by Kyndra Hatch
“Since it’s not possible for the human to be your mate,” L’iza’s voice sounded in the comm. “You could grab the mogha now and we can leave.”
Her tone suggested sarcasm with her first statement, but she was serious about the mogha.
K’vyn replied with a retort. “I thought you didn’t want the molk.”
“Oh, I don’t,” she said without hesitation. “We’re leaving that pest here.”
The mogha held the molk in an extended paw, antennae caressing it. He blinked as the molk brushed C’hase’s snout with the feathers on the end of his scaley tail.
“I don’t think the mogha will part with it without a scene,” K’vyn said.
“Chuck that creature off his head and let’s go. Oh, and get rid of the avian too.”
K’vyn looked at the dilapidated freighter, the yearning in his heart intensifying with the thought of leaving Dani behind.
Impatience wound its way through the weak connection he had with his ship.
“Grab the puppy and let’s get out of here,” she said.
Heaviness rested on K’vyn’s shoulders.
“You know I can’t,” he said, turning his attention back to roasting the lizard-beast. “The human is his Alpha.”
Could he convince the human to go with him?
L’iza imitated letting out a breath. “I know. The mogha doesn’t deserve the pain of separation.”
Sand squelched beneath booted feet and he raised his head, heart skipping at the sight of Dani walking towards him through bright orange popsies.
The fire lit her face, her hair shining with the blaze, mirroring the blaze itself. Her stunning beauty ignited a blaze in his soul, directly affecting his lower anatomy. He leaned forward, bending at the hips to hide a growing erection.
“The meal will be ready soon,” he said, nodding at the roasting beast.
Lip curling as she eyed the spick, she said, “I’m only here to get C’hase.”
She rubbed behind the mogha’s ear and C’hase leaned into the touch, antennae caressing her forearm. K’vyn longed for a mogha companion such as this.
“Come, C’hase,” she said.
The mogha barked, watching the beast with hunger in his eyes, licking his lips. He would not go with her.
“I do believe your companion is hungry,” K’vyn said with a smile.
THE GRIN ON THE KORTHAN’S face was maddingly triumphant. C’hase would not leave the fire.
Just a taste, he said, the aroma too enticing.
Glaring at the grinning Korthan, Dani sat on a log he apparently dragged out from the tree line.
Hedge jumped from C’hase’s head, scurrying up her arm to perch on her shoulder. Musing that it was probably a better vantage point for the small creature, K’vyn’s voice interrupted her thought.
“You shouldn’t keep a molk,” he said, and she blinked, brow furrowing.
What was a molk?
K’vyn pointed at her shoulder, Hedge letting out a squeak, the Korthan’s measuring gaze intensifying.
“I can eat what Hedge eats,” Dani said. There were some issues with the little creature, but he was great to have around, from a survival standpoint.
“You can eat what I eat,” K’vyn was indignant. “That Korthan-food-is-poison line is propaganda designed to divide our peoples. Those things will crash a ship.” His lip curled. “They’re vermin.”
Dani stiffened, mouth falling open.
“Stars, it did crash your ship,” he said with wide eyes.
Snapping her jaw shut, Dani said, “Shooting at me didn’t help.”
“You were trespassing.”
“Trespassing?” Dani’s voice elevated. “This is neutral territory.”
Hedge jumped from her shoulder to C’hase’s head, then to the ground and K’vyn scooted backwards, raising a leg.
Relieved for the distraction, she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face at the big bad warrior scared of such a tiny creature.
“That ‘vermin’ brings us food,” she said, then gestured at the roasting lizard. “He provided this meal.”
The Korthan barked a laugh.
“He didn’t provide this meal. He wanted something shiny.” He pointed a booted toe at several iridescent disks laying on the ground. “Probably these scales.”
As if to prove his point, Hedge grabbed a scale right at that moment and disappeared into the flower stalks with it.
“It just so happens that a lot of ‘food’ has something shiny on it,” he said, that damnable triumphant grin returned.
“He killed the hellbats,” Dani said next.
The Korthan worked his jaw, silent.
“Ha, don’t have a comeback for that one, do you?”
But there was an element to his knowledge of this creature that unnerved her. The hellhound was a Korthan creature. Was Hedge a Korthan creature too? What were the scientists doing with them in that lab?
If K’vyn’s reactions were anything to go by, there was no love lost for the space rat. But the mogha— The reverence shown to C’hase was humbling.
The stalks rustled as Hedge reappeared, taking his place atop C’hase’s head. He no longer had the scale.
“Hedge belongs to C’hase,” she said. “Remember that next time you call him ‘vermin.’”
“And a molk will crash a ship,” he said again, “Remember that the next time you see one on a space-faring vessel.”
MAKING HER WAY TO THE bridge of her freighter, Dani checked the comms again. Still no answer.
Hearing C’hase’s voice outside, her brow furrowed. That was the first time she heard his voice outside of her mind. Was he talking to her?
Maybe we can make her an honorary Korthan, his voice was saying. Stars, was he talking to the Korthan?
Stomach somersaulting, Dani rushed from the bridge, the mogha’s voice carrying through the air.
I know she’s a human and all, but if you don’t look at her, she doesn’t seem like a human.
Dani ran across the cargo bay to the ramp. C’hase sat next to K’vyn at the ever-present fire, yapping away. Could the Korthan understand what the mogha was saying?
I don’t know. What do you think? About making Dani a Korthan? If anyone can do it, it’s you. I like her. I know she likes you. Maybe you can make her a Korthan.
Heart racing, she bounded down the ramp, K’vyn’s attention focused on something in front of him that looked like a small glass box.
That’s okay, you don’t have to answer. Strong, silent type. She likes that.
Blood rushed to her face, head becoming light.
The Korthan turned to the pup, the corner of his mouth turned up as he gazed at the hellhound. Pace slowing, something in her stirred at that affectionate expression.
There was very little savagery about him. Sometimes, though, she could see it. Lurking beneath the surface. He had it in him. This man would fiercely protect what was his.
K’vyn knelt next to C’hase. “I know you’re just talking away, Little Mogha, but I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
The pop of a stick underfoot had their heads snapping up. Crap—
The Korthan’s expression vanished, becoming unreadable.
“You don’t understand what he’s saying?” she said. Filled with relief, tense shoulders relaxed.
He stood up, turning away from her to continue his task.
“You should not be able to understand him either.” His tone was disappointment.
“Why? Because I’m not a Korthan?”
She glanced down at C’hase, his antennae going up. Apparently, the mogha seemed to think she could become a Korthan.
“Exactly because you’re not Korthan,” K’vyn said. “That bond is sacred. How an Invader is blessed with it is sacrilege.”
Dani stiffened. Invader? Sacrilege?
But there was something else underlying that statement.
“Are you jealous?”
“Yes,” he whirled around
, admission surprising her.
Expression softening, his shoulders slumped.
“I dearly desire a mogha companion,” he said. “Every Korthan does.”
Dani could almost feel his words, a longing so deep it was tangible. She blinked. Was she detecting his emotions?
“A mogha can only have one master companion its entire life. C’hase is fully bonded to you. Only you can understand him and you’re the only biped he can understand. When he talks, it just sounds like barking to everyone else.”
Dani sat on the log by the fire. No wonder nobody else heard the hellhound speaking at the lab.
“So, what was he saying?” K’vyn asked next, eyebrows raised.
Dani’s jaw felt tight. “Oh, he’s just barking away, like a hellhound does.”
Sitting stock still, K’vyn said, “You shouldn’t call him that. A mogha is the noblest of noble creatures.”
“What? Calling him a hellhound? He doesn’t mind.” Scratching vigorously behind his ears, the mogha’s back leg thumped the ground.
“That’s because he probably doesn’t even know what you’re talking about. He needs a guide.”
Dani blinked. “A what?”
“Someone to teach him what it means to be a mogha.”
As C’hase thumped some more, she ran her fingers through the increasing orange fur along the back of his neck. Why was C’hase’s fur turning orange? It was just about the same color as the flowers all around them.
She could use a guide too—
Bending down, K’vyn plucked an orange blossom at his feet, standing to hand it to her.
“C’hase’s fur will be completely orange. I think his paws and antennae will be white.” He studied the mogha as he rubbed his chin. “Tip of his tail too. Though the feathers will be orange.”
How did he know what she was thinking?
Still holding the flower out to her, Dani took it, fingers brushing against his. Tingling warmth spread through her hand.
K’vyn glanced at his fingers, rubbing them together before dropping his arm. Did he feel that tingling sensation too?
“Moghas have vibrant colorations,” he continued. “Blues, violets, yellows, whites.”
But C’hase was always dark gray. Far from vibrant, she assumed as a predator, he’d need to have a dark color for hunting.
K’vyn leveled a gaze on her. “Their fur turns gray in prolonged captivity.”
She blinked. Was he reading her mind?
But the Korthan’s words filled her with sorrow, weighing down her arms. How long was C’hase in captivity?
Maybe K’vyn could return C’hase to his kind.
The presence of the otherness seemed to swell. It grew by the day. Was it something to do with this Korthan?
Are you reading my mind? She thought at him.
The presence vanished.
WIND PICKING UP, K’VYN kept his composure long enough to return to his ship. Once inside, he leaned with his back against the bulkhead, head in hand, still tingling with Dani’s soft touch.
He was reading her mind.
But he swore she was asking questions about C’hase out loud. Was the bond that strong? If he denied it, could he will it to go away? Did he want to?
L’iza appeared in front of him and he dropped his hand, expelling a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“A mogha is bonded to a human,” he said. “The mogha is keeping a molk as a pet. The molk has a chicken as a pet. And I seem to be bonded to the human.”
L’iza smirked. “I would say stranger things have happened, but—”
“Literally no stranger things have happened.”
The wind outside raged, niggling concern heavy in his chest. Would Dani have been better protected in his ship?
Chapter 7
Piercing screech echoing around her, something buffeted her body, surface beneath her trembling.
Eyes opening, mind groggy with sleep, a giant blur hovered above. Another shriek echoed, zapping Dani into full wakefulness, details of the blur becoming sharper as her eyes quickly focused on long, pointed, gnashing teeth.
She shot from her bunk, grabbing the blaster from beneath her pillow as the hellbat dove at her, flapping wings knocking it from her grasp—
YAPPING AND BARKING sounded in the air. Disappointment wove through him. Even in his dreams, he couldn’t understand a mogha.
There was a yelp, followed by a howl. The mogha sounded young, just a pup.
Something grabbed his leg, shaking back and forth—
K’vyn’s eyes jerked open, pulling his leg out of the grasp as he shot upright.
At the foot of his bed, C’hase trotted to the door and back again, yapping loudly.
L’iza materialized at the door. “The mogha was scratching at the hatch. He seems distraught, so I let him in.”
C’hase grabbed his foot between his teeth, tugging twice before letting go and running to the doorway again.
Did the wind die down? It usually lasted throughout the night. And the hellbats only came on windless nights.
As if to answer his question, a shriek pierced the air. That sounded close by—
Jumping from his bunk, clad only in his underwear, K’vyn raced to the hatchway.
Dark clouds filled the sky. A quick look at the fire and his stomach fell. Only smoking coals remained, not enough to ward off the winged—
Another screech and an ugly giant dove at something on the ground by the freighter.
Throwing on his boots in record speed, K’vyn raced down the stairs and headed across the field, followed closely by the mogha. Another hellbat dove by the human ship and his jaw dropped in open astonishment as the molk took both beasts down in the time it took him to cross the popsies. The little varmint appeared to be guarding a chicken that somehow wondered out.
The ramp of the freighter was closed.
C’hase stopped where the ramp would have been resting without so much as a second glance at the molk or the chicken, fingers extending, grasping at what appeared to be a crank. He barked loudly, executing several quick glances between the crank and K’vyn, antennae pointing.
Then it hit him like lightning, Dani’s terror infusing his muscles with adrenaline.
Help is on the way, he called through the bond. Hang on!
Grabbing the crank, he unwound the ramp until there was just enough room for him to jump through the opening.
Once inside, the sound of flapping leathery wings and a hair-raising shriek directed him to Dani’s location.
The human was crouched on the floor, arms flung protectively over her head, eyes squeezed shut. A blaster lay out of reach, apparently ripped from her grasp as the sharp talons of a hellbat snapped around her.
Lunging forward, he pulled the beast from the air by its wings, plunging his knife into the base of its neck as it hit the flooring in a flurry of frenzied movement.
As the hellbat writhed in death throes, he picked the trembling woman up from the floor and carried her out of there.
“Come,” he said. “We must stoke the fire back to life.”
As she shook in his arms, guilt ate at him. He would not let his guard down again.
DANI COULDN’T STOP shaking as K’vyn stoked the flames, large log he threw in popping, embers rising high into the sky. Hellbat impaled on a spick, he raked aside several coals to roast it upon.
She had no appetite whatsoever. The encounter with the hellbat was too close. And finding a way into her ship when the ramp was raised—
Another tremble wracked her body.
Warm fur brushed against her leg as C’hase lay at her feet. Reaching down to pat his head, an orange flower opened. She picked it, studying the patterns on the petals. Something so beautiful was a nice distraction from the ugliness of the attack.
She wanted to thank the little flower for opening in the dark. Come to think of it, she’d seen them open at night quite a bit.
“Popsies only close when there will be wind,” K’vyn
’s rumbling voice sounded next to her.
Under the impression he was trying to get her mind off the hellbat, Dani welcomed conversation.
“You call these flowers popsies?’” she said. That didn’t sound like a Korthan word. She’d have thought there would be a harsher term for the orange blossoms.
“Yes,” he said, holding up his left hand. “Because they popsy open.”
Palm up, fingertips pressed together in a cone above it, he spread his fingers from the point.
She smiled, the word combined with the action comical coming from a big bad Korthan warrior who ate hellbats for breakfast.
The expression on his face lit up and she felt warm all over.
“I don’t hate all humans,” he said.
Her eyebrows furrowed. That was abrupt—
“What I mean to say is, I received an elementary education from the Human Colony Alliance,” he amended.
So, K’vyn had been in the exchange program. No wonder he could speak perfect Standard.
“I have a lot of human friends,” he said, pulling a cut of meat from the roasting beast. “But the treaty was simple: Only terraform worlds without life. Breaking that treaty doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Korth started a war,” she said.
“We are not at war,” K’vyn scoffed. “You would know if we were in all-out war.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Dani said. “What would you call it, then?”
“Conflict.”
“Conflict? You make it sound as if we’re just exchanging punches in a fist fight.”
There were vicious dogfights, space battles, and turf skirmishes on numerous planets.
“Solving our differences with a fist fight would’ve been acceptable,” he said. “Loss of life on both sides is a tragedy we could have avoided.”
“There’s a term for that,” Dani fought from rolling her eyes. “It’s called ‘war.’”
“Korthan farming worlds do not need to be terraformed to support human life. We can co-exist.”