by Kayla Stonor
“This Qui killed… my people,” Demirci translated.
Gabrielle’s throat dried. Standing by the door, Tennant grimaced.
This is what she’d feared. Oltu had gone on a killing rampage. She couldn’t defend his actions. Blood drained from her cheeks and then Oltu stepped forward.
“I killed only Doziyen soldiers who endangered Gabrielle’s life. My mandate is her protection.” He spread his hands wide. “Did I kill Salhi?” His tone conveyed concern mixed with defiance.
They all looked to Farivar, Gabrielle’s heart racing. Demirci translated and the Salhi frowned, glanced at his wounded leg, eyes creased in pain. Then he shook his head and began to talk, Demirci quietly interpreting his words a second behind him as she rummaged in her bag. “He says no Salhi. He thanks Allah for the mercy. He wants to see Oltu’s wings. He wants to see this Qui.”
She drew out an analgesic gun and Farivar flinched, shook his head angrily. “No! No!”
They argued until Demirci put the gun away and showed Farivar an inhaler instead, but he refused that too, gestured angrily at Oltu, directing his tirade at Gabrielle, one full of disappointment and suspicion.
“He says al-Doziyen saw a man become a flying creature, like a winged demon with scales or a djinn,” Demirci said. “At the moment, they are stories with a religious bias, but Farivar won’t accept anything that will dull his reactions, not with the Qui here. He doesn’t trust us enough.”
Gabrielle didn’t break her gaze with Farivar. “You don’t trust us? You don’t trust me?”
“No, I’m saying that,” Alev corrected.
“Okay, but I think you’re right, we need to build trust.” Gabrielle stepped back. “Better the Salhi have the facts. Farivar, this Qui,” she indicated Oltu whose attention shifted between Farivar and keeping watch outside, “saved my life from the al-Doziyen.” Gabrielle paused for Demirci’s translation. “Qui possess a control over their genetic code that allows them to shift between their natural form and human.” She looked to Oltu. “Please, will you show him?”
Oltu nodded. He shifted slowly, his skin turning blue, the pupils of his eyes assuming a diamond shape as his body grew in height and bulk, filling the room. Scales formed over his skin, pronounced ridged bone defined his face. Both Farivar and Demirci recoiled as Oltu’s raven-black wings tinted with a dark-blue sheen burst through and unfurled.
Gabrielle framed her words to reflect verses in the Quran.
“Qui are a creature from beyond Earth, one of many dispersed across the universe. Oltu is neither djinn nor human—”
“And definitely no angel,” Cale muttered.
Gabrielle held calm. “No, not an angel.”
Demon sounded accurate—demons so skilled at playing DNA chameleon that Qui and humans were compatible for breeding, the first human-Qui child due within weeks.
Gabrielle glanced at Oltu, found his brooding eyes watching her and quelled a frisson of alarm. The Qui followed Crendea’s hybrid pregnancy with great interest, almost as if human genetic compatibility presented an answer to an unvoiced prayer.
Could Oltu’s fascination with her be so calculating?
Tennant, Jaden, her father, had all warned her off Oltu at one time or another, but now her father charged Oltu with the safety of both son and daughter. Even Jaden trusted the First Lord of Katar to protect her, despite his earlier caution. Oltu understood her, supported Gabrielle’s objectives, and this time, she promised nothing in return.
Gabrielle shelved her conflicted emotions regarding the Qui to focus on the mission at hand. She pulled out a stool, sat down, and faced Farivar, conscious she wanted to make Alev Demirci’s job easier, not harder. “The Qui are an alien species with reptilian and avian characteristics, and as you see, they adapt their DNA to mimic other species, and not just human. K’lahn can’t do this. K’lahn are a different species, more reptilian in nature, although they do have an ancestral history with the Qui, hence their physical similarities.”
Farivar’s wide-eyed stare calmed as Demirci translated Gabrielle’s words, and he nodded and spoke to Demirci as if agreeing to something.
“I mentioned this is the first time I’ve seen a Qui in the flesh,” the doctor said to Gabrielle, “and that I can show the Salhi film of the Qui’s visit to Earth when they all shifted to human out of respect for our species.”
“Good.” Gabrielle nodded.
“Qui rule K’lahn?” Farivar asked her.
“Yes,” Gabrielle answered, pleased Farivar spoke to her directly, and impressed he’d intuited the hierarchical relationship between Qui and K’lahn.
“Over human?”
“No,” Oltu replied, his alien voice deeper, rougher, definitive. He shifted back to his human form. “The treaty with Earth confirms humanity’s independence from the Qui Empire. I am here as an ally and Gabrielle has convinced me your cause is true. I present no danger to the Salhi. Please, you are in pain. If you permit, I can alleviate your discomfort, to allow your healer to work. Your senses will not be dulled.”
“Ah, please interpret,” Farivar appealed to Demirci. His head bobbed as the doctor spoke, and then his brow creased in thought. Finally, he nodded. “I wish to see what Qui can do. And I want this bullet out!”
Oltu stepped forward and reached out to Farivar with a reassuring touch. The Salhi stiffened, but quickly relaxed as the pain he'd been suffering drained away from his features.
Gabrielle smiled, first at Farivar, then to Doctor Demirci, and finally her smile landed on Oltu. Somehow, this arrogant noble lizard had bridged more than one cultural gap, both human and alien, and at the same time helped pave the way to recover her brother and salvage her mission.
Oltu met her gaze and Gabrielle suddenly caught a faint trace of his spiced aroma as the lift of his brow challenged her to deny he knew exactly how to work under her skin. Amusement deepened her smile, because, damn, the smug bastard offered so much more than carnal satisfaction, and he did so in a way that made her panties wet.
That’s when she caught sight of Cale’s disapproving scowl.
*****
“Thank you.”
The softness in Gabrielle’s voice stopped Oltu at the door. He turned back.
It had been his intention to leave Gabrielle to settle into her room on the Thrak ‘Yla, unpack the two trunks she’d brought with her for the voyage to Dralexi. He hesitated over how to respond. Her tone conveyed appreciation, interest, and created a dangerous desire to please her even more. Oltu did not want to risk her improved opinion of him. He needed to analyze Gabrielle’s reaction. After everything he’d done for her—saving her life, protecting her, supporting her objectives, his effort to reunite Gabrielle with her lost brother—relieving the pain of an injured human, a stranger he had no reason to favor, had done most to ease her antagonism towards him.
He ramped down his mating pheromones, halved the distance between them and stopped. Her scent betrayed her constant attraction to him, the hunger simmering between them, and he had briefly won her approval, but winning this female’s affection for a lifetime demanded patience.
Excitement stirred his heart.
A lifetime with Gabrielle...
The prospect captured his imagination, transformed his purpose for living.
Gabrielle’s head tilted, interest dancing in her eyes. “You learn quickly.”
Oltu smiled. “Explain. I do not wish to presume your meaning.”
“You’re a chameleon. If I were inclined to rely on first impressions alone, this improved version comes late.”
Chameleon? Oltu consulted his translator for a better translation, dismissed the lizard reference for her tone conveyed no insult. Nor could she be referring to his genetic shifting. He focused on the substance behind her words. “Are you inclined?”
“I’m undecided.” A shadow crossed her face. “Cale told you about me, about my past.”
“Yes.” Oltu could not mask his fury; the heat of rage burned his eyes. The t
hought of those fiends befriending Gabrielle for nefarious purpose consumed him. The experience had marked her and he wanted to know how General Zubarev ended their lives. The manner of their deaths needed to befit their crime. He would have fed the despicable vermin to the seas of Katar—let the purta gorge on their stinking hides. “I didn’t ask for details. I know they hurt you, took advantage of your grief.”
“They said they could get me what I needed. I believed them.”
“First impressions should not be trusted.”
“You’d like me to think that.”
Oltu paused. Gabrielle approached the source of her indecision. The obvious question was hard to ask. “And what was your first impression, of me?”
“That you hated us. Humans. Resented the Qui Treaty. You were the last to shift.”
He frowned. “When?”
“That first day of Sonestra’s formal visit to Earth, just before you disembarked from the Thrak ‘Qui. Sonestra shifted to human form first, but you, you shifted last.”
“I do not recall your presence.”
“I watched the news feed.”
The conversation had taken a discomfiting turn. He wanted to smooth the frown from her forehead. She sounded curious, yet worried. Gabrielle needed him to prove her wrong and he had truth on his side. “You are partly correct, but I did not hate your kind. I believed humans could not be trusted. Gabrielle, humans had good cause to hate the Qui–”
“Still do.” Her eyes flashed resentment, her chin rose.
Oltu acknowledged the correction. He foresaw a long battle to reshape her thinking about him. Curse these human pheromones. If he wished merely to bed her, the war would be already won.
“My concerns did not stop there. Jaden had betrayed the Honored Qui, destabilized the treaty my sister negotiated with Earth, and I could not trust his avowed renewal of devotion. He issued a challenge of Tarkesh, a direct claim on the Qui throne; a challenge he could never win but which nearly destroyed Sonestra. I believed your kind to be a threat to the survival of the Qui Empire, to the preservation of galactic order.”
The crease in her brow deepened. “You view your hatred and suspicion like a badge of honor.”
Oltu struggled to grasp her perspective. Gabrielle’s voice hurled barbs of accusation, and disappointment.
“Have I seen the worst of you?” she asked.
He flinched, angry with Gabrielle, with himself, with this gulf of perspective standing between them. “No, you have not. But I will not harm you. I give you my word as a Qui.”
She swallowed. “I’m not sure that is enough.”
“My word is not enough?”
“Your protection.”
Oltu stepped closer, released a powerful aphrodisiac, one with no scent she could detect. He watched her pupils dilate and knew, if she refused him, he’d get no sleep that night. “You thought worse of me last night on this ship than you do today. Has that no weight?”
She swayed on her feet. “Last night we had a deal.”
“So you felt obliged?” His throat went dry. Last night, she’d been willing to mate. Today, even with her warmer feelings for him, she viewed the same choice differently, because she was no longer subject to their deal.
Their deal had altered her choice.
“Did I force you?”
Shock filled her eyes. “No, you didn’t touch me.”
He touched Saiorse often, sometimes punished her, and Saiorse accepted his attentions, invited them. I serve you, she said. They had a deal.
Oltu had seen his tribute’s mind. He knew Saiorse’s devotion did not compare to the devotion Jaden offered his Empress. In that moment of culmination with Jaden, Oltu had experienced an intensity of devotion that transcended the relationship between master and tribute. Sonestra and Jaden had a deal, one where the conditions had become immaterial, obsolete. Impossible to deem Jaden a mere tribute after a revelation like that.
Sonestra spoke of love.
Gabrielle’s words echoed in his mind.
Last night we had a deal.
Oltu grappled with nuances that had been seamlessly compatible until he glimpsed the existence of something more. What was devotion? Servitude wrapped in an artifice called sacrifice and honor?
No. He refused to believe that.
Gabrielle licked her lips; succumbing to the potent chemical entering her bloodstream, her choice eroded by the needs of her body, her choice altered by the conditions he imposed on her. Skal! He could not take Gabrielle this way. He’d be no better than the scum who broke her all those years ago.
It took inordinate willpower, but Oltu stepped back from the brink.
“I should go.”
Before he lost the little honor he had left.
Chapter Eight
Gabrielle mastered the intricacies of Trislloj first. The Qui game married the strategies of chess with a multi-layered version of Go. She placed her winning piece, enjoyed Cale’s confusion and then relented. “Every time you lose a piece from this level,” she pointed to the third level hovering in front of them, “you devalue your pieces elsewhere.”
Cale consulted the rules. “Okay, that actually makes sense.” He sat back in his chair, conceding the game. “Sort of like if Oltu lost his ability to shift then his scaly ass would look somewhat less inviting.”
Shock raised her eyebrows. “Wow. You’re a sore loser today.”
Cale shrugged. “Wanna lay a bet on when he implodes?”
“Not near us. He’s avoiding me.” She jumped up, decided. The awkward exchanges between her and Oltu became a bigger problem the closer they got to Dralexi.
“Where’re you going?”
“To find Saiorse.”
Gabrielle’s confidence faltered outside Oltu’s chambers.
A K’lahn sentry had directed her here to find Saiorse and she knew Oltu to be on his ship’s command bridge. She didn’t think Saiorse would mind Gabrielle seeking her out. Oltu’s tribute often dropped by asking whether Gabrielle needed anything.
Plucking up courage, Gabrielle palmed the entry call. To her surprise, the doors opened on a young female, a ghostly figure with the most incredible long white hair. She wore a transparent shift that radiated a range of colors, diverting rude attention from her slender figure. Gabrielle forced her eyes up, curiosity no excuse for breaching the girl’s privacy.
A wash of gold tinged the female’s cheeks, a blush Gabrielle decided.
“I’m Gabrielle. I’m here for Saiorse?”
Nodding, the strange creature stepped aside, inviting Gabrielle in.
The door closed behind them as the girl-alien smiled and pointed to her own chest. “Yulla.” She raised a finger that bade Gabrielle wait, raced to a small box sitting on a console and pulled out a translator earpiece. “Saiorse taught use,” she said, her voice reverberating with a trill-like sound.
Gabrielle smiled back. “I think you have learned well! Please, may I ask where you’re from?”
“My planet name Alegia. Distance many light-years of Earth, far side of galaxy.” Sorrow dulled her voice and Yulla turned away, her hands shaking.
A nasty suspicion answered the obvious question of who this girl could be and why she would be in Oltu’s chambers. Anger drummed loud in Gabrielle’s ears.
“Yulla. Are you Oltu’s tribute?”
“Yes.” Yulla’s eyes brimmed red.
Gabrielle’s heart jumped. Blood, tears of red blood! And against Yulla’s pale skin, the scarlet red looked painful, deadly.
A bang made them both start. The doors parted to reveal Oltu. He strode across the threshold shifting from Dralexin to human form, fists clenched, glancing first at Gabrielle and then to Yulla. His gaze locked on her crimson tears. Adding to the tension, Saiorse raced in from another room, wrapping herself in a silk robe, her hair wet and bedraggled.
She stopped dead at the sight of them all. “Moje pan.” Tension rang in her voice.
“Go dress, Saiorse,” Oltu ordered. Saiorse tu
rned and fled and his attention turned to Yulla. “Yulla? Use the translator. Why do you cry?”
“Forgive, moje pan... my lord. Noble asked me about my home. Alegia.”
Yulla offered nothing more and Gabrielle held silent.
Oltu’s expression hardened. “Nothing to forgive. Go wash.”
His gentle tone surprised Gabrielle, but nothing Oltu could say or do could lessen her opinion of him. “Tell me she’s not one of your tributes!”
“I cannot.”
“She’s a child!”
His color paled. “All Qui tributes are of age.”
“Then tell me she’s a willing tribute!”
His lips thinned, his expression a taut model of compressed fury, and Gabrielle shook her head, her lips curled and her nose wrinkled in disgust. She felt sick and didn’t care he knew it.
“I need you to leave my stateroom.” His voice snapped like a whip, his ferocity blasting through her with the power of a storm.
Pale now and fighting to control her stomach, Gabrielle glared right back.
What had happened to him? She’d felt the growing distance between them, knew she’d somehow rebuffed his advance that first day back on the Thrak ‘Yla and he’d been avoiding her as much as possible ever since, his demeanor more aggressive with each passing day. This couldn’t continue. They had to establish a better understanding before they reached Dralexi, but seeing Yulla, Gabrielle feared her diplomacy stretched only so far.
“Yulla should come with me,” she demanded.
Oltu’s lizard pupils narrowed to a thin slit, his corneas ablaze. “You fear for her safety?”
“Yes.”
He threw his arms out. “Then by all means, take her! She can serve you.”
“I don’t need serving.”
“No? Then perhaps I should find you some work to do, before you bore of playing Trislloj.”
Gabrielle reddened. Everything had been provided for her and Cale on the Thrak ‘Yla—food, exercise, amusement and study. Cale instructed her in the use of the retinal and audio implants Central Command had supplied her and even dragged her to the ship’s armory for shooting practice—can’t moan about being overprotected if she didn’t learn how to defend herself. Oltu granted permission for anything she wanted, gym access, level 1 database access, and she accepted the courtesies without thought, researching Dralexi, improving her K’lahn, and learning everything she could about the Qui Empire.