by Regine Abel
Although I felt myself warm at his thoughts of me, I had never seen his mind so jumbled. Zhul’s thoughts were usually very organized and methodical like him.
As soon as the door closed behind us, he pulled me into his arms and held me so tightly I could barely breathe. Taking shallow breaths, I wrapped my arms around him and rested my face in the crook of his neck. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling its scent. We stood quietly, his heart thumping softly in my ear. My hands itched to seek some bare skin, to gorge on his thoughts again, and understand what tormented him.
I resisted.
It would be hard, but I needed to ween myself, for both our sakes. When he released me, my eyes searched his.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered. “What’s troubling you?”
“I’m sorry, everything is fine,” Zhul said. He smiled, though a bit of sadness lingered there. He caressed my cheek and softly kissed my lips. “I missed you. Let me take a quick shower, then I’ll tell you everything while I make us dinner.”
I pursed my lips and once more fought the urge to just take what I wanted to know. Instead, I nodded and released him. Like him, I showered, happy to get out of the itchy slave dress. I slipped into a silky Dantorian sheath dress Zhul had bought me. Its shimmering white-gold fabric flattered my darker skin and hugged my figure in all the right places.
Wriggling my toes, I debated whether or not to wear a pair of comfy sandals – another gift from Zhul. I loved being barefoot; it reminded me of my early, carefree days in the compound where I grew up under the loving care of my mother.
That settled it.
Padding back to the kitchen, my mouth watered at the delicious aroma tickling my nose. I leaned against the doorframe, watching him move about efficiently as he seared some white meat I assumed to be fileted khelfis breasts.
Zhul was a seriously fine-looking male. On top of a handsome face, he possessed a body to die for. He was tall and lean, with a round but firm behind meant to be grabbed. Although his muscles were nicely cut, they didn’t bulge or make him bulky.
Zhul’s traditional Prime outfit, consisting of knee-length shorts that perfectly hugged his butt and a sleeveless, skin-tight shirt, gave a female plenty to drool over. I only wished he didn’t wear white or silver all the time. The Xelixians’ wretched obsession with ‘purity’ seriously sucked. I would love to see some color on Zhul. Heck, black clothes would look amazing on him. But no Prime would ever get caught wearing that.
“Like what you see?”
Zhul’s amused voice pulled me out of my musings. He was looking at me over his shoulder, a playful smile on his lips. Heat crept up my cheeks at being caught ogling his bum. Casting my embarrassment aside, I lifted my chin and strutted towards him.
“As a matter-of-fact, I do.”
He chuckled and wrapped an arm around me while flipping the meat in the pan.
“Hmm, that smells good,” I said, leaning into him.
He nuzzled my ear and gently bit my earlobe. “You smell even better.”
This felt right. Zhul felt right. I’d struck the word ‘happiness’ out of my vocabulary over a decade ago, but here and now, I could feel it blossom again inside me. I wanted this and so much more with him. We just needed to get rid of Varrek first.
Giving in to temptation, I let my hand slide down his back to the perfect curve of his butt and gave it a squeeze. A purr-like growl rumbled in his chest. The liquid silver of his eyes darkened as their focus shifted to my lips.
“Careful, my darling, or it won’t be khelfis I feast on tonight.”
My stomach flip-flopped as moisture pooled between my legs. I remembered all too well how masterfully Zhul ‘feasted.’ The meat sizzled and popped in the pan, drawing his attention.
I gave his bum one last squeeze. “Maybe I’ll be the one feasting,” I whispered in his ear.
Zhul’s sharp intake of breath made me giggle. I turned around and busied myself setting the table. It wasn’t so much to help out as it was to hide my burning face. Zhul liked assertive females who didn’t ask permission to take or express what they wanted. The sense of empowerment exhilarated me. Acting this bold made me feel deliciously naughty. But for all my cockiness, I still lacked experience and felt quite self-conscious.
Chopping sounds echoed through the kitchen as Zhul expertly cut the fruits and vegetables that would go into the salad. I fetched a bottle a Xelixian wine. The blue beverage was treacherous; its bittersweet taste, although pleasant to the palate, hid its strong alcoholic properties. I’d never tasted alcohol before moving in with Zhul and half a glass sufficed to get me buzzing.
Zhul laid two beautiful plates on the table. Sitting next to me, he poured us wine, while giving me a quick recap of Lhor and Amalia’s reaction to his revelations. That she referred to me by name had us both convinced they would follow every trail to free me and the other captives. However, he worried how quickly they’d returned his datapad. Even an expert cypher would have taken a while to break his code.
I knew of Amalia’s hacking ability. Varrek often envied his father’s favorite pet, saying all he could do with such skills at his disposal. But I couldn’t tell Zhul without raising suspicions about my own gift – or my curse, depending on how you looked at it. Once more, unease writhed and coiled in my belly. I needed to find a way to come clean, and soon.
My gaze roamed over the generous portion on my plate. I loved salads and Zhul had a magic touch with them. Fresh slices of ryspak winked at me amidst the variety of colorful vegetables.
“Do Xelixians ever have a meal that doesn’t include ryspak?” I asked before forking a bite of the sweet and savory salad into my mouth.
Zhul looked at me as if a third eye had sprouted in the middle of my forehead.
“Why would we do that? Do you not like ryspak?” He sounded slightly worried.
“I do. It’s very tasty. I like its acidic sweetness. I’m just curious why Xelixians include it in everything. Would you become ill without it?”
His shoulders lost their tension. I wondered why it seemed such a big deal to him that I liked ryspak.
“I don’t know, to be honest,” he said. “Actually, other than going through withdrawal, I doubt it would harm an adult to go without. We do love our ryspak.” He smiled mockingly. “However, it is essential for the growth of a Xelixian child. A female will miscarry if she doesn’t consume large amounts of ryspak during her pregnancy. Until the age of five, Xelixian children must eat a lot of it as well to develop properly. Without it, they’ll generally die.”
He popped a piece of ryspak into his mouth, chewing with obvious pleasure. An image of a young Zhul with Veredian markings gorging on the red fruit floated in my mind. My stomach clenched.
“I didn’t realize it was that important,” I whispered.
“Ryspak fruits possess powerful anabolic properties,” Zhul said, while cutting his meat. “That’s why it’s in such high demand by pharmaceutical industries throughout the galaxy. It is the core of the Xelixian economy and why untainted lands are so sought after.”
“Is this why you dislike the General so much?” I asked softly, hoping not to anger him. “Because he owns the largest untainted lands in all of Xelix Prime.”
Zhul wrinkled his nose as if he had whiffed a bad scent. He wiped his mouth and took a sip of wine.
“No. I don’t dislike him for his lands. Obviously, I would love to get my hands on them. Who wouldn’t?” Zhul shrugged. “I don’t like him because of the way he treats Lhor.”
I blinked, taken aback. This was the last answer I’d expected to hear. From the extensive media coverage of the Praghan-Kirnhan family, there seemed to be nothing but love between all of them.
“How does he treat Lhor?”
He pondered how to answer for a moment. The sad look from earlier crept back to his face and once again, I restrained the urge to reach for his hand and read his mind.
“Do you know what Geminates are?”
What does that hav
e to do with anything?
I nodded and took another mouthful of my salad.
“Khel and Lhor are Geminates.”
My eyes widened. “What? I thought Geminates were always identical twins.”
Zhul snorted. “And you would be correct. But that family never does anything like everyone else.”
I smiled, wholeheartedly agreeing with him on that. Although I wouldn’t admit it to him, I was a huge fan of that family.
“As the Anchor, Khel’s responsibility is to keep Lhor safe. That means keeping himself safe at all costs.”
I nodded slowly. It always struck me as a terrible thing that the Core should be so dependent on the Anchor.
“Although I found out today that Khel wasn’t as insensitive towards Lhor’s needs as I’d always thought. Yet, he’s still not doing right by him. Praghan may be a brilliant General, but he should step down or stick to a desk job. With every single mission, he puts Lhor’s life on the line.”
I tilted my head, frowning slightly. “But the military is his passion. I remember well during their interview how he said this had been his dream since childhood.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Zhul growled.
The bite in his voice startled me. Why was he so passionate about that?
“An Anchor puts his Core’s needs before his own. We do not take on careers or activities that put us at risk.”
At last, understanding dawned on me.
“We?” I asked softly.
The pain and sorrow etched on his face twisted a knife in my chest. I grabbed his hand on the table. His fingers clutched my hand in a bruising hold. Images of a laughing young boy with raven hair and silver eyes flashed through my mind. Once more, I felt that odd flare in the hollow part of him.
Zhul’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Rhal was my heart, my conscience, the better half of me. And I failed him.” His eyes refocused on me. They contained so much pain I felt my own prickle. "I let my Core die.”
The tsunami of thoughts and emotions rushing through his mind was too much to sort out and made my head hurt. I rose from my chair and closed the distance between us. Standing by his chair, I combed my fingers through his hair and pressed his head to my chest. He wrapped his arms around me and we held each other in silence. I gently rubbed my hand up and down his back, hoping to soothe him. He didn’t need words from me. He pulled me onto his lap and the chair creaked under our combined weight.
“Rhal and I both loved speed and extreme sports,” Zhul said in a hushed tone. “Because of our bond, we were very careful which kinds we actually practiced. Wall climbing was one of our favorites. Father built a wall specifically for us in the backyard. We were lead climbing, with Rhal feeding me the rope. I was halfway up the wall when a pack of wild rhomaks stampeded through the property.”
His voice faltered as a violent shudder coursed through him. My palm rubbed his chest in a soothing motion. The bump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
While fairly large, rhomaks were mostly harmless, passive creatures, raised on farms as one of the main local sources of meat. The wild version, though, was a different thing altogether. The porcine beasts possessed long, slightly curved tusks beside their powerful jaws filled with blade-like teeth.
“We couldn’t make it back to the house in time, so I told Rhal to climb. In his panic, he kept slipping. I rapelled down to try to help him up but they were on us too fast. They grabbed onto the rope and yanked him off. The way he fell…”
My chest hurt for him. I nuzzled his cheek before gently kissing it. He tightened his arms around me.
“He broke his neck. In a way, it was a blessing from the Goddess that he didn’t feel anything.” Zhul took in a shuddering breath. “I didn’t see what happened after that. His passing tore me asunder. I heard a savage roar before devastating pain ripped me apart. It felt as if a giant blade was splitting me down the middle. The last thing I remember was falling.”
Zhul rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. I gently caressed his hair, giving him the time he needed to cope with his pain.
“Apparently, I passed out from the pain of losing Rhal. I cracked my head open when I fell and ended up in a coma. My cavas, Zhenax, saved my life by singlehandedly killing half the pack and driving off the others.”
Zhul rolled his shoulders. I gently massaged the hard knots in the back of his neck to release some tension. He gave me a sad but grateful smile.
“I woke up two months later in the hospital. By then, my father had decimated the wildlife for miles around the estate. We never quite understood what drove the pack onto the property. It had never happened before. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Rhal before his funeral.”
“I’m so sorry, Zhul.”
“Don’t be. In a way, that too saved me.”
I recoiled slightly and my eyes snapped to his. “How so?”
“The doctors believe the coma kept me from going insane. While Anchors physically survive the passing of their Gem, most either lose their minds or become shadows of themselves. Last I checked, I’m still the only one without a Core that’s not locked up in a mental ward.”
“Then it is a blessing,” I said, cradling his face in my hands. “Whatever future lies ahead of us; I couldn’t imagine never meeting you.”
Some of his sorrow ebbed away as his face took on an incredibly soft expression. “Nor could I, you.”
* * *
Today was an unwelcomed day off. Normally, it should have been tomorrow. At first, I feared Varrek had gotten wind of a possible raid and kept me home just in case. But as he told me to come work the next day instead, I breathed a little easier. Now, I could only hope the raid wouldn’t occur today, in my absence, yet again. Unfortunately, Zhul had to work and had left a short while ago. I itched to take Tharin out for a ride, but the groundskeeper would drop by today. With luck, he would come early so I didn’t have to hide in the house all day.
Not knowing what to do with myself, I decided to log onto Zhul’s computer and do some research on Korlethean Geminates. In their case, neither the Core nor the Anchor died if the other did. They also didn’t go mad. Digging up anything of substance about the Korletheans proved far harder than trying to find up-to-date information about Xelixians. The reclusive species kept a tight lid on anything pertaining to themselves.
After the fall of their empire, due to internal wars, the defeated faction left Korlethea and scattered. Soon, they were hunted by slavers, mainly from the Eastern Quadrant, and like Veredians, they were enslaved for their powerful psi abilities. Some slavers attempted to swarm Korlethea, but the population rallied and pushed back the attacks. Nevertheless, the already weakened Korletheans suffered major losses. Afterwards, they closed themselves off to the rest of the galaxy and showed extreme aggression towards any alien vessel approaching their planet.
It struck me then that the Tuureans adopted a similar behavior. The cyborg-like species showed no mercy to anyone who violated their space and denied any type of access to their planet. No one even knew what the surface of Tuur looked like. I intended to dig into those guys a bit more, too. Their fierce protection of Amalia and her children had piqued my curiosity.
I was about to call it quits on the Korletheans when a section in a study on psychic species caught my attention. The study devoted a single page to the Korletheans and one small paragraph addressed the case of Geminates.
Of the three species known to birth Geminates, Korletheans are the least negatively impacted when a death occurs within the pair. Indeed, the survivor ‘absorbs’ the soul of his dying Gem within himself. The two halves thus reunited change the personality of the survivor to reflect the combined essences of the pair. Physical distance at the time of death is irrelevant – an incorporeal Gem always finds his way back. However, the merging of the souls requires certain predispositions found in people actively using psychic powers. Mental training has been attempted with Xelixian and Sarenian Geminates, but has failed. Those two specie
s, unfortunately lack the psi abilities to form the bridge between two consciousnesses.
I scrolled down the rest of the study, but there was nothing else on the topic. Frustrated, I chewed my bottom lip, reflecting on that paragraph. It raised more questions than it answered. What was the training? What happened to the soul of the deceased if it wasn’t absorbed? Could the survivor choose not to absorb his other half to keep his current personality? What would be the consequences? Was there a time limit to perform the merger? Could a third party act as the bridge?
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
A squeak of surprise escaped me at the unexpected voice. I jumped to my feet, a hand pressed to my chest, and gaped at the attractive juvenile standing in the doorway of Zhul’s office. Her long ebony hair and forest-green eyes gave her away as his little sister, Lelah. How did I not hear the proximity warning when she walked up to the house?
“I didn’t mean to intrude. Zhul said there wouldn’t be anyone home today so, I…”
Her voice choked in her throat. Eyes widening, her mortified expression abruptly turned into one of pure horror.
“Lelah?” I asked, unnerved by her reaction.
Her gaze glided down my shoulders, along my arms, and down my legs. She shook her head in denial. Lips quivering, she leaned on the doorframe for support. The gift box she held slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor with a loud thud.
What in the Goddess’ name is going on?
“No, Zhul… no,” she whispered, her eyes welling up. “He promised. He swore he had nothing to do with it.”
She thinks he’s involved in the Blood Houses!
“Lelah,” I said, approaching her slowly as if she was a scared animal, “I don’t know what Zhul promised you, but he’s my friend. He’s my only friend.”
“Y–your friend?” she asked, “N–not your jailer?”
“No, sweetheart. He’s trying to help me.”
She took in a shuddering breath, her eyes filled with hope and confusion.
“But you’re Veredian…”