by Jess Granger
“I . . . uh,” she stuttered, sinking back down into the hammock. He was potent before. Now he was beautiful, beautiful and dangerous as the Xalen tiger he reminded her of. “I feel fine.”
No, she wasn’t fine. Keeping her distance from him had been hard enough when he had reminded her of a wounded soldier. Now he looked like some pagan god. She felt her control slipping away, like sand between her fingers.
“What do you remember?” he asked.
“The energy converter exploded, but I managed to steer the stingship to Makko. We crashed in the middle of nowhere.”
“Not exactly.” Soren smiled as green sparkled in his dark eyes. “As it turned out, we landed near this village. Lakal was from this planet. The tribe has welcomed us here as their guests.”
Cyani adjusted her ear set. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she couldn’t find her eyepiece. She needed it. It was a small barrier, but a barrier all the same. “You speak their language?”
“Yes. You must be hungry. The plant they use to heal works miraculously fast, but it stimulates the body into using massive energy and resources. I’ve done nothing but eat since yesterday afternoon.” Soren lifted the plank of food so she could reach it.
“How long have I been unconscious?” And naked, she wanted to add, but decided against mentioning her nudity.
She picked up a large chunk of juicy meat and tasted it.
Heavenly. It tasted so good, she didn’t even bother to question what animal it came from.
“For a day and a half.”
By the glory of Ona the Pure, she was in trouble. She had to think about something else.
“How is Vicca healing? Will her leg be sound? And what is wrong with her hip?” Cyani asked between bites of meat and tasting a strange blue fruit. Her hunger writhed like a living thing. She couldn’t stop eating. Vicca tried to steal the piece of fruit from her fingers. Cyani smoothed her hand down Vicca’s striped back to keep her down.
“Her cast should come off the day after tomorrow, and her hip is just sore from being dislocated. She’ll be fine. You managed to get us all off that asteroid alive.” Soren held out a chunk of meat to the fox.
Cyani huffed through a half smile. “Barely.”
Soren chuckled. “What do you know about the Makkolen people?”
“Not much. They’re primitive, but they’re highly prized slaves. They’re worth more than me, though less than you, I’d imagine. The Union doesn’t know why. We only know that in spite of our presence in this star system, the Garulen, and occasionally the Kronalen, try to raid this planet.” Cyani continued to pick things off the platter, feeling relaxed and comfortable.
There was an easy feeling in the atmosphere, a feeling of happiness floating over everything. It didn’t make sense. She tucked Vicca up closer to her breasts as she crossed her legs in embarrassment. She should not feel so at ease, but she did, and that contradiction put her on edge.
“The Makkolen are more powerful than you think,” Soren explained. “The Union has dismissed them because they don’t use technology. They don’t need it. I don’t think they want it. They’re perfectly adapted for their world. They’re proud of their traditions and their planet, but they are by no means defenseless.”
“Explain. Does this have to do with their psychic ability?” She focused on Soren, trying to maintain her concentration when her body wanted her to ease back into a comfortable sleep. Her eyes slipped over his smooth chest, no longer marred by dark bruises. Maybe she shouldn’t focus on Soren.
“Yes.” Soren picked up a roasted bird leg. At least, she thought it was a bird leg.
“They can control minds?” Cyani tried tucking herself deeper into the hammock.
“Not exactly. They influence emotion. They can project whatever mood they want on any higher order creature they come in contact with.”
“I don’t understand.” They could affect people’s moods?
“They can make you feel happy, sad, calm, irate, afraid, whatever they want, even if it’s irrational. This talent has made them powerful animal tamers. It’s the only way to survive on a planet like this, overrun with fast prey and dangerous predators. The slavers use them to quell uprisings, and”—Soren scowled—“keep valuable property submissive.”
“That’s what your friend was forced to do to you, isn’t it?” Cyani asked as gently as she could. She felt sick for him. What a terrible betrayal both Soren and Lakal must have borne, and yet they still forged a true brotherhood.
“Yeah, the extractor wouldn’t have worked otherwise.
When they killed him during our escape attempt, they killed their only hope of controlling me. That’s why they were trying to sell me to Krona. They weren’t strapping me into that extractor again without someone losing their life, even with the tranquilizers.” Soren picked at a bit of meat hanging on the bone.
“Why tell me all of this?” Cyani asked.
“I’m afraid with your superiority complex, you’ll dismiss the power they wield,” he admitted. He placed his hand on hers. She stared at it, but for the first time, she didn’t try to pull away. His electric touch was the only thing that seemed familiar and real to her. “You were concerned that I could control your thoughts through hypnosis. These people can, Cyani. We are guests of the king and queen, but . . .” Soren looked like he was torn by something. “Don’t underestimate these people, and stay close to me.”
Apprehension slithered down her shoulders. How could she trust people who could control her mind? What choice did she have? The foggy haze of comfortable humor stole back into her mind. It was wrong; she shouldn’t be lighthearted. It was these people’s influence. She recognized the manipulation, but she was too tired to block it out.
“I do not have a superiority complex,” she protested, then reluctantly pulled her hand back.
Soren laughed.
“I do not!” She picked up a chunk of rind and flicked it at him.
“Fine,” he placated in a taunting tone. “You have a goddess complex.”
“Enough, you’re impossible.” Cyani grinned. “I can’t help what I am.” The easy feeling in the air was infectious, and for now, she decided it wasn’t worth the effort to fight it. “Soren?”
“What is it?” he asked, sobering immediately.
“You got the three of us here on your own, didn’t you? Vicca and I, you saved our lives.” She looked up at him as his eyes darkened to an even deeper blue violet.
“I had some help.” His ears flushed as he looked away from her.
“Thank you.” She reached out and almost touched his shoulder, but stopped just short of her fingertips brushing his skin. She drew her hand back in and curled it against her chest.
“It was nothing,” he mumbled.
“Now who is the one who can’t accept praise?” she teased, and smiled at him.
Soren stood and placed the platter on the stool. Without a word, he crossed the room.
“Are you strong enough to dress?” he asked with his back to her. He picked up a bundle of clothing and carried it to the hammock.
She felt dizzy, tired and sick, but the promise of the security of some real clothing was too much for her to ignore. She tucked Vicca into a nook in the pillows and carefully swung her feet out of the hammock.
She stood slowly, but the spinning wave of blood rushing from her head stole the power from her legs, and her knees buckled. She nearly blacked out again. It was too soon.
Soren caught her and pulled her into his powerful body.
Ona forgive me, she silently prayed. Cyani clung to the warm muscles of his arms as her bare breasts pressed against his addictive skin. A soft pull throbbed in her breasts as her nipples tightened. The sheet slipped lower, barely hanging on her hips. It was the only thing separating her naked body from the electric power of his.
This was too much contact. Overwhelmed by him, she stood frozen, horrified and mystified at the same time.
The air burst into swir
ling color around her as his touch alone brought her into the next level of consciousness. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as she stared up into his blazing violet eyes. He held his breath as well. His body hummed with tension, the vibration of it trembling under her palms. She could see it in a quivering, hot indigo aura around him.
Not knowing what to do, she stood there, clinging to him. She would have fallen without his firm support. Mercy of the Matriarchs, now she knew why this was forbidden.
Damn this blood.
She let her hand slip down his arm to brace against his forearm, and she breathed in. His scent enshrouded her in sweet promise and carnal spice.
He eased her down onto the stool as she wrapped her arms around her breasts. Even that touch was nearly too much to bear as her body felt heavy and flooded. An aching throb pulsed deep within her core, urging her to move closer to him, to dance to some primal beat common to all women. More than anything, she felt a longing to be complete that came with an awareness of how empty she was inside.
She was going to die.
She trembled. Her hair slipped over the sensitized skin of her shoulder. Overwhelmed, she felt her consciousness slip for a moment. She tried to gather her strength. Fainting was out of the question.
Soren slipped behind her, and with tender care, lifted one arm away from her heavy breast. She couldn’t fight; she was too tired, too weak to resist. She closed her eyes and let his hand guide her body.
She felt soft but stiff cloth slide over her arm and wrap around her back as Soren tucked her arm back around her exposed chest, and pushed her other arm through the hole of a vest sleeve.
Her relief overwhelmed her as she clung to the edges of the tight vest, and pulled them closed over her naked breasts. She didn’t dare open her eyes as she felt Soren’s fingertips brush her as he laced it together with a strip of leather.
Cyani let herself breathe as she slowly opened her eyes. She looked down at the vest pulled tight over her chest. It stopped at the top of her ribs, leaving her midriff exposed. A black pattern of interlocked animals snaked over the shoulders and down around the edge of her breasts, making them look round and full, pressed together above the low-cut neckline.
Soren shook out a thick skirt, made of many layers of floating red, orange, and cinnamon cloth. He wrapped it around her waist and the stool, and buckled it with a carved wooden clasp on her left hip. The skirt fell away from her leg at the slit, exposing her skin from her calf to her hip up that side.
She had never worn clothing that had left her feeling so naked. Weak and shivering, she felt like her mind and body had just practiced branch-falls through the canopy.
“Are there any undergarments?” she asked, pulling the sheet out from under the skirt as Soren carefully strapped a sandal around her ankle. His warm palm cradled her calf as his fingers brushed over her tattoo. A shiver raced up her spine and ran down her arms. This was all too much. No one had ever cared for her. When injured, she had to tend her own wounds. The reverent way he met her needs made her feel so humble, and no longer alone.
He chuckled as he turned his glowing gaze back to her. It had dimmed, but not by much. “I don’t think the Makkolen have a word for undergarments.”
“How are we going to get out of here?” she asked, her head still reeling. At least the iridescent colors had faded from the room. She looked around the small, comfortable space. A rumpled bed of furs and pillows rested on the floor. Soren must have slept there. The thought comforted her. He had respected her space while she was unconscious.
Near the bed, a lush vine grew up and into the red-clay wall by the door. It bloomed with white star-shaped flowers, very similar to the ciera vines tattooed on her arms and legs. Several tendrils of the vine grew up toward the roof on one side, but on the other reached down toward Soren’s bed. On that side, the blossoms coated the vine, bursting from every centimeter of the dark foliage.
“We’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re completely healed,” he said as he brought her a bowl full of water. He picked a couple of blossoms and dropped them onto the surface before handing her the bowl. “Drink this,” he insisted. “This vine has extraordinary healing properties. You’ll feel hot and hungry, but the last of those bruises should fade away.” He reached out and touched her jaw with the tips of his fingers then let his hand drop.
Cyani drank the cool, flavorful water. The more she drank, the more she craved, as wave after wave of soothing heat rushed through her body. She felt stronger, her head clearer, but ravenously hungry again. Choosing a round yellow fruit from the plank of food, she took a hasty bite straight through the rind. As she choked on her mistake, she pulled the rind out through her teeth.
“What was the condition of the ship?” she mumbled with her mouth full. Her com didn’t have enough power to transmit to the nearby base, but if the power supply to the central communication system was still intact, she might be able to send a distress code. If that failed, perhaps she could integrate her com signal into a beacon, but she wasn’t sure if that signal was strong enough to reach the Union forces either.
Soren took a deep breath as he picked up Vicca and reclined on the bed of furs. He let Vicca drink from a bowl as he rubbed her back. “I don’t know what state the ship’s in now. The cockpit separated from the rest of the wreckage. The hull was crushed. There were grass fires all around. It’s probably burned.”
“What happened to my eyepiece?” she asked.
Soren frowned, his dark expression saying far more than his colorful eyes. “It fell off. I’m sorry I was too busy trying to revive you to save your blighted eyepiece.”
“Take it easy, I’m just trying to assess our situation,” she defended, wiping some sticky juice from her chin. “What do you have against my eyepiece anyway?”
“I can’t see your face when you wear it.” He picked up a large oblong nut and crushed it in his hand.
“Soren?” She slid off the stool so she could look him in the eye.
“What?”
“Where are the drugs?” she asked.
He let out an aggravated breath and fed the crushed nut to Vicca. “I don’t know.”
“How long will the drugs in your system last?” She tried to keep her tone soft and comforting. He was on the edge, and she didn’t want to push him over.
“Another three or four days, then they’ll probably be at the same level they were when you first found me,” he admitted as he let Vicca lick the remains of the nut off the palm of his hand.
“And how long would you survive after that?” She needed to know, and she hated to know at the same time.
“I don’t know. Days, weeks, it depends.” He tucked Vicca into a nest of pillows by the wall and stood. He studied the vine as the small white flowers seemed to turn their faces toward him.
“We need to return to the ship.” She pushed to her feet, trying to hide the sudden rush of dizziness that nearly overcame her. She had been in worse shape. She could do this. She had to. “If I can send out a distress signal, the Union forces on Delta Eighty-four’s base can rescue us, and we can get you home. In the meantime, we can look for the drugs . . .”
“Enough,” Soren commanded as he towered over her. “We’re not going anywhere. Vicca is injured, there are dangerous beasts on the savannah, and even if we find the wreck, there’s nothing left of the ship that can help us.”
Cyani stood and glared up at him as she stepped toward him. “We have to try.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder and ran it over the dark bruise marring her skin. “We have to heal.”
She shrugged her shoulder away from his touch. His eyes flashed his dark gray disappointment. He selected a mottled scarlet and ginger cloth from a bench and let the silk flow through his hands. He shook it open then brought it around her back. With careful attention he placed it on her head, and wrapped the sides over her shoulders.
“It will protect your skin from the sun,” he explained. “Come on, I want
to introduce you to the king and queen. They’ve been very anxious about your health.”
Cyani adjusted the shimmering drape so it covered her bare shoulders and her cleavage. Unfortunately it wasn’t long enough to wrap around her midriff. She placed a self-conscious hand over her belly button and stepped toward the door.
On Azra, the Elite were only allowed to expose the bare skin of their arms in public. Everything else had to remain covered. With her current costume, very little wasn’t exposed. She felt like any opponent had a clear target on her deepest vulnerabilities. A shiver raced over her shoulders. Soren was one thing. They had nearly died together, and he was the closest thing she had to a friend. If he had seen her exposed, the unease she felt at the thought was tempered by her trust in him. An entire village of strangers staring at her exposed body was something else entirely. Their conversation about escaping wasn’t over, but she would let it drop, for now, as she tried to figure out a way to protect herself. “Yes, I’d like to meet the queen and thank her for her generous hospitality and for healing Vicca.”
Soren drew back the cloth hanging over the doorway and led her out into the sun.
It took a moment for Cyani’s eyes to adjust to the bright light. She could feel the heat seep into her sore muscles. For the moment, it felt soothing, but she was glad for the shawl. After too long, the sun would be blistering hot on her skin.
She blinked as she studied the large village. A bright cacophony of voices and animal grunts, squeals, clucks, and roars blended together like a verse of foreign music. A large wall made of red mud and tall spikes of timber surrounded the squat little huts and the two large lodges on either side of the village.
Towering old trees with dark dry leaves and gnarled limbs shaded a garden and several animal pens. Soren led her toward the far end of the village as she turned this way and that, trying to take everything in. She’d never seen a place so foreign. The canopy of her rainforest home was sterile and white. The leaves and light of the canopy seemed ethereal. This place was raw and untamed. Bathed in shades of fire, it burned with primal instinct.