“Damn it,” I curse, hopping on one foot.
Despair under control, I storm after Drosdan. No way am I letting this go. He’s almost past the buildings and into the courtyard, so I run, trying to catch up to him.
“Wait!” I yell.
He looks over his shoulder, and I wave my arms like a crazy person. It gets his attention because he turns around, but he doesn’t look. His eyes stare at the ground between us, his shoulders are slumped, and his tail lies still on the ground. My chest constricts and my heart almost stops, when I look at him. I’ve never seen him like this. Bursting into a run, I close the distance between us and throw my arms around him. Tears fall down my cheeks as I hug him tight then smother him with kisses. He stiffens, arms at his sides, but I don’t stop.
“Oh, Drosdan,” I whisper in his ear. “Come on, let’s clean you up.”
Taking his hand, I lead the way to our home. I stir the coals of our banked fire to life, place a tin pot over the small flames, and pour water into it to warm. Drosdan stares at the ground. He is silent. Pulling him by both of his hands, I get him to sit next to the fire. Digging around, I find some pieces of cloth, and dip them in the warm water. Carefully, I clean his hands, which are covered with small cuts. Their bleeding is mostly stopped, and none of the wounds there are serious. Once I’m done with those, I turn my attention to his tail.
The wounds are deep and severe. When I first touch it, he inhales sharply.
“Sorry,” I say, leaning closer to inspect it. Dirt and chunks of sand fill the open wounds making it impossible for them to scab over properly, and opening him up to a high likelihood of infection. “This is going to hurt.”
Biting my lower lip, I set to work. He hisses and his tail twitches out of my hand.
“It’s fine! Let it be,” he says, rising.
Putting a hand on his shoulder, I push him back down and he doesn’t resist.
“Stay,” I say.
He looks over his shoulder at me and meets my eyes for the first time since he killed the monster. The pain in his eyes makes my heart break again. It’s so deep and raw I can see it there. Zmaj don’t cry, but I’m sure if he was genetically capable of it, he would. My own tears flow for him.
“Sarah, it’s okay,” he says, but even his voice is despondent. Defeated.
“Drosdan, what is it?” I ask, touching his strong jaw and trailing my fingertips down to his soft lips.
He shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something, and then snaps it shut.
“It’s nothing,” he says.
“No, it’s not,” I whisper, scooting around to sit in front of him. Leaning closer, I hold his face between my hands and stare into his eyes. “Talk to me. I am your treasure, and you are mine. Tell me.”
His eyes widen, a small gesture, but definite surprise. He opens his mouth again, closes it tight, and his jaw tenses.
“No,” he shakes his head, pulling back from my hands. “I can’t.”
“You can,” I say, taking his face in my hands again. “You must. It is our fate.”
He inhales deeply, closes his eyes, holds the breath, then slowly lets it out.
“You do not understand,” he says, opening his eyes.
“Then help me,” I say. “Talk to me. Yell at me, give it to me. I love you.”
Those last three words slip out of my mouth and the world stops. I can’t breathe, my heart isn’t beating, the fire doesn’t crackle. Nothing happens as I wait for… something. Drosdan’s eyes are locked on mine. We hold our breath. Anticipation. Something moves in his eyes, a change, nothing I can point to specifically, but I feel as much as see the shift. My heartbeat starts with a shocking force, pushing blood and making me light-headed. Breath rushes into my lungs, and the world resumes its march through time.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head.
“For what?” I ask. I take my hands from his face so I can hold his hands in mine, sitting cross legged in front of him.
“I’ve done… terrible things,” he says. “I am unforgivable.”
“No,” I protest. “No, you’re not.”
“You do not know,” he answers, his eyes dropping to the ground.
“Tell me,” I encourage him. He doesn’t look up and doesn’t resume speaking. We sit in silence that stretches out longer and longer.
“Drosdan, trust me,” I beg him. “Please, trust me. We’ll work through it.”
He raises his eyes to meet mine, and I see him swallow then he sighs.
“You deserve the truth,” he says. “You are right. When I return you to your kind, I want you to know, so you will not try to follow me. This is for the best.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I say. He doesn’t answer, meeting my words with a stare. “I’m serious.”
“We’ll see,” he says, sighing.
“Right, so tell me,” I say.
His eyes focus beyond me, looking into the past. The fire crackles besides us, and a soft breeze blows whistling through the cracks in the window covers. I wait, letting him do this in his own way.
“Before the devastation I was a soldier,” he says. “It was, of course, much different then. Some of the others think life was wonderful before the devastation, but they’re wrong. Their memories are lost to the bijass, as were mine. In truth, Tajss wasn’t much nicer then than it is now. The planet has always been deadly. The technology we had then helped, but the society was not necessarily good.
There was a lot of unrest. Some of them probably don’t remember it, or maybe they didn’t see it. As a soldier, I was on the front lines of it. When some village would rebel, my unit was deployed to quell the problem.”
“They were rebelling? Against what?” I ask.
“The government, the Alliance, the off-worlders,” he answers.
“Oh,” I say, but not sure I really understand.
It’s hard to imagine Tajss being populated or having a government, and especially hard to imagine off-worlders. It shouldn’t surprise me, after Rosalind and Visidion were captured and spent time off-world. She said there is an entire galaxy out there, and somehow Tajss is believed devoid of life which is the only thing keeping it safe. Apparently at some point it was the center of a galactic civil war, which resulted in the Devastation, as the Zmaj call it.
“Especially the off-worlders,” he says. “They ran the government, not openly but everyone knew it. The army was their tool. I didn’t believe it, not until…”
He trails off, and I squeeze his hands to encourage him, willing strength into him. Whatever he is facing is hard and painful.
“Go on,” I say and he inhales deep.
“We were dispatched to another uprising,” he says, shaking his head, his tail twitching in irritation. “Routine. Shouldn’t have been anything, but when we arrived…”
He closes his eyes, bows his head, then opens them and meets mine.
“You will never be able to forgive me,” he says. “I cannot forgive myself.”
“Try me,” I say, squeezing his hands tight again.
A smile twitches at the corners of his lips, but can’t overcome the weight of his sorrow. Rising into him, I kiss him gently, pouring courage and all my love into that point of contact between us. He doesn’t respond at first, but I take his head in my hands and hold him close until his lips move against mine, and there is a proper kiss.
As I break the kiss and return to sitting in front of him, the air between us isn’t as heavy. Satisfied, I smile and take his hands again.
“We came here,” he says, the words falling heavy. “That’s how I knew this place, I didn’t remember it consciously, but buried in my memories, I did. This was a small mining village. A blip on the radar, nothing special in the grand scheme of things, but the miners were refusing to work. The conditions were deteriorating.
“The galactic civil war was raging, supplies to Tajss were running short. The heart of the war was control of Tajss, and that meant that the opposing forces were not only k
illing each other, they were raiding the trade lanes. Supply ships were being commandeered. So the miners here said they wouldn’t work anymore. We were dispatched to handle it.”
He shakes his head, jaw tightening.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Go on.”
“When we arrived,” he says. “They weren’t armed rebels, they were families. Children, women, a handful of men armed with mining tools. No guns, no threat, only men who were trying to care for their families. They stood together, facing off against our well-armed platoon. The commander tried to negotiate with them, but they refused. Their children were starving, they needed food. Once supplies arrived, they’d go back to work. The commander turned to the off-worlder who was really running the show. A tall, thin yellow-skinned alien with saggy skin. When he opened his mouth, it would show rows of sharp teeth. The commander told the off-worlder that we should get supplies for them. It was a simple request. A reasonable one. How could we refuse?”
He stops speaking, swallowing hard. A distant scene plays in his memory as he struggles to find the words to express it to me. I wait, silent, holding his hands, and letting him work through it while giving him my support.
“The off-worlder gave the order,” he says at last. “I refused. I turned to face him and told him no. We would not take action against these families. He smiled. A broad, evil smile, showing all those rows of sharp teeth. You will, he said. No, I answered him. Neither I, nor the men with me, would do this. It was wrong. He laughed and I got pissed. I brought my weapon to bear on him, fully intending to end him right there. I knew what it would mean for me, but I didn’t care. I had to stop this madness.
“The off-worlder laughed again, looking down the barrel of my weapon. He met my eyes, grinning, and issued the order. Kill them, he said, and there was a weird echo of his words that reverberated over and over through my mind. My body turned, I couldn’t stop it. I fought it with every fiber of my being, but I couldn’t. The gun came to bear, but I couldn’t stop seeing that yellow monster’s grin.
“My finger tightened on the trigger and-”
He cuts off, mouth slamming shut as if he’s biting off the words and stopping them from escaping into the world.
“It’s okay,” I say.
“No, it’s not,” he says. “I’m a monster. All my strength, I couldn’t stop. His words kept echoing through my mind, and I obeyed, like some kind of automaton. All of us did. The moment we did it, the first of the bombs went off. As if in response to the atrocity we had done. The flash of it blinded me, and when I could see again, the bombs were falling everywhere. My unit was dispersed, it was over, but not before, not in time to stop what happened.”
“Drosdan, it’s not your fault,” I say.
“It was and is. How could I not have stopped him? How could I have done that?” he raises his hands between us. “How could these hands betray me?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I do know that you’re not that kind of man. I know you. Something doesn’t add up there, and we’ll figure it out.”
“You are too kind,” he says. “But it’s settled. I will take you back to the others, then I’m going into the desert to find my fate.”
“No!” I yell, grabbing his head and forcing him to meet my eyes. “No you will not. That would be the coward’s way out, and you’re anything but a coward. Something happened, a really long time ago, but yes, it happened. We’ll figure it out, but I will not lose you to this or anything else! You’re mine! You can’t leave me, not like this, not ever.”
“Sarah—” he says, but I cut him off by throwing myself against him and driving my tongue into his mouth.
He stiffens, pulling back, but I grab his head and force him to stay with me. My mouth moving against the hard line of his, until his lips soften, and he returns the kiss. Our lips move against each other, and I push my tongue deeper into his mouth, seeking and finding his. My hands run through his hair, pressing my body against him, my hard nipples overly sensitive to the rough cloth of my shirt.
His bulging arms wrap around, pressing me harder still to him. Moaning into his mouth, I grind my hips. His immense erection rises between us as he leans back until he’s on his back. I move forward so that his massive cock presses hard against my clit. The pulsing sensation increases as my core tightens.
His hands run up and down my back, trailing along my sides, then up into my hair, pulling me down to him. Kissing as his hands run through my hair, I circle my hips, moaning as the tightness grows. Shoving one hand between us, I find the tie to his pants and loosen it, slipping my hand under the cloth. His cock jumps as I grab it, eager for my touch, and he groans in response. One hand goes to my ass, squeezing hard. Working my way out of my own clothes until I’m naked and sliding onto his shaft.
His half-lidded eyes stare up at me, his mouth a hard line, brow furrowed in concentration as I lower myself onto him. His incredible girth stretching, filling my pussy with its size. Wetness slips out, welcoming him in, and I take him fully in. His hands find my tits, massaging them as his cock finds the bottom. Closing my eyes and throwing my head back, I rotate in a circle.
He thrusts his hips up, forcing me up with him, then he retreats, an emptiness left behind as he pulls out. Before he’s fully out of me, he thrusts up, burying himself to the hilt inside of me. Crying out in surprise and pleasure as he fills me. Instinct and desire overwhelm everything. Our bodies in motion to each other as we join, retreat and join again.
Pushing in and out, filling and retreating, building until my core becomes tighter than any coiled spring. Panting I try to hold it back, wrestling on the edge until I fall over into the sweet release of my orgasm. Drosdan cries out, and I feel his seed release into me, pumping into me forcefully. Every muscle tightens, my back arches, and stars dance across my vision as I’m rocked by the shock waves of the orgasm, leaving me breathless.
Slowly awareness returns, and I’m staring into his eyes, hands on his chest.
“Sarah,” he says. “I love you, but I have to let you—”
“Shush,” I say, placing a finger on his lips. “No talk.”
He shakes his head beneath my finger, but I shake my head and shush him again.
“Listen,” I demand. “What happened then isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was,” he says. “I should have been able to stop it.”
“How?” I ask, leaning over and kissing his lips.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “It was as if I was no longer in control of my body. I tried to stop.”
“Yes,” I agree. “You tried. You couldn’t. There’s more to this than we know right now, but here’s what I do know. You’re a good man.”
“No, I’m a monster,” he disagrees.
“Shush,” I say, finger on his mouth again. “Don’t say that again. You’re not. I know you. I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone. I know your heart. I know your soul. You are my man, and you’re no monster. I don’t know what happened then, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out. What matters is this, you and me. Now. This moment. You are a good man. If you weren’t, then none of what happened would bother you.”
He nods under my finger, and I move it to kiss him.
“I love you,” he whispers between kisses.
“You can never leave me,” I say, throat tight.
“Never,” he responds, arms tightening. “You are my treasure.”
16
Drosdan
“I don’t like it,” I say.
“I know,” Sarah says, taking my hand in hers and gripping tight.
Staring down at the wreckage of the humans’ ship makes anger churn in my stomach. They hate me, all of the Zmaj. These are the dregs of the human society. Sarah says they’re scared, and every instinct I have wants to give them something to be truly scared of. The towering monolith of the generation ships wreckage casts a long shadow. There is a barrier constructed of crates and other odds and ends set in a wide circle around the wreck. It�
�s an attempt at least to keep out the various predators that roam across Tajss. When I was last here there were armed guards patrolling the barrier.
“Where are the guards?” I ask, voicing my thought.
“I don’t know,” she says. “This isn’t good.”
Sarah bites her lower lip and shakes her head. Frowning, she squints against the low hangings suns, staring down at the ship.
“Maybe they went back,” I suggest.
“No,” she sighs. “I don’t think so.”
Something moves, emerging from the shadow of the ship’s interior, pushing past the flapping plastic sheets hung across the opening.
“There,” I point.
Sarah shields her eyes with her hands and gasps when she sees it herself.
“Tessa,” she exclaims. “She looks terrible.”
The female does look bad. Her skin is tight on her bones and has a dull gray hue to it, in sharp contrast to the healthy color of normal human skin. She appears to be nothing more than a pile of bones that is moving somehow. She stumbles forward until she reaches the barrier wall of crates. We watch as she opens one of them and pulls out a package. She turns around and heads back to the ship, but then two men emerge. These two appear much healthier and are carrying guns. We’re too far away to hear their words, but they’re not necessary.
One of the men raises his gun and aims it at Tessa. His mouth moves while the other one marches forward and takes hold of the package Tessa has retrieved. She resists, trying to hold on to it, but the man rips it away from her. As he does, she stumbles and falls. The two men turn their backs on her and reenter the ship.
“No, god damn it, no,” Sarah hisses. Tessa doesn’t rise. She’s rocking herself slowly, holding her head in her hands. “Drosdan, wait!”
Her voice cuts through the rage, but the storm is vying for control. Looking over my shoulder, only now realizing I’m heading towards the ship. No male will treat a female that way. Not while I have breath.
“They have to pay,” I hiss.
“Wait, we can’t… not like this. It’s dangerous,” she pleads.
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