by Zoey Draven
“Is this your bedroom?” she asked.
He neatly bundled his fire supplies and rolled up the pouch, securing it with a cord. He looked at her. “Tev.”
“Oh,” she murmured, swallowing. “I, um, can sleep in the living room, if you’d like. I didn’t realize I was taking over your bed.”
Rixavox frowned at her. “I will sleep in the central hub, female.” His tone didn’t invite any arguments whatsoever and Cecelia thought it was better to keep quiet when it came to something like this.
Without waiting for her response, he crossed to another hidden compartment that sprung open at his touch. He procured a fresh shirt and handed it to her, which she took gratefully with a quiet thank you.
The tension was palpable and the fire hissed behind them, the loudest sound in the room.
“Frixavir, luxiva,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to skim her arm lightly. “Rest,” he translated. “If you have any need of me, do not hesitate to wake me.”
Then he turned on his heel with one last glance and he disappeared down the hallway until he was out of sight. The door swished closed behind him, until it was just her, standing in the room, alone.
Cecelia sighed and quickly changed out of her slightly damp shirt into the new one he’d given her. She resisted the urge to inhale the scent on the impossibly soft fabric since it smelled like the alien that currently filled her thoughts.
She settled into his soft bed and dragged the furs around her, shivering slightly until they warmed with her body heat.
She fell into a restless sleep as the fire burned brightly around her. Her last coherent thought was that she wished she’d been bold enough to ask him to stay.
* * *
The cold woke her from vivid dreams.
Cecelia blinked groggily, trying to get her bearings, and a violent shiver racked her. Looking out the hazy window above the fire pit, she saw it was still pitch black outside, still nighttime. The fire just beneath it had died down to a few embers.
She’d dreamed of Rixavox, of his warm skin, of his addicting scent. For a moment, she thought that he was there with her because the dreams had felt so real. But the space beside her was empty, the linens cold to the touch.
Cecelia’s eyes tracked to the metal door leading out to the hallway. Maybe it was the dreams or the cold or because she regretted the awkward tension between them earlier, but she pushed up from the bed, shivering as she gathered a few furs around her shoulders. The stone floor beneath her feet stung like ice as she padded out into the hallway, the door silently swishing open and closed behind her.
The living room’s fire was just as dull as her own and she figured it had been several hours since she’d fallen asleep. In the low, golden light, she saw Rixavox’s form. He was on his back, sprawled out among the cushions in the fire pit, his broad chest rising and falling.
The moment she stepped into the fire pit, he woke immediately, his hand automatically reaching for what she realized was a blade, tucked close to his body.
Cecelia froze and it was only when Rixavox saw it was her standing there, that he cursed softly, his hand releasing it.
“Luxiva,” he murmured, his voice guttural and husky with sleep. “Mexirava ta vira, vellixa.”
He didn’t seem to realize that his words were Luxirian and not English, but Cecelia relaxed, feeling their meaning, the apology in his tone. She remembered him talking about being a warrior and a war general for his people.
Warrior. She hadn’t truly thought about what that word meant, what its implications were, but now she wondered what things he’d seen, what he’d experienced to make him reach for a blade without second thought when he’d been jarred from sleep.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, kneeling down beside him, the furs dragging around her.
Rixavox regarded her with heavy-lidded eyes and he reached out to touch her cheek. He said something else in Luxirian, but Cecelia smiled softly, shaking her head.
“I don’t understand you, honey,” she whispered, feeling a powerful affection well up in her as she stared down at him. His eyes were impossibly dark in the low light.
He finally translated. “A dream,” he murmured softly. “A trick of the mind. Of the Fates.”
Cecelia furrowed her brow, not understanding his meaning. He was tired, she realized. She wondered when he’d last gotten a full night’s rest.
Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips over his cheek. His skin felt smooth and warm under her lips.
“Sessela?” he murmured, blinking up at her when she leaned back. Clarity returned. He started to lean up on the elbows, but she smoothed a hand down his chest, pushing him back down. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “Can I sleep here with you?”
Rixavox looked down at the furs bundled around her shoulders, but without waiting for his answer, she sank down among the cushions next to him and spread out.
His rumbling purr made her smile into the cushions and she felt his arms immediately come around her, pulling her into his body. She sighed happily, nuzzling her cheek into his warm chest, her limbs beginning to thaw against him.
“You feel so good,” she murmured softly. They were pressed so tightly together that she felt him hard and erect against her belly. Instead of the sharp, aching arousal from earlier, her arousal right then was soft, sensual. Nothing would happen between them that night, but it felt nice. Her entire body felt full and warm and lush because of it.
His lips moved against her temple. “Frixavir.”
One of his horns rubbed against her hair, up and down, up and down, and she let out a soft breath, liking the sensation.
Sleep reclaimed her shortly.
FOURTEEN
“I love this place,” Sessela told him from her place in the Rillirax, nude underneath the water, both a distraction and a pleasure. She’d made him turn around to stare at the facev walls again as she undressed. Needless to say, Rixavox’s cock had been as hard as the mountain they were inside since he’d laid eyes on his luxiva. Even in sleep, he had no reprieve.
It was their second night at the sacred pool and Rixavox’s Instinct was emerging more readily with every passing moment. It was becoming a chore to keep it calm, keep it restrained, but he would for his female’s sake.
I must, he corrected.
He remembered the calm, the rightness of waking up next to his luxiva that morning. She’d slept soundly beside him throughout the night after she’d sought him out in the central hub. His Instinct had been at peace for that brief moment of time when he’d held her close, when he could feel the slow beat of her heart against his body. He hadn’t seen her much through the span, since he’d had his duties to attend to, but he’d made sure to return to her with hot meals whenever he had a break.
Rixavox felt guilt leaving her for so long without entertainment. But his home was devoid of pleasures that might distract her, since he was there so rarely. From the bazaar that morning, he’d bought her better coverings—fresh, soft tunics in luxurious colors, the smallest fur wrap he could find, and lined boots for her small feet, although they were too large for her—they’d had to stuff the toes with strips of excess furs. But he hadn’t thought to buy her other things that might keep her mind off the long span ahead.
He chided himself for his oversight throughout most of his duties. His mind wandered to Sessela every other moment until he found he couldn’t concentrate on his Ambassador duties. He was even seriously beginning to consider inviting Levrix to meet her, so that his luxiva would have a companion throughout the span.
His female understood, of course. She didn’t blame him for his absence. When he’d finally returned to her right before the twin suns began their descent, he’d apologized profusely. She’d brushed aside his apology, saying that he had an outpost to look after, that his duties were more important than wasting the span away with her.
He’d frowned, silently disagreeing in his mind. All he’d wanted was to waste aw
ay the span with her.
Rixavox realized that she was so different from the females he’d known in the past. His luxiva was calm about almost everything. She was selfless, putting his duties above her own needs. She was mentally strong. He knew that those traits were ones forged from her illness. On the ride over to the Rillirax that night, she’d told him about the human treatments for what she called cancer. She told him there were different types, different levels of severity, different approaches to treatment.
He’d been horrified by her accounts, by her memories. His stomach had knotted when she’d told him how sick the treatments made her, how they made her vomit, how her hair had fallen out, how they drained her of energy. Hellixaxava was a common disease among Luxirians, especially at a young age. It saddened him that so many humans suffered, when it was an easy, painless, quick cure on Luxiria.
He thanked the Fates for bringing his female to his home. He wished he could’ve eased her suffering at the hands of the Krevorags, but if nothing else, even if she chose to return to Earth, she would be cured, would live out the rest of her spans without the illness that had caused her much suffering.
Rixavox looked at her, soaking in the Rillirax, a serene smile on her face, and his heart stuttered in his chest. She was so beautiful to him that sometimes it hurt. He’d hardly been able to keep his hands off her. Whenever he’d returned to her throughout the span, he’d palmed her waist, stroked her fingertips, her hair, her soft cheeks, taking many liberties that should’ve been forbidden to him. She’d let him. She’d seemed to enjoy his touch, which elated him.
“Rixavox,” she said, her lyrical voice echoing around the cavern, only dulled slightly by the growing pevrilla along the walls.
“Tev, female?” he rasped, his hands aching to touch her. But he sat in his place, along the edge of the pool, wishing only to be soaking inside with her, his bare flesh against her own.
“Tell me something. Anything at all,” she commanded, her eyes shining in the silvery light. “I…want to hear your voice.”
Another stutter in his chest, followed by a warmth deep in his belly. “I think you have the better voice between us, female.”
“I like to hear yours,” she admitted softly. “So talk. Tell me something about you, about what it was like growing up on this planet. Sometimes it’s still so strange to me, like a dream, that all this exists.”
“Luxirian youths grow up knowing there is life beyond our planet,” he said. “We have close relations and partnerships with many species. I confess I cannot think what this is like for you, for the other humans.”
“It’s a little overwhelming,” she said, a hint of a smile touching her lips. “Not gonna lie.”
Rixavox watched as she floated closer to the edge, closer to him. He thought about her request. “What is it that you wish to know about me, female?” he rasped.
“Do you have a family?” she asked him.
Rixavox sobered, but he vowed he would answer anything she wished to know. A fated bonded could not be strengthened with lies or half-truths.
“Not anymore,” he said, shifting slightly. “My mother and sire have passed from this life, into the blackworld.”
He paused, wondering how to bring up his blood brother, but before he could, she said softly, “Oh, Rixavox. I’m sorry. Were you close with them?”
“Close?” he questioned, thinking it was an odd word for the familial bond. “More than close, female. I loved them, I respected them. They honored me with life.” On Luxiria, it was rare that there was dissension in family units. “It is only natural that you disagree with your mother or sire on occasion, but Luxirians are taught to respect our elders, to respect their wisdom and guidance, from an early age. I think of them often and it pains me every moment when I remember they are gone from this world.”
Sessela was quiet for a moment. Her eyes softened as he spoke and then she asked, “Can I ask how they died?”
“My mother was killed in the Plague. My sire chose to end his own life after her death, like many Luxirian males who lost their mates that lunar cycle.”
“What?” she whispered, voice aghast. “Rixavox…”
His eyes slid sideways a bit, staring down into the water of the Rillirax. “We lost many of our race during that time. Not just our females.”
“The Plague,” she murmured softly, gazing up at him. “Kate mentioned it to me. She said it was an attack by your enemies.”
“Tev, it was,” he confirmed. “The Jetutians. The virus they unleashed wiped out the majority of our females.”
“And left the rest infertile,” Sessela finished for him, shaking her head.
“Tev.”
His female was close enough to the edge of the Rillirax that she reached out her arm to touch his outstretched leg. Her touch alone was enough to ease the memories in his mind that threatened to take over.
“I’m sorry, Rixavox. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like,” she said.
He knew that he should tell her about his blood brother’s crimes. He would feel better if she knew, if she didn’t accidentally find out from someone else. Devix’s crimes were still whispered about, especially among the elders, so it wouldn’t be difficult for her to overhear something.
“I have a blood brother,” he told her, meeting her gaze. “He is three rotations older than I am.”
“Does he live in Velraxa?” she asked, her tongue gliding over his outpost’s name effortlessly.
“Nix,” he murmured. “He was exiled from Luxiria. I have not had contact with him for seven rotations now. Truthfully, I know not whether he lives or has passed beyond.”
He heard Sessela swallow thickly and her brows furrowed with concern. Softly, she asked, “What happened?”
“It was two rotations after the Plague. Devix was accused of committing the worst crime possible to Luxirians,” hse said, running a hand over his horn. “Even before the Plague, we always held our females in high regard. They are the mothers of our kind, creators in their own right. Without them, we are nothing. We are not strong. Harming a female is unthinkable to Luxirians. It is a crime punishable by death.”
“Your brother hurt a female?” she questioned softly.
He forced himself to say the words, even though they made him recoil. “He was accused of rape.” Sessela drew in a sharp intake of air. Rixavox said, “He was exiled eight rotations ago, forbidden to ever return to Luxiria.”
Sessela’s eyes never left his own as she observed, “You said a crime against a female is punishable by death. But he was exiled?”
Vaxa’an had been the Prime Leader for a short period at the time. His sire had followed Vaxa’an’s mother into the blackworld, leaving Vaxa’an rule over Luxiria. He had final say over the sentencing and he’d received much criticism over it, especially by the elders…the very elders who had wanted Rixavox stripped of his ranks.
“There were conflicting accounts during the tribunal,” Rixavox said, his fists clenching.
“In what way?” she asked softly, eyeing him. Rixavox wondered if she was wary of him now that she knew what his own blood had been accused of. Would she act differently towards him now?
“My brother maintained his stance that he did not do the unthinkable. A brother of the female said he did, said he caught them together, said my brother was forcing the mating. Then another Luxirian, an elder, came forward as a witness and said my brother did not, that it was a mutual mating,” Rixavox said, replaying that trial over and over in his head, as he had on many occasions. “It was unclear what had actually happened.”
“What did the female say?”
Old frustrations rose. “She said nothing. She chose the right for complete silence.”
He heard the water trickle around her as she shifted in the water. He saw her hair float and sway around her, saw the way her pale shoulders gleamed in the light.
“And what do you believe?” she asked. “He was your brother. Do you think he was capable of doing somet
hing like that?”
Rixavox already knew the answer. He’d asked himself the same thing over and over again and he’d only ever come to one conclusion.
“No, I do not believe he was capable.”
He was beginning to learn her human expressions and the emotion he saw on her face right then was one of concern but also of sympathy.
“I told Vaxa’an this in private when he asked me the same thing you just did,” he said. “It was what swayed his decision to spare Devix’s life.”
“But he was still exiled for a crime he might not have committed,” she finished for him.
“Tev.”
“You saw him after that, didn’t you?” she questioned softly. “You said he was exiled eight rotations ago. Yet you last him seven rotations ago?”
He’d never told anyone that he’d sought his brother out after the exile. Not even Vaxa’an knew. He’d chartered a vessel off planet and tracked his brother down to a seedy colony called Petrika in the Second Quadrant.
“He is my blood brother,” Rixavox said. “Exile is like death. I had just lost my sire and mother in the Plague. Devix lost them. Then, we lost each other. I needed to see him.”
“What happened when you did?”
He didn’t like to think on that time, but he forced himself to say, “It was difficult between us. He was angry. Broken. I had never seen him like that, so devoid of anything but rage. He had once been a proud warrior, one of the best of our race. Seeing him live in that place, that filth…” His fists clenched at his sides. “I told him I wanted to help him. I had connections in the First Quadrant. I wanted to find him a more comfortable planet to live on, with the promise of peace.”
“What did he say?” she asked. Her tone was hesitant, as if she already knew the outcome.
“He did not want my help,” he grunted. “He told me to leave, that he never wanted me to seek him out again. We argued. Eventually, we fought. I left soon after and when I tried to find him again on Petrika a few lunar cycles later, he was gone. I searched for the next two rotations, whenever I could without raising suspicion, but no being had seen him. No one knew where he had gone,” he said, his chest tightening with his words.
