by Tahlia Black
CHAPTER EIGHT
STRATUS
Eve safely resting in her chambers, I join Tyrus on the west balcony overlooking the Tu’vatu valley.
He sips on Ve’ra, a particularly potent local brew that would burn right through the human’s gullet if she were to drink it.
Tyrus has his arms over the railing, hunched in thought. He senses my presence. “Brother.”
“Brother,” I reply, joining him at the railing with my own vessel of Ve’ra. “Is it just me or is the human growing on you?”
Tyrus laughs, looking into the distance. “She is more… entertaining than I thought she would be.”
“I understand human females haven’t pleased you in the past, that your tastes run more exotic, darker, but I see something in this one, a strength and resilience that far surpasses the others.”
Tyrus drinks the last of his Ve’ra and casts the glass vessel over the railing. It shatters on the pock-marked ground below. “At the end of the day, she is a human like any other—weak and selfish.”
“So tell me why this ‘weak’ human race is slowly crushing us out of existence.”
Tyrus pauses. “Once the Darkor in the south join the cause…”
I shake my head. “No one has heard from the Darkor in decades, brother. For all we know such fearsome and infamous warriors may be all but myth.”
“They are no myth. You know that as well as I do.”
“So why do they not come? Do they not watch the skies, see what is happening? We have the technology, the weapons, but the humans have the numbers. It’s only a matter of time.”
Silence falls between us.
“I do enjoy her ass,” notes Tyrus, the hint of a smile playing on his face.
I shove him in the shoulder. “You Karthian dog. Of course you do. It is ripe and full and perfect for a strict hand.”
“And her breasts,” smiles Tyrus, shifting his hands to his chest, “by Vu’eta they are incredible.”
“And yet you say nothing of her holes, those tight, slippery orifices that so greedily take our cocks?”
Tyrus’s grin grows. “It is true, brother, she is special in some areas, but that strength and resilience you speak of might be your undoing. Do you really think a soldier of the Alliance can be shaped into compliance, made a willing vessel for Dothkhan offspring? I doubt she’d even survive the Ceremony.”
The thought of Eve suffering through the Ceremony causes my cock to rise and twitch. “You have no faith, brother.”
Tyrus faces me, his eyes sharp. “As I said, she is a human. Do not forget that it is humans who hold our brother prisoner, humans who started this cursed war.”
I nod, musing on it. “And yet, I’d give almost anything to taste her again, fill her. Wouldn’t you?”
The muscles in his arms and shoulders pull tight. “Dothkhan must come first, always.”
“Always,” I repeat, the Ve’ra burning its way down my throat.
*
The morning brings new opportunity. I look across the table to where Eve is sitting. “I see you’ve found the tunic we left for you.”
She looks down at simple slave’s tunic she’s wearing, the rosy tips of her nipples visible through the thin fabric. “Yes, thank you.”
“Thank you…?” I prompt.
“Masters,” she finishes, looking to me and then briefly at Tyrus before bringing her eyes back to her meal—an assortment of fresh meats and berries from the valley.
“You do not use… utensils?” she asks.
Tyrus picks up a filet of For’na and shoves it into his mouth, speaking as he chews. “Dothkhan prefer to be hands-on, to touch what we kill, to feel every texture and surface, of everything. Only then can you truly appreciate your world.”
It’s an oddly poetic statement from my usually blunted brother.
I have to admit, sitting there in her tunic Eve looks every bit the Dothkhan bride. I can picture her now, between us, wed, her belly full and round with our offspring. It would be a wonderful thing, but I sense Tyrus’s hesitation. He was with our brother, Fortus, when he was taken by the humans. He barely escaped himself alive.
“You have questions, Nu’va, about the holo?” I ask. “Go ahead. We hide no secrets here.”
She pops a berry into her mouth, her full lips pressing around the soft skin, a line of crimson juice running down her chin. She wipes it away. “Do you think you will win?”
“The war?” I ask.
“The Alliance is strong, undefeated. Surely you understand what a position that places you in.”
Tyrus stands. “How d—”
I put up a hand to stop him. “It is a fair question, brother, and yes, we do understand the position we are in, but then again, the Alliance doesn’t understand the full weight of our forces.”
“If you’re referring to the Darkor, they are a child’s bedtime story, the ‘invincible warriors.’”
I shrug. “Perhaps, but there is more to Dothkhan than the Darkor, forces and powers you cannot even comprehend, but you will, in time. We are not the enemy, Nu’va. You will see that.”
“I’m yet to be convinced. The so-called evidence you’ve shown me… What’s to say that is not a fabrication, a fantasy?”
Tyrus stiffens again but holds his tongue as I speak. “Consider this planet, what you see. What do we have to gain by warring with the Alliance now, after so many years left untouched? Dothkhan provides all we need.”
“Except for suitable partners to bear your young.”
I exchange a glance with Tyrus.
“The Alliance knows,” Eve continues. “They laugh and joke about it, about your infertility, and is that not motive enough? A dying race looking to capture all the human females they can, to breed and grow stronger.”
She has a point, but it is far from the truth. I lean over the table. “It is true our numbers dwindle, but that is the way it is meant to be, a natural purge handed down by Vu’eta herself.”
“Your god?”
“The Almighty One.”
“What kind of god would wish for their children to die?”
I lean back. “Enough. You know in your human heart the Alliance is wrong. I can see it in your eyes, feel it pulsing through you, the doubt and fear. You could help us, help yourself, and in return find a life far greater than anything the Alliance has to offer, but you must make the choice. It comes freely, or it does not come at all.”
CHAPTER NINE
STRATUS
The Palace is in bustle when we arrive, the war machine forcing everyone to the Capital.
“Do you think it was wise to leave her at the castle, alone?” queries Tyrus.
I place my hand on his shoulder, stopping us in the hallway. “She will not leave. She has seen the truth. I know you felt it too. So, we must continue with the plan, yes?”
“Yes,” agrees Tyrus, “but the Council…”
“Let me worry about the Council.”
He nods and I let go of his shoulder, the two of us walking to the heart of the Palace and the High Chambers.
The High Council is gathered when we enter. The High Chambers are not easy to get into, but it seems our late father still has some sway in the upper echelons of Dothkhan society.
Tyrus and I sit before the panel, greeting them in modesty.
The Chancellor looks down at us from the back of the room. “Tyrus, Stratus, welcome. We hear you have acquired a rare jewel, a human female with hair of umber and breeding capacity. You’ve come to ask for our blessing to breed, no doubt?”
“No, Chancellor,” I start. “We have come to ask if we can invoke the Ceremony, to bond us.”
There’s a heated murmur between the panel, the Dothkhan I recognize as one of the High Ministers shifting forward in his chair. “The Ceremony hasn’t been invoked in years. It would kill her, a human.”
I’m surprised when Tyrus comes to her defense. “This human is particularly strong, My Lord. She has shown a steadfast resilience in all e
xercises of the mating arts.”
“The Ceremony was designed for the union of Dothkhan and Dothkhan. A human…”
“We don’t just wish to breed her and cast her into the pits,” I say. “We wish to make her a wife, to turn her to our side and in return provide the Council with a valuable asset against the Alliance.”
That gets their attention.
There’s more discussion. I can sense the divide.
The Chancellor raises his hands for silence. “You think she has information that will help our cause?”
“I do, My Lord.”
The Chancellor considers this. “And you are quite sure she will survive the Ceremony?”
“If not,” I continue, cursing the words, “what will we really lose?”
“I fail to see what information a simple fighter pilot could provide, Stratus. We understand and appreciate your father’s service to Dothkhan, but this is too great an ask.”
He goes to stand and I know we are losing. I look to Tyrus. He nods. Here goes nothing. I stand. “She is far more than a fighter pilot, Your Grace.”
He sits warily. “Continue.”
My jaw is tight. What I say next will either seal her fate or rally the High Council to our cause. “She is the daughter of the Alliance Grand Commander, My Lord.”
The Council stands, exploding into raucous shouts and cries, a heated argument breaking out.
The Chancellor throws his arms wide. “Silence!”
The councilors quieten, seating themselves.
The Chancellor speaks. “You go too far, Stratus.”
I reach into my pocket and hold up the necklace I retrieved from the crash site, pointing to the crescent-shaped jewel at its center. “Mykantium, My Lord, one half of a single stone, the only one of its kind in existence. As it is well known, the other half belongs to…”
“The Grand Commander,” the Chancellor finishes, slowly relaxing back into his seat. “It will have to be verified, of course.”
I place it on the table between us. “Of course, My Lord.”
“We should interrogate her now!” shouts one of the Ministers. “If she really is the Grand Commander’s daughter, she could be a bargaining chip, an important hostage.”
“If I may, My Lord,” I interject. “I do not believe the Grand Commander would negotiate for her release, even his own flesh and blood. After all, he sent her happily into the fray. Martyrdom would be to his benefit.”
“Turning an Alliance soldier, the very daughter of the Grand Commander, into a Dothkhan bride would be a coup, an overpowering injection of the kind of morale that is so sorely needed amongst our forces. Naturally, we will need a viewing, a demonstration of her compliance. Can you provide it?”
“Yes,” Tyrus and I answer in unison.
The Chancellor brings his hammer down. “So be it. We shall convene with your human, see if she does indeed have what it takes to survive the Ceremony.”
Outside, Tyrus stops before we enter the transporter.
I feel his hesitation. “We made the right move, brother.”
He shakes his head. “You do realize there is no turning back now.”
“They would have found out eventually. It plays far better for us to tell them now, up front, before the Ceremony.”
“What makes you so certain she will survive?” Tyrus asks. “We haven’t even won her to our cause yet. The Alliance still has her in its grip.”
“But that grip is weakening, and it shall weaken further the more we tend to her.”
“This is foolish, Stratus—foolish and dangerous.”
“Have faith,” I reply. “Have faith.”
CHAPTER TEN
EVE
“You’re going to get it now, you Alliance bitch.”
I snap awake drenched in sweat, the torches flickering on the walls.
“There, there,” comes a soft voice, “all is well.”
I look up to find Stratus seated on my bed, his body a light cornflower blue the very picture of calm and tranquility. He strokes the side of my face. I’m unused to this kind of affection. It taps into something deep and primitive inside me, a need to be nurtured and cared for.
“Tell me about it,” he says, lifting his finger to his forehead. “Dothkhan do not dream, but with touch I can see glimpses of your own, of your pain.”
Hot tears prick at my eyes, but I will not let the emotion spill over.
“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me what you were dreaming of.”
“I couldn’t… It’s too…” I can’t find the words.
“Tell me, please.”
I lift myself into a seated position, the cool castle air enveloping my body. “My first real taste of battle.”
“On Xantor?”
I nod. “That’s right.”
“And you were captured?”
It seems so real and vivid, even now. “One moment I was fighting and the next the ground opened up. When I came to I was strapped down to a table, unable to move. The Xantor had injected me with something. It paralyzed my entire body. I was naked. There were others, screaming, being carved alive while the Xantor took turns violating them.”
“But you weren’t violated.”
A tear falls and I cannot stop the one that follows in its wake. “No. A Xantor stood beside the table, blade in hand, but moments later he was dead, an Alliance squad clearing the entire place out.”
Stratus’s hand slips between my legs. “You felt it didn’t you.”
“Felt what?”
“The rush, the pull of excitement when you’re so close to death, unable to do a thing but lie there, vulnerable.”
I know I’m getting wet, that once more my body is my betrayer. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then why do you touch yourself thinking about it, revisiting it over and over?”
Shame burns my face, washes over me in hot waves. “Because…”
“Because?” Stratus pushes, a finger slipping into my pussy.
“Because I wanted it.”
“What?”
“To be overpowered.”
“To be dominated.”
“Yes,” I reply.
“And so you shall.”
He stands. “There’s one more holo you should see, to fully understand the truth, but first, sleep. There will be plenty of time to discover yourself tomorrow.”
I don’t wait. As soon as Stratus has left the room, I play the holo. It flickers to life, neon shadows cast around the room.
It’s another Alliance recording, but this one is at a strange angle, constantly shifting as if someone is taking it in secret. It shows my father speaking with the Grand Admiral, his right-hand man and the second most powerful individual in the Alliance.
The Admiral looks apprehensive. “You’re certain this is the way forward?”
My father nods. “I’ve already had her pulse engines modified. At my command they will lose power and she will crash, be captured by the Dothkhan.”
“And then?” the Admiral presses.
My father smiles. “And then her suffering will become the seed we need to snuff out the Dothkhan once and for all.”
“They may kill her, Lucius. Surely, your only child…”
The Admiral is silenced by my father’s hand. “Such is the sacrifice I am willing to make to see this through.
The holo jerks sideways, ending abruptly, but I’ve seen enough.
I’m holding my breath, my entire world lilting into oblivion. This changes everything.
I put on my tunic and run out of my chamber, blindly running through the castle until I come into the antechamber.
Tyrus and Stratus are waiting there, side by side, lit only by torchlight.
This time it is Tyrus who steps forward. The light is low, but even still I can see from his posture to his eyes that the malice and hatred are gone. “Now you know everything, Nu’va.”
It’s the first time he’s used this title.
I don’t know why, but I r
ush forward into his arms, into the strong and protective embrace they offer.
I weep against his shoulder. “Why? Why would he do that?”
“He is a human, Nu’va. His weakness is power, his addiction so great he would sacrifice his own flesh-and-blood to quench it.”
I lift myself from Tyrus’s shoulder. “How did you…”
“Know?” fills Stratus, approaching us, the hard planes of his body cut, given shape from shadow. “Your necklace.”
“But I don’t wear it.”
“Your father wanted us to find it, Nu’va, for there to be no doubt who you were.”
My head is spinning. “The slave market, all that time…”
“I wanted to be sure,” continues Stratus, cupping my face, his skin a sea of teal and turquoise, “and I was selfish. I wanted you, your body, before going to the Council.”
Tyrus holds me at arm’s length. “I’m glad he did, Nu’va, for now our path is clear.”
“What path?”
“We will marry and you will live here with us, safe and happy and bearing our young.”
A family, I think, in such contrast to the cold disposition of my father. Could I be happy? Could I bring myself to betray my own race?
The race that has betrayed you? my head answers in contradiction.
“Your Council allowed this?” I ask.
The brothers look at one another. Stratus speaks. “They did, but first they require a ‘viewing.’”
“A viewing?”
“Come morning, we will journey to the Capital and you will be taken by Tyrus and me in front of the Council, stripped bare and fucked brutally.”
My thighs clench. “And then?”
Tyrus’s eyes drop to rest on the dark triangle between my legs. “And then you will be ready for the Ceremony.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EVE
Eggs have been prepared for breakfast but they’re far larger than any eggs I’ve seen and almost definitely organic in origin.
“Do you not break fast?” queries Tyrus, who’s busy shoveling in food like it’s his last meal.
It’s true I haven’t eaten much. “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I reply.
“The Viewing is nothing to be concerned about,” adds Stratus. “Simply forget the Council is there.”