Femror’s expression changed suddenly like the flash sandstorms that plagued the Valley of Bones wasteland. He dropped his arms to the side and leaned forward. “Don’t ever say something foolish like that again.”
Lochiana’s spine went rigid, and not because of his angry reply. Somehow she knew his harsh words stemmed from a deep-rooted fear. What did he know about the alien beings?
“You didn’t even hesitate before you killed Margriet.”
“No. And I don’t regret it. Once someone is taken, there’s no hope for them. Killing the host as fast as you can is a kindness.”
“You’ve seen it happen before.”
Femror clenched his jaw hard and his gaze seemed to turn inwards. “Yes.”
“When?”
“Many millennia ago, before your kind walked the planet.”
Lady Lochiana couldn’t imagine a time when Arcadians had not been on the planet. In fact, one of the reasons Professor Shix had been so obsessed about the portal was because he hoped it would lead to clues to their origins.
“Well, I was able to fight off possession.”
Femror’s eyes widened as his facial expression changed once more. “You did? How?”
“I don’t know. I just did. I guess I’m too stubborn.” She smiled wryly, trying to lighten the mood and gain his trust.
“Amazing,” Femror murmured, more to himself than her.
Lochiana was uncomfortable at the way he kept staring at her in awe. She didn’t know what was doing her head in more, this new glance or the previous heated gazes.
“How did you defeat them the first time they came?” she asked to change the subject.
Femror shook his head and clenched his jaw. At least he dialed the intensity from his gaze down a notch. “That’s a story you should hear from my father.”
“The king?”
“Yes.”
Lochiana stood suddenly and looked impatiently at Femror when he didn’t follow her lead. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
“We can’t go yet.”
“Why not?” She put her hands on her hips.
“Your dress must go.”
Her heart did a somersault before it thundered inside her chest. She narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms. “Excuse me?”
Femror’s gaze traveled down the length of her body, slowing making the trip back up and stopping on her face. “You heard me. Strip off your dress. Now.”
Chapter 12
Gary's home was a clever contraption, and Samiah suspected it followed the same principle of the nightbloomers. It was buried deep in the ground, accessible only by an almost invisible trapdoor. Before they followed him in, she searched for the air glide, but she couldn't make out its shape in the darkness. The steps groaned as they put their weight on them, like an old person who couldn't bear the burden of a decrepit body anymore.
Dimmed light orbs illuminated the tiny space, and it felt like she had been transported to another era. All his chairs, tables, and cabinets were made out of nightbloomers’ wood so old, the surface had lost its characteristic translucence. The use of organic material in the manufacturing of furniture or any other type of construction had become obsolete after the invention of synthetic organic matter. Samiah thought most Arcadians had donated their real wood furniture to depositories and museums.
She walked in awe as she touched every polished surface. First, the working air glide, and now this. Who was this person, and why was he holding on to all these artifacts? He motioned for them to sit around the table and offered them some kind of brew. Ianox and Malachiax eyed the warm liquid with suspicion.
"It's morango fruit tea. Hearty and harmless." Gary took a sip from his mug.
The sweetness and warmth of the brew spread through Samiah’s body and limbs. She felt better immediately.
"This is delicious. Thank you," she said.
They drank their tea in silence, each lost in their own head. So much had happened and changed in a day. She wondered what had happened to Lochiana. Had she been present when that poor girl was stabbed? Or had she managed to escape the palace before the aliens attacked? She had said her will was too strong for possession. Samiah truly hoped she had escaped, even though the probability was small.
"Do you live here by yourself?" Malachiax asked.
Pain flashed through Gary's eyes before his gaze settled on the table in front of him. "I do now. My cousin and I shared this place. He was kind enough to take me in despite…." He closed his eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly. "And then those people came and killed him."
The blood drained from Samiah’s face. The head on the spike. "I'm so sorry."
"I was on my way back from making a delivery when I saw Trenianx being torn apart. There were too many of them. He didn't stand a chance. I took the air glide as high as I could, trying to hide behind the clouds. They were so lost in their frenzy they didn't even hear the roar of the propellers. After they destroyed Trenianx's body, they left. I would have given him a proper burial, but I was too afraid those monsters would come back and do the same to me."
"What are we going to do? Is there any hope that Jackur still stands?" Ianox asked.
"Do you know what's going on?" Gary's body sat rigid on his seat.
Malachiax and Ianox looked at Samiah. She was the only one who had experienced possession and survived to tell the tale. She didn't want to rehash every gruesome detail again but she did anyway. Gary deserved to have as much information as possible. When she mentioned the girl they had found in the palace, Gary frowned and seemed to be deep in thought.
“Do you know what the wraith meant by ‘lizard scum’?”
Ianox closed his eyes and shuddered. Malachiax gave him a side-glance but Samiah decided to ignore the fool.
“There are old stories that mention a race of shapeshifters who possessed skin resembling that of great winged lizards. There’s never been concrete proof they actually exist, and I’m afraid they are nothing more than cautionary tales to scare naughty youngsters.”
“They aren’t myths, and they’re vicious,” Ianox said through clenched teeth.
“How do you know? Have you ever seen one?” Samiah raised an eyebrow at him.
Instead of answering her, he chose to lower his head and stare at the table instead. Typical.
“Well, lizard people or not, someone either knows how to kill the wraiths or stumbled upon it by accident. I wish the dagger hadn’t disintegrated with that poor Morian girl,” Malachiax said.
Samiah reached out and grabbed Mal’s hand, squeezing it. He looked at her with a pained expression on his face, and it broke her heart. Somehow, he felt responsible for the death of that Morian youngster too, even though they could have done nothing to save her.
She turned to Gary and explained to him their theory about Razor's Blood and thus their need to reach Jackur. His eyes gleamed and his aura became brighter for a moment.
"I believe I can help you with that." He stood up and walked toward the back of the room where a curtain from wall to wall stood shut. Gary pulled the fabric and revealed what was hidden behind him. A treasure.
"For all the Sacred Powers. Is that what I think it is?" Ianox rose suddenly, knocking his chair over. He hopped on one leg, looking like a misplaced phom-phom.
Gary had a proud smile on his face. "Indeed, my friend. The best supply of Razor's Blood you’ll find on the entire planet."
"But you're a Morian. Morians hate Razor's Blood," Samiah stated.
Gary's brow creased. "I'm not a Morian. I'm from Jackur, and so was my cousin."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound judgmental. Are you willing to sell some to us? We can't transfer the credits to your account without a com-slip or working relays, but you will get paid."
"Payment? I'm not charging you for it. You can have all the Razor's Blood you want as long as you take me with you."
"Of course you're coming with us." Malachiax walked to him and took a bottle of Razor's Blood
from the stash.
"How long do you think it will take to reach Argamania traveling by air glide? I have no idea how fast those things can go," Ianox said.
Gary made a disgruntled sound, and all eyes were on him.
"What?" Samiah asked.
"We can't take the air glide. I used all the fuel I had to create the fire jet."
She went back to the table and took a seat with her head in her hands. "We'll never make it to Argor. Our hope was to find a working gateway station in Jackur. It will take weeks, maybe months to reach Argamania on foot."
"The air glide might not be a viable option, but we can ride the wild antlers. I know where a herd prefers to pasture not far from here," Gary suggested.
"Wild antlers? Are you mad? Those things are vile and would sooner bite your hand off than let you ride their backs." Ianox made an exasperated gesture with his hands.
Malachiax seemed to contemplate Gary's suggestion and then focused on Ianox. "That would probably be true if we didn't have someone in our party who could communicate with animals."
Ianox took a step back, seeming mortified. "How did you know?" His gaze turned accusatorily to Samiah. "You told him! I asked you to keep your mouth shut, and you told him. I thought aura-readers had a moral code."
"I didn’t tell him anything!" She smacked her hands on the table, rattling the empty mugs.
"Ianox, do you think I'm dense?” Malachiax said. “After you set those famished catlings on Walani during our last trip, everyone knew what your gift was. I don't understand why you want to keep it a secret. There is nothing to be ashamed of."
"Easy for you to say when your gift is elemental. I wish I could blow the ground to smithereens." Ianox folded his arms and pouted like a petulant youngster.
"Yeah, and who is saving the day now? Trust me, Ianox. Every gift is precious and useful."
Samiah saw the effect Mal's words had on Ianox, both in his external reaction but also in his aura. The brown color became lighter, bordering on a beige hue.
It was settled. They would look for the wild antlers in the morning and be on their way to Argor. Gary assured them the wild antlers were very fast animals when they wanted to be. But it was impossible to calculate how long it would take them to reach their destination. Plus, they had the alien wraiths and possessed people to contend with.
Things needed to be done before they ventured out the next morning, though. Gary helped them figure out the right dose of Razor's Blood to drink. On their own, they would have had to find out via trial and error, but Gary used his knowledge to come up with individual doses for each of them based on muscle mass and genetic makeup.
Samiah grabbed the vial meant for her and examined the dark reddish liquid inside. She needed to know something.
"Is Razor's Blood safe to drink if a woman is expecting?"
Gary stopped what he was doing to look at her. "Are you with child, Samiah?"
She glanced down and put her hands on her belly. "Yes. Twins."
When Gary didn't say anything, she looked up again. His hand was frozen in midair and his mouth slacked open. He shook his head and put his outdated measuring instrument down.
"Forgive me, but I've never met an expectant woman this young before, never mind one carrying twins. That's extraordinary."
For some reason, his comment embarrassed Samiah. She didn't think she was anything special. She was selfish, impulsive, and filled with flaws. Malachiax was the good one. He had always been the better half. She avoided his gaze and played with the vial in her hand.
"To answer your question, yes, it's safe. Razor's Blood does not harm unborn children. Once the seed is planted, a woman's womb becomes a fortress. There isn't much that can harm a baby while inside its mother's body."
His answer took away some of her stress. As long as she kept breathing, her children would be safe. She focused her attention on Gary's lab and archaic paraphernalia, wondering why he would live this way. Was he an outlaw?
"Your home is pretty unique."
The corners of his mouth lifted, softening his features. "You mean to say why do I keep all this junk around?"
"I wouldn't call it junk, but honestly I don't understand why you don't own any modern devices. Are you some sort of fugitive?" It was a valid question. In order to acquire anything new these days, you would need an ID.
Gary took a seat at the table across from Samiah and gazed down at his folded hands. "Not exactly. You're an aura-reader, so you tell me. What do you see?"
"Your aura is… I've never seen anything quite like it. And your core. I can't say I recognize your gift."
"Yes. My aura is different, and where I come from, different equals bad. My whole life, people treated me like a second-class citizen just because I have a strange gi—" He paused and licked his lips. "Never mind. I was tired of my life as a pariah, so when Trenianx invited me to come live with him and help with the Razor's Blood business, I didn't think twice."
"I understand." She wanted to ask what his gift was, but she didn't think Gary was ready to share that part about him yet. "Was your cousin a fugitive, then?"
"Trenianx?" Gary snorted. "No. He was a bit paranoid. He didn't trust the establishment, so he preferred to stay under the radar. Be invisible."
Gary’s eyes turned red, and Samiah could see his effort to keep the tears at bay. She reached over and squeezed his hand. "It's okay to feel sad."
A lone tear escaped, and he turned his face. "He was the only friend I had."
"I know we can't compare, but now you have us."
He looked at Samiah, perplexed, like he couldn't believe her words. It was hard to imagine a life where people shunned you just because you weren't the norm. There was a time when aura-readers faced the same persecution. But that had been so long ago that no one even remembered it anymore.
Why must people always fear what they can't understand? Samiah thought bitterly.
Chapter 13
Femror watched in amusement as the Morang heir glared at him. He’d chosen his words carefully to get a rise out of her. He didn’t know why it gave him such pleasure to see the fierce woman all flushed with indignation. His blood answered in kind, pumping furiously through his veins. He was testing the bond, he realized. Until that point, he hadn’t been completely sure Lochiana was his mate.
He had never experienced anything like it before—the bond was for life, and it wouldn’t be broken even after the death of one mate. Femror had only the tales of those who had been bonded to go by. Now, staring at the pink-haired Arcadian and feeling how his very core reacted to her, there was no doubt in his mind. The problem was what the fuck he was going to do about it.
“Will you relax? I don’t want to drag you to see my father butt naked. But you can’t wear that party dress if you want him to respect you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What does he have against pretty clothes?”
Femror cocked an eyebrow. “You said yourself that you left your fancy dresses behind. I take it that you also don’t like them very much.”
She stiffened visibly and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “They belonged to a lifestyle I was no longer a part of. I didn’t have any use for them out in space.”
“You have your answer. If my father sees you wearing that, he will immediately assume you value frivolities over practicality.”
“What am I going to wear, then?” She gestured with her arms in frustration, and the sudden movement made a strand of her hair fall over her face. She brushed it off with a jerky movement, and Femror felt the compulsion to run his rough fingers through her mane. Don’t even go there, idiot.
He walked to the other side of his chamber and retrieved a bundle of clothes from a wooden chest by the foot of his bed. He lobbed it at Lochiana from across the room, suppressing a grin of pleasure when she caught it with ease. Good to know that besides a sharp tongue, she also possessed dexterity. As a Draki warrior, he couldn’t have a mate who didn’t match him in every way.
<
br /> Femror shook his head. What was he thinking? Was he seriously going to pursue a mating bond with the woman in front of him? They weren’t even the same species, and he doubted she had any inclination to give up her freedom to live the Draki way. The opposite wasn’t an option. His kind went into hiding for a very good reason. Femror couldn’t leave his clan and join Lochiana in her adventures off planet. That was, if they survived the invasion.
What a fucking dilemma.
She eyed the pieces of clothing in her hands, a woven tunic and a pair of leather pants. “Whose clothes are these?”
“Mine.” She raised both eyebrows at Femror. “Were mine when I was much younger. They should fit you.”
Lochiana took a deep breath and stared at the clothes once more. Did she not want to wear them? The thought bruised his ego. He was tempted to tell her to forget it and go meet his father with the idiotic dress she had on.
She raised her gaze to his. “May I have some privacy, please?”
He tried not to be too happy about her decision. They were only bloody clothes, after all. And still his dual hearts responded by jerking forward and increasing their pace. Femror made sure his facial expression showed nothing, though. He nodded and left the room, waiting just outside of his chamber. He stared at the wall in front of him and tried his best not to picture Lochiana naked on the other side of the stone barrier. It was futile; he had the memory imprinted in his mind from the quick glimpse he had back at the Morang palace.
She emerged not too much later, and seeing Lochiana wearing his clothes, carrying his scent, flared up the bond like nothing else. Femror wanted to mark her somehow, maybe kiss the breath out of her. But he did nothing. He was a seasoned warrior; he could control his urges. Besides, he would never force himself on any female.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice thick.
“As ready as I will ever be.” She looked down and tried to smooth the crease lines on the tunic. “Besides not calling your father ‘oh Mighty Lizard King,’ what else should I pay heed to?”
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