"So, what are you saying?" she said, jogging to keep up with him. "That we're cursed or something?"
"Shit, I don't know," Trag said. "But it sure as hell sounded like it to me."
Micayla remained skeptical. "Mind telling me just what visions you've seen?"
"I haven't had any myself," Trag said, striking off again at a fast pace through the portico, "but Ty has. He had a vision that Kyra would come and that his life would change."
"Oh, surely you don't believe that!" she scoffed. "Did he tell you that before or after she arrived?"
"After," Trag replied, "but--"
"Well, that was convenient," she said mildly. "I'm not sure I'd believe it myself unless he told me ahead of time."
"Yes, but Cat does it too," Trag countered. "He had a vision that Nedwuts blew up Zetith, and that one turned out to be true--just wish he'd had one about Rutger Grekkor! He also knows when women friends are pregnant--even the sex of the children--and Leo's had a few mystical experiences of his own. It's a Zetithian thing," he added, looking nervously over his shoulder as though the curse was somehow following them.
Following his glance, Micayla saw Shentuk standing by the entrance to The Shrine, waving at them in farewell. "Oh, really?"
"Yes, really," Trag assured her.
"Well, be that as it may, I've never had any visions--well, not like that, though I do have a sort of deja vu thing now and then--and you say you haven't either, so..."
"No, I haven't," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean I can't start, and right now, I'm seeing disaster."
"Disaster?" she echoed. "Being my mate would be a disaster?"
"What--you think we'd be the happiest couple in history?"
"Well, no, maybe not, but--"
"I'm not chancing it," he said roundly. Reaching the corner of the palace walls, he turned quickly, breathing a sigh of relief as though escaping Shentuk's line of sight made such a horrendous calamity less likely.
Trag walked on in silence after that but at least slackened his pace. Micayla had no idea what he was thinking, but she was trying to understand why his flat refusal irked her so much. After all, practically every man she'd ever met would have given his left nut for the chance to--
That was it, she decided. She wasn't feeling hurt because he didn't want her--and it wasn't vanity, either. It was simply that, having had to refuse so many men in the past, it seemed odd when she didn't have to. The novelty of it appealed to her for some reason, and she smiled to herself.
***
Trag happened to glance at her just then and caught her smile. "I really mean it, Mick," he said. "Not a chance."
"That's fine," she said, still smiling disturbingly. He must have appeared skeptical, for she added, "No, really, I don't mind at all."
"Good," he said shortly.
"In fact," she went on, "I think we should make a pact not to be lovers."
"I like that idea," Trag said with a firm nod. "We will not be lovers, no matter what The Great Mother of the Desert has to say about it."
"Agreed," she said, holding out her hand. "Pact?"
"Pact," Trag said, gripping her hand tightly. "And don't hiss at me anymore."
"I only did that once, Trag!" she protested. "I still don't know why, either--but I'll try not to."
"And while we're at it," he said as another thought occurred to him, "don't tease me about Kyra. I know it's not right, but I can't help how I feel."
"Okay," she said, "but can I make one request?"
"Maybe," he said cautiously. "What is it?"
"Rodan," she said with a shudder. "Just don't leave me alone with him if you can help it."
"You aren't afraid of him, are you?" Trag asked in surprise. "I thought you were tough."
"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I want to be alone with him. Especially not when he's naked."
Trag chuckled knowingly. "Scary, isn't it?"
"You know, on Earth, a well-endowed man is generally referred to as being hung like a horse, but he's more like a bull elephant."
Trag couldn't help but think that Rodan would be proud of this analogy, but he kept that opinion to himself. "Okay. You don't tease me about Kyra, and I won't give Rodan the chance to try anything funny."
"Good," she said, "because if I have to, I'll rip his big, hairy donkey balls off and feed them to the rats--or whatever they have around here."
Trag also promised to warn Rodan not to suggest anything that might put said balls within the range of Micayla's fangs. Trag was thankful that his own jewels were hidden securely inside his pants. After all, he didn't want her getting any ideas.
***
Several days later, the palace received a message that the Jolly Roger was on its way.
"They've left the younger ones on Terra Minor with Bonnie and Lynx as planned," Tychar said as he read Jack's missive to the group. "Lynx wanted to come here, of course, but Bonnie needs him."
"I'm sure she does," Kyra said. "That would be six babies to care for--along with her farm. Still, I wish Jack had been able to bring everyone," she added wistfully. "I'd love to see them."
"It's probably best that they stay on Terra Minor," Tychar said. "Better climate, not to mention very strict landing regulations."
"Yes, but we live in a palace with guards," Kyra reminded her husband. "Scalia kept you guys safe for twenty years, and we've got a whole lot more room than Bonnie does."
"She lives on a farm, for heaven's sake," Trag pointed out. "They've probably got tons of room."
"Well, she did say that she and Lynx had built on to the house," Kyra admitted. Sighing, she added, "Wouldn't it be great if we all lived on the same planet?"
"Perhaps when this matter is settled, we will be able to," Tychar said soberly. "But until that time, as Jack always says, it's best not to put all of our eggs in one basket."
"And Terra Minor is the safest basket there is," Kyra agreed. "Maybe someday."
Micayla listened to this discussion with interest, the idea of a whole planet populated by Zetithians capturing her imagination. Always considered an oddity before, in present company she was among the majority for the first time since that fateful day when she was separated from her family, and she was already beginning to realize what it would it be like to be a part of that culture and not feel quite so alone in the universe.
Even so, as the only Zetithian female, there was no one with whom she could truly relate. Kyra knew firsthand what it was like to love a Zetithian, whereas Micayla and Windura could only guess at it, and now that Micayla had made her pact with Trag, Windura probably stood a better chance of being Trag's lover than she did.
Micayla leaned back in her chair, her eyes widening in shock. She was actually thinking about it! Was she already regretting their agreement? Stealing a glance at Trag, she found she could easily restrain herself from biting or hissing at him now, but just then he grinned at something Tychar said and the feeling returned.
"I still do," Tychar was saying. "Think you're up to it?"
"I feel pretty good," Trag replied. "I think I could handle it."
"Tonight, then," Tychar said.
Having lost the thread of the conversation, Micayla looked questioningly at Tychar, who explained, "We used to run on top of the portico at night when we were slaves. It kept us from going crazy."
"And made them that much more irresistible to the poor, unsuspecting piano teacher," Kyra added. "I nearly fainted when I first saw them--though the heat might have had something to do with my reaction."
"I can imagine it would," Windura said frankly. "It's taking a long time for me to get used to it too."
Since she and Windura had been taking it easy since their arrival in an attempt to adjust to the Darconian climate, Micayla hadn't done anything more strenuous than walking the corridors of the palace, but she was already beginning to feel the sluggishness she normally associated with inactivity. "I could use a run," she said. "If the heat doesn't kill me, that is."
Tychar
eyed her speculatively, but it was Trag who commented. "She's tough enough," he said, "as long as we don't spend too much time in The Shrine."
"I don't do very well in there either," Kyra agreed. "It's much too humid!"
Micayla knew quite well that Trag hadn't been referring to the humidity level since she'd been giving both shrines a wide berth following their meeting with Shentuk. If his initial reaction to the "prophesy" was any indication, she suspected that he was doing the same. And she didn't blame him one bit.
***
The three Darconian moons were shining down on the stone portico as Micayla emerged from The Shrine. Tychar led the way, but nothing in his perfect male form affected her the way the presence of Trag walking beside her did. His eyes glowed in the moonlight when he happened to glance at her, sending tendrils of carnivorous urges wending their way through her brain. She should want to kiss him. There was nothing about him that should have made her feel so vicious. She should be admiring him.
"You aren't going to run like that, are you?" Tychar asked with an amused twinkle.
She glanced at Trag and then back at Ty. "Like what?"
"With clothes on," he replied. "You won't make it halfway around the palace."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Trag stripping off his pants before skimming off his stretchy undergarment. She averted her eyes abruptly, not wanting to see his cock. It would look just like Tychar's, after all, she reasoned. No need to look at it. Certainly no need to stare...
"What about you?" Tychar asked her.
The clothing she wore would have been comparable to a bikini on Earth, but on Darconia it was more like wearing a cloak. "I think I'll keep it on," she replied. "It's not that hot, really."
Tychar smiled. "Not until you start running," he said. "Then you may realize just how hot it truly is."
"I'll take that chance," she said.
"Okay, then, let's go."
The two brothers sprang forward as though on springs and began running lightly over the smooth stone surface, and Micayla was right with them. The three of them ran abreast of each other for a while, but Micayla couldn't help but be distracted by the way their dicks swung back and forth with each stride. Finally, she decided it was either run on ahead or drop behind. Knowing that running any faster would be a mistake, she slowed down and let them pass her, but it wasn't much better. Trag's bare butt was begging to be bitten even more than his shoulder had.
They didn't let her stay behind for long, but slowed enough for her to catch them.
"You okay?" Trag asked. "Want us to slow down?"
"I'm fine," Micayla replied. "Just pacing myself." And trying very hard not to stare at your ass.
***
Trag would have preferred that she run ahead or at least abreast so he wouldn't have to worry about her, but he came to the conclusion that being able to see her was getting to him. Granted, she wasn't naked and didn't smell of desire--which would have been difficult to assess since his nose wasn't all that sensitive for a Zetithian's--but he knew that just one tiny little whiff of desire would have his cock bouncing like a drumstick. No, he thought with an inward groan, I am not attracted to her. I do not mean to entice her. I will not do it...
Trag dropped back and fell in behind her. Bad move, he chastised himself. Now I can see her ass. He may not have liked her--well, he couldn't even say that now--but he had to admit, she had a damn fine hind end on her. He shook his head, trying to dash away the vision. Nope, still there and still looking like it needed... What? No, not that. She'd kill him if he tried it. Then he remembered that if she didn't want him, it wouldn't matter; without the scent of her desire, his limp noodle wasn't going anywhere. Not for the first time in his life, he cursed that particular trait of Zetithian males. He could have had sex every single day of his twenty years of slavery if he'd been able to get it up without the right scent. Scalia had tried many times to get him hard, but nothing ever happened. Instead he lived in a palace, wore a collar and a cock strap made of jewels, did a little light housekeeping, and kept Scalia company while freaks like Sladnil and Refdeck fucked her. Not that he'd really wanted to, but just possessing the ability would have been nice.
He knew that, unlike Zetithians, males of other species only had to think about sex to get a stiff dick and could even make themselves ejaculate. Trag used to think this was ridiculous and had once made the statement that having sex without a woman was like trying to eat rocks, but getting his rocks off now and then might have made life more tolerable--might have made him less inclined to beg Kyra to take pity on him too.
Now there was a perfectly good Zetithian girl running just ahead of him and he'd made a no-sex pact with her. "Brilliant move there, Trag," he muttered to himself. "Fuckin' brilliant!" There wasn't a single female on the whole damn planet he could fuck except Kyra. He knew Windura liked him well enough, but he wasn't about to mess with a nice girl like that if he couldn't love her. Wincing, he realized that just as before, any time spent on Darconia would be lacking in sex.
His feet fell into a steady rhythm on the stone as he remembered the hookers, which were all he'd ever had except for Kyra. Hookers were good. They provided a valuable service. He'd have to remember to tip them better in the future--especially if whoever it was had an ass like Micayla's. In the end, he just gave up and stared at it--which was fortunate because when she stumbled and nearly fell, he was right there to catch her.
He knew what was wrong as soon as he pulled her into his arms. "Damn! I knew we should have brought along some water!"
"We are almost to The Shrine," Tychar said. "Can you walk?"
"I--don't know," Micayla mumbled. "I was doing just fine, but all of a sudden..."
"Yeah, it hits you like that," Trag said knowledgeably. "No warning and then--bam!--you're on your ass."
His choice of words may have reflected the body part he seemed to be preoccupied with, but no one else noticed.
"I will get some water," Tychar said before sprinting off toward The Shrine.
Sweeping Micayla off her unsteady feet and into his arms, Trag thought he was okay with it--until he looked down. Holding her against his chest, her breasts were pressed together with the end result that they were almost fully exposed in the moonlight.
Silently cursing the Darconian moons for being so illuminating, he stared straight ahead and marched onward, trying to ignore Micayla's frequent, though decidedly feeble, protests.
"You don't have to carry me," she said faintly. "I--I can walk."
"Aw, just shut up and let me be heroic for once," Trag said after listening to several pleas. "Ty got to carry Kyra when she was fainting all the time. Now it's my turn."
Micayla giggled softly. "You want to be a hero?"
"All guys do," Trag said with a firm nod. "And you don't get the opportunity very often. You gotta grab it while you can."
To his surprise, she laughed again. "I'll try to faint more often."
"No need to make a habit of it," he said. "I'm sure I'll survive."
***
Micayla wasn't sure she would, though. Then it hit her: she was being carried around an exotic desert palace by a very handsome naked man--and she still wasn't turned on. What is wrong with me?This is every girl's dream and I might as well be in Dragus's arms for all the effect it's having! For the thousandth time, she wished there was at least one other Zetithian female around for her to talk to--preferably one that was older and had at least had children. After all, she couldn't very well ask Trag why she felt no sexual attraction to him; it would certainly kill any heroism inherent in their current situation, not to mention the severe blow to his ego. The worst part of it was that she was much too close to his shoulder for comfort. Her mouth had been dry as a bone while she was running, but now she was salivating so much she had to swallow to keep from drooling. And he smelled so... bitable. Not edible, precisely... just something she wanted to--
"Here," Tychar said as he approached and held a cup of water to her
lips. "Drink this."
Micayla drank it gratefully, hoping it would wash away whatever it was that was making her feel so strange. She'd been overheated and dehydrated before, but this was different.
"You go on, Ty," Trag said. "She can rest out here where it's cooler."
Tychar nodded and disappeared inside the transparent bubble as Trag lowered Micayla to a nearby bench. He was right about it being cooler there; she was even shivering slightly.
"It always amazed me the way the temperature would drop so quickly at night and then heat up almost immediately when the sun comes up." Sitting down beside her, he gestured toward the sheltered patio. "I used to sleep out here all the time."
The space beneath the dome was shaded from the moonlight, but she could still see the soft glow of his eyes, and, at least for the moment, she wasn't hissing and he wasn't angry or irritated with her. Now that she had him at her disposal, numerous questions resurfaced, beginning with: "What was Zetith like?"
Trag shook his head. "I hardly remember, but from what Jack tells me about Earth, they were pretty similar--some parts of it, anyway. Cool green forests with trees so big you could live in them, some open grassland, lakes and rivers, blue sky--that sort of thing."
Micayla nodded. "On Earth I lived near the redwood forest--the tallest trees on the planet. I always felt best when I was beneath those trees. Maybe that's why."
Trag turned away from her abruptly but said "yeah" in an odd tone that had Micayla peering curiously at him. He leaned back, resting his weight on one hand while spearing the fingers of the other so forcefully through his hair it was a wonder he didn't pull out a whole handful of it.
"And neither of us can go there anymore," she said with a wistful sigh. "Can we?"
"Nope," he replied. He hesitated a moment before turning his gaze on her once again. "Mind telling me why you left?"
Micayla shook her head slowly. "I don't know," she said. "It just seemed like something I needed to do. Maybe I thought I could find out who--or what--I was."
"Well, now you know."
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