The Vulpirans' Honor: The Soul-Linked Saga

by Laura Jo Phillips

  Her body relaxed and fell back to the bed, the desperation gone from her eyes. Vikter knew the desperation would be back soon, though. They needed to hurry.

  “Hunt, get the ointment,” he ordered. “Lance, take your place.”

  Lance threw off the rest of his clothing and laid down on the bed, his hips near the edge, feet on the floor.

  Vikter felt the tension growing in Honey’s body again as he lifted her up and lowered her slowly over Lance. Honey realized at once what she needed to do and spread her legs wide, placing one knee on either side of Lance. Lance grasped her hips and lowered her slowly over his cock.

  Honey shuddered with need, every nerve and muscle in her body screaming with the need to slam herself down on him, but Lance held her firmly in place, refusing to allow it. “Just a few seconds, lover, we need to wait for Vikter and Hunt.”

  “Hurry,” she whispered, “I don’t know how long I can stand this.”

  Hunt handed the open jar of cream to Vikter before removing his clothes and getting into position on the bed. Vikter scooped some of the warming, lubricant onto his fingers and generously applied it to Honey’s rear opening. When he was satisfied that she was both relaxed and lubricated, he placed the head of his large cock at the tender entrance began pressing himself into her slowly. Honey was shocked for one brief moment, then the need burning in her veins took over, her body arching back in an effort to force him in faster. Vikter groaned at the heat engulfing his cock as he seated himself fully into her tight passage. He could not believe how hot she was, and took a moment to fight his own body’s need to fuck her hard and fast.

  “Now, Lance,” he gasped when he felt more in control. Lance lowered Honey all the way onto him, groaning with the intense pleasure of being fully inside of her.

  “Honey,” Vikter said, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, yes,” she gasped, her body shaking with need. “What do I do?”

  “Lift your right wrist to Lance’s mouth, your left to Hunt’s,” he told her. Honey did as he said, her arms trembling so hard she had trouble controlling them until both men took her wrists and held them.

  “Honey, you need to take Hunt’s cock deep into your throat and hold it there while we give you the final injection. Don’t worry about breathing. When the injection is done, you’ll be able to breathe. Everyone ready?”

  “I’m ready,” Honey panted.

  “Take Hunt, now,” Vikter said.

  Honey turned her head, opened her lips and took Hunt deeply into her mouth without hesitation. As soon as he hit the back of her throat she swallowed, moaning softly as he entered her throat with that faint popping sensation she was growing to love. A second later she felt a light sting in each wrist and the side of her neck as three sets of mating fangs penetrated her flesh.

  Just as she was getting desperate for air, the mating fangs slid free and a strange feeling came over her. She took a deep breath, simply knowing that she could, even though Hunt’s cock was still buried deep in her throat. All three men began fucking her in a deep, even rhythm. Hunt thrust deeply into her mouth, while Vikter squeezed her breasts in time to his deep, hard thrusts behind her. Lance held her steady with one hand, the other stroking her clit as he thrust into her hot pussy. There was no way for her to match their rhythm, so she just relaxed and allowed herself to feel the intense pleasure her men were giving her.

  After a few moments she felt something inside of her begin to grow and change. The thrusts got harder, faster, deeper and she knew they were all going to come at the same time. She felt it growing and growing until, when the wave hit, she was ready for it and able to just let it take her. She felt their seed pump into her, hot and thick and, somehow, she felt it shooting through each passage toward her womb. She didn’t understand it, but she accepted it. As their seed met and blended together a small, lavender light began to grow deep inside of her, sending out a call, a tiny vibration that sped back through each passage toward the cocks penetrating her. A moment later she felt something warm and gentle, something that seemed to be the very essence of each of them, enter her body. Vikter, Lance, and Hunt were inside of her now, a part of their beings somehow becoming fused with her. She felt them inside of her, knew she would always feel them, that she would never be alone again.

  The remaining part of their essence flowed toward the lavender light in the center of her womb. As their essences met the light and blended together as their seed had, Honey felt her entire body, mind and soul blaze with a sudden flare of brilliant purple. Vikter, Lance and Hunt roared, her voice rising with theirs as they came together in a mutual, simultaneous orgasm of such muscle wrenching intensity that they could do no more than hang on to each other as tightly as possible and ride it out.

  Day Thirty

  Aisling fidgeted nervously as she watched all of the Consuls and their Arimas arrive in the palace meeting room. The Dracons with Lariah were first. Then the Lobos with Saige, the Bearens with Hope, The Katres with Summer, and the Vulpirans with their new Arima, Honey. Aisling hadn’t met her yet, but she’d heard about her and her astonishing ability to heal the unborn.

  The last to enter were the Falcoran Consuls, who didn’t have an Arima yet. They looked a lot like the Falcoran male-set mated to Berta, except that they didn’t have different colored streaks in their hair. They all had long, black hair, with different colored eyes so intense they appeared to glow.

  “The one with green eyes is Tristan,” Olaf said softly into her ear. “The one with green eyes is Graysan, and the one with purple eyes is Jonathan, the youngest.”

  “What are they like?” Aisling asked.

  “They are the youngest of the Clan Consuls,” Olaf said. “They are intelligent, very serious, and they are considered to be the best pilots of all Clan Jasani.”

  “Well, they can’t be any tougher to convince than the rest I suppose,” she said with a sigh.

  “Are you nervous, bilara?” Olaf asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Aisling replied. “I know, deep down, that I’m right about this. I just hope I can convince all of those people.”

  “You won’t be alone, bilara,” Olaf said. “Just remember that. You convinced us, and we’ll do what we can to help convince everyone else.”

  “That helps, Olaf,” she said. “A lot.”

  “Good,” Olaf said. “Now, lets go do this.”

  Aisling nodded, took a deep breath, and walked into the meeting room. She went to the head of the long table, surprising some of the men in the room, but not the women. They knew that whatever was coming, was coming from her, though they didn’t know what it was.

  “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Arima Aisling Gryphon,” she began. “I have a gift for languages, so I was asked to translate the data found in the bio-suit of the first Xanti that was brought back to Jasan by the Katres. During the course of that translation, I came across a section of material that I couldn’t read. This section was referred to by the Xanti as the Oraculum of the Arkandu, and it was written in a language that’s been dead for many thousands of years. It was also written in code. It took me a while to break the code, but eventually I did. One of the reasons we’re here today is so that I can read the oraculum to you.

  “Before I do that, I need to tell you something else. Some of you may have known Karma Baraka. She had the ability to speak with the dead. One day, while I was working on the translation of the oraculum, she told me that a small being was standing beside me, and that he wanted Karma to speak to me on his behalf. After I got over the shock of it, I agreed.

  “The being said that he was a member of a race who called themselves the Arkandu. The Arkandu were an advanced technological race that have not existed for seven thousand years, so if you’ve never heard of them, and I’m sure you haven’t, that’s why.

  “They were the first civilization in our galaxy to leave their own world and explore the stars. In time they attracted the notice of the Xanti, who were just beginning to venture into our ga
laxy from their own. The Xanti had technology that was far beyond that of the Arkandu, and because the Xanti seemed friendly enough, they began to trade with them.

  “Many of the Arkandu were psychic, and eventually they discerned the Xanti’s true nature. They learned that the Xanti were predators who could mimic any race using technology stolen from enslaved races from within their own galaxy. They did not know the Xanti’s true form, but they knew enough to know that they wanted nothing further to do with them. The Arkandu tried to distance themselves from the Xanti in a peaceful manner, but that only made the Xanti suspicious. Eventually the Xanti decided that the Arkandu knew too much about them. They decided to destroy the Arkandu so that they could not spread their knowledge among the other worlds.

  “Knowing that their end was coming, the greatest seer of the Arkandu delivered an oraculum, a foretelling, to the Xanti. Please keep in mind that the Xanti have never forgotten this oraculum. The data I translated stated that every Xanti was required, by law, to read it every day.

  “The Arkandu begged me not to give up on my efforts to translate the oraculum. I promised him that I wouldn’t. Now that I know what it says, I beg you to listen to it, and to take it very seriously.

  “You have our word that we will take each word with the utmost seriousness,” Garen said.

  Aisling nodded. “Thank you, Prince Garen. Okay, here goes.” She held up her hand terminal and began to read.

  Oh Black Deceivers, you have come, on the day and hour foreseen and appointed.

  We have seen our death, and accept with grim sadness our passing into the realm which lies beyond.

  Before you do the evil deed you have come to carry out, know this;

  You are allotted a span of time for your webs of evil to endure, and when that span is done, so are you.

  Across the Wide Deep, the eggs of your destruction are already hatched.

  In the fullness of time, you and all your broods shall be devoured.

  In the Veil of Stars, nestled in the crook of the Great Hunter's Arm, lie the peoples of a Thousand Worlds, all woven from the same Fabric of Life, and thus connected one to the other in spite of the differences they perceive of themselves.

  Beware, oh, Black Deceivers,

  For when the shifters who emerge singly from eggs, and the shifters who emerge in threes covered with the blood of their mothers, discover that they are brothers, they will bind the Thousand Worlds with eternal bonds of blood.

  Thus shall they destroy you.

  Utterly.

  And none shall mourn your passing.

  Aisling lowered her hand terminal to complete silence. She wasn’t surprised. She had a better understanding now of the depth of the Jasani’s hatred of the Narrasti than she’d had when she’d first translated it.

  “According to this oraculum, we are supposed to accept the Narrasti as our brothers, is that correct?” Garen asked.

  “That’s what it says, yes,” Aisling said. “What that means, exactly, I cannot say. It may mean simply that you do not kill them.”

  “Or it may mean that we must join forces with them,” Olaf Gryphon said.

  “How are we to join forces with the very beings who destroyed our world and annihilated our people?” Tristan Falcoran asked. “I know of Arima Summer’s theory, and I have seen the data from Sheara 3. I am not convinced that a third party was involved.”

  “May I speak?” Hope Bearen asked, surprising everyone in the room. Hope rarely spoke in gatherings such as this.

  “Of course you may,” Prince Garen replied. “We would hear everyone’s opinion on this matter.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Rob, would you please bring me the chalice?”

  “Of course,” he replied. “I’ll be right back.” After he disappeared, Hope faced the rest of the people at the table.

  “As most of you know, one of my gifts is reading objects,” she said.

  “Yes, we do know,” Trey Dracon said “It is only thanks to you that we now know the location of the Xanti home world.”

  “I have another gift that I knew nothing about until a few months ago,” Hope continued. “I am able to discern important or powerful objects, and who they must be given to in order to fulfill their power. The Council learned of this and asked that I go through the ancient artifacts from Ugaztun and select those that had some importance, and needed to be given to those men or women who could use them.

  “We went through the vault twice. On the second trip, I came across a chalice of red gold with strange markings on it.” Hope paused when Rob reappeared carrying the chalice. He set it on the table before Hope and sat back down.

  “When I saw this, I knew that I was meant to read it, but I also knew that the time was not yet right. As Aisling read the oraculum, I realized that now is the time I must read it.”

  “Are you certain of this, niha?” Jackson asked worriedly. “Reading objects is very stressful for you.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Hope said. “If there is a problem, Honey will know it.”

  “I will keep close watch on the babies,” Honey promised.

  “Hope, may I see that for a moment?” Aisling asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Hope replied, sliding the cup over to Jackson, who passed it to Faron and so on until it reached Aisling. She picked it up and turned it in her hands, her brows rising in obvious surprise.

  “What does it say?” Garen asked.

  “When I look at this, or any foreign language, I see Standard,” she said. “But the words aren’t rearranged for me to match Standard’s syntax, so this will sound a bit garbled. What it says word for word is:

  Narrasti we, honor in friendship of peace gift this cup we drink, binding brotherhood of eternal Narrasti with Ugaztun. Our bonds of blood may last eternally strong.

  “Do you want me to translate it into a sentence construction more common for Standard?” she asked.

  “No, thank you, Arima Aisling,” Prince Garen said. “I think we all got the gist of it.”

  “What language is the writing?” Faron asked.

  “I don’t know, since I see it as Standard,” Aisling replied. “From what it says, I’m guessing Narrasti.”

  “We have Narrasti writings,” Faron said. “Eldar Hamat is able to read Narrasti, and others have learned it. Why would no one have ever read this?”

  “May I see it?” Vikter asked. Aisling nodded and slid the cup over. It was passed down the table to Vikter, who picked it up and studied the writing carefully before setting it down. “I am one of those that can read the old Narrasti script. Yet I cannot read this. There does seem to be a faint similarity between this script and the Narrasti script I’m familiar with, but that’s the best I can say of it.”

  “I think this proves that the Narrasti and the Jasani were, at some time in the distant past, at peace with one another,” Garen said. “Eldar Hamat? What do you think?”

  “Even at the height of my strength as a Past Seer, I saw only a thousand years of our history,” Eldar Hamat said. “Everything else I learned through stories or the writings of others, and even then, my knowledge spans perhaps two thousand years, maybe a little more. If this cup can be age dated, and if it is in excess of five or six thousand years old, then I cannot argue against it.”

  Vikter stood up. “Olaf, if you will be so kind as to speed-travel me to the Council Complex with the chalice, I will age date it right now.”

  Eldar Hamat passed the cup back as Olaf stood and walked around the table. A moment later they were gone. Lariah got up, opened a door and stuck her head out. A few moments later several young Clan Jasani carried in trays of food and pitchers of drink.

  “If the chalice is dated far enough back to indicate it’s valid, I see no reason for you to read it,” Jackson said.

  “I wish I could agree,” Hope said. “But I know that I’m supposed to read it. That doesn’t mean I must do it. But it does mean that I should do it.”

  Jackson sighed. If Hope felt she wa
s supposed to read it, there was no arguing with her. She would do what she felt was right.

  Olaf and Vikter reappeared, Vikter carrying the chalice with a grim expression on his face. “This thing is about seven thousand years old, give or take a century,” he said as he walked around the table and handed it to Hope before returning to his seat.

  “I think we’re convinced, Hope,” Garen said. “You don’t have to read it.”

  “Yes, Highness, I do,” Hope said. She set the chalice on the table before her and placed both hands around it. The red gold felt slightly warm to the touch, which seemed odd, but she kept her hands in place and closed her eyes to focus.

  Everyone fell silent, barely daring to move as they watched Hope for at least a full minute. Suddenly her eyes flew open in surprise and she yanked her hands away from the chalice as though it had burned her.

  “Poutanas yie!” she gasped, rubbing her hands on her thighs as though trying to wipe something from them.

  “What happened, Hope?” Jackson asked. “What did you see?”

  Hope swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath so she could speak. Everyone waited patiently, giving her time. Clark handed her a cup of juice which she drank gratefully. “Sorry,” she said after a moment.

  “It’s all right,” Garen said. “Take your time, Hope.”

  Hope smiled faintly at the Prince, then reached out to grasp Clark’s hand on one side of her, and Jackson’s on the other. Feeling safer with them touching her she began to speak.

  “There was a ceremony. A big one. It seemed quite formal, inside of what I think was a cave, though it was brightly lit. There were many Clan Jasani there, and many Narrasti. They looked humanoid in shape, but they had reptilian skin and yellow eyes with vertical pupils. A Dracon male-set shared a dais with a large Narrasti who was holding this chalice as he spoke. He then took a drink from the chalice and handed it to the Dracons, who drank in turn. There was a big roar of approval. Then the Narrasti presented the cup to the Dracons as a gift.