by Zoey Draven
“I want to go back to the Golden City,” she informed him, her voice slightly breathless. From fear? “You will take me back.”
Jaxor’s gaze narrowed and he tilted his chin, baring his throat for her. “I will not, so you may as well cut my throat now, rixella.”
“You don’t think I will?” she whispered, looking down at him. Jaxor took note of their position now that his mind was waking up. How long had he been asleep? Through the crack of the door, he saw it was still dark outside. He still felt tired, his energy extinguished. He couldn’t have been asleep for longer than an hour, he decided.
And his little mate had already gone snooping and found herself a weapon in his stores. He’d been too tired to even consider that she would take one, or wield it against him. An oversight he would not make again.
She was kneeling at his side, her knees dug into the furs. Close enough that the tops of her bare thighs were pressing into his arm. Jaxor could easily roll her over and loosen the blade from her grip, but he was curious to see what she would do.
He didn’t answer her. To spur her on, he snaked his hand, the one lying closest to her legs, up her left thigh. Her flesh was warm and soft, supple. He gripped her hard, pulling her closer, ignoring her surprised gasp. His hand was only inches from her cunt. Frustration tore at him. Tension ran from the tips of his horns all the way to the hardened soles of his feet.
His sleeping quarters were quiet. The lantern flickered. Her eyes were wide and soft and Jaxor thought, strangely, that he could look into them forever.
“Why couldn’t you be like the others?” she whispered. Then her brow furrowed, like she didn’t understand her own words.
His hand spasmed on her upper thigh, surprised, disturbed, cowed by the question. Because he thought he knew exactly what she meant.
“You wish for me to be kind?” he murmured. “You wish I were a gentle beast and completely besotted with you?” He pressed his neck further into the blade, beginning to rise up from his supine position, forcing her to ease her grip. “You are the one with a knife to my throat making demands, luxiva.”
Luxiva. Fated one.
He used it mockingly and he saw her flinch at the word. So, she knew what it meant. She heard the way he twisted a sacred word into a joke. For a moment, Jaxor felt guilty. Then he steeled his resolve.
His voice was rough as he growled, “Make the cut or take the blade away from my fucking throat!”
It was better this way. If he didn’t give into the Fates’ decree, then it would be easier to live without her. He could still make good on his deal with the Mevirax. He could still secure the vaccine. He could still take his revenge.
She wanted to do it. He could see it in her eyes. Her hand shook, making the knife tremble. He dared her with his gaze. Perhaps, he pleaded with her too.
“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said quietly, lowering her eyes from him. “I would have never chosen someone like you anyways.”
The words stung but Jaxor didn’t react to them. Who would she have chosen, if given the choice? He couldn’t help but ponder that question as she tossed the blade at his side and slipped from his grip.
A male more like my brother, he concluded, ignoring the ensuing jealousy from the realization. Someone stable. Sane. Someone who didn’t get off on arguing at knifepoint. Someone who could treat her well, who would protect her at all costs.
“Don’t ever tie me up again,” she tossed over her shoulder. His gaze strayed to the reddened marks around her now-bare wrists. Even he had the decency to hate the sight, to feel the rumble of discomfort from his Instinct.
With a growl, he turned over, facing the door.
It would be easier if she hated him. That way, at least she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Chapter Six
I’m not like this, was Erin’s first coherent thought when she woke the next morning. Last night returned to her and shame colored her cheeks as she lay on top of thin furs, staring at the grey of the cave wall.
She’d actually threatened Jaxor’an with a knife. A knife. She’d drawn his blood. He’d called her bluff.
Except, a part of her wondered if it had been a bluff. She’d felt this thing rise inside her. More potent and consuming than normal anger. She wasn’t even certain she could call it anger. It had been something deeper, fiercer. It had frightened her. It had exhilarated her.
He had brought it out of her, coaxed it from her.
She lifted a trembling hand to scrub her eyes and chanced a peek behind her, only to find Jaxor’an gone and daylight peeking through the slivered crack underneath the heavy door. She pushed up from her position, her mouth dry and her stomach cramping from hunger.
She wasn’t like this. She was…calm. She’d always prided herself on being a calm person. Logical, reasonable. Controlled.
Perhaps, I’m more like my mother than I originally believed, she thought, swallowing past the lump in her throat, fear rising in her breast.
Her eyes strayed to where she’d tossed the knife away last night only to find it gone. Outside the door, she heard something clanging. For a brief moment, Erin wondered if Jaxor’an had locked her inside, if this was to be her prison now that her hands were no longer bound.
Rubbing her wrists, she rose from the furs, ignoring her surprisingly sore muscles, and walked to the door. There was a bolt, not a lock, and when she slid it open, the door unsealed and she pushed it without resistance.
The light was blinding, though it was dull and grey. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and when they did, she stilled, looking at what could only be described as a base around her.
It was situated within the crater. It was a concave shape, like a shallow bowl, the edges sloping gently down towards the middle. And yet, mountains towered all around her, circling the crater and beyond. It would’ve felt claustrophobic had the crater been smaller, but it was wide and spacious and surprisingly organized.
Erin was tempted to try to look at everything all at once, but it would’ve overwhelmed her. So, she deliberately slowed her flickering gaze and took it in small doses. First, she checked the tunnel they’d come down last night, the tunnel that led to those frightening creatures. It lay to the right, dark and small, and just looking at it made shivers run down her back, remembering the creatures’ calls and shrieking cries.
Next, she looked for Jaxor’an. She spied him to the left, next to a thin waterfall that floated down into a shallow pond. She looked at the water longingly, desperately wanting a bath, before she returned her gaze to the male.
Her heart thudded in her chest at the sight of him but she ignored her body’s reaction to him. He was watching her as he filled a metal bucket with the falling water, his chest and hair getting soaked from the spray. Again, she remembered how recklessly she’d behaved the night before.
The waterfall was towards the west of the crater base, a fair distance that would probably take her a few minutes to reach. Once she was able to tear her eyes away from Jaxor’an, they flitted over everything that lay between them, cataloguing anything she thought she recognized.
There were crops growing to the north in rectangular planter boxes with dark, rich soil that reminded her of coffee grounds. Indigo-colored vines snaked up the north slope of the crater, almost reaching the mountain that blended seamlessly into it. There were three different crops, she surmised, based on color alone, but what did she know of Luxirian gardening?
Next to the crops, to the northwest, were a collection of chests and stockpiles of what looked like weapons or, perhaps, metal parts.
Towards the center of the crater was a large fire pit—one similar to those in the Golden City—and a metal spit with something roasting on it, the spit turning on its own.
To the east, near the tunnel, was a tanning rack with some unlucky, beige-colored creature’s hide stretched tight across it—though, admittedly, the fur looked impossibly soft. Not far away, there were two more racks laden with dangling bits of drying meat.
Erin couldn’t help but notice the plethora of lanterns and torches scattered around. At night, there would be enough light to see every inch of the base. There were also a variety of chests, though most were closed so she couldn’t deduce their purpose.
There were a few large sections of the base where she’d drawn a blank. Like the pulley system towards the tunnel entrance. Or the round metal slabs that covered the ground every so often—she counted three in total.
Lastly, she craned her neck up to the sky, which she couldn’t see. A thick fog bank hung over them, masking the tops of the mountains. She wondered if they were up high or closer to ground level. She couldn’t be certain and it was mildly disconcerting.
Jaxor’an was approaching her as she managed to navigate her way down the short incline from the cave she’d slept in. There were small, smooth, rounded stones placed like a staircase leading to and from the cave entrance. Erin eyed Jaxor’an, stopping next to a metal barrel, though she didn’t know what was inside it.
When he got close enough, she eyed the thin cut she’d made last night on his neck and swallowed. She remembered how feral he’d gotten, how intense. She remembered crouching over him, pressing the blade down, and the way he’d gripped her thigh in warning, his fingers just a whisper away from her sex.
In the light of day, Erin felt shame and confusion and longing. Because she could admit to herself, silently, that a part of her had felt sparked last night. She didn’t know how else to explain it. She was equally afraid and intrigued by the blaze that he might create within her.
“I’m sorry for cutting you last night,” she said quietly, holding his eyes though she wanted to shy away.
“Nix, you are not, female,” was his reply.
His words made disbelief rise in her chest and she almost sputtered as she stared at him.
“I think you wish you’d cut me a little more,” he murmured, his fingers coming up to trace the line at the base of his throat. He dropped them when he saw her looking.
“I’m trying to apologize, Jaxor’an,” she countered, already feeling her hackles rise. What was it about this alien male that made her want to scream?
He stilled at her words, his eyes suddenly sharp and cutting.
“Do not call me that,” he hissed. Until he spoke, she hadn’t even realized she’d used his name for the first time.
Her cheeks burned and she said, “That is your name, isn’t it?”
“Jaxor only,” was all he bit out before he turned from her, heading north towards his crops, the bucket of water still in his grasp. She didn’t know what to make of that.
Erin followed after him. “Who are you?”
He tossed her an unreadable look. His black hair dripped water from the falls as he walked and she stepped in a small puddle of it on the smooth rock slabs beneath her feet.
His crops were in a raised bed and she watched as he carefully poured water from the bucket over the nearest one, darkening the soil to a pitch black.
“Jaxor,” he said finally, moments later, watching the soil bloom and darken. “That is all you need to know.”
She didn’t know why dropping a single syllable off his name meant so much—or why his temper rose when he heard it—but what did she know of Luxirian culture? Next to nothing.
Erin sensed she wouldn’t get anywhere with him that day on the subject. Nevertheless, she catalogued what she knew about him.
“Okay, I suppose I’ll have to fill in the gaps myself then,” she murmured quietly.
“Gaps?”
She ticked off the things she knew about him on her fingers as she recounted, “You knew that Ambassador from the Golden City. You knew the secret passageway on the Ambassador terrace in the Golden City. Yet, you’ve obviously been living here a long time.” Her eyes flickered to his chest. “And you, um, have your nipples pierced, which means that you finished warrior training.”
But he wasn’t like any of the warriors she’d met. Not their guards or her friends’ mates. Jaxor’an—Jaxor—was different. He’d told her so himself. So who was he? And why was he living all the way out here when it was obvious to her that at one time, he’d been integrated into Luxirian society?
“Are you from an outpost?” she questioned, though it was mostly to herself, knowing he wouldn’t answer.
He growled, though the sound didn’t seem like a warning. It seemed more like…interest.
“But if you live here, I’m assuming that at one point, you left that outpost.” Another thought occurred to her and she swallowed. “Or you were…kicked out.”
Jaxor grinned at her. She’d seen a similar one when he’d first hijacked the other Ambassador’s hovercraft. It was a dark smile, devoid of joy. It was almost mocking.
“I will save you time, female,” he rumbled, crouching so that they were eye-level, and her breath hitched when she saw silver flecks in his blue eyes. “It was the latter.”
He was exiled? she questioned.
“What…what were you kicked out for, exactly?”
“You talk too much,” he noted, that grin disappearing and annoyance emerging once again.
Patience, she told herself, taking a deep breath. Jaxor was like…a feral dog. Untamed, a little wild, but she had to believe that there was good in him. She had to. Or else it didn’t mean good things for her.
Maybe he just needed time, patience, and a gentle touch. Erin worked with children. She had patience and she was gentle. The only variable she didn’t know was time. How much time did she have? And before what?
Gentle, she reminded herself. Then her face flamed because she remembered last night. Her hands squeezed as if remembering the handle of the knife.
Clearing her throat, she decided to change tactics.
“I’m hungry,” she murmured. His brow knit together. She chose her words carefully. “Will you feed me?”
For a moment, she watched him. For someone that seemed cold and detached, it was fascinating to watch the subtle emotions play across his features. It seemed that, in his home, he forgot himself. He seemed more relaxed here, despite the cold indifference that poured off him in waves.
His reaction told her what she needed to know…that somewhere deep down, Jaxor was not all that different from the males she’d come across on Luxiria. For reasons unknown, Erin had awakened his Instinct and there was a deep-seated drive to care for her, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
The startled shame that crossed his face told her as much. Didn’t it? A part of Erin relaxed, if only a little.
Erin wished they had a ‘reset’ button. They needed to reset the past couple days. But perhaps, building trust wasn’t out of the question. If he still planned to give her away to those males in the forest, then she had to believe that she could sway his decision, that she could change his mind.
It was her only hope. Until then, no more late-night knife-wielding threats. No more bursts of anger and arguing. If she had to play the ‘mate’ card and try to sway the Instinct inside him, then she would. And she wouldn’t feel guilty about the small manipulation. She refused to.
“Tev,” he murmured, his voice like gravel, rubbing his chest briefly as if something felt wrong. “I will feed you, female.”
Chapter Seven
“Who were they?” she asked after a swallow of the dried kekevir meat. Jaxor watched her delicate throat bob, desire tightening in his gut.
Vrax, he hadn’t mated with a female in what seemed like rotations. The last he remembered was with a female named Lakor during one of his visits to the Mevirax. Before everything had changed. When had that been? Or had it been during one of his visits to the outposts?
Though his brow was furrowed as he tried to remember, he never took his gaze off the human female seated across the fire pit from him. Tomorrow, he was planning to cull the kekevir. They would have fresh meat soon.
“Who were who?” he replied, stumbling over the words in her language, though he knew perfectly well what she asked.
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br /> “You know who,” she challenged, though her voice was even and light. He found that he liked her voice, though he thought she spoke too much. He was unused to so much talking. Had Lakor, or any of the other Mevirax females he’d bedded, spoken so much?
“Mevirax,” he said.
Rixella, he thought, almost angrily, as he found the word being pulled from him, as if she truly was an enchantress or possessed some power over him.
“Mevirax?” she repeated, nibbling on her bottom lip for a brief moment. Her dull, white teeth flashed and Jaxor unconsciously leaned towards her, fascinated. With a scowl, he forced himself to lean back, to look down at his uneaten food and away from her.
He only lasted a few moments before his gaze sought her again.
“Is that one of the outposts?” she asked.
Jaxor made a sound in the back of his throat. “Nix.” As if the answer was pulled from him, again, he murmured, “They are a people. Far from here.”
Not that far, his mind amended. Now that Jaxor possessed Cruxan’s hovercraft, he would be able to travel to the Caves of the Pevrallix in a little over a full span. He only wished he’d been able to see Cruxan’s face when he realized his hovercraft had been stolen.
“Are they a different race of Luxirians?” she asked, curious.
Jaxor didn’t know how to explain, or why he was even thinking of trying to, especially when the beginnings of the Mevirax were so closely tied to his blood line.
“More by choice,” he found himself saying.
She didn’t understand. He could see that written plainly on her face. And Jaxor found that he didn’t want to speak of the Mevirax anymore.
“Were you going to give Crystal and I to them?” she asked next, meeting his eyes. Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact, even.
“Enough questions for this span, rixella,” he growled, standing, deciding he would eat on his patrol. He needed to ensure everything was in working order after his week-long absence.
“I just want to understand,” she said, her gaze flickering away, down to the fire. The air was cold and, for the first time, Jaxor noticed how closely she sat to the flames. Shame and unease made him pause. His eyes slid over her bare feet and legs. She wore nothing more than a tunic in the Kokillix region that time of the rotation. She hadn’t complained once.