by Luna Hunter
Resha’s proud face is fixed into a scowl. The Thaboist is one towering red mass of pure rage. Reasoning with him in this state would be quite a feat, but I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.
“Every time I beat you, it was fair and square, Resha. In fact, do you want to go again? I’ll gladly stain the earth with your blood, if that is what it takes!”
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I spread my wings, barring their view of my mate. Several of his soldiers chuckle, but a hateful glance from him puts a quick stop to that.
“Save it for the courts,” he says, jabbing his gun into my naked chest. “They’ll decide your fate.”
In an instant I pull away his gun and deck him across his red face with a closed fist. I whirl around, ready to grab my mate and kick off. All I need is a split second and we can fly off to safety, the canopy of trees providing us with the cover we need.
Yet, when I turn, I find a Zoran’s arm wrapped tightly around my mate’s neck, cutting off her air supply.
“Don’t move,” he growls.
“Don’t you hurt her,” I say. “I will tear your arms off and beat you to death with them.”
“Kneel,” the soldier bites.
I have no choice. Leah means everything to me.
“Don’t!” She protests.
“Take me,” I say. “Release her.”
Resha kicks me hard in my back, and I stumble down to the ground.
“No chance,” he snarls. “Why would I let a filthy mongrel like you walk free? Now that would make no sense. No sense at all.”
I look up at him and see the rage burning in his eyes. I wait for the punch to come, and I see he wants to throw it more than anything, but beating a man on the ground is too low — even for him.
With his squad watching his every move, anyway. If we were alone, I’m sure he’d have no such qualms.
“Take them away,” he says. “Before they make me sick.”
“Check the logs,” I say, yanking at my chains. The Thaboists have us chained to the very wall in a damp cave, like we’re a pair of rabid dogs. “It’s all there. We both have clearance from the Sacred Order to travel through the jungle to the Trade Ports. Every moment you keep the both of us locked up here is one in which you are defying the word of the Sacred Mother Dragica!”
“I don’t give a flying Qro about your ‘Sacred Order’,” he scowls. “First Theros, and now this?! The Regiments won’t tolerate anymore mongrels like yourself muddying up our gene pool. I’ve tolerated your kind long enough.”
“Listen to what you’re saying. This is madness.”
“No,” he growls. “Your mutated wings, that is madness.” He pulls out a serrated knife and smirks at me with an evil glint in his eyes. “In fact, I think I ought to help you out of your little predicament. What do you think, boys?”
The soldiers snicker.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t tempt me!” He says, placing the blade at my neck. “You have no idea what I’m capable of!”
“Leave him alone, you brute!” Leah calls out from across the room.
“Ah, the half-breed speaks,” Resha says. He wanders over to her, balling his fists.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” I scream. “Don’t you—”
Resha swings right for my mate’s exposed stomach. In that second, our gaze meet across the room, and I see her green eyes are filled with focus.
Our abilities react to one another and a blindingly bright flash fills the entire cave. Pure energy races through my system, and my wings spread wide with a power and vigor I didn’t know were possible.
The chains holding me in place split right in two — as do Leah’s. This is exactly what the Mating Star Prophecy foretold. Our abilities enhance one another. Together, we’re capable of anything.
Leah drops down to the floor right before Resha’s fist connects, and instead of striking my mate, he breaks his hand upon the unyielding cave wall.
He cries out in pain, and before he can get his bearings I am upon him, my balled fists raining down with a vengeance.
His attempt to hurt my mate has awakened a deep-seated rage inside of me, a protective instinct stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before, and I feel compelled to strike and strike until Resha is well and truly defeated.
I only stop when Leah pulls me back, her soft touch extinguishing the blazing fire inside of me.
Resha’s goons are frozen in shock. They’re not so tough without their leader, and they make no attempt to stop us as we exit the cave.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I say as we enter the jungle. “The Trade Ports are only a short march north of here. We can send your message soon, I promise.”
“No, it is my fault,” Leah says. “I should have waited. I should have listened to you.”
I reach out for her hand and she lets me hold it. The gentle touch soothes the aching in my fists.
“You freed us both,” I say. “That was all you.”
She shrugs. “Maybe? I don’t know what happened, but I did feel a… connection.”
“I feel the same way,” I nod. “I’m sure your message will bring help to Garna. We are close.”
“I hope so, because if it doesn’t, I have to find a way to travel there.”
If it comes to that… I will join her.
It’s not even a question. My decision has been made. Our destinies are linked. I will follow her anywhere.
Chapter Seventeen
Leah
Davor’s touch feels absolutely perfect. His hand is holding mine, and his grip is firm, but gentle. Just like he is.
He just saved my life — twice. First, he flung that alien crocodile over his shoulder like it was nothing, and then he made quick work of the red Zoran soldier.
The alien warrior is gentle with me, but I see now he can be a fierce, ferocious warrior if the situation calls for it.
That makes it what, the third time he’s saved my life now?
I don’t deserve him, I think to myself as I bite my bottom lip. Trouble seems to follow me wherever I go. I squeeze his hand and hope that whatever happens, he’ll stay by my side.
As long as I have him, I’m safe.
When the time comes, I want to thank him properly for all he’s done for me. Despite the danger we’re still in, I allow butterflies to flap freely in my stomach for a moment, giving myself permission to imagine a world in which we’re safe, and we can spend every waking getting to know each other’s minds…
And bodies.
“There it is,” he says, rousing me from my wanton daydreaming. “The Trade Ports Docks.”
The jungle opens up into a clearing. Giant metal buildings jut out the Earth like fingers from the sand. It’s a hub of activity, with ships flying in and out, and crates being moved all over the place.
“This is where the Order and the Regiments both get their supplies from the Ports main base, up on on Arcor,” Davor explains. “Come.”
As we walk towards the buildings we get a few stares. Davor’s wings are out after all, his chest bared, but fortunately, no one reaches for their rifles.
“Don’t worry,” Davor says. “This isn’t Thaboist property. We’re safe.”
We enter one of the buildings. Inside everything is sleek and modern, and to my surprise, comfortably air-conditioned. This is very different from the Sacred Order’s temple, which is quite basic and primitive, compared to all the shiny technology on display here.
Davor leaves me to go talk to a well-groomed Zoran behind the counter. A spirited discussion later the man offers my protector his Trade Ports jacket, which Davor rips two holes in for his wings with his bare hands.
He returns to me smiling.
“The Trade Merchants are quite a bit friendlier than the Regiments,” he says. “Our shuttle awaits.”
Moments later I’m pressed close against him, his hand resting on my knee as our shuttle kicks off. I rest my head against his shoulder and sigh.
“You’re not hiding your wings anymore?” I ask.
He shakes his blue head. “The secret is out. I might as well embrace it.”
“Were they caused by the Rift?”
Davor nods. “Ever since that vortex appeared, these have suddenly sprouted. At first I hated them — I didn’t want to be different — but, they sure came in handy today.”
“Yeah, because I was stubborn enough to waddle into an alien jungle on my own,” I laugh.
“True. But still, I’m glad they could be of use.”
“I’ll try to stay out of trouble from now on.”
A smirk appears on his chiseled face. “Is that a promise you can keep, human?”
“No,” I laugh. “Probably not. Trouble seems to follow me around like a hungry Rinjin.”
He cocks his head. “Rin-what?”
“I haven’t told you about my nemesis?”
“You have not.”
I explain my love-hate (mostly hate to be honest) relationship with the Rinjin, and soon, I’m chatting away about Garna. He listens attentively, and it’s very soothing to think about home… before all this trouble started.
When life was still simple.
“Thanks for listening,” I say.
“No, thank you for telling me!” Davor says. “I cannot wait to see these Lubas! They sound magnificent.”
“I may over oversold them,” I hesitate. “I mean, I think they’re pretty amazing, but some people think they’re just big dumb cows, so…”
“Nonsense,” he says resolutely. “If you see beauty in them, then there is beauty in them. I cannot wait to see it as well.”
I find my cheeks glowing bright red. Everything is so straight forward and easy with Davor. I’m always in my own head, doubting myself, and he just makes a decision. Like that.
I’ve been agonizing about my choice to leave Garna for years, and he hears about and decides to visit. I wish I could do that.
Or does he want to go there because of me?
I still find it hard to believe that the beautiful, strong, alien warrior is actually into me as much as I’m into him, but perhaps… perhaps my dreams are really coming true.
I can’t deny the physical attraction I feel for him.
Or the sex dreams.
Oh my god, the sex dreams. Did he have them too? He did say he recognized my eyes from the dreams, but…
What if that isn’t all he remembers?
“Are you okay?” He asks. “You are quite red all of a sudden.”
Again with the straightforwardness. I suppose it does have its drawbacks…
“Nothing,” I lie. I’ll ask him about the dreams after I sent the message to the Galactic Aid Corps Headquarters. I quickly decide to change the subject, and his beautiful, feathered wings are drawing all of my attention.
“Can I, uhm, touch them?” I ask shyly.
“Oh course.”
I gentle run my fingers across his fingers. They are so soft and fluffy…
“What’s it like to fly?”
He shrugs. “Saving you was the first time I tried to fly, to be honest, and at that time I was more concerned with finding you than with the joy of flying.”
“Really?” I say. “Weren’t you curious?”
“Of course, but I was too afraid to be seen. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the Warrior Regiments are rather… traditional,” he chuckles. “They claim to have ‘pure’ Zoran DNA, and they resent having to share their power with the Trade Ports and the Sacred Order. Everything that is not ‘100% Zoran’, whatever that may mean, they consider suspect. And my wings, well, they aren’t exactly standard.”
I shake my head. “How can they be so short sighted? We’re all living in this stupid universe together, trying to make the most of it all — who cares about your DNA?!”
“Absolutely,” Davor says. “However, I am curious. When you first noticed your changes, did you tell your family and friends right away?”
“No,” I have to admit. “I did not. I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to be weird. I was happy the way things were, you know? Change is scary. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was predictable. Look at me now: on an alien shuttle, halfway across the galaxy, flying to some inhabited moon, with a gorgeous Zoran next to me…”
Wait, did I say that out loud?!
The amused glint in Davor’s eyes tells me yes, yes I did. Oh boy.
“Life can change quite rapidly,” Davor says. “You blink, and suddenly, nothing will be the same ever again.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare down at my shoes. Things sure do change fast — I remember, only a few short days ago, wondering if I’m ever going to meet somebody…
And now I have this winged, blue god sitting next to me.
And I’m too damn shy to tell him what I want.
Some things don’t change.
The vessel suddenly rockets from side to side.
“Ah, we must have docked. Come.”
Davor grabs my hand and leads me outside. As the metallic doors slide open, my mouth just about falls open. The busiest place I’ve ever been is the main GAC Silo when it’s time for the summer harvest festival. That’s peanuts compared to this bustling space station.
There’s thousands of people, Zorans and humans alike, going about their day, with shuttles arriving and leaving every second. There’s metal and glass everywhere, and not to mention a giant glass dome in the center that I can see New Exon from!
“Welcome to Arcor,” Davor says. “Home of the Trade Ports, home of the Vinzonian Merchants.”
“It’s amazing,” I stammer. I press myself closer against him as we head into the crowd. He wraps his arm protectively around my waist, and together we wander towards a comm booth.
His wings draw a few glances, but it’s not as bad as I feared. Compared to how those hard-faced Thaboist warriors treated us, it’s like we’re on a completely different planet!
Well, we are on a moon, so I suppose that’s true in a sense.
“We need to send an urgent message to the Galactic Aid Corps Headquarters,” Davor tells the woman behind the comm desk — who I quickly realize is a synthetic. “It’s a code red,” Davor adds. “There should be a confirmation in your system from the Sacred Order, signed by Sacred Mother Dragica.”
My mouth hangs open as I stare unabashedly at the beautiful, synth woman. Her amazing nails draw most of my attention — are those galaxies? And are they swirling? How is that even possible?! I want swirling nails…
“You’ve never seen one of us before, darling?” She asks me as her fingers move across her keyboard at a blistering pace. There’s no malice in her voice, she’s just teasing me. She’s even got personality!
“I, uhm, well, no,” I stammer, feeling like a country bumpkin.
“It’s okay,” she says. “The universe is changing.”
“It really is.”
“I found an available video pod for you. East wing, third floor, on your left, past the DithraBurger. Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” I say. We hurry towards the booth as fast as our legs can carry us, ascending the stairs with two steps at a time.
That is how I find myself staring into a blinking camera light as I gather my breath. This is the moment that I’ve been waiting for.
Unfortunately, the GAC headquarters are too far away for a live video chat, but I can record a message and it’ll be sent to them with something approximating the speed of light.
I struggle to find the right words. Normally my father would send a message like this, or the overseer would do it… and now it is up to me. Garna hangs in the balance.
I wanted to apply for the job of overseer, didn’t I? I guess this is my trial by fire.
“My name is Leah Booker,” I say. “Class C Worker on Garna, personnel number GR-H12-ZB. Our planet, Garna — it’s under attack! SINTRA Corp, or mercenaries who claim to work for them, have invaded us an
d cut us off from all off-world communication. We request immediate assistance! Please, we need your help. Please.”
Davor fire’s the message away into cyberspace, as I dry the tears burning in my eyes.
“How did I do?”
“Perfect.”
“Are you sure? Was I too short? Or too long? Do you think I sounded urgent enough?”
“You did absolutely perfect, Leah,” he says. “Stop worrying.”
“It’s kinda my second nature.”
He pulls me close and kisses my forehead, and at that moment the floodgates are opened. Try as I might, I can’t stop crying.
“What’s wrong?” Davor asks.
I bury my face in his chest, letting his scent surround me. Everything that I’ve held back comes out in that moment. He holds me tightly as I sniffle.
“I thought when I sent the message, I would be relieved, but…”
The Zoran nods. “We have to wait. That is all we can do.”
“It doesn’t feel like it is enough. We should be telling everyone we know, we should demand that the Zorans send their war ships, we should…”
“I understand your pain, but we have to give the Galactic Aid Corps time to respond. They might want to speak to you.”
“But…” I stammer. “I can’t just wait. And do nothing. That’s not right.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Davor says. “One night. For real this time. No sneaking out. And we await the GAC’s response. Then, if you still want to, I’ll steal a cruiser myself and we’ll fly to Garna. Or we can buy a ticket on a transport vessel, whichever one you prefer.”
“One night,” I agree. “One single night. No more!”
“No more. Promise.”
Chapter Eighteen
Leah
“What are you thinking about?” Davor asks as he hands me a glass of the blackest liquid I’ve ever seen.
“Everything,” I answer. “What’s this?”
“Kuhla,” he says. “A local delicacy. “Try it.”