by Pearl Foxx
“But,” Tavorn said, knowing Gerrit had walked into his trap, “if you would rather return home and allow us to deal with the human—”
“No. I’ll do it.”
Tavorn’s angelic face darkened. His pupils turned to slits, and for a second, he looked like the water serpent he was. Gerrit turned around before the Hyla could read the fear in his eyes.
He grabbed Jude’s arms. “Listen—”
“What the hell is going on?” she asked in a hissing whisper. “What are you talking about? Those things freak me the fuck out.”
“This is the only way we walk out of here. I need you to trust me,” he said carefully, conscious of the sharp ears behind him. “Me or them. You choose.”
The thread between them trembled.
“You,” she whispered. “I choose you.”
He leaned close. Against her ear, he murmured, “Then play along.”
When he pulled back, he didn’t meet her eyes. He couldn’t.
Because this wasn’t a game. They weren’t playing. And she had no idea what she’d just agreed to.
He swept his thumb across the partially dried blood on her chin. Jude recoiled slightly but didn’t pull away.
Her eyes were wide and terrified as he crouched before her.
Behind him, the Hylas murmured. They’d really thought he was bluffing. That he wouldn’t do it. But they didn’t know about the thread, the smell, the way he felt her heart racing without even touching her.
He raised his hand. His fingers shook and a single claw extended from his index finger. Jude let out a little gasp, but she was too strong to show more fear than that. Gerrit was proud of her for that, proud she’d be his … even if she didn’t know it. He sensed her gaze darting between him at her feet and the Hylas at his back.
With one hand, he held her hip still, and with his other, he dragged his claw carefully across her flight suit’s seam that connected the pants to her top.
“Gerrit …” Jude said in a low warning. She tried to pull away, but he held her in place as he ripped a single straight tear across her suit to reveal the pale, flat swath of her belly. He pushed the material up and spread his hand flat across her stomach.
“Maybe we should talk—”
He swept his bloodied thumb down and back up, forming a half moon beneath her navel. Her muscles flinched at the trace of cooling blood he’d left behind on her skin. He let the material fall back into place and stood.
She blinked at him, her lips parted. He collected more blood from her chin and coated both his index fingers.
He’d thought when he did this years down the road that he would look at the woman in front of him and feel love. Feel duty. Feel honor.
But the only thing he felt right now was cold, hard fear. And grim determination to keep her safe, no matter what.
He dragged his fingers across his cheeks, smearing her blood over his face and down his jaw, meeting at his chin.
Startled, Jude flinched as if he’d touched her instead. Inside him, their thread radiated a flash of heat like a burst of sunlight, his own sunrise.
“Gerrit,” she whispered as if she’d felt it too. “What did you just do?” Their thread hardened and thickened, becoming a rope of the strongest weave inside them, binding them.
Forever.
Gerrit couldn’t bring himself to kiss her as was customary at the end of the ceremony. It didn’t seem right, even though his Vilkan instincts itched to feel her body pressed against his, her lips, her skin … He shuddered, trying to keep his focus.
Tavorn gave a small chuckle. Taking Jude’s hand, Gerrit turned back to face the Hylas, her blood drying on his face. He’d remember its exact path for the rest of his life as if it would leave behind dark red scars on his face that he would see every time he saw his reflection.
“You’ve impressed me, Alpha,” Tavorn said, smiling again. Merick glowered behind his mage. “We must celebrate!”
Gerrit stiffened. Jude’s fingers flexed in his hand, making him realize he was probably squeezing her hand too hard. “Perhaps it would be wise if we returned home first—”
“I insist, Gerrit,” Tavorn said. “It’s customary for allied clans to give gifts, no? And you were on your way to our base for a very particular medicine. Or am I mistaken?”
Gerrit’s stomach dropped. “I was.”
Tavorn’s smile ratcheted up another notch, and Gerrit once again felt like he’d stepped into a trap. “Wonderful! Then return to our base and let us celebrate with feasts and entertainment! We’ll collect the medicine you so desperately need, and you can consider it a wedding gift.” The Hyla winked. “Perhaps your mate will need the first dose after the ceremony is consummated.”
Jude made a choking sound beside Gerrit.
“Thank you.” Gerrit forced the words from his mouth. They felt like cold, dead things on his tongue.
“Then come with us as you intended! Let us Hylas show you two a good time.”
Tavorn’s eyes gleamed in a manner that sent warning bells ringing through Gerrit’s mind. But if he refused the Prior Mage’s offer, Gerrit doubted he and Jude would be able to walk away. And he needed that medicine. Decision made, he nodded. “Your invitation is accepted.”
“Fantastic!” Tavorn clapped and whirled around, scales gleaming. “Rowyn, swim ahead and inform everyone of our coming guests.”
The Hyla with a bloody face gave a sharp nod and ran off into the jungle. Tavorn motioned to the other Hyla and strode off. Only Merick waited a few paces away for Gerrit and Jude to follow. His dark eyes were still locked on Jude.
Gerrit angled himself in front of Jude to block the Hyla’s view of her.
“What the hell just happened?” she whispered. Her voice sounded as dangerous as some of her smiles looked. “Did he say consummate? And mate? Please tell me those words mean something different here.”
“They don’t.” Gerrit took a deep breath and met her eyes.
The eyes of his mate.
What had he done?
“You’re my wife now. Forever.”
12
Jude
“Excuse me?” Jude couldn’t stop staring at her blood on Gerrit’s face. The half circle on her belly itched. Itched like a bad omen. Like a seal of fate. In a higher-pitched voice that bordered on panic, she repeated, “Excuse me?”
“Just stay calm. I’ll explain later,” Gerrit murmured.
“Maybe you should explain now. We’re not really married, right?” She lowered her voice to the barest of whispers. “Like, it was just a ceremony. It means nothing.”
“It means everything.” He took her hand and walked after the Hylas, giving Merick a wide berth as they passed.
He spoke in vague words that were weighed down with far too much meaning for just a little bit of blood. It meant everything? As in, Jude had a husband now? Her skin prickled, her palms sweaty. She’d never wanted to marry. Hell, she rarely dated. Linnea was far more inclined to have a torrid love affair on an alien planet, not Jude.
She had so not signed up for a husband.
But Jude sensed Gerrit’s unease around the Hylas, and his spine was ramrod straight as Merick closed in behind them. Gerrit didn’t trust these aliens. They were in a dangerous situation, and whatever he’d done back there had saved her life, husband or not. For that, and for the way he squeezed her hand reassuringly, she screwed her mouth shut and let him lead her away from the safety of their cave.
They walked through the jungle before coming to a small stream with rushing water and numerous waterfalls. It cut a dagger-like path through the ferns and foliage with various tributaries branching off at random intervals. The footprints of wild animals with long claws showed the water source was often frequented, but the Hylas walked without fear. Their only concern seemed to be keeping Tavorn from stepping on sharp rocks buried beneath the moss.
Merick walked too closely behind her and Gerrit, and she didn’t like it. She shot Merick a tight glare over her shoulder. I
f I can feel your breath on the back of my neck, you’re too close, asshole.
He leered back at her, his slitted eyes darting to the bloody bandage on her shoulder. She didn’t like the way he licked his lips, his tongue slithering against the air like he was tasting her blood.
With a shudder, she faced forward again.
The fast-moving stream widened and slowed into a shallow river. The trees bowed over it, vines brushing the water with fingertip caresses. Against the bank, a sleek boat made of curving glass-like material bobbed in the slight current. It was wide and flat with sides that swooped upward like waves.
Tavorn descended the small bank and stepped onto the boat. He took a seat lounging against the silk cushions covering the boat’s benches.
Jude stepped down, unsure if the transparent floor could hold her weight, but it felt surprisingly solid beneath her feet. It barely moved as Gerrit stepped down next to her, placing himself between her and Tavorn on the narrow seat. She settled beside Gerrit on a pillow of the softest fabric she’d ever touched.
She hoped Merick wouldn’t sit beside her, but when she glanced around for the other Hylas, she saw that none of them were getting on board.
A splash sounded in the water, startling her. She glanced back in time to see Merick and the others dipping below the surface of the water. Their scaled legs transformed with a ripple that disturbed the peaceful flow of the river. A curved fish tail sent up a spray of water and then descended back down to the muck of the riverbed.
The boat lifted beneath Jude, and she grabbed the gunwale with her breath caught in her throat. A breeze kicked up as they moved forward, and the water streamed past in tiny white-capped waves. The Hylas were pushing them.
“Congratulations are in order, but I don’t even know your name.”
Tavorn’s voice sounded honey-sweet, and Jude hated it. She offered him a tense smile. “Jude. Jude Quincy.”
He tipped his head. “Congratulations, then, Jude Quincy. Might I say, your arrival on our planet has been most exciting. Barely here two days and you already have a king’s commitment.” His pointed teeth peeked out from between his full lips. His features bordered on pretty and sweet, but his smile contained sheer violence. “I bet many human girls would die to be in your position.”
Gerrit’s shoulders jerked at the Hyla’s words.
Jude chanced a glance at him, but his jaw was clenched shut, his focus on his fists in his lap.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jude said carefully. “I didn’t choose to crash here. A good friend of mine died in the wreck. Not to mention how many of Gerrit’s men were hurt or killed. We’ve been shot at and spit acid on by those Draqon things. And”—she couldn’t help the borderline glare she leveled on Tavorn—“you were just about to torture me for information if memory serves right. Not exactly a warm welcome. All in all, it hasn’t been the greatest couple of days.”
Tavorn laughed, a chiming sound that hurt Jude’s ears. “She has a good point, does she not, Alpha?”
“She does.”
“Smart, too,” Tavorn mused. “Those are the dangerous ones.”
Gerrit frowned sharply. “And how would you know so much about human women, Tavorn? Tell me, is it true Savas found a buyer for his illegal flesh trafficking? Our peace treaty specifically mentions you aren’t to continue buying humans.”
A chill swept across Jude’s skin. She knew about the flesh trade some alien planets participated in. She couldn’t be a Falconer and not know. It was their greatest risk. Most Falconers flew alone or sometimes in pairs; the chances of them encountering pirates or trade raiders was high. Human women were especially lucrative, especially desired. It was just her freaking luck that she’d crash-landed on a secret planet that had a flesh trade.
It made her even more grateful for the blood on Gerrit’s face and her belly. Even if it terrified her equally.
“Change takes time, Alpha. Perhaps some clans aren’t as advanced as the Vilkas. But then,” Tavorn said with a delicate shrug of his fine-boned shoulder, “I heard you’ve been using archaic practices lately. Like the Omega Selection. On a Vilka of royal blood no less.”
Gerrit’s nostrils flared. “Savas is no royal, and he deserved the Selection.”
“Drastic measures must sometimes be taken to weed the chaff. I understand better than most.”
“Who’s Savas?” Jude asked.
“My father’s half-brother,” Gerrit said, snapping off the words. “A traitor.”
Tavorn sniffed. Tendrils of his hair twisted loose from his braid and undulated in the slight breeze caused by the boat’s movement. “Perhaps he was merely an opportunist. A visionary.”
Maybe it was because she’d already seen him as a wolf—a Vilka, she corrected herself—but she imagined Gerrit’s hackles rising at Tavorn’s words. She didn’t have to imagine the rumble low in his chest. He looked ready to rip the Hyla apart, and Tavorn merely sat there, grinning as if he were a cat with yellow feathers trapped in his teeth.
Jude spoke up before Gerrit got them killed. “Where is it we’re going?”
The Hyla’s face instantly transformed, as Gerrit’s had when she’d asked him about shifting. With reverence, he said, “The Vydal.”
No one spoke to break the silence, and the three unlikely passengers settled deeper into their cushions to wait out the ride. Tavorn stared off into the trees lining the riverbank, and Gerrit leaned back against the gunwale, his short hair rustling against his temples.
The rocking of the boat lulled Jude to sleep, her eyelids heavy and her body sinking into the plush pillows. The warmth from Gerrit’s side and the chirping birds in the trees far above was a strange sort of comfort. Occasionally, she’d drift awake and catch snippets of Gerrit and Tavorn’s quiet conversation, but mostly, her exhausted, battered body grabbed at the chance to rest, and she slept.
She fell into dreaming. Her usual dreams of flying were another sort of comfort. The dipping and swaying of her ship, her fingers wrapped around the steering column, a smile on her face as she navigated the cosmos on little more than instinct and reaction.
That was the thing they didn’t teach in Falconer school—the feeling. Only the older Falconers spoke of what happened during a solo mission into deep space, far beyond the bounds of what the American Corporation had explored. When they traveled at full speed, they were the only breathing souls for millions of miles.
They felt infinite. They became the space around them. Insignificant and all-powerful at the same time.
Jude had never felt that. Not yet. But she dreamed of it.
Something jostled her awake. Infinity tore away from her like stitches ripping. Her eyes sprang open, and Gerrit stared down at her, his arm on her shoulder. He’d shaken her awake, her name on his lips. Something inside her vibrated at the sight of him above her. A piece of loose blond hair over his forehead made her heart constrict.
“What?” she asked, jerking her eyes away from his face. “What’s happened?”
“We’re here,” he said. A half smile touched his lips. “I thought you might want to see it from farther away.”
“Oh.” She straightened away from his body, where she had curled up like they belonged pressed together, and ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. She wiped a bit of drool from her lip. She needed a shower badly and a brush and new clothes and a giant cup of coffee—
“Oh,” she said again, gasping when she finally looked up.
The narrow jungle river had disappeared. The jungle had disappeared. They’d apparently followed it to its end, and there, when Jude’s eyes had been closed, the world had opened up into a cerulean ocean with white frosted waves. Two moons followed a dipping sun into the purple and orange sky. Stars, falling and suspended, were a million tiny specks of flickering dust flung up against the galactic Aurora.
Transfixed, Jude stood. The boat remained steady beneath her as if it wasn’t merely being propelled through the water but floating above it. Behind her, Gerrit
got to his feet as well, Tavorn murmuring something to him, but she heard none of it.
She’d never seen a sky so clear, but it was the structure toward which they were heading that stole her attention.
It towered above the waves like a slumbering creature, rising from the ocean floor in a series of arches and columns, glass spires and sweeping buttresses. What Jude took for lights illuminating the underwater section of the base were shifted Hylas, countless numbers of them swimming through the water.
“Wow,” Jude whispered.
“You like it?” Tavorn asked, stepping up beside her.
She glanced over at him, pushing back the pieces of her dark hair that tried to blow across her face in the breeze. The boat rocked as the Hylas beneath them gathered speed, free to propel them forward in the open water. Before she could even sway from the acceleration, Gerrit placed a steadying hand against her back.
She didn’t like Tavorn—he creeped her the hell out, actually—but she couldn’t lie. “It kicks major ass.”
Tavorn laughed. “I approve of your mate, Gerrit.”
Gerrit grunted in response behind her, but it was the first time Tavorn had called Gerrit by his actual name. It was a win in Jude’s book. “This is the Vydal?”
They were close enough now that Jude had to crane her neck back to see the glass and limestone walls of the cathedral-like structure sweeping out of the water. A memory from her childhood permeated her awe—reading to Linnea when Jude herself could barely form the words, their tiny forms huddled against the wall, a threadbare blanket pulled over their heads.
Under the glow of a flashlight, Jude had whisper-read the story of Atlantis, a lost city in a faraway ocean, with beautiful mermaids and immeasurable treasure. Linnea had listened with her lips parted in rapt attention, her tears finally dry, and Jude had turned the pages one-handed so Linnea wouldn’t have to see the array of fresh bruises down Jude’s arm.
Jude blinked, and the memory faded away, though Gerrit was staring at her, a wrinkle furrowed deep between his brows.
“Ah,” Tavorn said, clapping his hands, “Rowyn swam hard. Everyone is ready.” He spun toward Jude, his scales rustling, and Gerrit’s fingers dug into her back in response. She felt rather than heard his rumble in her chest, or maybe it was her own.