesn’t leave her side. He just stands there, ridges colorless, seeming almost despaired. He has nothing to worry about, according to Raku.

  I think differently. He has nothing to worry about until Kiki wakes. Then he’ll be in for a reckoning. I’m just glad she’ll be here first on Voraxia in Illyria where Svera and I can get to her quickly and hopefully mitigate her anger. She won’t want to be here, and she definitely won’t want to be bonded to an alien. Her hate is too strong. Then again, I thought mine was too…

  “Xoran,” I groan, “the baby’s heavy. I’m tired and my legs hurt.”

  “Shh. The baby is no larger than a talon and you were complaining earlier that you didn’t get out of our werro enough. Now you are out.”

  I smile and squeeze Xoran’s too big hands. All twelve of his fingers curl around my palms. “My big jerk.”

  “I will be any jerk you would like so long as I am yours.” His deep voice blossoms from very close and I start at the sudden proximity, then settle. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and a moment later, we come to a stop.

  “Are you ready?” He whispers against my skin.

  I turn my face up towards his and wait for him to kiss me. His lips are smoother than they look and the moment they touch down on my own, my whole body lights in fire.

  I’d blame it on the pregnancy, but I know it’s not that. Or that it’s not just that. It’s the storm that swims through my belly anytime he’s close. I call it love. He calls it Xanaxana. It’s definitively both.

  His tongue dives between my lips to meet my own. He devours me, pressing down from above with power. I reach forward, blind, and my fingers find his bare chest. He always has his chest bared and I love every cut and groove carved into it.

  My palm passes over his nipple-less plate and slowly climbs to his neck. Finding softer flesh, my nails score it. Xoran hisses and reaches behind my body to cup my rear so hard my feet lift off the ground. I gasp.

  He growls. “Enough.” He lowers me until soft sand sifts through my bare toes, stretching up my ankle to meet the bandage I still wear even though the cut is scabbed over. “You will not distract me again.”

  He switches behind me and slides one hand over my stomach where our little bean lives. It’s incredible that even with the slower gestation period for Voraxians relative to humans, the Niahhorru technology was able to pick up signs of life at just seven solars. From the night we celebrated our Xiveri mating and I became the xoking Rakukanna of an entire quadrant of the galaxy. Orphan to queen. But I’m still me. Still the tinkerer. Still the hybrid. Just with a little a lot more responsibility.

  “My Rakukanna, are you ready?”

  I exhale, “Hexa.” Because it’s true. I might be going into a whole galaxy of new responsibilities, but one thing is absolutely true: I’m not going alone.

  The silk he’d used to cover my eyes slips free and I blink the darkness from my gaze. As soon as the world in front of me crystalizes, my stomach jumps up into my throat and I cannot help but laugh.

  “Oh my stars, Xoran! You saved the guest werro?”

  “Our guest werro,” he says sharply, and then, “Its roots survived the onslaught. We were able to repair it. It grows still.”

  “Incredible. But what…what is this? What did you do to it?”

  My laugh dies a little thinking of Rhorkanterannu and his Niahhorru brood. They still haven’t caught him. He and a handful of the other Niahhorru were able to escape — beamed off of the ship with a machine no one has ever even heard of before — to who knows where. Still out there.

  And even though he has no way of contacting Pe’ixal to get the location of the human colony’s moon, he’s already shown us that he’s capable of surprises. We cannot underestimate him again…

  “You are displeased,” he says, voice flat.

  “No, not at all. Just distracted. But what is this? You…you covered the whole tree.” Black and red bark-colored paper are stretched wonkily around the red werro tree, fully blocking the door.

  “You said it should be covered,” he says and I look up into his face to see his ridges colorless for the first time in days. His jaw is set. I reach up and stroke it, wondering what could have made him so upset.

  “I don’t understand. What should be covered?”

  “The gift. It should be covered before I present it to you.”

  I turn back and suddenly see the tree in a whole new light. My bottom jaw drops. I clap both hands over my mouth and surge towards the gift Xoran put together just for me. “Xoran, I…” I run my hands over the paper, unable to figure out what it’s made of, or what it could possibly be hiding.

  As if he’s reading my thoughts, he says, “From the fallen werros. We use every part of the trees to create paper and tools. I had Tri’Herion and the other xub'Herions create this, as well as what’s inside.”

  I let out a squeal and Xoran’s ridges flare white. “Well don’t just stand there! Help me. I want in.”

  My heart is pounding and my palms are clammy. A gift from Xoran? I’m so excited. I feel like a girl again receiving a gift from Svera’s parents at the celebration they call Christmas. It was a dress. A flowing gown. I wore it once, and then used the fabric to create a hammock in back of their house. It was sturdy stuff and best — the only — gift I ever received, until now…

  Xoran comes up behind me, ridges glowing a subtle turquoise, pleased. He reaches down, slips his shoulder under my butt and lifts me high off of the ground. As soon as I’m steady, I start ripping through the paper until I finally get through enough of it off that I can tear the rest away easily.

  “You fixed the door?” I gasp as the white wooden surface comes into view.

  “That was necessary, and is not the gift,” he grunts. “There is more. Much more. Step in.”

  And that’s when I notice the new palm reader on the right side of the entrance. “Is this a DNA reader?”

  “Hexa,” he says.

  “I’ve heard about them from Tri'Herion, but I’ve never seen one before. Do you think I…”

  “Nox. You may not take it apart. If you would like one to examine, I can provide this.”

  I huff, “You know me too well.”

  “Hexa, and though it has not even been a rotation, I know no one else better.”

  I turn and look at him. Really look. His mottled blue skin. His hard plates. His black eyes and hair. His big smile. It’s incredible. All of him. All of this. My new world. “Neither do I.”

  I slide my palm into the scanner and feel the little tentacles of cremar, perhaps? swim and swirl over my hand. A second later and the stralyx-reinforced doors glide open and the gift — the gifts — inside are a multitude of things I can name, and a thousand more that I can’t.

  Two things only are absolutely clear: this is no longer a guest house, and by the stars, these things certainly aren’t dresses. Hammocks either…

  “Miari?” He says at my back, and my name in his accent sends electricity firing through each of my nerve endings. My colors I’m sure must show.

  I turn. “You made me a lab.”

  He nods, grinning as he takes in the Xanaxana’s display high in my cheeks.

  “I give you a little stone galaxy and you make me a lab?” I push on his chest, bal
king and beaming in the same instant.

  “Your gift was much better than this. You made the gifts you delivered to me yourself. With your own hands. I did not make this. Though I did the designs,” he mumbles and I cannot believe that someone so big could ever be so sheepish.

  “You did well, my Raku.”

  “You are pleased?”

  “Come here,” I say, wading deeper into the room piled high with odds and gadgets, “and let me show you just how pleased I am.”

  His ridges ripple purple and his abs visibly clench. He takes a powerful step forward. “Only on one condition, Miari.”

  I back up, but he lunges forward and catches me, sliding his huge hand around the back of my head. My whole body heats, my eyes flutter closed and liquid pools between my thighs.

  “What’s that?” I say, struggling to catch my breath.

  Against the curve of my neck he whispers, “You will call me Xoran.”

  Thanks so much for reading! If you loved it, hated it, or anything inbetween, please lend your support by leaving your honest review on Amazon or Goodreads. It goes a long way in supporting indie authors like me.

  - Elizabeth

  What’s next in the series

  Claimed by Va’Raku while she’s in the merillian tank, what happens when Kiki wakes up?

  

  Taken to Nobu: A SciFi Alien Romance

  Xiveri Mates Book II (Kiki and Va’Raku)

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Book II…

  They came. They shifted. They conquered. Mian expected to be made a slave by the cocky shifter barbarian and, when a rival horde takes her, discarded. But what happens when he won’t give her up?

  

  Taken to Sasor: A SciFi Shifter Romance

  Xiveri Mates Book III (Mian and Seena)