by Draven, Zoey
Cara was looking out the viewing window, to the stars that gleamed in the distance and the planet they were currently passing, when she said, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I was angry and tired and frustrated with myself.”
“You said nothing that was not true.”
“Perhaps,” she said, looking over at him with a small, hesitant smile. She shouldn’t be smiling at him. He didn’t deserve an apology. Not from her. “But I’m still sorry. I appreciate that you’re trying to help me learn. It’s the most anyone has done for me in a long time.”
Devix’s mood sobered. Her words made him feel worse, that a single training session, where he’d spewed an ugly truth, where he’d made her fight to exhaustion, was something she appreciated.
Wrong, wrong, wrong. Devix took another sip of Brew. It was all wrong. Warped, dark, tainted, just like him. His mate should be perched in his lap, being stroked and loved. She shouldn’t have to learn how to fight to protect herself because it was his sole purpose in life to protect her. She shouldn’t have to fear for her future because he would provide everything she’d ever want.
“Is that strong?” she asked, looking at his goblet.
“Very,” he replied.
“Perfect,” she said, taking it from his hands before bringing the rim to her soft, pink lips.
The image made his chest tighten. Sharing food and drink was an intimacy only mates and Breeding partners shared together. It only served to remind him of what he could have.
Cara choked as the Brew sizzled down her throat and handed the goblet back to him, their fingers brushing over the metal.
Devix watched her cheeks bloom in color as the drink began its work in her blood. He suspected that she’d only need that small sip to relax her, to fog her mind just a bit.
He took another lengthy swig, draining the contents, before setting it aside.
“My name is Devix, female,” he told her, his voice nothing more than a rasp in the quiet.
She turned slightly, bringing her knees up to her chest. In doing so, the tunic shifted slightly and there, on her outer right thigh, was a deep, long scar. An old scar, not new, from the looks of it.
“Devix,” she repeated, testing his name on her tongue, where he wanted it to stay.
“Tev,” he said, inclining his head, eyes shifting from her scar.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asked, an odd, light tone floating between them.
It took Devix a moment to realize she was teasing him and suddenly, he wished for more Brew, to numb the warmth that spread through him.
There was a lot that needed to be said but Devix found himself saying, “I have done many tasks for my employer, but I have never delivered a female to him. His harem had long existed before he ever found me.”
He regretted that stark reality once more entered her gaze, but he wanted to be honest.
“What do you get in return?” she asked softly. “For doing these tasks for him.”
“Nothing and everything,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his horn. He found the words fell surprisingly easily from his tongue, though he’d never spoken them out loud before, “He found me, six rotations ago, on Petrika. I was fighting in the underground then. For Brew mostly. I do not remember much of it. He bought my passage off the colony because he wanted my strength, wanted the fear I could evoke as a Luxirian warrior. He gave me this vessel, gave me the freedom to choose where I went, but with it came my service for six rotations. You are my last charge and then I am free.”
Devix heard her swallow and when he looked over at her, needing to see her, she was looking straight at him. Straight inside him. He could feel her, in his chest, and he wondered how she could stand to sit there, next to him.
“You’re really taking this honesty thing to a whole new level, aren’t you?” she asked softly. She blew out a long breath. “Sometimes I wonder if I’d prefer lies.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked, expression serious.
“No,” she whispered, before clearing her throat. “No, I’d rather have the truth. Always.” She studied him. “A Luxirian? Is that what your people are called?”
“Tev,” he said, throat tight. Not his people. Not anymore.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, flickering over his horns, his face. “I’ve seen one of your kind before. I just remembered.”
Devix straightened. “Where?”
“At the Pit.”
Devix tossed his head. “Impossible.”
“Why?”
He spoke softly as he said, “No honorable Luxirian would fight to claim a pleasure mate, especially if she was unwilling. It goes against everything our species reveres.”
“Well, then maybe he wasn’t so honorable,” Cara argued. “But he looked like you, with long, dark hair. Golden skin, I remember, because the sun was bright that day. And…he wore golden bands around his arms.”
Devix inhaled a sharp breath. “Impossible,” he repeated. “Only the Prime Leader of Luxiria wears those bands.”
“Then it was the Prime Leader of Luxiria. Whatever that means,” she said, waving her hand. The Brew had worked to relax her, but Devix couldn’t believe what was coming from her mouth. “He won, by the way. I’d never seen anything quite like it. It was…indescribable, the way he fought. He only had eyes for this brunette, who was standing next to me. He tossed her over his shoulder like some caveman and left. And she never came back to the cages.”
What she said disturbed him. Had Vaxa’an, the Prime Leader, his blood brother’s friend, the male who had sentenced him to exile instead of death, truly been at the Pit?
There could only be one reason why and Devix sobered. The only reason a Luxirian would fight at the Pit was to claim an eligible Breeding partner. Humans were rumored to be compatible with many species. Had Vaxa’an heard the same?
It meant many things. It meant that the researchers and healers had not found a cure for the Plague’s effects on their surviving females. The females that the Plague had not killed outright had been left completely infertile, threatening the extinction of Luxirians. If Vaxa’an had sought a compatible Breeder, it meant that he was doing the only thing he could to ensure the survival of their race.
“How long ago was this?” Devix questioned.
“I don’t know,” she murmured, voice hesitant. When he looked at her, she looked sad. “I try to remember how long I was there and…I can’t. It just blurs together.”
He wished to comfort her. He wanted to soothe her.
“I wish…” he started, but then his throat closed. Cara was looking at him though, so he continued, “I wish things had been different for you, female.”
She let out a soft laugh, but even Devix knew it wasn’t a happy one.
Many questions haunted him, but only one mattered.
What was he going to do?
“Me too,” she said softly, returning her gaze to the darkness in front of them. “Me too.”
NINE
Cara woke up in her bed, groggy, painfully sore. For a moment, she didn’t remember how she’d gotten there, but then it came back to her.
She’d spent the early hours of the morning on the ‘bridge’ of the ship, as she liked to call it. With…Devix. They’d talked, he’d given her a sip of whatever the hell he’d been drinking—just thinking about it could put hairs on anyone’s chest—and then, somewhere between their soft, honest conversation and her admiring the stars and thinking that she liked hearing Devix’s voice, she’d fallen asleep.
The training session had been physically and mentally exhausting. After she’d gone back to her room to bathe and lick her wounds in peace, she’d tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come to her. She kept thinking about what he’d told her, about what she’d said to him. She didn’t have a window in her room, so she’d gone up to the bridge and found him there.
When she’d first come upon him, he’d been peering out at the same view she’d come to see, as sleepless as she’d been
. And for the first time since she’d met him…she thought he looked sad. Lonely.
Maybe she’d just been projecting, but then he’d actually spoken to her, told her a little about himself, about how, in a sense, he was caged as well, trapped.
Until her. She was his last job and then he’d be free from his employer. Cara had sensed that there was more to it, but she’d been too cowardly to press him, knowing that she might not want to hear what else he had riding on her successful delivery.
Her body protested as she swung her legs over the bed. Every muscle, some she never even knew she had, hurt. Something told her that even in her peak physical condition she’d still be just as sore. She was so sore that she felt nauseous from the build-up of lactic acid.
Cara took a calming breath, wincing when her leg twinged. Glancing down at her scar, she wondered if she was pushing herself too hard. She didn’t want to over do the training sessions, so that if there was an opportunity to escape from her new ‘owner,’ she’d physically be able to take advantage.
It didn’t matter, she decided. She’d heal. She’d wait for the next opportunity patiently, though patience had never been a part of her vocabulary.
She didn’t want to eat, considering she felt she might vomit, but Cara forced herself to take half a travel ration, feeling it fill her up but not overly so. She wanted to regain as much weight as possible while she had access to food. It was possible that she’d be caged again, fed once a day with slimy scraps that wouldn’t fill a dog.
That thought spurred her into action. Forgoing a bath, knowing that she’d just need to wash after, Cara went in search of Devix.
She found him just stepping out of the elevator tube, coming down from the bridge. Cara’s heart stuttered in her chest and she frowned. Her body’s response to him was an annoyance, one she intended to ignore completely.
Devix paused when he saw her, spine straightening. His eyes trailed from her pants to the black band visible beneath her shirt, keeping her breasts tight against her chest.
Her nipples pebbled in response.
“Again?” he questioned once he stopped right in front of her. “You will injure yourself if we repeat the previous session.”
His blue eyes made her squirm in place. She’d sought him out for three reasons last night. One being that, even though she was justified in calling him a nameless mercenary, she felt sorry for saying it. Two, she still intended to learn as much as possible about him in the next five days and try to befriend him. He’d told her that she was the first female he was transporting to this Azatian. She’d heard the unease in his tone, as if it wasn’t something he wanted to do. Perhaps she could convince him otherwise.
Third, she was lonely. The last person she’d spoken to before being taken from the Pit had been the brunette she’d told Devix about. A part of her had wondered if she’d let the Baquarian take her after his fight because it was a relief. A change. If she’d had to return to that cage one more time, she thought she might die.
Devix, in his own way, had shown her more kindness and regard than she’d encountered in a while. He’d kept her safe on Petrika, filled her belly with food, allowed her to roam the ship without being trapped in her room, and now he was trying to teach her how to defend herself, how to keep herself safe, something he didn’t need to do.
Most importantly, he was honest with her. Cara hated being lied to.
“Then we can try something else,” she suggested, a slight hopeful tone in her voice. “Unless you have other things to do.”
He studied her and then ran a hand over his right horn. “Tev, come. I will show you something else.”
Cara almost sighed in relief and they both turned towards the training room.
Five days left until they reached his employer, until he handed her over.
Cara snuck a peak up at him. He was quiet. Well, quieter than usual, which wasn’t saying much. But he’d opened up to her a little last night, told her his name. She figured it had been progress, but now, she wondered if he regretted it.
That thought deflated her a bit because…she’d quite enjoyed talking to him.
To break the heavy silence between them, she asked, “Do you live on the ship all the time?”
He’d told her he didn’t have a crew. So it was just…him. She couldn’t imagine living in that hunk of metal, as nice as it was, just drifting among the stars.
They’d reached the training room doors and they slid open silently. Devix let her enter first and then said, “Nix. I live on Rozun, a neutral colony.”
Rozun.
She committed the place to memory.
She wondered what a ‘neutral colony’ meant, whether it was anything like Petrika, and then she shuddered. No place could be worse than Petrika, except the Pit.
Before she could ask, he asked, “Where do you hurt the most?”
Cara looked at him in mild surprise and then replied, “My leg. But it’s from a previous injury.” She swallowed thickly. “I’m sore pretty much everywhere to be honest.”
Devix pressed his lips together for a moment, thinking. Cara couldn’t help but notice that he wore a dark green shirt that day, made out of what looked like suede. It molded to his chest and wide shoulders like a second skin.
Cara cleared her throat and forced herself to look at his face. Not like that’s hard either, a little voice inside her thought.
“An Azatian’s weakest point is here,” Devix began, demonstrating by placing one claw about five inches down from the base of his throat. “They usually wear heavy metals as protection, but on occasion the metal will slide and you can pierce it with the right angle.”
“Pierce what?” she asked quietly.
“The heart,” he answered. “They only have one and it lies close against the flesh. You can see it beneath their skin if you look close enough.”
Cara sucked in a breath. “That’s the only place? Not, um, their genitals or something?”
Devix’s brow twitched, or at least she swore it did. “Their genitals retract into the protection of their bodies.”
“Um…” was all Cara could say, eyes wide, face flaming.
“Nix, you cannot attack them there,” he said, as if she needed further clarification.
“Right,” she said. And then, she wondered if Devix had a cock that ‘retracted’ into his body and then her face turned even redder. Jesus.
“Their eyes are also sensitive. Bright lights blind them. It is eternal night on their planet, so they are unused to it.”
Eternal night? Darkness, always. Panic rose. She couldn’t be in the dark, not again.
Devix watched her process this information and then he said, “Stand away. Against the wall.”
Cara did as he asked and then he retrieved a short, silver blade from a hidden sheath at his waist. With a tap on the band around his forearm, he widened his stance, holding the blade in front of him.
Cara wondered what the hell he was doing when the hologram appeared, the same one she’d caught a brief glimpse of yesterday when she’d first peeked into that room. She’d barely registered it before, but now she studied it.
Her first impression was that it looked like the Baquarian. Like a snake, with slitted eyes and a flat nose. And scales. Its head was smooth and bare, but its body was cloaked in metal. A long, lizard-like tale jutted out from behind, brushing the metal floor.
It was so realistic that Cara recoiled. She had to remind herself that it was just a hologram.
And somehow, she knew that he was showing her an Azatian.
Cara held her breath when the hologram attacked and she realized why Devix needed the blade. When it jabbed at her alien with a long spear, he dodged easily and quickly, and then he blocked another with his blade, the weapons connecting.
Not a hologram, she thought, shrinking further into the wall, trying not to be seen in case it turned that spear on her.
Devix positioned his body between them and then said, “Do you see the place, Cara?�
�
Hearing her name focused her and she sought it out, five inches down the Azatian’s chest. Its heart was protected by a red, glowing medallion. When the hologram twisted to strike Devix, the medallion lifted slightly and she saw it. The heart. It was glowing a light blue and, like its skin was translucent around it, she saw it throb. Then the medallion shifted back into place and the sight was lost.
“Yes,” she said.
Suddenly, the hologram’s eyes were on hers. Before she had time to even comprehend it, or move, Devix plunged the blade up beneath the medallion. The Azatian roared and then the hologram disappeared completely.
Cara was frozen against the wall, hardly daring to move.
“Is it gone?” she asked, her voice sounding hollow.
“Tev,” he said, unwounded, replacing his silver blade. “It is.”
“That…that was real,” she said softly.
“Nix, it was not,” he told her, approaching her. He frowned, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Comforting. “I would not let it come near you.”
“It can hurt you though,” she said, meaning it as a question.
“Tev,” he said, jerking his head. “Its blade is real enough. But it cannot leave these quarters and this,” he said, lifting his forearm, where the metal band was attached, “controls it. It is intelligent technology, but only technology.”
“Okay,” she murmured, blowing out a breath, shaking herself. Her eyes connected with his and she found them even more comforting than his touch. “I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”
“Which is why I told you to run if you had the opportunity,” he told her simply. His expression darkened. “If there is no opportunity, then you know where to strike.”
“Right,” she murmured.
“You will practice on me,” he told her, releasing her shoulder. “It will give your body a rest this span.”
He retrieved a short, small blade from the opposite wall and handed it to her.