The Alien's Claim (A SciFi Alien Warrior Romance) (Warriors of Luxiria Book 8)

by Zoey Draven

  He punched the wall again, cursing softly at the agony coursing its way through his body. His Instinct was restless. He felt all wrong, not having her close, not knowing that she was safe. They were wasting time. They should have already started their journey towards the Caves—

  The door to his quarters opened and his brother stepped back inside, followed by Kirov. Seeing him, Jaxor paused, his brow furrowing. How long had it been already? Kirov wasn’t supposed to be in the Golden City until later that night.

  Had the hours passed without Jaxor knowing?

  Immediately, Jaxor asked him, “You checked that there were no Jetutian vessels on the planet’s surface? You ran your scans?”

  “Tev,” Kirov replied, inclining his head, though he never took his gaze away. “The surface is clear.”

  Relief, however brief.

  Vaxa’an said, “We need you to come to the war room.”

  Jaxor was already approaching the door. Vaxa’an stopped him with a firm grip on his upper arm. He had something in his hand and when he held it up, Jaxor knew it was the key for the shackles.

  He knew what Vaxa’an asked. Gaze narrowed, Jaxor said, “You think I would risk her life and try to flee now?”

  Vaxa’an studied him. Kirov studied him. Jaxor could feel those eyes sizing him up, trying to see something that even Jaxor couldn’t. Kirov had always been that way. Too intelligent, too observant, too knowing, perhaps even for his own good.

  “The council wishes to speak with you. We need information on the Mevirax base, information only you can give,” Vaxa’an told him, unclasping the shackles that bound his wrists. Jaxor rubbed them, the skin raw, but when he tried to step past his brother, Vaxa’an squeezed his shoulder, keeping him in the quarters. “You should wash first. And eat something.”

  Jaxor paused, cutting his brother a look. Did Jaxor look as terrible as he felt? Shame bit into his chest. He must look like one of the Mevirax in his brother’s eyes, untamed, unpredictable, uncivilized with his well-used clothes and shorn hair. He hadn’t bathed in two spans, hadn’t eaten in just as long.

  What would the council think? That was what Vaxa’an was asking him. Because sometimes, appearance was everything, especially in the Golden City. If he looked like an untamed barbarian, then that was the only thing the council would see. But if he looked like a son of the Luxirian throne…

  Was Vaxa’an already anticipating the council’s verdict in his trial? Was he already trying to sway their opinions of Jaxor?

  Something lodged in his chest at the thought and he reached out, clasping his hand around his brother’s wrist. Understanding was dawning, now that he was thinking about it. He only wished he hadn’t wasted time, that he had thought of it before.

  He had to play the part of the Prime Leader’s brother. Not Jaxor, the traitor who’d left to seek out the Mevirax, who had their ink on his skin, but rather, Jaxor’an, son of Kirax’an.

  Jaxor made for the washroom quickly. He turned on the bathing tube, marveling at the steady, warm stream that poured out. He’d forgotten about the tubes, so used to the iciness of the waterfall back at his base. He washed quickly, scrubbing at his dirty skin and unwashed hair. The water went cloudy before it ran clear and the moment Jaxor felt clean, he stepped out and dried himself off.

  When he stepped from the washroom nude, Kirov was sitting on the sleeping platform. Vaxa’an had been speaking with him, but they ceased whatever conversation they’d been having when he reappeared. Next to Kirov on the cot were clean clothes—a dark tunic with long sleeves and hide pants, along with sturdy boots.

  Jaxor pulled them on quickly, lacing the pants in a tight knot, his fingers remembering the pattern he’d always used, the same pattern of knot his mother had taught him before warrior training, the same pattern Vaxa’an no doubt still used.

  Alongside the clothes was a tray of fresh, braised meat, still steaming, with fatty broth and a goblet of watered Brew. Jaxor made quick work of the food. Though it was delicious—he’d almost forgotten the skill of Luxirians when it came to braised meats—the moment he swallowed the last of it down, he nodded at his brother.

  “I am ready.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Erin tracked time with three things. The first was the light through the sliver in the ceiling—though at times it could be misleading. It was so small that sometimes it was difficult to ascertain whether it was moonlight or sunlight. So she also tracked the temperature in the dungeon—warmer in the days, cooler at night.

  And the last was Kossira’s visits. The female was punctual, she’d realized, coming twice a day, once in the mornings and once in the evenings.

  Given these three things, Erin had decided she’d been in the dungeon for five days already. Five days since she’d been blissfully unaware and happy with Jaxor at his base. Five days since she’d last seen him or touched him. Five days since the Mevirax had taken her from him.

  On the morning of the sixth day—the light coming through the crack in the cave was slightly warmer than silver—Kossira came down the steps, the same guard in tow.

  When the Luxirian female saw that the tray from last night was cleared, that the skin of water was empty, she almost looked pleased, relieved. She set the lantern down and Erin looked at it, needing to see it. They left her in darkness, except for the small sliver of natural light. At times, she’d felt panicked and unbelievably frightened, feeling like the darkness was clasping her around her ankles, chaining her, slithering down her throat until she choked on it.

  Again, she wondered about Jaxor’s fear of darkness. It was something she’d never asked him about. And the first question that Erin asked Kossira that morning, once she stepped into the cell and deposited the new tray on the floor, was, “Was Jaxor ever kept down here?”

  Whenever Erin mentioned Jaxor, Kossira got uncomfortable…as if she wasn’t allowed to speak about him. Even the guard at the base of the stairs, though he didn’t know English, shot them a look at the name that fell from Erin’s lips.

  A name that she’d whispered and cried out and moaned and smiled as she said it a short while ago. Remembering brought back that familiar, dull ache, but mostly, she felt a little numb thinking about it, thinking about him.

  “When he first came here, I believe he was,” Kossira said. “Pivar was leader of the Mevirax then. He believed that Jaxor came to spy on us. It took time for Jaxor to prove that he would be loyal to the ways of the Mevirax.”

  “How long?” Erin whispered, fearing she knew. “How long was he kept down here?”

  Kossira shrugged, though her lips pressed together. “A rotation. From what I have heard.”

  The breath was squeezed from her lungs and her fingers dug into the dirt of the floor. Earth that Jaxor would have laid upon, in darkness.

  A year.

  No wonder…she thought.

  She closed her eyes, feeling pain pour into her belly, making her want to vomit. She’d talked to him of her fear of sharks and he’d told her he was afraid of the dark. How silly, how small her fear must’ve seemed to him when faced with the reality of this. This endless dark. Now she understood why he always kept a lantern lit where they slept. She felt even more like a fool now.

  “Tavar saw Jaxor as a weapon. A useful one. After Tavar took rule from his brother, he released Jaxor from the dungeons, brought him up to the surface to live among us.”

  So, of course, Jaxor would be loyal to Tavar. He’d saved him from this darkness, this loneliness, this madness. Otherwise, he could’ve rotted alone down here.

  Erin felt that loneliness creeping, like little fingers trailing along the ground towards her. How had Jaxor withstood it? Especially since he’d just lost his family back then?

  Because mentally, he was strong, she decided. Erin believed he could probably withstand anything.

  Yet, he’d also confessed to her about his loneliness, living at his base. And right then, Erin wanted to curse him for making her begin to love him, while also wanti
ng him so much that she ached with it.

  “Do you love Tavar?” Erin whispered to Kossira.

  The female went still. “Of course I do.”

  Erin watched as her hand went to her lower belly, cupping the swell almost protectively. She’d learned a little about Kossira over the course of the last five days and nights. Every time she came, she answered a couple of Erin’s questions, but ignored others.

  She’d learned that Kossira had been born in the Caves of the Pevrallix, just like Tavar. That her father had been one of Tavar’s father’s allies in the rebellion at the Golden City. Their families were closely linked. Kossira had always known she would be the chosen mate—or rather, breeding partner—for one of the sons. She’d told Erin it was an honor, but her eyes had seemed hollow as she said it.

  Erin wanted to hate her. But she couldn’t. Kossira had been somewhat kind to her—disregarding the whole imprisonment situation. She’d made sure she was well-fed, though sometimes Erin had a difficult time holding down the food, and Kossira always sat with her as she ate…talked to her.

  “What…” Kossira trailed off, frowning, then looked down at her belly, thinking over something.

  She’d been about to ask Erin something, which she’d never done before. Erin had always asked the questions.

  “Yes?” Erin prompted quietly, dragging the tray over to herself, reaching out to eat some more dried meat, which tasted like ash on her tongue, as though it would make Kossira ask her question.

  “What is the Golden City like?” Kossira asked softly, not meeting her eyes. It wasn’t quite a whisper, but with the guard looming near the stairs, she still felt the need to lower her voice. Why? Were they not allowed to talk about the Golden City?

  Erin licked her dry lips, taking a swig of the water. Her heartbeat had raced a bit at Kossira’s question. A tiny bloom of hope swelled in her heart. Would Kossira help her?

  “I didn’t see much of it while I was there,” Erin answered truthfully. “But what I did see was beautiful. Otherworldly, like something out of a book.”

  Kossira frowned.

  Erin realized belatedly that they probably didn’t have books and even if they did, it was a human projection to assume those books held fantastical stories within them.

  Quickly, she continued, “It’s a city carved out from the side of a tall mountain. With views of a black sand desert that stretches on for miles. And the sun is so bright there that everything seems warm and golden…hence the name, I assume.”

  Kossira drew in a deep breath, her eyes flittering cautiously up to Erin’s.

  She went on. “The house that we lived in had all sorts of colorful things in it. There was a fire pit, where we’d spend our evenings, and plush rugs stretched out along the floors and tapestries on the walls. And the washroom…it was this giant pool of steaming, hot water that you could swim in, it was so big.” Kossira’s mask slipped again, that careful mask she hid behind. And what Erin saw was longing. For something new? Or for something just…not here? “And I’ve never seen it, but I know there is a marketplace on one of the lower terraces. They sell silks and fruits and jewelry from all the outposts.”

  Kossira stood then and Erin thought she’d said the wrong thing. Her mask was back in place.

  “Wait,” Erin said, her eyes flickering to the lantern, to the light. “Don’t go. Please.”

  Kossira’s gaze went to the lantern too. In the blue light, Erin saw her frown, her anger. Erin didn’t understand it at first, not until Kossira said, “When Tavar takes control of the Golden City, I will see it all for myself anyways. I will raise my son there. We will,” she amended quietly. Meaning Tavar. “My son will be a prince of Luxiria, the first born in the new age.”

  Then she left so quickly that Erin hardly had time to process her words. She watched Kossira look back at her and then she ascended the stairs with the guard. The guard said something in their language, but whatever Kossira replied made him fall silent.

  It took Erin a moment to realize that she could see.

  It took her another moment to realize that it was because Kossira had left the lantern behind. That was what the guard had questioned, no doubt.

  Erin dragged the lantern towards her and prayed, perhaps even to Kollasor, the Fate Jaxor had prayed to once, that it would never go out again.

  Erin roused from a deep sleep when she heard the door to her cell open. Groggy, she saw it was twice as bright, but that was because there was another lantern.

  “What—”

  It was Kossira. But she was alone, without a guard. And she had already come by to give Erin her dinner, though after that morning, her visit had been brief. Still, she’d let Erin keep the lantern again, which she’d been worried about.

  So why was she here now?

  Have the Jetutians come? was Erin’s next panicked thought.

  Kossira cast a glance over her shoulder at the stairs. The pregnant female crouched low and said softly, “I cannot save you, but I can warn you.”

  “What?” Erin asked, scrambling to push up to a sitting position. Her head spun when she rose too quickly. She felt weak, her limbs heavy. “Warn me?”

  “The Jetutians will come. Tomorrow, once the sky is dark. But when they do, Tavar is planning an attack.”

  “Why?”

  “It does not matter, but he is,” Kossira whispered. “And when it happens, that is when you can try to make your escape, while the Jetutians are distracted. Their vessel usually docks east of here. That is where Tavar will take you. There is a long hallway on their vessel, one with shapes like this,” she turned to the dirt and drew a circular pattern with two vertical lines running through it, “etched into the floor. Follow them until you find a large white door. Once you see it, do not go through. Instead, turn left and go through the grey door. That will lead you off the vessel. And if you escape, head west. Follow the brightest star in the sky. It will lead you towards the Golden City.”

  Erin absorbed her words quickly, her mind working, realizing the severity of this situation.

  Her eyes flicked down to the shape in the dirt and then Kossira wiped it away.

  “Why are you helping me?” Erin whispered, taking her hand through the bars.

  Kossira looked at her. Her mask slipped. Erin saw the sadness in her eyes, the fear.

  “Because I know what the Jetutians do to females,” Kossira said, her voice rough yet brittle. “They kept me for some time on their vessel before they cured me. Tavar knew, but he still let me go to them, knowing what they would do.”

  Erin’s blood turned to ice in her veins and she squeezed Kossira’s wrist a little tighter. She knew what the Luxirian female was telling her. That the Jetutians may have healed her, given her the ability to bear children once more, but they had taken much from her as well. And Tavar had allowed it.

  “Come to the Golden City with me,” Erin whispered, her voice firm. “You do not have to stay here. You do not have to stay with him.”

  A long, sharp breath escaped Kossira. She pulled her hand away from Erin’s grip and then stood to her full height.

  “I am Mevirax,” Kossira said, her voice wavering slightly. “My place is with him. I have accepted it.”

  Erin heard the certainty in her voice, a certainty that Erin didn’t think she would ever understand.

  They held one another’s gaze for another moment. Then Kossira left. She was gone, but her words hung heavy in the air.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “My luxiva gave birth to our son shortly after you took the females from the Golden City,” Vaxa’an told him quietly.

  A sharp breath whistled through Jaxor’s nostrils and he stopped his pacing of the command center’s quarters he’d been living in.

  “We went to the Lallarix,” Vaxa’an murmured, “where our own mother brought us into this world. There, my Kat brought our son into the world. Your blood too.”

  It had been seven spans since Jaxor had arrived at the command center. Seven spa
ns since meeting Vaxa’an again, face to face, for the first time in ten rotations. Seven frustrating, agonizing spans of planning, of distrustful looks and comments from the council and the Ambassadors when they finally arrived from the outposts. Seven spans of dread and worry for Erin, of feeling powerless to protect her, to help her.

  Yet, in those seven spans, this was the first mention that Vaxa’an had a son.

  “Rebax?” Jaxor asked quietly, looking across the room at his brother.

  “I would like you to give Kollasor’s blessing to my son,” Vaxa’an said. “I have spoken with Kat about it—”

  “Nix,” Jaxor rasped, his hands suddenly trembling. Grief and anger and every emotion that he’d felt over the course of the last lunar cycle washed over him—even elation and joy. They mingled together until Jaxor couldn’t breathe. “Nix. You know I cannot.”

  Vaxa’an frowned. He pushed away from the wall where he was standing, grasped Jaxor’s forearm to feel their sibling blood bond more fully. Vaxa’an stiffened at what he found in Jaxor’s mind and released him.

  It was just the two of them. They were on a meal break from the war room, from their planning and re-planning, but Jaxor hadn’t any appetite the last week. Every time he went into the war room, he saw a map of the Mevirax base at the Caves of Pevrallix. He’d given Kirov every detail, to the last hidden tunnel and passageway winding through it, and it reflected back at him, a floating map, outlined perfectly by crisp streams of blue light. It looked so real that Jaxor could almost envision walking the stone corridors.

  And whenever he looked at the lower quadrant of the map, he could almost feel the way the darkness of the dungeon pressed against his chest. He’d always forced himself to look away, but he knew that was where Tavar kept Erin. Remembering every moment spent there, knowing that Erin experienced that darkness too, made him feel enraged and helpless.