by Alana Khan
“We get to do this forever? Whenever we like? Does it ever get old or boring?”
“We’ll make a vow, little Lexa. We’ll never let that happen. Here, let’s try something new…”
Epilogue
Lexa
Ceruleous is beautiful. When I traveled around the U.S. with my dad, I found the prettiest skies in America were in Colorado. The sky here reminds me of that; it has puffy white clouds dotting deep blue skies. That’s only fitting, since the people are the loveliest shade of blue. They all have tribal markings, some are cobalt, like Sex, some have other colors—every color of the spectrum. Of course, my guy is the most attractive. By far.
Sex’s family owns a large tract of land outside of Heber City. Its verdant green grasses cover idyllic rolling hills. For our mating ceremony, we’ll be surrounded by family and friends and a riot of wildflowers of every size, shape, and description.
I should never have worried about being accepted by Sex’s large, loving family. I couldn’t imagine they’d welcome a short, pink, scarred Earther, but they have. Sex hadn’t been back since he enlisted in the Federation military over a decade ago. Maybe they like me because I brought him home.
The crew from the Tranquility landed a few days ago. They bought a new ship to avoid any connection to the attack on Khour. They’ve named it Ataraxia, which means serene calm. I enjoy the juxtaposition of incongruity. It strikes me as funny that a ship whose crew has a knack for finding trouble is named for calm serenity.
We’ve all been crammed into the Auranious house together since they arrived. I was apprehensive at first about seeing the crew again. Although I’d apologized, I still nursed the fear that they all hated me. But it’s been comfortable. I know I don’t deserve it, but everyone seems to have truly forgiven me.
Tawny’s out here with me in the meadow, picking flowers to make a crown for me. She’s choosing only blue blossoms, to match my blue mating dress.
It took Sex and me awhile to decide what to do next. My desire to return to Earth completely evaporated. What did I have there? No real family, certainly no friends. And my burning ambition to get my degree and practice psychology? What’s the point now that it’s ridiculously obvious how ill-suited I was for that profession?
We considered roaming the galaxy on the little ship we escaped in, but the other Ceruleans wanted to spend time on their planet, reconnecting with their families after decades of conscription.
We thought of settling here, and God knows this planet is beautiful. But now that our shipmates are here, and it’s clear how comfortable I feel with them, the obvious choice is to stay on the chaotic Ataraxia with excitement and pandemonium guaranteed with every adventure.
We’ll remain pirates for a time—thieving and conniving and finding the occasional klempto game for me. I put my foot down about one thing, though. We agreed we’ll never step foot on Lusion again. No more halftiques for me.
I saw a doctor about my cheek. He said he could do a scar revision and it would look much better, but he couldn’t perform the operation until it’s fully healed. I’m not sure if I’ll complete the procedure, though. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it did at first. I kind of enjoy looking like what I am—a pirate.
We kicked around the galaxy for the last several weeks, making certain no one from the cartel was following us. I’m sure Khour wants to murder us, or he will when he recovers from the multiple stabbings, facial carving and acid spatter. Captain Thantose knows the situation, that’s the reason he bought a new, untraceable vessel.
Before we came here, we took a quick trip to Salute to look through the ruins of my house. It was a longshot, but gold doesn’t burn up, it just melts and re-forms. I guess I’m greedy; I wanted to look for it even though I’d spent half of it on the house and hovercraft.
It took a while, but I found the gold right where I’d left it. It melted into an interesting shape, smooth and dull and full of dips and bulges, but it’s still spendable. I like to think of it as a dowry. From Daneur Khour himself. That thought makes me smile.
Speaking of smiling, Sex continues his amazing transformation. The anger that used to wind around him like a tight fist is slowly unraveling. Coming back to Ceruleus has been the final leg of his journey. It’s been a joy to watch him joke and laugh with his family. He tells me it’s like a time machine—he feels almost as carefree as he did when he was sixteen.
He went alone to Septima’s grave. That was a sad day for him, although it gave him closure. He told her how he maimed Khour—that gave him pleasure. I imagine he didn’t spare the details of carving initials into the purple bastard’s face.
Even though the doc said my scar could be improved. I’m don’t think that will work so well for Khour—the acid burning into existing cuts will certainly do a number on his purple flesh.
It wasn’t until yesterday that Sex told me it wasn’t his initials he carved into the male’s forehead, but his sister’s. Sweet revenge.
Sex and his family are spilling out of the house on their way to the meadow for our ceremony. Wow, Sex looks more handsome than I’ve ever seen him.
There are several thick, masculine braids in his hair, yet some of it falls free to his shoulders. It makes him look fierce. And sexy. The leather kilt he’s wearing shows off all that blue skin and all those hard muscles. They’ve painted him with additional cobalt swirls: a thick band around his neck, whorls on his shoulders and down his legs. He looks even more like a warrior than usual.
Stalking toward me with purpose, his eyes never leave mine as he joins me in the sun-strewn meadow. His smile melts my heart even though the sweet, loving expression is such a juxtaposition to his fearsome face.
He grabs my hands and we face each other as everyone surrounds us. I take a moment to memorize every aspect of this scene: the heady scent of the flowers, the springy grass under my feet, the concern and support emanating from the people encircling us. I hear birds chirping in the nearby trees and feel the warm sun beaming down on us.
This day couldn’t have been more perfect. And right now my life couldn’t be more perfect. I’ve got my gorgeous blue male looking at me like I’m the most precious commodity in the universe. I’ve got friends, and the loving family I never had before.
There’s no clergyman here for our ceremony. Sex leans in, placing his mouth near my ear. I mimic his actions. There are no fancy words or dusty old prayers to recite. Our pledge to each other is not for anyone’s ears but our own.
“Lexa Sullivan, I love you from the depths of my soul. Because of you, I now know I’m capable of loving. I pledge from the bottom of my heart to show you just how much I cherish you every day of my life. To think I almost lost you on a foolish quest for revenge…it makes my heart squeeze in my chest. Nothing is worth losing you—nothing. I promise to keep you safe and treat you like the most precious thing in this galaxy—because you are.”
I take a moment to let his beautiful words sink in. They’re even sweeter because only a few days ago I almost lost him.
“Sextus Marcus Auranious, I love you from the depths of my soul. You helped me find the loving female I never knew I had the capacity to be. I’m a better person for having met you. I know I can be difficult and selfish, but you have the magic that can keep me in line.” I tuck myself even closer to him and lower my voice, “Sir.”
I hear his deep, sexy chuckle, then add, “Thank you for being exactly who you are and asking me to be your mate.”
We kiss. One long, tender, meaningful kiss. It’s full of all the passion and the promise and the aching sweetness of our love and longing and lifelong pledge.
When I was a girl back on Earth, I never would have guessed I’d marry a big, blue Cerulean and spend my life as a space pirate, but here we are, and I can’t imagine a happier life.
The End
The Science of the Nipplegasm: These are elusive, but can happen. There is good information on these in various places on the web.
Wondering about
all of Lexa’s skills? Have you read my author bio? I’ve been a practicing psychotherapist for decades. There are hundreds of wonderful skills out there. All the ones Lexa used in this book are real, most of them from the branch of psychotherapy known as DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy).
Check out my FREE NEWSLETTER for my blog where I explain: Radical Acceptance, Observe Just Notice, In the Moment, and Feel the Fear and do it anyway. Also, check back to my blog from time to time to see what other skills I’ve added.
The Newsletter also gives you a complete novelette that contains Shadow’s backstory (from the Galaxy Gladiators series) and a better insight into what a complete jerk Daneur Khour is.
Did you read Axxios and Braxxus: Book Six in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series? Curious about Sirius, the genetically engineered “product” of the evil federation? Check out Book Seven in the series: Sirius.
Here’s a Sneak Peak of Sirius
Galaxy Gladiators Sirius: Book Seven
Up to Now...
About three months ago, ten Earth women were kidnapped by aliens and forced into cells with ten gladiator slaves. Thrown together as random couples, they were ordered to mate under threat of death.
They overthrew their captors and have been roaming the galaxy trying to earn enough credits to keep ahead of their former owners, the MarZan cartel, as well as the evil, governing Federation.
In their travels, the original twenty people picked up a few stragglers. One of whom is Sirius, a genetic “product” of the Federation, tattooed with the number “972” above his eyebrow. Bred to be supersoldiers, products are referred to as “geneslaves” throughout the galaxy. Sirius, with his predominantly humanoid and canine DNA, was rescued about one month ago.
Sirius
Present Day
Somewhere in space aboard the vessel Lazy Slacker
Chapter One
Sirius
“Emergency, emergency! All souls to the bridge. Emergency, all souls to the bridge!”
The urgent sound of Captain Zar’s voice wakes me. The klaxons are blaring insistently and the blinking emergency light in my cabin bathes everything in startling red tones.
I’m up and out of bed, then running down the sterile metal hallways along with my shipmates. No one’s talking or asking questions. They all look panicked—wide-eyed and alarmed.
All twenty-six people on board cram into the bridge, waiting to hear what’s guaranteed to be disturbing news.
“Please sit,” Zar’s tone is polite, but the muscles in his feline face are rigid and tense.
Many take seats in the small jumpseats that ring the rear of the bullet-shaped room. Several of the women sit on their male’s lap. I stand, my back to the exit door. I still feel like an interloper. We all know I don’t belong—I’m a geneslave. They rescued me a lunar cycle ago, but they don’t trust me.
“We received this communication a moment before I called you here. Callista, please play it in its entirety.”
Every other one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that ring three-fourths of the room flicker to life with a vid of a humanoid male in a black-and-red Federation uniform. I glance out the windows and see three Federation warships: one port, one starboard, one straight off our bow.
“Attention Lazy Slacker,” the male says. “You are in the sights of three Federation warships. Stand down immediately. If your engines are still running in thirty modicums we will consider it an act of sedition and follow war protocol.”
The steady drone of the engines has ceased. Zar must have turned them off before his command to assemble on the bridge.
“Our three ships are engaged in a little...off-the-books activity. We’re confident you won’t report us because it’s clear, with all your recent name changes, you’re engaged in illegal activities as well.”
As he pauses, I realize the room is silent. Every eye is on the screens. I can smell the terror. My genetics don’t allow me to experience emotions like other beings. I feel no fear, just an enhanced state of alert.
“Our intel indicates there are ten trained gladiators on board, which is perfect for our needs. You have sixty minimas to send us one fighter of your choosing. If you do not hail us back within that time frame, we will use our matter transporter to commandeer all of your fighting flesh, then destroy the vessel and all other beings on board.”
He appears to look straight at us, “Sixty minimas, not a modicum more.” The vid goes dark, making it easier to see the three warships, their prows pointed menacingly at us.
The room erupts in a buzz of fearful murmuring. I hear a female crying, but without stepping forward, I can’t make out who it is.
“Please, I know this is frightening and disturbing. We now have…” Zar consults the computer screen on his comm unit, “fifty-one minimas to make this decision.”
“Can we make a run for it?” Huge Dax asks in his deep, rumbling voice.
“As you heard, they made us shut down our engines, it would take minimas to power them back up. We’ll be dead long before we escape,” Zar answers.
“We can fight back,” scarred Stryker says, his face fierce as his hand absently strokes his female’s back.
“Three well-equipped Federation warships versus ours? We’d be lasered to char before our first volley is complete. I’ve only known these facts a few minimas longer than all of you,” Zar says, “but neither fighting nor running are options. One of us needs to volunteer.”
“I’ve never run from a fight,” Shadow says, the look on his face thunderous, “but I have my female to protect.” He hugs the tiny female on his lap even tighter.
“We all have a female to protect,” Zar says evenly. “If no one volunteers, I’ll have the computer randomly select one of us.”
I’m a geneslave, the last to join this band of runaway slaves, I have no female, no family—I was bred in a test tube. I’m such an aberration I don’t call anyone on board a friend.
I wait a moment for one of them to point to me and not-so-tactfully suggest that I should “volunteer.” I give them credit, not one of them even slides their eyes in my direction.
“It’s obvious I should volunteer,” I say as I step forward. “I have no female, no purpose on board. I’m the most expendable. I’ll go.”
The relief in the room is palpable. I can feel them all stand down.
“Sirius…” Brianna’s face is pinched in sadness. Perhaps she was going to tell me not to volunteer, then thought better of it. After all, she has two males to protect. The computer’s random program would make her twice as likely as the other females to lose a mate.
“That is generous,” Zar says. “Admirable. But they demanded a gladiator.”
“I’m a geneslave, built by the Feds to be stronger, faster, and better equipped to fight than any existing species in the galaxy. I’ve gained weight since you rescued me—it’s all muscle. Every one of you has sparred with me in the ludus over the last lunar cycle, teaching me new fighting techniques to add to what the Feds taught me. I’m as formidable an adversary as any of you.
“We all know that whatever the Feds have planned for me is not going to be a fair fight anyway. Every being in this room knows that whoever goes out that door is walking to a certain death. I understand that—I accept it.”
“This isn’t fair,” Brianna says. “Sirius, you were born a slave. You’re finally free, about to embark on a new life.”
“You’re right, Brianna. It’s not fair. But I’m the right choice. Thank you all for accepting me onto your ship. I’m ready.” I nod to Zar.
“Dr. Drayke,” Zar says, “can you insert a tracking device under his skin? He may be new to our ranks, but he’s one of us now. He’s saving the life of every soul on board.” He turns toward me and says, “We’ll do everything in our power to save you, Sirius.”
After the doctor inserts a tracker under the skin of my bicep, Brianna approaches me and throws her arms around my neck.
“Sirius, you’re such
a good male. You saved my mate when you could have run the other way. I’ll be forever grateful. Now you’ve saved us all.” She pulls away, her eyes pooling with tears. Concern for me? It’s hard to grasp.
She hugs me tight. I’ve never been touched in kindness before. Never experienced a hug. It takes me a moment to figure out how to receive it. I tentatively reach up and gingerly pat her back.
“You deserve happiness, Brianna,” I whisper, then pull away and look at Zar. “I’m ready.”
Every male on the bridge slides their female off their lap as they stand and turn to me. They each press their fist over their heart as they solemnly nod to me. It is the gladiators’ highest tribute, a salute of honor.
