by Vicky L Holt
I closed my eyes and sipped the broth. Flavors from another world burst across my tongue. I swirled them in my mouth, reluctant to swallow and lose them to my memory.
“Nay, take the flavors into your soul, Naraxthel Roika.”
My eyes opened to BoKama, her hand on my shoulder.
“Take your watch.”
I nodded and stood, shaking my head of the webs behind my eyes. Did I dream? I walked the perimeter, listening to the hohipadaxl bugs as they rubbed their spikes against their wings, begging for a mate. Their potential mates flew to them and ate them, unless each bug’s body temperature matched exactly. We called them nonsense flies.
My thoughts ran to my brethren and our quest. Danger lay ahead and behind. Did Ikma believe my loyalty, we were free to travel unhindered. Did she entertain suspicions, we could expect the WarGuard to run us to ground.
Hivelt was missing or dead. And my mate could not walk.
I stopped pacing.
Was it possible she could care for me? I studied my clawed gloves. I was well-acquainted with violence and death. But my hands had never turned against a female, not even the Ikma, save to remove her hand from my face. I would never raise my hands to Esra in anger. I knew that. But did Esra?
I sniffed the air around our little camp, but all was still. The suns would rise in some jotiks from now. I observed BoKama sleeping against the black trunk tree. Esra lay on the pallet I made for her, her back to the small fire. I should let her sleep. But my dry mouth and sweating hands would not abate until I could speak with her alone. I approached her bed and sat beside her, resting my palm on her shoulder.
“Mmm. Is it time to leave already?”
I jostled her shoulder with a soft push-pull. “Wake to me, Esra.”
She rolled onto her back, a soft smile relaxing her features until she bumped her ankle. Her grimace spoke of her pain.
The conversation I wanted to have with her faded away. “I brought several doses of our pain softeners,” I said. “The Maikshel of our planet prepare them from the plants native to Ikshe.”
“VELMA said I should wait.”
My brows folded. “I understand your technology’s concern, but have you eaten of the plants of our world? Have you eaten of the meat?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Our Waters healed you. I am confident our medicines will heal you,” I said. I pulled a pouch from my kit. “I will break the medicine cake into fourths. It will help you. Do you trust me?”
I removed my gloves and snapped the gray cake into pieces and held a quarter of it out to her. My eyes met hers, and my anxieties were replaced with a warmth in my chest. Her lips parted, and a sheen sparkled over her blue-green eyes.
I used one hand to remove my helmet, placing it beside me. Then I reached behind her and unfastened her helmet. I released it with a click and removed it.
The scent of meadow lilies once again flooded my nose. I leaned closer and inhaled. The memory of our kiss was not far from me.
Her face paled under my scrutiny. “I scent for illness, Esra.” I closed my eyes and let the flavors and aromas of her essence wash over me. “You are well.”
She flushed. I could detect warmth from her skin. She took the medicine fragment and swallowed it, chasing it down with water from my canister. “It taystz lik gras.”
I smiled. Without our helmets, we could only communicate by looks and touch. With little thought I reached up to touch her braids. I weaved my fingers through them, feeling the silkiness of her hair. When she didn’t pull away from me, I brought my other hand to her face, cupping her cheek and jaw, letting my thumb brush across her lips.
“Everything about you is soft, Yasheza,” I said in my quietest voice. With ears tuned to sounds of danger, I dared to lean closer. “Your skin, your hair fronds, your very life.”
I heard her breaths quicken, but still she did not push me away nor try to flee my caresses.
“Could you care for me, Esra?”
Shadows from the low firelight flickered across her expression. I couldn’t discern if doubt or fear was among the emotions that also flitted across her face.
Careful of her pained ankle, I pulled her closer to me. I wanted to consume more of her. She made tiny sounds when I caressed her lips with my blunt claw and brushed my knuckle across both cheekbones. She fit into my lap when I seated her across my legs, and I brought my arms around her. I wished my suit was off, but until I healed, it would remain. I buried my nose in her neck, inhaling her aromas. She mewled and gasped when I trailed my nose along her jawline and behind her ear. I recalled the odd yearning I felt before, to taste her tears.
She was not crying now, but the urge to taste her skin overpowered me. I brought my lips to the pulse under her soft ear, and let my tongue rest there, tasting. Want, as powerful as a mountainous explosion, overtook my entire body. Consumed by heat from within, I froze, my eyes large when I searched for Esra’s feelings in her eyes and face.
Her eyes grew round as well, and breaths escaped her lips in rapid bursts. She licked her lips, and my eyes darted to her tongue, its wetness catching firelight. My fingers clenched around her arms. I wanted to taste her tongue with my own. I wanted—all. I swallowed, my throat feeling as if I swallowed a rock. For some reason, the image of soup crossed my mind. I blew a gust of air and sat her back on her pallet. With shaking hands, I offered her her helmet and replaced my own.
“I do not know what to say,” I said.
She laughed upon hearing VELMA’s translation. “I’m just glad you didn’t say you were sorry.”
“Why would I say something I do not mean?”
Her laughter subsided, and her mouth drew into a line. “You are special to me, Naraxthel.” Her gaze didn’t waver. My heart beat erratically, yet joyfully, in my chest. Warmth spread from my chest to my neck and face and wrapped around my ears. I felt my smile widen and my fangs break free of my mouth. And it wasn’t from the suns cresting over the horizon.
“You are special to me, Esra.”
Her smile widened. “We should probably discuss what it means to be mates,” she said. “You know, in your culture versus mine. Where I come from, the mates live together. They go out and work and do their jobs, and then they come home at the end of the day. The same home.” Her face reddened, much to my fascination. I did not know why.
I tilted my head in the other direction. “This is done on your world?”
She nodded with vigor, a small smile curving her lips. “Yes!” Then her features softened. “BoKama told me the mates don’t live together. But you said we were.” She swallowed and gestured between us. “Mates.”
I put my gloves back on as I pondered her words. “I thought it was a silly tale spun at my bedside as a child.” My eyes caressed her face, watching the flames reflect in a happy dance upon her helmet and her sparkling eyes. “But it is said that once two Heart Mates find one another, they can never be parted. Not by enemies, nor by death. They are one.”
I was startled to see a tear brim in one of her eyes. Fascinated, I watched it build then spill over and mark a path down her cheek. When she said nothing, I reached for her hand. She put it in mine.
“Your mate raised his hands to you.”
Her eyes shot to mine. “Who told you that?”
My eyes narrowed but I squeezed her hand in a soft pulse. “The healing machine on my ship saw many past injuries in your body’s bones.”
More tears fell from her eyes. I would hold her close, but our helmets were crucial to this conversation. “I didn’t know how to get away once I realized he would never stop,” she said. I couldn’t hear her voice, only VELMA’s translation. “The chance to leave Earth practically dropped into my lap. I took it and never regretted it.” She looked up at me. “Landing here was a mistake. I was supposed to be headed to a mining colony with a bunch of other employees of IGMC. It was a new life. But all this? It’s still better than my life with Chris, and,” she laughed, but it sounded hollow. “I’
m here in the middle of ...” She swung her hand to include me and BoKama and Ikthe. “I’m a lost soul now.”
I exhaled and nodded when she searched my face. I did not understand all she said, but one thing. “You are lost to your people,” I said. I placed my hand on her shoulder. “But you are not lost to the Goddesses. They know you. And I believe they sent you, not only to me, but to my people.”
Her eyes filled with more tears. My heart ached at the sight, but I would endure my mate’s tears. My mate’s tears.
A flash of the Holy Goddesses sprang to my mind.
The answer is in the soup.
What am I to do with a mate on Certain Death?
Bring life, of course.
My hand clamped upon Esra’s. “I will taste your tears.”
She turned her head. “What?”
“I will taste your tears. And should I cry, you will taste mine.”
Her brows furrowed, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “I don’t …”
I smiled and leaned forward, grasping her other hand. “We will create life. Together. I will bear the burdens this Chris gave you.” I recalled the long scar down the center of her chest, and fire burned bright in my gut for revenge. “And you will bear my burdens. We will build this life from here. From Certain Death.”
“You want us to bear each other’s burdens?” she asked.
“You are a mighty hunter, like me.” I gestured to the wilds. “We will create a life here, and it will be very difficult. But the strength between us is great. We will endure it together as equals.”
BoKama’s voice broke through my fervency from behind me.
“And the Goddesses said, let Life spring from the ashes of Certain Death, and let the joy of Our People spread from Death to Life and Life to Death throughout all the ages of Time.”
I watched as Esra’s eyes widened. Her gaze pierced my heart, but she exchanged a look with BoKama next. “The story you told me. The hunter tasted his mate’s tears and ran away.”
I admired her profile as she shared a look with BoKama.
“If he had stayed, they could have eaten the soup together,” Esra finished. Her eyes met mine. “And he could have shared his heart-home.”
She held her hand out to me. I reached for hers, but she didn’t take my hand. Instead, she dropped the stone into it.
“The Goddesses gave me a gift in my last dream,” she said. “A simple stone. And then I found it in the jungle. Right before that thing almost ate me. I remembered the dream, and the gift, and everything.” She pressed my hand around it. Her face turned pink again. “This planet is terrifying and deadly. But you already figured out my last life was just as terrifying, and just as deadly. If I have you by my side, I think I can handle it.” She pursed her lips and blew out a breath, then raised her eyes to me. “My quest and my triumph—is you.”
“Ah, Yasheza,” I said, taking her hand. “Then we will hunt together.”
BoKama smiled and took Esra’s hand.
I put my hand out for BoKama. She kissed it. “May the life of Shegoshel shine upon you and your offspring,” I told her.
“And may the death of your enemies bring peaceful slumber,” she said. “I will run ahead to meet your brethren.” She squeezed my hand and caressed Esra’s cheek. “We will see each other again.” BoKama loped off into the woods.
“Your brethren,” Esra murmured. She faced me. “What did you tell Hivelt to make him let me go?”
“Ah,” I said. “I told him, zama do ikrax. It means something like, “The woman is my gift”.”
“Oh,” she said in a whisper.
I lifted Esra into my arms.
“I’m sorry you have to carry me everywhere,” she said.
“I am not sorry. This way I can run through the ikfal in silence. Your footsteps are as loud as a birthing scabika in the middle of a mountain burst.”
She yelped and hit my armor with a weak fist. I smiled.
“When you are healed, I will teach you how to move silently through the forest. You will be my Mighty Hunter.”
“And then I can run and hide so you never find me.”
I scoffed. “I will always find you, Esra. Do you know why?”
I watched curiosity and skepticism play across her face through her helmet. “No.”
“Because you have my heart, and I cannot live without it.”
Her smile lit her entire face, and its light warmed me like the love of the Holy Sisters of Shegoshel. She and I forged ahead, the suns bright at our backs, and our shadows leaping into our future on Certain Death. A future that promised abundant, if not easy, life.
“Wake up, Yasheza,” Red whispered in my ear. “I have a gift for you.”
“Mmm, unless it involves a chocolate tree, I’m not waking up,” I mumbled into his naked chest. Weeks of constant company and VELMA’s help allowed us to have simple conversations in his language. We slept on Red’s pallet in the ikfal. His peppery aroma surrounded me. My body hurt from our relentless trek to catch up to his brethren. My ankle slowed us down, but it was almost healed thanks to his people’s medicinal herbs.
I blinked my eyes in the second sun’s morning light, tracing the intricate scarring on his skin. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“Nothing hurts, Yasheza,” he said to me, like he had said the last few weeks. I didn’t believe him. BoKama told me those many weeks ago that both taking off and putting on his armor caused pain.
The burns he suffered from mistakenly trying to rescue me from my exploding pod had healed, and on the night he finally removed his armor, we sealed our love for one another. But I was obsessed with his scars. Maybe because most of mine were internal. He carried his battle wounds on the outside.
Even though we came from different worlds, we fit together where it mattered, and Red brought me joy I never imagined.
“Wake up,” he growled and caressed my bare skin. “You will be angered if you do not receive your gift.”
I grunted. “I’ve received a lot of your gifts,” I teased, closing my eyes again. “That’s why I’m so tired.”
A deep chuckle.
“Very well. I will tell your Technology you do not wish to know about the signal.”
I sat up, suddenly wide awake.
“What signal?”
His eyes burned with desire when he looked at me, but instead of carrying me away, he reached across and handed me my helmet. “Listen.”
“This is a recorded message. My egress pod landed on a lush planet full of dangerous animals. I’m tracking something big. If you can hear this message, come find me. I’m at 41.9020 N and 86.5958 W. I’m human, and my name is Pattee Crow Flies.”
“VELMA,” I said. “Send her IntraVisor this message: “Do not remove your helmet. Airborne pathogen fatal to humans in atmosphere.” My stomach roiled. “Send the files on what you need to make her bacteriophage vaccine.” I paused. “Shouldn’t she already have this information?”
“I have been unable to access the AI in her pod. It seems she has disabled me. Once she unlocks Overseer Mode via the Handler chip, she will receive the messages. I will keep trying.”
“Oh no,” I said. “We have to find her fast, Red.” I held his face in my hands. He pulled my hands away and kissed them then stood.
He began applying his armor before he spoke. “We are mighty hunters, Esra. We will hunt. Together.”
A pang crossed my features when he turned away, but I knew he protected me from his pain. We were going to have to work on that. But his strength, his immensity, took my breath away every day. He was my hunter-warrior; he treated me as an equal, and if any partnership could endure hardships and setbacks, ours could. We were mightier together, and together we would find her, before it was too late.
She doesn’t know me, but I read Ruby Dixon’s Ice Planet Barbarians a few years ago and fell in love with hunky aliens and spunky space exploring colonists.
At the time, it never occurred to me to write my own science fiction
fantasy series. I was busy working on other projects at the time such as my sweet romances and cozy mystery novellas. Fast forward a few years, and I had an idea for a swashbuckling romance that takes place on a savage planet where death lies in wait around every ikfa, er, tree. So, I’d like to thank Ruby Dixon for being a true inspiration as I attempted to write in one of my favorite genres to read.
I’d also like to thank Victoria Clapton, who is a never-ending source of encouragement. Tara Niekamp is another unfailing cheerleader who helped me amp up my writing.
May, your book, “Hack Your Writing: 7 Search Functions to Instantly Elevate Your Manuscript” was invaluable. Also, I edited adverbs out of my acknowledgments. Thanks.
