by Zoey Draven
“You are my blood,” Vaxa’an said, catching his gaze. “I want you to bless my son.”
“After everything that I have done,” Jaxor said, his voice ragged, torn, “you still want me to give the blessing? You should not want me close to your son!”
Vaxa’an growled, taking him by the shoulders. They were the same height now, but Jaxor sometimes still felt like the little brother, craning his neck back to lock eyes with him, like he’d done when he’d been young.
“Enough,” Vaxa’an hissed. “I have forgiven you and you know this.”
“Nix.”
“You do not want my forgiveness?” Vaxa’an asked, his voice hard. He shook Jaxor’s shoulders. “Is that what it is?”
Jaxor had hated himself for so long, hated the decisions he’d made, hated the lives he’d affected.
“You want my hatred too?” Vaxa’an asked, feeling the emotions coursing through his body. “You wish I hated you instead of loved you?”
“Tev,” Jaxor admitted softly. “I wish that.”
“Do you hate me then, brother?” Vaxa’an asked, still, his claws gripping Jaxor’s shoulders tight.
“Rebax?” Jaxor rasped, brow furrowing. “Nix. Of course not.”
“Have you ever hated me?”
Jaxor paused. He could see himself in Vaxa’an’s eyes.
“It was not hate,” he finally said. “It was envy. It was grief for our parents. It was feeling so powerless, when all our lives we were raised to be strong. I do not know what to call that, but it was not hate.”
And as he said the words, Jaxor realized they were true. When he’d left the Golden City, he’d blamed his brother for his inaction against the Jetutians, an impulsive, immature decision on Jaxor’s part. He’d been young then, the angry son of the late Prime Leader.
And in Jaxor’s own mind, killing Po’grak, eliminating the threat that hung over their heads, that had taken the lives of so many Luxirians, their parents included, and bringing the vaccine that could heal their females back to the Golden City…Jaxor had seen it as his apology. He’d been too ashamed to face his brother, his home, his people, not unless he had something to offer them as atonement.
Then he’d seen Erin in the washroom in the Golden City and his entire world had tilted. And nothing had been the same since.
“You have always been too severe on yourself, Jaxor’an,” his brother said. “Even as a child.”
Jaxor frowned.
“I remember you once broke our mother’s favorite trinket box. The one she’d received from her mother.” Jaxor remembered that incident well. “You were so ashamed and upset that you scoured the marketplace for another like it. For hours on end, in the height of the hot season. And when you could not find one, you went from dwelling to dwelling, asking to buy one similar, though you were not even seven rotations old at the time. When you finally returned home, you expected the worst. You walked through the doorway with your head hung, empty-handed, ravenous since you had not eaten all span, and do you remember what our mother said?”
Jaxor swallowed hard. He replied, “She said that she didn’t need to forgive me because it had been an accident. She said that instead, I needed to forgive myself because it was I that was doing the punishing.”
“Tev,” Vaxa’an said. “You feel so deeply, Jaxor’an. Mother knew that. She knew that your emotions were pure, but sometimes cutting. That you could love deeply, but also react too strongly.”
“Erin believed I was cold and detached when I first took her away,” Jaxor told him.
Vaxa’an inclined his head in agreement. “Perhaps because it was the only way. You had to dampen your emotions to go through with the task you had set before yourself. But once she unlocked those repressed emotions, it was too late. There was no going back.”
His ears were buzzing with his brother’s words.
“You need to forgive yourself, Jaxor’an,” Vaxa’an said, his tone unyielding. “You have made bad decisions, decisions you regret. We all have. You have hurt those closest to you. We all have, one way or another. But I am standing in front of you now, saying that I forgive you. Now, I am asking you to forgive yourself because living with this guilt, with this shame…it’s not a life I would wish for you.”
Jaxor felt his heart thudding in his chest. Could he forgive himself? He didn’t know. But he understood what Vaxa’an was saying…that Jaxor was his own enemy in all this.
“It will take time,” Vaxa’an said. Time I may not have, Jaxor thought. “But there is hope and possibility ahead. I want you to focus on that.”
“I want to be a better male,” he finally admitted. “I want to be a better male for her. And for myself.”
“Once this is all over,” Vaxa’an said, “once we return from the Mevirax, once we get back your mate, I want you to meet mine—properly this time.”
Jaxor blew out a short breath, remembering that he’d spied on them both at the Lallarix, long before he’d even known of Erin’s existence.
“Tev,” Jaxor said, his voice low and quiet.
“And I want you to bless Kollix’an, my son,” he continued. “Will you do this for me? For us?”
Kollix’an.
The given name of their sire’s sire. A great leader of their time.
“Kat calls him Ollie,” Vaxa’an told him, his lips quirking at the corners. Jaxor saw the deep, deep happiness and pride on his brother’s face. “A human name, I think.”
Jaxor’s throat felt tight. He reached out to squeeze his brother’s shoulder.
“Tev,” he said, the word guttural, filled with the overwhelming emotion he saw on his Vaxa’an’s face. He felt it thread through his own blood. “Tev, I will. Once this is done, I will meet your mate and your son. And I will bless him in the words of Kollasor, the favored words of our mother. She would have liked that.”
They stood there for a long time in quiet, hearing and seeing all the memories between them, memories only they had.
And for the first time, Jaxor felt hope. For the first time, Jaxor saw the future that he wanted.
The next morning, the plan was set into motion. In exchange for exile, not execution, the warrior male responsible for shielding the Jetutians’ entry into Luxiria’s atmosphere three times in the past five rotations—Jaxor didn’t care to remember the warrior’s name—told them when the planned meeting would take place on the surface. The male was placed under careful guard, so he could not alert the Mevirax to their plans, and his final act as a warrior of Luxiria would be allowing their most reviled enemy entry, as planned.
During one of the multiple and endless meetings with the council, they’d realized that their only opportunity for accessing the vaccine was to ensure the Jetutians landed on Luxirian soil. The elders on the council had been fiercely against it, but Vaxa’an had eventually made them see reason. Erin’s rescue was obviously pressing…but the vaccine was an opportunity they could not squander.
The exchange would take place near the Caves of the Pevrallix, a half-span journey by hovercraft. Early in the morning, Vaxa’an, Jaxor, three of the Ambassadors—Lihvan, Cruxan, and Rixavox—and nearly a hundred of the Golden City’s best warriors took to their hovercrafts and then the sky. Kirov and Vikan, the remaining two Ambassadors, would remain behind in the Golden City as a precaution. Another hundred warriors were prepared to leave at a moment’s notice and would travel to the Caves of the Pevrallix as the night drew near in case their swords were needed.
As the hovercrafts passed the shining terraces of the Golden City, cheers raised into the sky, but Vaxa’an’s face remained grim. When Jaxor looked at the place he’d once called home, he saw crowds had gathered to see them off, lining the terraces, the courtyards, the marketplaces. Many were relieved that Vaxa’an was finally taking action against the Mevirax. But not many knew that the Jetutians were also involved in this plot. Only the warriors did. Only the warriors knew what was at stake if they failed.
The Mevirax numbers had grown con
siderably since their defection from the Golden City. And while a hundred of the best-trained Luxirian warriors should be enough to subdue them, Jaxor didn’t know how many Jetutians Po’grak would bring with him, an unknown variable. One of many.
He flew in one hovercraft with Vaxa’an and two warrior guards. He assumed the council had placed them there because they still didn’t trust Jaxor’s intentions, as if he was leading all of them into a trap. The guards eyed him warily whenever Vaxa’an’s back was turned, but Jaxor paid them no mind. He knew—Vaxa’an knew—that he was not lying.
He would have to come to terms with the fact that it was a possibility no one would fully trust him again. Especially Erin.
His fists clenched at his sides. They still had a long journey to the Caves of the Pevrallix, but he knew that every moment brought him closer to her.
Chapter Forty
Erin had just finished vomiting into the basin Kossira had left for her when she heard familiar footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Erin shivered, feeling her nausea rise again, and she held her breath so that the stench wouldn’t make her hurl again.
Shakily, she climbed to her feet, unsteady and weaving slightly. But it wasn’t Kossira that appeared. It was Tavar and the guard.
This is it, she knew. She thought that it would make her nervous, but all she felt was numbness. Tiredness. When she’d first woken in her prison, she’d only had thoughts of leaving. When she’d learned of Jaxor’s betrayal, she’d only had thoughts of him, memories of him, of them, replaying everything in her mind until she passed out from exhaustion—looking for something that would give her perspective, that would make her understand why he’d done it. And now...
She remembered Kossira’s warning the night before. In her jumbled mind, still feeling the burn of stomach acid at the back of her throat, she tried to recall if Kossira had said to turn right or left after the white door on the Jetutian vessel.
Tavar opened the gate, his lip curling in distaste when he saw her. He hadn’t come since that first day. The days and nights had started to blur together.
Kossira had tried to keep her clean and fed. Most mornings, she brought a fresh basin of water and a clean cloth and wiped down her body. But she was still wearing the tunic and the pants she’d altered at Jaxor’s base. She must reek. Her hair hung in greasy tendrils. Her skin felt tight, stretched.
Tavar’s gaze was like a sharp blade. Erin suppressed the urge to shiver again when he looked at her.
“He did not come for you after all,” was all he said. Humid air whistled into her nostrils at her sharp intake, the words surprisingly cutting. Pain curled in her stomach, her heart thudded pathetically.
“No,” Erin whispered. “He didn’t.”
“It is time,” Tavar said, grabbing her by the arm, the sensation of his strength jarring.
Erin had no choice as he led her out of the dungeon and up the stairs—though she was so out of breath at the top that Tavar was forced to pause. Another dark hallway stretched in front of them. And then another.
She thought the darkness would continue endlessly, but eventually she stumbled out—into fresh air?
She almost cried with delight as a cool breeze brushed across her face, winding through her hair, caressing it like fingers. Air so crisp that it stung her lungs.
And she could see. Moonlight blanketed the dark forest they were in, highlighting dark, towering trees. Erin saw at least forty or fifty males grouped in a clearing.
Erin remembered what Kossira had said, that Tavar had plans to attack the Jetutians that night. Were these his warriors? Most had weapons—long, curving blades with serrated edges, though most looked dull or the metal was chipped. And they weren’t like any Luxirian warriors she’d seen. There was a wild desperation in their eyes.
Tavar didn’t say anything to them as he walked her past, but she felt the way their eyes stayed on her. She wondered if it was the first time they’d ever seen a human.
Erin didn’t know how long they walked, but eventually, the trees began to thin. And wedged beside a tall, towering boulder, a few trees toppled and flattened beneath it, was a spaceship.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but in her mind, she’d pictured it much, much smaller. For the first time, a piercing of dread stung her belly. How would she ever try and find her way off it? It was massive. In some ways, it seemed larger to her than the Golden City, as big as a mountain, and she craned her neck up to try to see the very top. Standing before it, it took up the entirety of her vision.
Focus, she urged herself. Looking to the night sky, she located the brightest star Kossira had told her about. It hung low on the horizon, to the left of the spaceship.
As they drew closer, she saw that a Luxirian female—not Kossira—was waiting beside another male she didn’t recognize. Erin looked at her, but all she saw in her eyes was a cold determination. Erin wondered what she was doing there, but as she fell into step beside Tavar, it became apparent. She was the next female whose fertility would be restored. Erin wondered if this female knew Tavar’s plan, however. Erin wondered if she knew what the Jetutians did to the females in their care, which Kossira had hinted at.
At the base of the spaceship, Tavar called out suddenly, making Erin flinch. His words echoed around the clearing and Erin breathed in the sharp, cold air once again, closing her eyes.
And in her mind’s eye, she saw Jaxor. Saw those blue eyes she had memorized and felt the way his voice floated over her. How was it possible to ache for someone who had lied to her? But she did.
Longing and grief shivered down her spine, but she pushed the thought of him away, opening her eyes just as a ramp began to snake out from the metal of the ship, eerie and fluid. She’d never seen metal move that way before, as if it were liquid. When Tavar pulled her onto it, she expected her foot to slide right through, but it was solid as he dragged her up, the Luxirian female still at his side and the male guard at their backs.
The forest was quiet, the night clear, and then what few sounds there were fell away as they walked through a shimmering veil at the top of the ramp. They were in the belly of the spaceship and when Erin craned her neck behind her, she saw the air move, the darkened forest right there, but she couldn’t hear it. She swore she saw familiar blue eyes in the darkness, but she knew it was just a trick of the light, bouncing off whatever technology the Jetutians had placed there.
Ascending the ramp had once again winded her and her knees trembled, unused to the physical exertion. Tavar jerked her forward and she stumbled, falling to the floor of the ship.
“Get up,” Tavar hissed, but he pulled her up anyways without waiting. Erin scrambled to regain her footing, walking quickly, and then a moment later, they were before a door flanked by two Jetutians.
Seeing them brought a wave of fear. She hadn’t seen one since the Pit. But she saw their mottled grey and green skin, their feet ending in clawed talons, long reptilian tails dragging across the floor. They looked similar to Krevorags, but the difference was in their size. They were much larger and their textured flesh looked thick, like a crocodile’s.
Yet, these two Jetutian guards had blue eyes, like most Luxirians she’d seen. They allowed them entry with narrowed gazes and behind the door were more Jetutians. Three of them.
Erin wanted to flee. Her heart was pounding so fast in her chest now, panicked, her instinct for survival beginning to kick in. There were in a sterile, mostly empty room. Like a lab. Or a medical bay. Again, Erin couldn’t help but glance over the Luxirian female that accompanied them. Her blue eyes were wide, greedily drinking in the room.
The Jetutian dressed in green, with plates of gold armor covering his chest and the front of his thighs, looked at her and rasped out words that slithered across her skin. He looked annoyed or angry, gesturing to her before glaring at Tavar. By the way the other two Jetutians sunk back, it was obvious that this was the male in charge of the spaceship, the one with whom Tavar had been making deals.
&nb
sp; Tavar spoke something back in the same language. He’d seemed to have received the Jetutian language implant as well as the English one.
The Jetutian made a chuffing sound and then his eyes were back on her. Those blue eyes that seemed to crawl over. He asked her, in strangely accented English, “Where are the others?”
Erin’s chin lifted slightly, but she said nothing.
Pain exploded across her cheek as the Jetutian struck her and Erin fell from Tavar’s grip, onto the floor of the medical bay.
“Where are the others?” the Jetutian hissed.
Her head swam, dizzy, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She’d bitten her cheek when he struck her. As her gaze refocused, she saw a familiar pattern etched into the floor. The one Kossira had drawn in the dirt of her cell. The pattern ran across the room, but stopped at a closed door to the left, not the one they’d come in from.
Tavar dragged her back up. The Jetutian’s gaze was still leveled at her and she said, her voice husky, “They are mated to Ambassadors of Luxiria. I doubt you can reach them now. There is only me.”
A half-truth. Crystal and Bianca still remained, though Crystal had disappeared with Cruxan into the wild lands shortly after Jaxor had taken her.
The Jetutian seemed impatient and easily angered.
The Luxirian female spoke for the first time, in English.
“She is here now. A human female for one Luxirian female healed. That was the agreement, Po’grak,” the female said.
“Laccara,” Tavar warned quietly, but the female never looked away from the Jetutian, whose name she now knew was Po’grak.
The one who’d unleashed the virus on Luxiria? The one who’d killed Jaxor’s mother? The one he’d been willing to trade Erin to, in order to get his revenge?
His eyes were narrowed. Erin thought that he might strike Laccara as well, but he seemed to restrain himself, as if striking a Luxirian female was much worse than striking a human one.
“That agreement was made when we were promised at least two human females,” Po’grak hissed. “You bring one. Therefore, you will need to pay for the other human in crystals if you cannot bring her here.”