by Roxie Ray
“We don't have that kind of money with us, and you know it,” Dhimurs snapped.
“Of course not!” Bek affected a wounded tone. “No one would expect you to travel around with such a hefty sum. After all, you're warriors, not entrepreneurs.” He let out a snuffling laugh that sounded immensely patronizing. “Luckily for you, the credit of the lofty Valkred Empire is fine with us. We know you're good for it.”
“I'm relieved to hear it.” If Dhimurs' blood boiled any hotter, I was afraid that steam would start shooting out of his ears. “Then you'll transmit landing coordinates for us, so our ship can be repaired?”
“Sending them now,” Bek said placidly, tapping the buttons on his console. The screen in front of Vahmi flickered to life, and he entered the data that would tell our vessel where to land.
“A pleasure doing business with you, noble Valkredians,” Bek chirped. “And while you're visiting our delightful world, please let me know if you require any refreshments or entertainment. I'll be more than happy to arrange it for you… for a reasonable fee, naturally.”
And with that, Bek's face vanished from the viewscreen, replaced with the image of his icy planet.
“When I'm done with that mangy, sawed-off, chiseling lump of guano,” Dhimurs rumbled, “he'll be spending that two million rula on a set of new arms and legs. Perhaps even a new head to go with them.”
“I'm just worried about whether they'll use substandard parts to patch us up,” Vahmi piped up apprehensively. “You know these Drekkir will do anything to save themselves some rula.”
“I hope no one gets hungry down there,” Surge muttered darkly. “I can only imagine the exorbitant prices they'll charge us for food and drink.”
“Best to hold tight to your belongings as well, if you don't want them stolen,” Thezis added.
This time, I did laugh – I couldn't help it. “What's the matter with all of you? Fine, so they're a bit greedy and smug. So what? We needed their help, and we've got it! We were drifting helplessly in space, our ship was chewed to pieces… and now, thanks to the Drekkir, we still have a chance of successfully completing our mission and saving my parents! Besides, if we need to eat or drink, we still have plenty of stock we can grab from the galley, right? At least the Branborgs didn't munch their way into our supplies.”
“Judy is quite correct,” Respen said, smiling beatifically. “It's generally best to put one's own ego aside in matters such as these, in order to appreciate the broader view.”
Dhimurs murmured something under his breath about Bek getting a broader view of his boot before this was over, and then fell silent for the rest of our descent to the planet's surface.
12
Judy
As the Angel's Wrath dropped beneath the swirling white clouds of the atmosphere and lowered itself toward the capital city, my eyes widened at the sight that greeted us.
I didn't have many memories of life as a small child – my birth mother and I had been taken from Earth too long ago for that – but one of the few I did have was of a day in late December, when she had taken me to a local supermarket to see Santa Claus. The main area of the store had been decorated with fake snow, model trains, giant candy canes, and charming little cardboard houses with electric candles flickering in the window panes. There were smiling people dressed as elves, and signs saying: “North Pole – Christmas Village.”
The Drekkir world reminded me of that day.
No candy canes or Santa, of course, but a lovely village of pleasant-looking huts and houses covered with snow and icicles. There were strings of hanging lanterns twinkling merrily, and the streets were full of activity – fuzzy Drekkir merchants buying, selling, haggling, and hawking their wares from their hovering carts and kiosks. Miners in helmets and heavy overalls still stained with soil were standing in lines for warm beverages and sweets, chittering amongst themselves. Squat, shaggy, six-legged creatures with tusks were being used as pack beasts, braying and snorting as their breath left white clouds hanging in the air. Trams heaped with ore traveled between the mountains and caves surrounding the village, bringing the minerals to the refineries, and then transferring them to storage units for shipping.
In the center of it all was a magnificent castle made entirely of ice. The Wrath touched down near it, and a group of Drekkir workers surrounded the ship immediately, poking and probing and inspecting it from all sides as we walked down the ramp. Despite the wintery climate, the air wasn't nearly as harsh and cold as I expected. In fact, after spending my entire adult life beneath the three suns of Macur, the mild chill was oddly bracing and enjoyable compared to the frigid temperatures of Valkred.
“They say Bek already agreed to two million rula,” the main worker drawled, sidling up to Dhimurs and wiping his stubby paws on his coveralls, “but let me tell you right up front: the kind of Branborg damage we're looking at here? Weapons wrecked, propulsion chewed to scraps, hull reduced to tissue paper? There's no way we can get you up and running for less than three and a half, and that's if we take a week and make do with second hand parts…”
Dhimurs seized the worker by the throat, lifting him high off the ground and snarling in his face. “You will repair the damage to our vessel in the next two sun cycles, and you will do so at no additional cost, using the finest quality parts you have available. Because if you do not,” Dhimurs continued darkly, pulling the helpless Drekkir so close that their noses were almost touching, “I will rip out your fur by the fistful and ram it down your throat until you choke and die. Do we understand each other? Or must I provide a demonstration?”
Watching Dhimurs like that – his eyes blazing with fury, his tone firm and commanding, acting in the interest of his planet and his men – made my heart flutter and took my breath away. He was so strong and powerful. After all those years thinking about him and wondering if he'd come back into my life, the reality was more awe-inspiring than even I could have imagined.
I entertained a brief fantasy about being enveloped in those arms and wings, sharing another kiss with him, letting him make passionate love to me and claim me for his own…
But my parents were still in danger. We still had a job to do. I had a duty to the people of Macur – at least, the ones who were left after the massacre. I couldn't let myself be distracted by such things, no matter how badly I wanted to give in to my desires.
Then again, what if we didn't succeed in this mission? What if it claimed our lives? Was it foolish for me to try to push my feelings for him aside, given the fact that if we waited to act on them, we might never get a chance? Didn't we owe it to each other – to ourselves – to see where these impulses might lead us? Might doing so even forge a stronger bond between us, increasing our chances of victory?
Or was I just shamelessly lying to myself, so I could give in and have what I wanted most?
I wasn't sure. And until I could be sure, how could I take that chance without placing my parents' lives in even deeper peril?
The Drekkir worker sputtered a series of apologies, promising to personally ensure that the Wrath left his machine shop in even better condition than it had been in before the Branborg attack. Dhimurs let him drop onto the snowy ground on his bottom, and he scurried to his feet, grabbing a tool kit and barking orders at his crew.
“That should do the trick,” Dhimurs growled, folding his arms in front of his chest.
I hoped so. But privately, I couldn't help but remember something from my time working at The Vein on Cexiea: There were plenty of occasions when customers berated Nos with colorful complaints and insults. He would fawn over them, offer sniveling apologies, and bring them new refreshments free of charge – after he had surreptitiously spat in them (or likewise defiled them with other, fouler bodily fluids). The customers would be pacified, and Nos would laugh up his sleeve at his little joke on them.
With any luck, the crew working on the Wrath wouldn't have the same jaundiced sense of humor Nos did.
“Come,” Dhimurs continued. “
Let us proceed to the central castle and find our lodgings. I imagine we could all use some rest after what we've endured so far.”
We trudged up the slushy streets to the icy stronghold, where a Drekkir in a pressed purple uniform with silver piping led us to our rooms. The skies had been the same shade of dark gray ever since we landed, and it occurred to me that I had no idea what time it was on this world.
Not that I particularly cared. I felt like I hadn't slept for a week, and I was definitely ready to lie down and close my eyes for a while.
When we got to the guest rooms, our guide lingered conspicuously, clearing waiting for a tip – until Dhimurs gave him a scowl that made all of his fur stand on end and he skittered off down the hall, chittering to himself nervously.
There were only three unlocked doors on that level, all leading to small bedchambers.
“Where are the rest of our rooms?” Surge asked, looking around. “On another floor?”
“I don't believe there are any,” Respen commented. “If I'm not mistaken, they expect us to share these meager accommodations among ourselves.”
“What?” Dhimurs growled. “There are six of us! There's an entire castle full of rooms, we've agreed to pay these money-grubbing rodents two million rula to stay here, and they expect us to crowd into these pitiful holes? By the stars, where the hell are we supposed to sleep? On top of each other?”
The thought of Dhimurs on top of me was appealing, but I resisted the urge to joke about it.
“As Judy mentioned earlier,” Respen offered, “in cases such as these, perhaps it is best to maintain a focus on the positive elements rather than the negative ones. True, the situation at hand is not ideal. But let us take a moment to 'count our blessings,' as the humans say. For example, I myself require no sleep, as I am fueled by the central energies of the cosmos. Therefore, I will have no need to avail myself of these rooms, leaving one for Judy to occupy alone.”
“Why should she have a room to herself?” Vahmi asked testily. “I think it would be more equitable to draw straws in order to make that determination, don't you?”
“She will have a room to herself,” Dhimurs said firmly, “because she is the only female among us, and offering it to her is the proper thing to do.”
“But that's simply not fair!” Vahmi whined. “There are plenty of females in the Valkredian military, and they don't get their own accommodations. Why, they bunk with males all the time without complaint!”
Dhimurs advanced on Vahmi swiftly, backing him up against the wall and towering over him. “First of all, I am your commanding officer, and I am thoroughly unconcerned with what you feel is 'fair.' My job is to give orders, and yours is to follow them without question. Second, Judy is not a member of Valkred’s military. She is a leader among her people, and our guest on this mission – so she will be treated accordingly. Third, if you are so concerned with gender and the privileges that come with it, perhaps I should unsheathe my blade and use it to make certain strategic adjustments to your anatomy.”
“That won't be necessary, sir,” Vahmi stammered pitifully. “I apologize for speaking out of turn. I assure you, it won't happen again.”
I'd seen so many proud, fierce, fearless Valkredian warriors that I was taken aback by Vahmi's behavior. But then I remembered that he was a pilot and technician, not a fighter or a leader. And based on his tender age, it was entirely probable that he'd signed up for the military after the war with the Mana had been resolved – so he hadn't exactly been battle-tested before now.
“See that it doesn't,” Dhimurs said stonily. “Now: Surge, you'll bunk with me. Vahmi, you're with Thezis.”
Thezis grumbled something inaudible.
“Respen,” Dhimurs went on, “since you won't be sleeping, is there anything you can do to further the mission while we're stuck on this frozen chunk of rock?”
“Such as?” Respen tilted his head slightly, looking amused.
Dhimurs sighed, frustrated. “You're a damn space sorcerer, aren't you? Can't you, I don't know, use your magic to determine whether Torqa is still on Kenexa? What kind of trap she might have set in place for us there? Anything to justify your continued presence on this trip?”
“Ah. I see.” Respen nodded gamely. “We Lunians have such long life spans – and consequently, long memories – that I tend to overlook the fact that other races' periods of recollection are far shorter. For example, you seem to have forgotten my intervention to keep the Branborgs from tearing our ship to bits. Or my insight into how Torqa managed to fuel her cloaking device. Or…”
“All right, all right,” Dhimurs snapped. “Just… do what you can, will you?”
“Certainly.” Respen bowed and walked away.
I tried to make eye contact with Dhimurs, to get his attention – but he was herding Vahmi and Thezis into their own rooms, and seemed oddly determined not to meet my gaze.
I knew he was trying to be strong, to resist his impulses toward me.
Still, his refusal to even look in my direction hurt. Especially since I wanted so badly not to feel that I was alone in these struggles.
I sighed to myself and entered the small room, shutting the door behind me. Clearly, it had been designed with the Drekkirs' smaller proportions in mind – the ceiling was low, and I could almost touch the opposite walls at the same time just by extending my arms. A third of the room was taken up by bunk beds, so short that when I reclined, my legs hung off. I was relatively short, even as humans went – I could only imagine how uncomfortable Dhimurs and the others would be in their own chambers.
Just as I was about to close my eyes and try to sleep, there was a knock at the door. I got up to answer it, already knowing who was waiting on the other side (and feeling a strange sense of deja vu from my time at the Ruby Stronghold on Valkred).
Sure enough, it was Dhimurs, standing at attention.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. I was trying to keep my voice neutral, so he wouldn't hear how relieved and happy I was to see him standing outside my door. “Are the others all right?”
“They are all fine,” he replied. “Except, perhaps, for Vahmi – but his discomfort is of little consequence to me. I simply wished to check on you and make sure your living quarters are acceptable.”
“They'll do,” I said with a laugh, gesturing for him to come in and shutting the door behind him. His shoulders were so squared, his bearing so confident and regal. I was acutely aware of how close we were standing, given the cramped dimensions of the room. “Honestly, I'm probably a lot better off than the rest of you, since I don't have to share mine with anyone. That was very considerate of you.”
“Giving you privacy under the circumstances seemed to be the appropriate course of action,” he answered stiffly.
From the formal way he was speaking to me, I could tell that he was struggling to keep his tone professional. He was obviously afraid of showing any vulnerability – of letting himself reveal his feelings for me again, as he did before on the ship.
I took a step toward him, looking up at him. Our bodies were inches apart. I could feel his cool breath tickling my face, and I suddenly realized how damp I was between my thighs. Everything inside me was pulsing with energy and desire. Dhimurs swallowed deeply and flexed his cool, sturdy fingers.
“It's too late for us to pretend we don't desire each other, Dhimurs,” I pointed out quietly.
“Perhaps that is true,” he conceded. “But that does not mean we must act on them.”
“Doesn't it?” I sighed. Part of me agreed with him, but… “I'm starting to feel like not giving in to our feelings is causing more of a distraction. This attraction is hanging between us so heavily that it's hard to think about anything else.”
“Then… that is what you wish to do? Discuss it?”
“Mmm, something like that.” I leaned forward impulsively, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him. He flinched away for a moment, startled – then relented, taking me in his arms and holding me t
ight.
The feeling was everything I'd imagined during those nights on Macur, and so much more.
As our tongues caressed each other playfully, I felt his strong heartbeat against my chest and stroked the back of his neck with my fingertips. I felt so small against him, swept up in the embrace of one who was willing to do whatever it took to keep me safe, even if it meant dying for me. Knowing he was so devoted to protecting me made me light-headed and giddy.
Dhimurs' hips moved against mine, and I felt how aroused he was – straining against the front of his trousers, clearly aching for release, for satisfaction. I lowered my hand, cupping it around his bulge and slowly undoing the fasteners on his pants. He let out a low moan, and tensed up. For a moment, I was sure he was going to try to stop me.
But no. Instead, he simply held on to me more tightly, his kisses tracing a line down the side of my neck. I vaguely felt the pointed tips of his fangs against my skin, and got goose bumps. Was he going to bite me?
Did I want him to?
From my admittedly limited knowledge of Valkredian culture, exchanging blood was a significant element of their mating rituals. Was he prepared to do that with me now? Or would that be foolish, with so much of our mission still ahead of us?
I didn't know. In that moment, I only knew that I needed him.
Now that his cock was free and straining toward his stomach, I took it in my hands. I was mildly surprised to discover that it was quite cool to the touch, just like the skin on his hands and the rest of his body. Valkredians had famously low internal temperatures, and I thought about how it would feel when he penetrated me – like a thick icicle, perhaps, giving me a delightful chill from within, soothing the fire that burned and raged inside me.
I lowered myself to my knees, running a finger up and down the underside of his shaft. His entire body trembled, and I could tell that he was fighting for control, barely able to restrain himself.
