by Regine Abel
Goddess, help us!
They fired, each of their shots striking true. As if in slow motion, I watched both children fall on their faces, blood spreading over the white fabric of their clothes, before the searing bite of a blaster shot knocked my right leg from under me. Under a barrage of blaster fire, I shielded the children with my body. Even as my own life slipped away from me in a maelstrom of agony, I prayed to the Goddess that the children still lived. Soon, the First Division would be here. Soon.
“Enough,” Vahleryon’s calm but firm voice said.
Hope surged through the haze of pain, which suddenly lifted. Confused, I no longer felt the children I’d been sheltering beneath me. The agony of my gaping blaster wounds faded as if it never existed. Lifting my head, my jaw dropped seeing all four of Amalia’s children standing a few meters away from me, the pristine white of Zhara’s and Tharek’s clothes devoid of any traces of the blood that had soaked them but moments before. Pushing myself up to my knees, I looked around me in disbelief: no sirens, no corpses, and no assassins. But it had felt so real…
“It was all an illusion,” I whispered, unable to comprehend how I had not felt the psionic energy fucking with my mind. “You tricked me,” I said, looking at Tharek first, then at his older sibling, feeling hurt and betrayed.
Vahleryon stared at me stoically, while Zhara and Rhadames appeared slightly embarrassed. Tharek looked up at his oldest brother who smiled down at him.
“I told you he was like you,” Vahleryon said.
The young Shadow nodded and released his sister’s hand before approaching me. Stopping merely two steps in front of me, the young boy studied my features as if I were an enigma.
“They didn’t want me to,” Tharek said with the high-pitched voice of an almost four-year-old child. At two-and-a-half years of age, the boy looked five, but with the mind of someone at least seven. “But I wanted to know if it was true. If you are like me. Now I know.”
“Like you?” I asked softly, amazed by the lack of instinctive aggression from a Shadow.
“A protector. A shield,” Vahleryon said. “You were willing to die to protect my siblings.”
Tharek looked over his shoulder at his brother and smiled before turning back to me. “Thank you, Uncle Xevius. I’m sorry if it hurt.”
“It’s okay. I understand,” I said, realizing the importance of the moment.
When I’d died, the children had saved me out of love for their Aunt Kamala. But, right here and now, their emotions screamed to me that I had earned their trust and loyalty. The seeds of our family bond were taking root at last.
“Grappa said you could help me with my anger,” the boy said with a world of hope in his voice. “He says you could help more than he can.”
“That’s true,” I said cautiously. “Can I touch your psionic mind?”
Just as I spoke those words, the patio door opened on Khel and his mate. He immediately tensed. A wave of suspicion and worry floated my way as he eyed his youngest son standing before me, still kneeling on the beige grass. Amalia placed a soothing hand on the General’s forearm while she observed us intently.
“Yes, Uncle,” Tharek said with trusting eyes and a vigorous head nod.
I suppressed a smile to avoid him thinking I was laughing at him. Forcing myself to ignore his parents, I carefully touched his psionic mind. The amount of rage that lurked, barely contained beneath, blew me away. With his tremendous power, greater than mine by leaps and bounds, without proper guidance and immense control, this boy would turn into a homicidal monster.
“You use too much energy to increase your Kaa,” I said gently.
“That’s what Grappa says, too,” Tharek said in a miserable voice.
“And that makes him take naps all the time,” Zhara said with a sympathetic frown.
I nodded. Constantly expanding this much energy to keep from turning into a rabid beast would exhaust anyone. “As Imperial Agents, some of the first things they teach us is how to control our emotions, and the best way to use our Kaa without tiring ourselves.”
“Can you teach me?” Tharek asked, wide-eyed.
“I would love to,” I said with a smile.
“Thank you, Uncle Xevius,” Tharek said—although it sounded more like Onkul Zevis—and threw himself into my arms.
My smile broadened as I returned his embrace, surrounded by the blossoming affection, growing hope, and gratitude of the young boy. The same hope and gratitude reached me from the patio door. Looking up, my gaze locked with Khel’s who slightly bowed his head.
That seed, too, had finally taken root.
CHAPTER 18
Kamala
“You know, I can come fix those idiots for you, if you want,” Mercy said, caressing the dark curls of her second son, Dregor, as she breastfed him. “If I could knock some sense into those bigoted Braxians, it’s not a handful of Xelixians that will stand in my way.”
I chuckled, watching her through the vidscreen drop the tough talk to coo at her newborn. Unlike his older twin siblings, the infant had not inherited the broad, flat, Braxian nose of his father. He took entirely after his mother. The boy had Mercy’s beauty, her black hair, Guldan horns, and the Veredian markings of a Warrior. Still, at four months old, Dregor was already twice the size of a non-Braxian child. He might not look like his sire, but the young prince would undoubtedly grow to the giant size of Magnar Ravik.
“We are past that,” I said, sobering. “There’s been no physical acts of violence against our Sisters or the children, but the vandalism against the temporary schools, against their private properties, and the occasionally blatant discrimination some have been facing in shops, restaurants, and various other venues tipped the scale.”
Mercy pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced. “So, you’re just going to tuck your tail between your legs and scamper off? When Aleina first mentioned that possibility, I thought she was kidding.”
That stung, especially since I’d felt that way, too, initially. “The decision has already been made, Mercy. The vote was technically unanimous. I wanted to fight back as much as you do, but the truth is, this was always a temporary solution.”
“How so?” Mercy asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
“Aside from Amalia and Valena, whose mates held far too important positions here to just up and leave, all the others could have left from the start. Most of those who stayed did so because they were hungry for a stability that Veredia wasn’t ready to offer them yet,” I explained. “But now that the brunt of the construction has been completed, Haven feels like a true city, with all the proper infrastructure. The Sisters want a place they can truly call home, where colors and public displays of affection aren’t frowned upon, and where their children can speak Veredian in the schoolyard without getting scolded.”
“I see,” Mercy said, her pitch-black eyes boring into me through the giant screen. “You said Veredia instead of Tuur. Anything else I should know?”
“Tomorrow, Aleina and I will address the Xelixian Council to give our thanks and say our goodbyes,” I said, my stomach knotting with apprehension each time I thought about it. “The truth about the Tuureans will come out. And when it does, Tuur will become Veredia.”
“Tomorrow!” Mercy exclaimed, making her baby boy whimper. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama didn’t mean to be loud. All is okay,” she said, kissing Dregor’s forehead. He snorted with contentment and resumed feeding.
I still struggled to reconcile this soft, motherly female to the badass, sassy Warrior that I knew. The similarities between her and her youngest sister Aleina never ceased to amaze me.
“Yes, tomorrow. Complications just keep piling up,” I said before relating the recent events to her, including Xevius’s death and resurrection, and the possible Korlethean defections.
Mercy quietly whistled through her teeth. “You guys always have all the fun without me.”
I could help but laugh at her bratty pout. “That’s your fault for running off and
getting married to some giant barbarian on the other side of the galaxy.”
“I blame the Goddess. She has a fucked-up sense of humor,” Mercy mumbled.
“Tell me about it,” I grumbled in turn.
It was Mercy’s turn to laugh. “Well, I managed to sweet talk Ravik into making a detour by Xelix Prime after his diplomatic visit on Dantor and Avea. The children are dying to see their cousins again and to get spoiled rotten by their Nana Maheva. And I am dying to see that hottie that captured the irresistibly mysterious Tuurean Kamala.”
My cheeks heated. “He’s amazing, and he’s hotter than Lhor,” I said, puffing my chest.
“Now that is a boast I cannot wait to see proof of,” Mercy said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “But isn’t he too old for you? Isn’t he like my age?”
“He’s not that old. We only have fourteen years difference,” I argued. Putting a number to it suddenly did make it sound bigger. Still, with the Korlethean’s 150 years average life span—twenty more than the average Veredian—we’d still technically reach the finish line at about the same time.
Mercy pursed her lips, trying to look critical, but I could see her battling the urge to laugh. “Yeah, I guess he’s not that ancient. After all, Father was fifteen years older than Mother. Let’s see if he’s as well preserved.”
As if summoned by that comment, Xevius entered my room after a soft knock on the door, looking sexy as sin, shirtless, the golden tattoo on his chest appearing to glow against his light brown skin, a white meditation skirt hanging low on his hips, and his gorgeous face framed by his long, golden hair flowing freely down his back. He’d been training with the children. Tharek had all but adopted him as his best friend and followed him around like a shadow.
“Hello, Fehama,” Xevius said, with that purring voice that always had me instantly hot and bothered.
I extended a hand towards him as he approached me with a tender smile. My mate couldn’t see the giant screen from the angle he entered the room, so he completely missed the shameless way in which Mercy undressed him with her eyes. Before I could warn him that we had a witness, he fisted my braid and claimed my mouth in one of those possessive kisses, with just the right dose of dominance without crossing the line, that had me weak in the knees.
“Haaaawt!” Mercy said, purring as well. “Do go on!”
Startled, Xevius looked over his shoulder to see Mercy beaming at him, her newborn still suckling at her teat. My mate did a double take before averting his eyes, looking mightily embarrassed. Mercy and I both rolled our eyes.
“It’s called breastfeeding, big boy. It’s natural. Get used to it. Your woman’s turn will come around soon enough judging by the way you two were sucking face.”
“Mercy!” I said reprovingly.
“You were. No shame about that,” she said with a dismissive shrug.
“So, you’re the famous Mercy,” Xevius said, bravely looking her straight in the eyes despite the pink still creeping up his cheek.
Men could be so silly, and yet it was beyond adorable.
“And you are the handsomely infamous Xevius,” Mercy said while giving him a shameless once over that had my poor man squirming, and no doubt wishing he had a shirt on. “You’re right, little sister; he does rival Lhor.”
Xevius gave me a baffled look, as if he couldn’t comprehend my amusement at Mercy’s antics. Although we weren’t blood-related, Mercy and I had mutually adopted each other as sisters, as we shared both Aleina and the late Sevina as half-sisters. The pesky woman was an incorrigible flirt who loved making men uncomfortable. But she would never cross the line into impropriety. Even before she had found her soulmate, Mercy didn’t mess with men already involved with someone else.
“Oh relax, Korlethean,” she said, lifting her baby to her shoulder while expertly covering herself, never giving us even a glimpse of her nipple, before rubbing his back to make him burp. “I’m only teasing. Anyway, you’re far too pretty for my taste. Time to go check up on my two other little monsters. It’s never good when they stay this quiet, this long. I’ll see you in two days, Kam. I’ll see you, too, pretty boy.”
Mercy terminated the com, leaving my speechless mate gaping at the monitor. Chuckling, I rose to my feet and pushed him to make him sit at the edge of my desk. He parted his legs to make room for me, and I stood between them, my fingers splayed on his muscular chest.
“Interesting female,” Xevius said, his palms settling on my bum.
“Very,” I nodded, tracing the pattern of his tattoo with my index finger. “I missed you.”
“So did I,” he said, bending his head to kiss the markings on my shoulder. Straightening, he frowned while looking at them before locking eyes with me. “They’re paler. You drank that tea, didn’t you?”
The accusation in his voice made me laugh.
“Of course, I did. I was in town all morning. Did you want me to risk jumping some random male in a horny frenzy?” I asked teasingly.
Xevius made a pouty face. “I don’t like when you drink it,” he mumbled.
“Why? It doesn’t stop me from getting turned on by my sexy mate,” I said, nipping at his bottom lip.”
“I want you wild and unrestrained,” he said, pressing me against him with one hand, the other roaming over my back.
“I am always wild and unrestrained,” I replied
“Yes, but your season makes you even wilder.”
I stiffened, feeling a little miffed. “What are you saying?” I asked. “You expect me to become all bland and boring once my season ends next week?”
Xevius didn’t jump into the string of apologies and lame justifications I expected, typical of a man who stuck his foot in his mouth. Instead, his expression took on a predatory edge that had me instantly wet.
“No, my mate. I want to make you scream so hard the First Division will come banging down this door to rescue you.” Flipping us around, he sat me on the edge of the desk, his hands slipping under my short skirt. “I want to hear you shouting my name, begging to me take you harder until your voice breaks.” His fingers teased the seam of my sex through the damp triangle of my thong. “You’re already wet for me, you naughty girl.”
To my greatest disappointment, instead of pressing on, he removed his hand and, shoving my desk chair out of the way, he took a couple of steps back.
“Strip for me, Kamala. Strip for your mate,” Xevius said, his golden eyes darkening while the timbre of his voice dipped lower. “NO!” he exclaimed when I made to jump down from the edge of the desk where he had sat me down. “Stay where you are and remove your dress.” As he spoke, Xevius started sliding down his meditation skirt, simultaneously dragging his underwear with it, and taking his sweet time to build the anticipation.
Complying, I slowly wiggled my butt on the desk while pulling on the skirt of my dress to slip it free, contorting as sensually as I could, making a show of it. Xevius licked his lips and kept them parted in somewhat of a snarl. He wanted to tear my dress to shreds, right off of me, lift my legs over his shoulders, slam his cock inside me, and fuck me senseless until he collapsed. I didn’t understand how I knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I did. And it turned me on beyond words.
Since the first time we had made love on his ship, I’d been growing more and more ‘attuned’ to Xevius’s emotions, especially the more visceral ones. However, even simpler things such as thirst, hunger, tiredness, discomfort… I just felt it. And he always seemed keenly aware of my every need and feelings.
I removed my dress and threw it across the room, all the while feasting my eyes on the perfection of my mate’s body. Kicking off his sandals, my mate stood stark naked in front of me, only draped in his glorious golden hair. His gaze lowered to my bra, willing me to remove it. But even as I reached for the clasp, I received another distinct flash of him wanting to rip it off and ravage me. He wrapped his hand around his erect cock and gave it a gentle stroke. His abdominal muscles contracted and, for the space of a second, I
could have sworn I’d felt the spark of pleasure that had provoked it.
“You’re an Empath,” I blurted, certainty suddenly settling in my mind.
Xevius stiffened ever so slightly. He didn’t answer, his eyes boring into mine as he continued to slowly stroke himself. The air crackled with psionic energy. I could feel it emanating from him, and then a potent mix of lust and increasing pleasure hit me: his feelings. On instinct, to confirm my suspicions, I leaned back on the desk, supporting myself on my forearm and lifted my feet on top of the desk, exposing myself to my mate. Another surge of lust struck me, and Xevius accelerated the movement of his hand on his cock. This time, there was no doubt the swirling coils of pleasure in the pit of my stomach were echoes of his. I didn’t feel his hand touching himself, only the sensations he derived from it.
Intent on reciprocating, I slipped my fingers between my legs and began rubbing myself. Xevius half-closed his eyelids and slightly tilted his head back, a hiss of pleasure escaping his parted lips. But he didn’t break eye contact. A strange thrill coursed through me that I could share this with him and him with me. I knew my mate struggled with what he should keep secret and what he could confide in me. But in his own way, he had answered.
Still in show-mode, I stopped long enough to lift my bum and started sliding my thong down my legs. I never finished. Something seemed to snap in Xevius. With a feral grunt, he threw himself at me with lightning speed. I barely heard my thong tearing in his hands before the room tilted around me. My surprised yelp as I found myself lying on my back on top of the desk, my legs over my mate’s shoulders, quickly turned into a moan of pleasure as his tongue took over where my fingers had left off.
Xevius knew exactly how to push the right buttons to turn me into a complete puddle. I didn’t know if it was pure skills, his empathic abilities, or a mix of both; but I frankly didn’t give a shit. In seconds, my mate had me squirming beneath his mouth, my legs quivering with pleasure—his and mine. He loved seeing me fall apart under his touch and reveled in the power he felt at stirring such passionate responses from me.
