by Anna Carven
Will he even want to know what’s inside?
With a sigh, I make my way across to the washroom, running my fingers through my hair. I peel off my semi-intact utility suit, taking time to examine my body.
My belly is a little flatter and my hip-bones are a bit more prominent, but everything’s intact. I run my hand between my breasts, feeling my sternum. Just like when I had my legs repaired by Mirkel, there’s no pain and no scar.
For such a violent, destructive race, these Kordolians sure have some nifty healing technology. It’s as if none of those terrible things ever happened to me.
And at the back of my mind is a featherlight sensation; a new awareness of the semi-sentient thing inside me. The nanites won’t hurt me now. In a surreal, desperate moment, Tarak showed me how to restrain them, and instantly, I understood.
I was inside his head. I saw his soul. I understood how he’s survived everything they’ve thrown at him.
Resolve. Strength. Control.
I stole a little piece of him and drew it into myself. I grabbed onto that feeling—it’s just a feeling, and yet it took an eternity to master—and drew it into me, and suddenly the nanites, or whatever the hell they really are, fell into line.
They stopped attacking me. Zharek drained most of them, and the remainder started to recognize me not as prey, but as host.
I am the boss here, and I can keep you alive if you do the same for me.
Damn straight.
That’s my impression of what happened. It took Zharek’s intervention and me having a near-death, out-of-body experience for it to happen. It took a lightning-strike; a momentary mind-meld with my indomitable husband.
In our universe, miracles happen.
I leave my damaged suit in a heap on the floor and enter the shower. There’s a soft hum as the cubicle registers my presence, and then warm water cascades from the ceiling.
There used to be no such thing as a warm shower on Silence, but at my request, Tarak had the system modified to accommodate Humans.
I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation of running water. It’s almost as good as sex.
Little by little, the tension drains out of my body, leaving me loose-limbed and relaxed. I sigh. My legs tremble. What a day! I’m so damn relieved to be here.
When strong arms curve around my waist and he pulls me into him, I don’t even flinch or become startled. I’m used to his stealthy ways by now. I lean into him, our bodies melding under the cascading water. He spins me around and holds me by my upper arms.
“Look at you,” he says, his voice a low rumble. His eyes travel slowly up and down my body, taking in every inch of me. His roving hands glide over my skin, caressing my arms, my breasts, my belly, my ass. He follows the action up with fervent kisses. “Let me worship you.”
And just like that, he pulls the floor out from under me. My legs go weak. Heat rises in my cheeks. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t form words. My heart is thudding in my chest. Warmth seeps between my legs, and I’m sure there’s a whole lot of wetness mingling with the water from the shower.
“This body,” he murmurs reverently, “has endured my mistakes,” he drops to his knees and kisses the tops of my thighs, caressing my legs, “has given me unspeakable pleasure,” he kisses the entrance to my pussy, grazing it with his wicked tongue, “has borne our child,” he plants a lingering kiss on my lower belly as he slowly rises to his feet, “has nourished her,” he sucks both of my nipples, turning them hard, “and has taken my curse and conquered it.”
He rises to his full height and kisses me on my lips. His lips are slow and gentle. He takes his time. “You are incredible, my Human.”
“So are you, General.” I return his kisses eagerly, hungrily. I feel as if I’ve come back to life and everything in the world suddenly feels twice as good; twice as intense.
His cock presses up against my lower belly. I moan. Desire rips through me like wildfire.
Tarak’s hands are on my body again, and this time they’re sensually slick. The smell of vanilla and spice fills the air. He’s gotten ahold of my favorite body wash. He rubs the fragrant liquid into my back, around my neck, over my breasts—he lingers here—and down the sides of my body, caressing the curve of my waist. He slides his hands over my ass and hips.
He massages my clit, drawing a gasp from my lips. Then his fingers are inside me, and I’m howling.
He takes his time, coaxing the orgasm out of me. His fingers are slick and slippery and clever, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I come hard, holding onto his thickly muscled arms as he laughs softly, pleased with himself. “That was just a starter,” he whispers.
He lifts me into his arms and carries me out of the shower. The water stops. The air-dryer sucks the moisture from our bodies, leaving me warm and clean and tingling all over. I feel like a million bucks. I’m spent but ready for more. I’m in fucking heaven.
Tarak carries me through to our pod and gently deposits me amongst the tangled sheets. He moves to one side and retrieves something from one of the many mysterious hidden compartments in the room. I admire the contours and planes of his magnificent body. Now that I have an inkling of what this body has been through, I’m even more appreciative of his strength.
The way he moves is fluid and graceful, and yet there’s something intoxicatingly primal about it. He moves with the stealth and power of a great hunting cat, and yet he can be oh-so gentle when he wants.
There’s something in his left hand; a small silver box. He presses a latch on the side, and the lid slides open. “I’ve been trying to obtain some of this for a some time now.”
He dips two fingers into the box. They come out coated in silver glitter.
Glitter?
“What is it?” A thrill races through me as Tarak presses his fingers against my lower belly, just below my navel. “Oh!” A shout escapes my lips before I can contain my surprise. In the spot where he’s touched me, two fingerprint-shaped spots remain. They shimmer like starlight in the dim pod as an insanely pleasurable creeps over my skin where he’s touched me. It’s as if someone’s taken the sensitive flesh of my clit, multiplied it, and swapped my skin with it.
“Ssisillipi,” he whispers, sounding perfectly alien. I don’t think my tongue would be able to even attempt to replicate that pronunciation. “It is incredibly hard to find.”
“And this silly-pi, what exactly does it—”
He spreads a little more on my belly, drawing a line down to the entrance of my vagina. “Let me show you.”
He spreads even more of the stuff, coating the rest of my lower belly, the insides of my thighs, and the mound of my sex. Each caress of his fingers makes me cry out with pleasure, filling me with near-orgasmic bliss.
He turns the entire lower part of my body into one big erogenous zone.
Then he proceeds to lick it off, inch by orgasmic inch. Apparently, it’s edible.
By the time he’s done, I’m covered in sweat, my chest is heaving, my voice is hoarse, and I’ve climaxed several times. I’m a hot, helpless mess. “Damn you,” I croak, curling my fingers around his hard length. “That was insane. I am so glad that in your culture, men are taught certain, uh, skills. Lucky, lucky me.” Tarak once explained to me that on Kythia, learning to please a female is a right of passage.
He snorts in amusement. “I am most pleased to hear that. When I ordered the Sendar to train the entire First Division in such things, we all failed, miserably. I didn’t tell you that at the time, because I was trying to court you.”
“Failed? Court?” I blink. Tarak didn’t do any such thing as court me. He saw what he wanted, and he took it.
He waves his hand dismissively. “Apparently, we were no good at those things Kythian harem males are supposed to do… submissive behavior and whatnot. It didn’t bother me. I figured that when the time came, we would naturally know what to do.”
Huh. As arrogant as usual, and of course, he was right. I don
’t tell him that, though. Instead, I stare at him for a long while, a smile spreading across my face as I massage his erection. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?
His cock quivers in response to my touch. He growls. “For you, there are only good surprises.”
I try to snatch the box of silli-stuff from where he’s left it at the edge of the pod, but he stops me, enclosing my wrist in an iron-like grip. “What are you doing?”
“Give it here,” I insist. “I think I’ve got the hang of it. Now it’s my turn.” A cheeky grin spreads across my face. I press my hand against his chest, pushing him backwards. “Unless, of course, the good General has any objections.”
He yields, baring his fangs in a wicked smile as he falls back onto the pod, propping himself up on his elbows. “How could I possibly object to anything you suggest, my love?”
“When I’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be objecting to is me coming up for air.” I dip my tongue into the silver box, coating its tip in the silvery stuff. To my surprise, it tastes like cherry cola, and it makes my tongue feel all kinds of wonderful.
The look on Tarak’s face as I trail slow, hot kisses down his chiseled body is priceless.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tarak
Silence descends across the gathered crowd as the lights dim. The remaining light is concentrated on the central podium, where Xalikian stands with a ceremonial datastaff in his hands. All eyes are upon him as he casts his gaze around the forum, making sure everyone feels acknowledged.
His long silver hair is bound in a high knot, and he has foregone the typical Imperial ceremonial garb in favor of simple dark robes which are similar to mine. There is not a single mark or symbol of royalty upon him.
The prince has relinquished his title. He prefers to be referred to simply as ‘Xal,’ or Custodian, if formal titles are absolutely required.
From my vantage point high up in the viewing galleries, I scan the audience. Representatives from all the major inhabited planets of the Nine Galaxies are here; there are winged Avein, colorfully dressed Veronians, scaled Soldar, tentacled Ordoon, and even our traditional enemies; the four-armed Ifkin and the hooded Ephrenians, who never show their faces to others.
Even the Humans have sent their ambassador. Through some ridiculous quirk of fate, he just-so happens to be Xalikian’s father-in-law. Soon, they will all be returning to Earth to await the birth of Sera and Xalikian’s twins.
“Quite an impressive turnout.” Beside me, my Human wife squeezes my hand.
“They would not have wanted to miss this,” I growl. Abbey does not know it, but I had indirectly threatened any planet that refused to send representatives to the inaugural Intergalactic Peace Forum with war.
Ha. That is rather ironic, is it not? Before, I would not have seen the humor in it, but now I fear I have become a little bit Human.
Above us, the soaring ceilings give way to clear viewing ports which reveal the glittering stars. The New Intergalactic Forum is a floating space-venue that has been specifically constructed to provide a neutral meeting point for all planetary representatives. It hangs at the nexus of the Fourth and Fifth Sectors—an officially designated midpoint of the known Universe.
Security at the NIF has been personally guaranteed by me.
The former prince holds the datastaff high above his head as he casts his gaze around the room. “This,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect as his artificially enhanced voice echoes across the forum, “represents a new Universal order. The era of Kordolian rule across the Universe is over.” Although he speaks in Universal, many of the delegation have translators at-hand.
Applause, clapping, stomping of feet, croaking, clicking, and various other signs of approval echo throughout the wide chamber.
“Perhaps you are yet to believe me,” Xalikian continues. “That is completely understandable, especially as this address is coming from me, a son of the Empire. The Kordolian reign has been long, bloody, and brutal. I will not deny that my people have done terrible things across the known Universe. To those who have suffered at the hands of the Empire, I am sorry.”
He pauses, and surprised murmurs ripple through the assembly. Clearly, this wasn’t what they were expecting. Xalikian lowers his arm, still clutching the datastaff.
“What I hold here in my hand is the new Kythian Constitution. When we were in the process of drafting it, a certain former General of the Empire introduced me to someone.” Xalikian turns and locks eyes with me. “That person was a youth; a so-called quiescent of Kythia. Under the old rule, he had no hope of living a meaningful life, and he had already become bitter and cynical. I asked him what he would do if he were given the opportunity, and he told me that all he wanted to do was train to be a pilot so that he could fly the tradeways between the galaxies. However, without any hope of living out his dream, he had become angry and bitter, reduced to throwing firebombs at passing soldiers. Not only did the Empire oppress the Nine Galaxies, it also oppressed our own people.” Xalikian pauses, allowing his point to sink in.
The audience is quiet, transfixed by the commanding figure on the podium. Although he has no desire to rule, the former prince can cut quite the charismatic figure when he desires.
It is why I needed his co-operation. Statesmanship is not my area of expertise.
I merely provide the muscle.
“We have no right to try and rule the Galaxies if we can’t even get our own house in order. It is for that reason that we are withdrawing all Kordolian forces across the Nine Galaxies. We will no longer maintain a military presence on foreign planets.”
Again, the alien delegations applaud. The clapping grows louder and louder, echoing throughout the cavernous forum.
Xalikian nods in acknowledgment. His smile is benevolent, but there is a glint in his eyes. “In exchange for our withdrawal, I would ask that there be no retaliation or attack on our forces.” His expression changes from placid to sharp in an instant. The small glint in his eyes becomes a fierce glare. “We are well aware that this transitional period is not going to be without its challenges. It is for this reason that General Akkadian has offered the services of his mercenary forces to act as interim peacekeepers throughout the Nine Galaxies. Let me make it clear, however, that General Akkadian acts of his own accord. He has been discharged from the Kordolian military, and therefore he does not answer to the New Kythian Government.”
The eyes that turn towards me are more than a little alarmed. Abbey nudges me in the side. “Smile and try to look friendly” she whispers through clenched teeth. “Don’t scare them too much.”
Ah, my sweet, beautiful mate. When will you understand that the only creatures in the Universe I can possibly be friendly towards are you and the little loved one, Ami?
At Abbey’s request, I smile, baring my fangs.
The message to the rest of the delegation is clear: I’m watching you. Fuck with my people, and you’ll hear directly from me.
No longer do I consider only Kordolians to be my people.
Humans and the planet Earth are under my protection too, and they have a brave, irresistible female called Abbey to thank for that.
Epilogue
Abbey
I stare up at the transparent roof of the forest-dome, watching the clear night sky from underneath a cluster of palm trees. The dome was another extravagant gift from Tarak, a marvel of Veronian technology that took a total of one week to assemble. In the heat of the desert, it maintains the perfect temperature and humidity all year round.
“Slow down, kiddo! Watch the seed-barrier!” Ami runs past me, in her awkward toddlery way, leaving muddy footprints on the manicured lawn. She shouts in excitement, trying her hardest to catch up with Zeus and Nyx as the dogs chase down a ball.
I laugh, shaking my head at my good fortune. Sometimes, I still can’t believe we’ve made it this far.
It’s been six months since we landed back on Earth. Six months, and so much has changed.
Tarak is now the boss of a formidable mercenary outfit, and I grow rare plant specimens and ship them off to all corners of the Nine Galaxies. It turns out that Earth’s incredible biodiversity has become something of a hot export. The demand for our flora—particularly our food-producing plants—is growing by the day.
As for Kythia, well, all flight-paths no longer lead there. Things aren’t perfect on the Dark Planet, but they’re better than they were under the Empire, and every day a little more progress is made. Kordolians are beginning to realize that there’s life beyond the Empire.
As I squat down to check on a patch of nasturtium seedlings, a familiar shadow looms over me. I pick a leaf and pop it in my mouth, savoring the fresh, peppery taste.
“You aren’t supposed to eat the product,” Tarak growls as I look up. He holds out a hand and helps me to my feet. I wipe my hand across my forehead, brushing aside my damp, matted hair. One tends to work up a sweat with all this digging and pruning.
“My product, my rules,” I say between mouthfuls. “How is that any different from what you do? You’re always writing your own rules.”
“At least I have self-discipline,” he says haughtily.
“Typical arrogant Kordolian,” I tease, before my expression turns serious. I wipe my dirt-encrusted gloves on my coveralls. “I finally took a look at the datacube,” I whisper.
“Hm.” Tarak’s face shows little emotion, but I sense the curiosity burning within him. He looks at me expectantly.
“Aikun,” I say. “Your father was a warrior. Your mother, a proud clanswoman who was taken away by the Imperials to serve in the Palace of Arches.”
Still, his expression doesn’t change.
I press on. He needs to hear this. He’s the one who asked me to check the datacube in the first place. It was exactly two days ago that he brought up the topic again, after a little prod-and-prompt from me. ‘Very well. Now that your Kordolian is good enough, you may check it and report back to me,’ he told me. That was unexpected. He’s usually the sort to want to do things himself, but I get the sense that deep down, he’s scared of finding something terrible.
