by Rose, Renee
“When will you do that?”
We glance at each other. We still can’t. She cares for us—yes. She likes the sex, and she enjoys her work, but the restless warrior is always underneath.
I know my original vision of the three of us going out on missions together would’ve worked far better than this pathetic attempt at taming her.
I turn it back on her, like the asshole I am. “Can you look into my eyes and tell me you are 100 percent for Zandia?”
“Can you ask me to do that without allowing me to find out what’s happening on my home?” Our little warrior raises her eyebrows. “Trust goes both ways. Do you understand I have a home, far away, and people I care about? I haven’t been able to even find out if they’re alive. You can’t ask me to completely cut off my part of my soul and then immediately dedicate my heart to another place. It doesn’t work like that.”
The boulder on my chest grows heavier, but I attempt to reason with her. “First of all, we have no regular communications with Jesel. They don’t have a station set up or any protocols. And you know well how far and difficult it is to get there. It’s not like we can just jet over once a planet rotation and chat.”
“Not once a planet rotation. How about just once.” She crosses her arms and stares at me. “You say you care about me. If you really do, as a mate, why can’t you help me? It's the one thing I’ve asked for.”
I look away. “We’re forbidden to interact in that area due to piracy issues.”
“There are ways around that.”
“We stay loyal to our king,” Domm snaps, his voice stern. “You are not to lecture us about what is appropriate or not.”
“I’m not saying…” She blows out a breath. “Look. You love this place. Imagine if you were ripped away from it, without knowing what happened to…him.” She points to me. “To your king. To…I don’t know, maybe…to me. Whatever. I’m not that important. but the point is, you’d be curious.”
“Mirelle. You can’t go back there.” His voice is low. “You’re mated now, to Zandians. This is your home.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t understand.” She punches one fist into the other hand. “You ask me incessantly about my past. Does that make sense? I’m supposed to tell you all of my life stories to satisfy your curiosity? But then promptly forget everything I said, or stop caring about it?”
“That’s not it.” I stand up and pace. “We want to know about you because you matter to us. And Dr. Daneth told us that if you talk about your past, it will help you process what’s happening now.”
“Dr. Daneth knows nothing about humans,” she snaps.
It’s true. How can any Zandian really understand what it’s like to be something else?
Domm steps up, his voice soft. “Mirelle. Life isn’t perfect, or easy. It involves sacrifice. Building, or rebuilding a planet, requires single-minded dedication. When you agreed to settle here, you committed to making Zandia your number one priority.” He raises a brow. “Isn’t that so?”
She looks away and we all know the truth—she never agreed. Never committed. She only said what we told her to say to avoid imprisonment.
I try for the truth—the only thing I can offer. “Mirelle, we don’t want to lose you. If you go to Jesel, you could die.”
She sits and looks up at the sky, where the stars shimmer and flash.
Veck.
I reach out and puts my hand on her thigh.
“Where do beings go?” She flops back on the hoverbench.
“What do you mean?” Domm’s as confused as I am by this abrupt change in topic.
“When we…they…die.” She keeps her eyes on one distant star that’s brighter than the rest. Alpha-8. It’s the heart of the Acria constellation.
I answer. “It’s not something Zandians think about. We focus on life, making that strong and powerful.”
“But you must have thought about it at least once.” She continues to stare into the night sky. “What do you teach the young?”
“We don’t…teach that at all.” Domm sounds curious. “Why do you ask?”
“So you just flash into nothing when you die?”
“When life is over, other Zandians carry on into the future.”
“Do you think we go somewhere else?” she asks.
“Where else could a being go?” I touch her arm, wishing I could get into that beautiful head and decode her thoughts. “Why are you asking this?”
“Some planets, some species, have…deities.”
Domm nods. “So they do.”
She touches her necklace, one she never removes. It has significance, but she hasn’t shared what. Another secret she keeps from us. “Do Zandians?”
“No. We honor our crystal, which represents the power of nature’s life-giving force and energy, but that’s all,” I explain.
“Well, maybe you should get some.” She sniffs. “When you lose someone so important, how can they just disappear?”
“Who did you lose, little warrior?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head.
I draw in a breath. She’s searching for something here—existential meaning. I’ve never been one to philosophize, but I sure as veck want to give her something to hold onto. “As long as you remember them, they’re not entirely gone. Their message and teaching can live on.”
“Would you agree that without that memory, that drive to help carry forward, that your life is somewhat meaningless?” she asks.
“I suppose I would.”
“Because for you to proceed as a species, as Zandians, you need to honor your past and burn to carry your knowledge and existence forward. And without that, you’d be incapable of fully contributing to your society.”
“Exactly,” Domm agrees.
“Then why do you deny me the chance to fulfill that need in myself?” She looks to Domm, hope pouring into her expression. “I need that, too. What I need, the information and knowledge I need about my past, is back on Jesel. If you want me to really be part of this society, to give it my entire heart, you need to let me have my past back, too.”
Domm releases her hand and rubs his face. “It’s not something we can grant. It’s against our orders, which means, it’s against yours, too.”
She stands abruptly, fingers curled into fists. “Right.” She spins on that tight word and goes inside, leaving us to the gash of space, the hulking loss of her presence.
I close my eyes, because I know we just vecked everything up.
Our little warrior needs to leave.
Sooner or later, we’ll have to let her.
Chapter 16
Domm
“Think we vecked up with Mirelle last night?” I ask Lanz. The two of us are in our craft, heading out towards Macron-3 for supplies, an easy journey.
“Yes.” Lanz leans forward to examine the screen. “Make sure we have extra precautions. Pirates are moving out of the usual areas.”
I set the appropriate controls. “Veck, I’d take her there this planet rotation if we could. But it’s just not safe.”
“Not to mention, nowhere near the top of the priority list we have from Master Seke.” Lanz adjusts our course, then lets auto take over. We’re running our own mission now without Archer. Master Seke determined we’re ready to work on our own. Archer’s going to be training some new young warriors.
“True,” I muse. “No telling when things will quiet down. And even when they do, Jesel is not going to be at the top of the task pile.”
“But if we stress the fact that there are human females? Would Master Seke let us go, eventually?”
“They might not even be alive at this point. And there are other leads from closer, safer sources to investigate first. Jesel has been a cesspool since the planet rotations when it first started hosting humans. Remarkably dangerous territory around it now, too.”
“She has a hard time accepting ambiguity. I’d have expected her to have more fortitude.”
I consider this. “S
he’s plenty strong in other ways. But humans have much fiercer emotional attachments.”
I’m almost starting to understand her. The thought of losing Mirelle gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, something I’ve never before experienced. Oh, I care about my friends and my fellow Zandians. I’d give my life for them; it’s our way. But there’s an extra frisson of something in my chest when I consider Mirelle. And that makes me want to give her the exact thing I can't give her if I want to make the worry go away. What a vecking conundrum.
“She likes it here more all the time. She’s making friends and impressing beings at work. A little longer, and we’ll be able to petition for full citizenship.” Lanz’ voice is not convinced. He knows as well as I do that our little human is withholding something critical.
“To do that, we’d have to remove her cuffs first. You think that’s a good idea right now?”
He hesitates and I shake my head.
“Neither do I. And if we know she’s not fully committed, the king will see it in a second. He’s not the ruler for nothing.”
“I just think…maybe…if we gave her what she wants, she’d give us what we want.” I’m not sure what I mean. I feel out the words as I go. “She thinks of Jesel as some kind of answer to her problems. If we took her back there, maybe she’d see it’s not. And then she could commit to Zandia.”
“But King Zander won’t let her out until she first commits to Zandia. Proves that she’s ready to be one of us, and won’t betray us or work against us.”
I scratch my cheek. “It’s an impossible situation.”
“I just can’t take the chance that she vecks something up in her zeal to…whatever.” Lanz shakes his head. “I can’t lose her. We can’t lose her.” There’s anguish in his tone.
“Agreed. We’ll just need to work harder in the sleep chamber.” I give a humorless chuckle, because sex has been our only strategy from the beginning. “Get her so addicted to us that she falls in line.”
Lanz remains silent.
“We could punish her more often? Harder?”
“No. She’s too tough. To really punish her, we’d have to hurt her, and neither of us want that. Plus, that would kill any trust she has. Drive her away for good.”
“I know that. I meant the kind she likes.”
“Oh, that. Well, of course.” I smile. “She does like when we discipline her.”
“And it truly does seem to make her softer, more compliant.” He looks at me. “Don’t you think? I mean, not because we beat her into submission. More because we please her so well that she’s more interested in pleasing us.”
“And it’s lucky that our brands of pleasure all run to the rougher sort.” My cock hardens, thinking of how I like spanking her soft ass, turning it pink. How she gasps and wiggles and gets wet as I do.
“We’ll take her one planet rotation,” he promises. “As soon as we can.”
“Yes. But not now.”
* * *
Mirelle
Ever since Lanz and Domm let me try out my craft, something flipped on in my brain and won’t turn off. It’s a circuit stuck on GO. If I felt closer to them, like the three of us were one entity, I also felt the pull of Jesel in my blood, my bones.
It’s time to make my choice. The moment is here.
I can’t wait a solar cycle, or two, or ten. I need to get there now. Help my people now, if they need it. Answer the questions that burn me up and prevent me from making Zandia my home.
I sink forward, staring out the large window, not focusing on anything. I fly the path in my mind, the way through the Midrian belt. I was told one time that musicians practice the Kardish Harp in their minds, pressing strings and pulling the bow in their imagination, that doing it helps improve their skills in real life.
I go past the first asteroid belt, maneuvering around sudden rocks that spin out at me. It’s like dodging raindrops but once I get into the zone it always happens, the thing I told my mates about back then—it’s like I can sense them coming before they do. I know it’s not any magic, and that it’s my mind putting together trajectories based on subtle movements, but it definitely feels magical when it happens.
The door opens suddenly and I leap up, guilt making me hot, but my mates don’t seem to notice the deception that coats me like a new skin. How is it possible that my face isn’t pocked with ugly sores, my eyes aren’t leaking the poison that’s filling my mind?
Instead, Domm’s face pinches with worry.
“What is it?” I stand, and walk to him. “You never look this upset when you come home.” I put my hands on his chest. “Tell me and I’ll kill the ones who threaten you.”
He barely smiles. Usually my protective threats have him gazing into my eyes, brushing my neck with his lips. Chuckling as he tells me all about who makes the threats, and what will happen later in bed.
“It’s nothing.” He pushes my hands down; not unkindly, but efficient. He drops his flight bag and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m going to clean up.”
He heads right to the washtube, and to my surprise, he curses a few times, the words not masked by the streaming water.
When Lanz comes in, a similar scowl gracing his features, I cross my arms. “Tell me.”
“Nothing to tell. Just a long planet rotation. The usual.” He won’t meet my eyes as he sits in a chair and pulls off his boots.
“Really?” I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, leaning in to lick one horn.
He pulls away. “Not now, Mirelle.”
Ouch. I step back, hiding the hurt.
“I’m sorry.” He gets up and faces me. “It’s just…” He shakes his head. “We’re going to be off on a mission for a few planet rotations.”
“Where to?” My heart pounds.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Because I’m me?” I scowl. “I’m so sick of being left out of things.” Anger flushes through me, mingling with worry.
“It’s classified.” He shakes his head.
“But other people know?”
Domm comes back out of the washtube. He smells fresh, but his expression is still guarded. “We’ll be out of communication range, too.”
“Oh. I see.” I swallow. This is new.
He comes up to me and takes both my hands in his. “Will you be all right while we’re away?”
“I can take care of myself.” The urge to snap wells up and I push it down, because along with the irritation comes fear. Cold, acrid fear. “Is it dangerous?”
“No more than usual.” But he’s not meeting my eyes.
“Be careful.” I squeeze his hands harder. The truth is that every time they go on a mission, part of me lives in limbo until they’re home, back with me, safe in my arms. It’s a horrible, wonderful feeling, and I don’t know when they started meaning so much to me that they occupy the largest part of my heart.
It used to be that my sister lived in that chamber, and my father, and the humans on Jesel.
Jesel. I take a breath.
“We’ll come back to you, never fear, little vipn.” Domm’s voice is jovial now, and if it seems little forced, I still feel relief that he can laugh.
“You better. I’d hate to have to find two new mates to veck every night.”
Both males growl and I squeal as Domm grabs me and tosses me over his shoulder. “It’s comments like that,” he says, striding to the sleep chamber, “that have me thinking I need to pull out the leather strap.” He tosses me down.
“What comments will get me your tongue?” I roll over and get into a provocative pose. “What if I said something about your large Zandian cock and what I plan to do with my mouth? Would that work?”
“It would be a good start.” He grins at me.
“If you’d just free me”—I hold up my hands—“I could come with you. Fight alongside you. Help you.” I don’t know why I say this now, only that it’s welling up in me, this need, as much as the urge for sex with m
y mates.
His face falls and hardens. “Mirelle.”
“Master. Masters.” I look at both of them. “Will it never change?”
“No,” he snaps, then shakes his head. “I mean yes. But not until you finally decide to integrate here.” I think he’s on edge because of whatever mission he’s on, but it goads me into my own anger, and I allow it to consume me.
“If I’d been given freedom, I might consider it.” It’s right from my heart. “How stupid are you? To think you can take a sentient, living, feeling being and expect to enslave them and make them forget entirely about their past? You’re never going to thrive as a society. Never going to bring Zandia back to her former glory if you’re this stupid.”
I bang the cuffs together. “I just want these off. I want to be free.” Tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I hate having to be two Mirelles—the one who loves these Zandians, and the one who needs to go back to Jesel. I hate being torn in two. I hate my conflict. And yes, I hate that they’re not helping fix it, but only making it stronger. “I hate you!”
The two males stand there, as if made of stone, their color more peach than purple, as if the blood drained from their faces.
I’m immediately sorry—I don’t hate them—they’re all I have here, but I don’t know how to make this right. Make it work.
Lanz turns away. “We need to go.”
Without looking at me, Domm says stiffly, “When we return, we’ll speak to the king and dissolve this union. On Zandia, no human is bound to masters she does not want.”
His words hit me like a fist. I lose my breath, unable to speak, unable to tell him it’s not them I don’t want, but it’s too late.
The door closes with a finality, and I collapse into sobs.
Chapter 17
Mirelle
The capital is silent, darkness blanketing the domes. My cuffs flash green as I enter the flight deck where my craft is stored, the one that's off to the side. I snuck in without being noticed, of course. First of all, nobody expects an intruder. Second, I’m still good at this. Expert. And Domm and Lanz never turned off the temporary code that allowed me access to my craft area.
