by Ruby Dixon
I remember once that I met a very old slave - a szzt male who had gone through so many battles that his hard skin was striated with old scars and the fierce orange color of his hide had paled to a faint yellow. He was given his freedom and retirement after many, many years of serving his master faithfully and winning so many arena fights that he was legendary. Every gambling den knew of this great honor. I thought it was a waste. I remembered feeling sorry for him, because what life does an ex-slave have once his only reason for living—fighting—is taken from him? And I was not surprised to hear that the former slave suicided a short time later. Of course he did. I remember never wanting to end up like him.
And yet…with Veronica in my arms, thoughts of the arena are far from my mind. I do not care if I never fight another again, or if I grow old and feeble with time and my scales bleach to a pale white with age. As long as Veronica is with me, none of that matters.
Strange how a life can completely change with the introduction of a mate.
* * *
Veronica sleeps heavily, not stirring even when I ease her out of my arms and tuck her as carefully onto the ground as possible. I don't like that I have to leave her lying in the snow and in the open. I remember how she shivered last night. I cannot keep her out here. Not like this. She needs shelter. Warmth. Blankets. I can provide protection and food, but not much more than that, and I hate that I am so helpless. Perhaps we should have stayed longer, if only to glean information from the others on how to survive on this planet. If I was alone, I would be fine.
But I have Veronica with me, and she changes everything.
I want to find fish for her, but her sleeping place is too far from the stream and I will not leave her side. Instead, I carefully move a safe distance away, shift to battle form, and stretch my useless wings. With one carefully shielding her from the wind, I search the nearby rocky ledges, looking for something that will serve as a knife. The stone here is flaky, and I pry at pieces with my claws until I find one that looks sharp and dangerous enough to use as a cutting tool. Of course, given my Veronica, it would not take much to make a dangerous implement. I could hand her a blunt stone and she would find a way to cut herself with it.
Perhaps that is another reason to go back to the others. There will be others to watch her, to make sure that she is safe so I can go out and hunt to feed my mate. I want to spend every moment with her, but I know that is not feasible. If there were others nearby…
But if there were others nearby, they might take her from me.
* * *
My mate wakes up from her nap, eats, and then immediately starts on my wing. I spread it on the ground, doing my best to remain utterly still as she hacks at it with her rock-chip knife. Each gouge into the membrane doesn't hurt much, but the tearing sounds and the pulling on my wings make it difficult to suppress shudders. Veronica clucks under her breath and makes soothing little sounds as she cuts at my wing, and I think she is more upset at hurting me than I am.
Once she cuts open old wounds, she goes into her trance, and my wing gets alternately hot, then cold. My khui hums with a different song than the mating one, and I can hear hers humming as well. I lay my head down, turned toward my mate so I can watch over her, and wait. She's utterly still, her eyes closed and her brow lightly dewed with sweat, her hands moving over one ripped-open sail. As I watch, she pushes the membranes together, and almost as if my wings are made of clay, they slowly—agonizingly slowly—knit back together as her khui pulses a song.
When she has finished mending the last of the wounds she's inflicted upon the one wing, she opens her eyes and smiles at me. "Fingers crossed that works."
And then she topples over into another deep slumber.
I expect this, but it still worries me. I know she has pushed herself hard, and I pull her close to my breast and hold her as she sleeps. She sleeps through the afternoon and on through the night. The next morning, she wakes up, hungry, tired, but ready to take on my other wing. I make her rest through another nap before I'll let her, because I don't want her to push quite so hard, but with every restful sleep she takes, she seems to need less time to recover.
Even so I remain worried. I study my mended wing as she sleeps, and it feels…better. Less tight. I might be able to fly after all, though I won't give it a try just yet. She needs to rest and I won't leave her…and only one wing has been mended as of yet. That is not what worries me, though. It's her growing power. It would be a hot commodity on the slave market. I think of my prior owners, and how their slaves were treated. Someone as beautiful as my Veronica, with the power her hands hold? She would be worth billions upon billions of credits. If anyone were to ever find out that she is here…
More than ever, I am glad the ship was destroyed. Vektal and the other sa-khui say that their planet is remote and they do not expect more visitors, but I will need to talk with Veronica, to ensure that she does not share her powers unless she absolutely must. If that means lying to the rest of the motley “tribe” on the beach, so be it.
I suspect she will not like my suggestion, though.
18
ASHTAR
This time, when Veronica wakes up, she's yawning and sleepy, but ready to eat. We almost have a pattern, her and I. I haul my mate into my claws and take her down by the stream. I chase off the fanged fish with a breath of fire over the long reed-like poles that jut from the water and are attached to the fish's faces as part of their camouflage. Once they are clear, Veronica takes a quick bath, splashing water on herself to clean off while I extend a wing over her to protect from the wind and monitor the waters carefully for aggressive fish. Once she's dressed and on the shore, she braids her hair and I fish for our meals. I tear the newly caught fish open with my claws, gut and scale them as best I can, char the outside with a low, slow flame, and then we eat together. I shift back to human form, because the longer I am in my battle form, the more I will need larger meals to sustain me. Even now, I feel weak and depleted, and I crave red meat and a fresh haunch of…something. I've seen herds wandering in the distance, but always while she is sleeping.
I can wait a bit longer for food, though. For now, I take my fish and lift it to my mouth, taking large, crunchy mouthfuls of the entire thing. Veronica picks at the flaky flesh, her expression twisting up when I crunch down on a particularly loud part.
"I can't believe you're eating all of it," she murmurs with a wince. "Bones, scales and all."
I shrug and take another bite. "Food is food."
Veronica nibbles at hers, avoiding the choicest bits and opting for the thickest parts of the meat.
"You should eat more," I tell her when she sets it aside. "You need your strength."
"I'm not eating the head or the tail or any of that other goofy crap!" She looks horrified at the thought. "You're lucky I ate it at all, considering it's not in fish stick form!" She wipes one hand on her tunic hem and grimaces. "And now I'm getting scales everywhere. I swear, survival is so gross. Ugh."
I take her fish and finish it off. "You need to eat enough," I chide her. "Especially if you plan on doing more healing."
She wrinkles her nose but gives a little nod. "I'm trying. When are we going back to the others? I like being with you, but I can be with you in a place that has other food options and blankets and shelter. I'm just saying."
I consider this.
Veronica wants to go back. I do not like the idea, but I am realizing quickly that we cannot manage on our own. If I have my wings again, though, I can take her as far away as I need to. I will have more control. "We shall see. First we must discuss things."
"Discuss what?"
"How we will handle your powers." I take another bite of fish, and then add, "And how we will hide them."
"Hide them?" Veronica looks aghast at the thought. "Why would we hide anything? My powers are to help out." She spreads her hands in front of her. "For once, I'm someone important. The tribe needs me. Harlow was saying that there's only one healer in the other
tribe, and if we've just added twenty more people, it'll be good to have a second one. They need me, and I want to help."
I grunt, tossing aside the fish head since I know she doesn't like for me to eat those in front of her. She is very squeamish, my mate. "I understand that you wish to help out, but we must be practical about it."
She sputters. "Practical? What exactly do you mean by 'practical'?"
I study my lovely mate. She's angry at me, I realize. Her breath is speeding up, her breasts heaving, her hair tossed back over her shoulders. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are bright with indignation. My khui's ever-present song increases in strength, noting how arousing she looks right now. She is giving me her fiery spirit, and I love it, even if we disagree. "I mean we must think things through. What if you have healed someone and spent all your strength, and someone comes up to you with a bleeding youngling?"
Her brows draw together. "What kind of question is that? I'd help out, of course."
"And you would help and help without cease, until you wear yourself out. I will not allow you to kill yourself just to help another." I shake my head, getting to my feet. "It is decided. You will run all your healing past me first."
"What the fuck? No, I won't." She jumps to her feet, too. "That's not fair. I don't need a manager. I'm intelligent enough to figure out when I'm too damn tired. But you can't control me like I'm some little woman who needs a big strong man to tell her how to do her fucking job."
"You're the other half of me," I tell her, hands on my hips. "We are a mated pairing. I will die if you die, because I will not want to go on."
Veronica's expression softens. "Ashtar…"
"No. Listen to me." I cup her face in my hands. "You are mine and only mine. I know you wish to heal as much as possible. You want to help. I understand. But I care nothing for the others. I only care for you, and so you will have to understand that I am going to be protective of what you do. I do not care if you heal twenty broken fingers in a row, but I will care if you make yourself sick over it. Do you understand me?"
She puts her hands on my chest. "I understand." Her anger has disappeared, her eyes soft. "You're worried about me. I get that. But I was given a gift. I can't not use it. Not when it will help others. The tribe needs me."
"I need you."
"Damn it, why are you making it so difficult to stay mad at you?" She tilts her head, gazing up at me. A smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "You're being a little unreasonable, Ashtar. I get that you're protective, but you have to let me be free to be me, as well."
Her words strike a chord inside me. Freedom. It is something new to me, and something I cherish. And I have taken her choices from her. I have clung to my freedom and hampered hers. Ah, my mate. She knows just what to say to make a surly drakoni see reason. I sigh heavily and skim my thumbs over her soft cheeks. "I am defeated. You win. I will take you back to the others soon enough…only promise that you will not heal if you are not feeling well."
"I promise I will be careful when I heal," she tells me. "And you have to promise you'll make friends."
What? "I need no friends. All I need is you."
"Wrong again." She taps a forefinger on my chest, right over my singing, thrumming khui. "You need friends."
"Bah."
"You're not in the slave pits anymore."
"And?"
"And so what if I'm in danger and there's too many to fight off?" At my snort of derision, she continues, determined. "I'm serious. You can fight off twenty bad guys. What if there's two hundred?"
"I will use my fire," I tell her easily. Simple.
Veronica rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated with my answer. "Great. And while you're handling those two hundred with fire, how are you protecting me?"
"I…" I pause. I envision a scenario as she has said. I can handle myself against any number of primitive enemies. In the hunt? No creature can wound a drakoni. My scales are impervious to claw and tooth. Fire? Pft. We are creatures of fire. But my Veronica is fragile. She is human and has many weaknesses. It would not take many enemies to separate us, and then I can do nothing. Such a thought sends a tremor of fear through me. I put my arms around her and tuck her against my chest, pressing her cheek to my skin. "No one will ever harm you," I growl, feeling my fires burn hotter with rage at the very thought. "No one."
She caresses my side, doing her best to touch me despite the fact that I'm crushing her against me. "It's all right, Ashtar," she says softly. "I promise. It's just a concept, not something that's going to actually happen. Relax." Her fingers stroke over my skin. "Relax."
I loosen my grip on her after another panicked moment, before admitting gruffly, "I do not like to think about such things."
Veronica looks up at me and gives me a gentle smile. "Now do you see why I say we need friends?"
I scowl. "No."
She rolls her eyes and tries to push away from me. "You are the most exasperating man. What if I'm in danger and you need help? They could come and get you."
I say nothing.
"Or what if I'm dead and you need help to get out alive? It'll be good to have friends."
"If you are dead, I do not care what happens to me."
"Be serious."
"I am."
Veronica goes still in my arms. For a brief moment, she looks angry. Then she pushes away from me again, and I let her. She takes a few steps backward and glares at me. "That's not fair, Ashtar."
What does fair have to do with anything? I shrug. "You wish for me to lie to you?"
She stomps a foot, her hands clenching into fists at her side. "No! But I don't want to hear that you're going to just jump off a cliff if I die."
What a strange thought. "I would not jump off a cliff." When she relaxes, I add, "If you're not high enough, you will simply hurt yourself. That is a terrible death. "
Veronica smacks her forehead. "Why am I even bothering?"
"I would cut my own throat with my claws—"
"Stop," she moans, moving forward and pressing her hands to my lips to silence me. "I don't want to hear anything else like that, all right? You can't talk about dying. I don't want that." She looks upset. "I get it now, all right? I don't like hearing you talk about dying, and that's how you feel when I overexert myself with healing. I understand. You win. We'll stay out here forever and be our own little tribe of two. Just no more talking about throat cutting, okay?"
I have won…and yet I do not feel like I have won. She looks sad, and the sight of her unhappiness distresses me. "I do not want to 'win.' This is not a battle. You and I are not gladiators in an arena. We are together." I move forward and capture her hand in mine. "I have never had to think of another's safety before. It has always been me and me alone. But now there is my Veronica to think about and…it worries me. I am not handling it well."
She gives me a soft look and squeezes my hand. "What am I going to do with you, Ashtar?"
"Anything you like, if I am lucky."
Her hand goes to her forehead again, but she is smiling this time. "Holding a conversation with you is like trying to hold a handful of water."
"And yet I hold a handful of water for my mate every time she is thirsty," I point out. "I take snow in my hands, melt it, and feed it to you."
"You do realize that's not normal, right?"
"Bah. What is normal anymore?" I spread my arms wide, indicating our surroundings. "We are both stranded on a planet of endless winter with strangers who wear animal skins and have been told to mate by a parasite. What in this seems normal in the slightest?"
"You have a point." She sighs and moves forward, her hands sliding to my shoulders. "I'm kind of starting to like abnormal, though. Not this," she says, and waves absently at our surroundings before putting her hand on my shoulder again. "But I like this part a lot." And she lifts her face to mine in a silent entreaty for a kiss.
I am all too happy to comply. I put my arms around her waist and pull her close to me. She is small and fragile, my
mate, but there is a core of strength in her that I cannot forget about. If she wants to return to her people, we will. Perhaps if there were sixteen drakoni on the beach I would feel differently. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters right now except my mate and that she wants to be kissed.
I lean down and brush my mouth over hers even as our khuis sing in unison. She presses up against me as I let my tongue tease against her parted lips, and when she lets out a soft little moan, I claim her mouth. My mate. My female. I love the little gasps she makes as I plunge my tongue into her mouth, stroking deep as I want to stroke my cock into her tight channel. Every day that passes, I grow more desperate for her. Every time she bathes, or licks her lips, I imagine touching her where she is touching herself.
It is torture not to reach out and grab her. I want her, constantly. I tell myself that I must go slow, though. That I cannot rush my mate. Veronica is fragile. She is human, and they have different mating customs. I remind myself of this as her hand slides down my chest and her fingers trace over my belly. She needs me to go slow. She needs time to adjust to this bond between us. She—
She is grabbing my cock even as our mouths mate.
A low groan escapes me, and I snare her hand in my own as she wraps her fingers around my length. "Veronica, what are you doing?" My voice is more growly than it should be.
"Touching you," she answers playfully. "Can I?"
She needs permission? "I want to go slow," I tell her. "I do not want to alarm you with my lusts—"
Veronica giggles and strokes up and down my cock with her hand. "I assure you that I'm not alarmed by your lusts, Ashtar. But if it'll make you feel better, we'll only go to third base." She flicks her tongue over my lips. "Deal?"