Vanquished

by Allyson Young

  She spied Vicky a few tables over, with the Shadalla officer who had apparently believed her to be his chosen, and thought to go and speak with the young woman, but the pair were clearly having a moment. It was almost sickeningly sweet, and most certainly sappy, the way Vicky gazed up at Leric, her tilted head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped snugly around her. Neira could almost taste the hormones wafting through the air and found them unpalatable. Her arousal dimmed and her belly clenched. Vicky appeared…under the influence, altered.

  “Valki and a light pastry, Neira.” Vayne set the food in front of her and she started, tearing her gaze away from the couple.

  “Thank you,” she said automatically as he settled next to her, the heat of his body so damn evident.

  When she reached for the ale, Vayne caught her hand. “My privilege, little warrior.”

  He talked about his home planet as he fed her bites of the pastry, something with a filling she didn’t recognize, in between sips of the valki. Crew members marched in and out, some taking food with them, others sitting at a respectful distance from their table. They continued to give her and Vayne looks, but again Neira found nothing intolerable, and it was probably her imagination that more and more of them began to file in. She didn’t see Sheera or Alondra and planned to ask after them.

  “I see Vicky and her…and Leric.”

  Vayne glanced over and she could have sworn he purred. For sure it was a sound in his chest that was remarkably like the one the base cat made when anyone scratched its ears. She wondered what happened to old Scruffy.

  “Their bonding is complete,” he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. He stared at her for a moment and she felt wanting somehow, like there’d been a competition and she’d lost.

  “They do look like an Earth couple. All swoony and all over one another. Like on a honeymoon.”

  His brow furrowed, then cleared. “Ah, you refer to the time after the wedding.”

  “Yes.”

  Leric abruptly stood and gathered Vicky into his arms, carrying her out of the mess with what seemed like indecent haste. She could have sworn every male in the room moaned under their breath and her sexual interest in Vayne revved back up. She tamped it down—hard—thinking of the cold nights on Neptune and the frozen waterscape of Mars.

  “Not a honeymoon,” he said. “That is the state of their connection for the rest of their time together, Neira, though they will not flaunt it once they’ve adjusted.”

  She scoffed and tried not to let Vicky’s capitulation feel as though Neira had ordered the young woman to offer herself up. “Right. Like that intensity lasts.”

  Pressing closer, Vayne lowered his head. “It lasts. As you will discover.”

  Inching away, Neira shook her head. “I’ll never get that…clingy. It’s not me.”

  She felt him sigh. “Neira. It’s not a bad thing. It’s the Shadalla way and our mates have no reason nor inclination to complain, or wish it any other way.”

  There was something she didn’t understand here and it was ginormous. “I’d like you to explain what you mean by that.” Again, suspicion surged. “Was Victoria drugged?”

  “Let’s adjourn to our quarters. I’ll explain—”

  “No. Tell me here. Unless it’s a secret from the crew? Like their inability to control themselves?”

  His features hardened and the turquoise in his eyes darkened to shards of dark blue. His lips pressed into a straight line. She’d kept her voice down but even so knew challenging this man, showing disrespect, was something he didn’t tolerate. But fuck if she cared. She knew whatever he had to say—supposing he told the truth—was pivotal in whatever was going on.

  ****

  Do or die. Another Home World euphemism. Well, death wouldn’t be the issue, but it might feel like it. His little warrior was calling him out. Shadalla females were taught the process before it ever came to being chosen. Vayne readily admitted that certain shortcuts were taken when it came to Earth females, because it stood to reason the hurried courtships might have been hampered had they been apprised of Shadalla males’ abilities to sweep aside any opposition. It was not rape, not at all. But it wasn’t totally aboveboard. More like enhanced seduction, because there was no resisting it. Except your little warrior is doing just that. He was angry with her for pushing him but angrier at himself for thinking he might have avoided this conversation. Perhaps having the holding period on the Tomodr wasn’t his best choice, although it had worked extremely well for Leric. And he was still trying to find a way out of this instead of answering her.

  “I told you of the chemistry. That which tells us males we have found a chosen. We then involuntarily create and emit pheromones, similar to those humans secrete to entice a mate, albeit in larger, more intense quantities. Because the female is a chosen, she is receptive to these pheromones and…” Vayne stalled out, wondering how best to frame what he had to say. “She embraces the attraction and accepts. She ultimately surrenders her will and becomes part of her mate.”

  Neira’s golden eyes glowed with outrage before she narrowed them. “I don’t pretend to understand the science behind attraction, Palldyn. I do know that Earth women tend to do stupid and impetuous things when they become infatuated with someone. It sounds like the same thing.”

  He shook his head and kept his eyes locked with hers. “There is nothing stupid or impetuous about it, Neira. It is a natural process.”

  “It sounds like being drugged,” she muttered. “And does the male become part of the female?”

  By the gods of Isord. He should have insisted on having this conversation in his quarters, for he well knew the crew were hanging on his every word, their hearing far superior than his little warrior knew. But he knew he must be honest and omit nothing, despite how it might send their bonding awry. “No.”

  She was on her feet, balanced in a familiar stance—fight or flight—and it was only with considerable control that Vayne remained seated and relaxed, refusing to provoke her. Their audience of over half his fucking crew was abnormally quiet, perhaps holding their breath. Who the hell was manning his ship? He focused on Neira.

  “I lost myself once, Sovereign. In fact I doubt I recovered all I was. I’m not doing it again, pheromones be damned, so that you can do your part to repopulate your planet. And I’m pretty sure the other women you stole would have an opinion if given the information you just shared.”

  “We are desperate, Neira, to ensure the continuation of our species. I grant you that. But a Shadalla male is not complete until he is bonded.”

  “Excuse me? You all seem to have it together. You’re a species that pretty much rules the galaxy, after all.”

  Gesturing to the crew, who were now sitting, to a man, at rigid attention, their eyes trained directly on him, Vayne spoke. He told his little leicat the final piece of information that, if widely known, could spell the end of his race. “We face a double-edged sword, little warrior. Our females are nearly extinct or barren, as I told you. But without a lifemate the male Shadalla fade.”

  She didn’t relax much, but her head tilted and he watched her process. She scanned the other males before returning her gaze to him. Her smooth, high brow furrowed. “You—all of you—will die if you don’t bond? But we all die. Are you saying a lifemate makes you immortal?”

  “We live at least three hundred of your Earth years if bonded. Fifty, if not. Even those of royal blood. You could say we have considerable impetus to bond and procreate.”

  “But you have to be far older than fifty. History…the war…you were in the forefront back then. How do you explain that?” Neira obviously thought she’d caught him out in a lie, and she edged backward.

  “I was bonded once before.”

  Her full lips parted for a moment and her eyes widened before she collected herself, and her emotions were hidden from the crew. Vayne felt them, though, and they were both a stroke and a slap to his ego. Neira struggled with stark jealousy, followed by suspicion
and disdain. “Where is she?”

  “She faded. It was a genetically manipulated bond and she was unable to maintain it.”

  A brief beat of silence. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Vayne was overwhelmed by the sadness now emanating from his bride, any hint of the wild leicat quelled. Neira felt for him, assumed his heart had been broken, and he had no idea how he was going to reassure her without harming his case. Asula was but a faint memory, a regret, and while he honored her, there was nothing about her that detracted from his need for Neira. Because what they had hadn’t been real. He took heart that Neira felt enough for him to experience jealousy and concern. Their physical attraction wasn’t in doubt, but he required her trust, and, as he’d come to accept, her heart.

  Acknowledging her condolences with a grave nod, he took advantage of her softening demeanor and rose, once again grasping her arm to escort her. There was a collective sigh behind them, and he knew that the conversation would be repeated throughout the ship within moments. Taking another calculated risk, he turned toward the lift. Neira might appreciate the sights and sounds of the bridge, and he would continue to show he was putting his trust in her. Perhaps there was a different path.

  As they made their way, she looked at him, her features pensive. “Why isn’t Vicky veiled? Because it’s not about risk to her, is it?”

  “You won’t see her again during our travels, Neira. Nor will the rest of the crew, despite how disciplined they are. It’s too painful a reminder for them, how short their lifespan might well be, especially when there are no young to replace them and there is so much to be accomplished. And in truth, on Nibiru some have acted out toward a chosen, out of their minds with pain and desperation. We are not that evolved. So covering our lifemates in public is kinder for all, and safer. Victoria will now exude such joy and contentment that it will be vastly uncomfortable for males to be around her.”

  “So you need another lifemate to live another century or so.”

  Vayne sucked in air against the truth, more than a figurative blow. It was true, yet it wasn’t. “My deceased bride somehow extended my lifeline. The genetic manipulation was successful in that regard. And it is true that you will extend it further. Neira, I have responsibilities. I require heirs. That too is a duty. But I also want a bride.”

  “And I just happened to—” The doors slid open to display the bridge and Neira bit back whatever she was about to say. He reached out to soak up her emotions and tasted resignation flavored with bitterness.

  “Sovereign!” Jurlek distracted him with his worried tone. “I was about to contact you. We have plotted a number of vessels on a direct trajectory between Nibiru and the end of the Falls. No confirmed identification yet, but we suspect Home World ships. There are nine in total.”

  Neira stiffened beside him but remained silent, and Vayne thought quickly. “How long before you are certain?”

  “Seven hundred twenty stints.”

  Much of their force was scattered around the galaxy, and he quickly calculated how many he’d willingly spare from the defense of Nibiru in the event the Home World had devious plans. “Send a coded message to command. Request three ships to rendezvous via a circuitous route. Hold here.”

  His navigator nodded but in the exec’s absence spoke as Leric would, alerting his commander to all possibilities. “The message may be tracked.”

  “Agreed. Send a probe and have it relay the message obliquely. And then we wait.” The Tomodr would definitely require the support of additional ships, because there was something intrinsically nasty afoot. But he also wouldn’t risk his planet. Vayne didn’t respect the treaty after all, if for essential reasons, and he wasn’t a total hypocrite.

  This time offering Neira his arm, he was gratified when she took it and allowed him to lead her from the bridge, as elegant and controlled as any indigenous royal lifemate. She said nothing the entire way back to his quarters—their quarters—and he hoped they had the time for what he needed to do. It meant less time to answer all the questions and concerns she was certain to raise about her ordained role.

  Chapter Seven

  The walk back to the confines of Vayne’s cabin passed in a blur. Too much information once again, only this time it didn’t impact the same way. Neira was torn between worry over why the Home World had vessels lying in wait for her—and unless they were after the Shadalla, having somehow found out their part in the sacking of the Astris, she had to accept the odds were high the hunt was on for her. It made no sense unless she indeed held vital information in the depths of her psyche. The idea made her nauseous, because the future absolutely didn’t bode well.

  “You understand we’ve run out of options.” Vayne allowed the door to slide closed before he spoke.

  “You think that I have a piece to an important puzzle.”

  Gesturing her to sit on the bunk, Vayne crossed to the far wall and touched the screen to life. She noted how he turned his back to her more and more as though he trusted her not to act out against him. It wasn’t the lack of energy, sucked out of her by the turn of events that had triumphed over that urge, either, nor the acceptance of having nowhere to run. She wasn’t even so opposed to him touching her in ways different that his caring, protective mien, despite how her independent self protested. It was disconcerting. Her thoughts whirling, she focused on what he was sharing.

  “Leric, when he hasn’t been furthering his suit with Victoria, has entered all the known data into our computer. I was going to discuss this with you in any event, after you recovered more fully. I know you have other questions that I would hope can wait, at least until we address this issue.”

  He wasn’t avoiding the elephant in the room, and she appreciated it. It wasn’t the time and place to talk more about Vicky and how Neira had indeed tossed her right into the maw of sexual servitude. But that independent part of her surged to the fore. Completing Leric be damned. It wasn’t their fault that the Home World rulers had done something so heinous, and it simply wasn’t fair that Earth’s women would have to right that wrong without much say in the matter. Although shit like that seemed to always fall to women.

  Maybe the Shadalla would have to accept their lot and learn to adapt. Lots of species across the universe had done so. It was called evolution, or maybe bouncing back after an extinction level event. It didn’t matter that it upset her terribly to think Vayne’s life could be cut short. He’d already been lucky, if not in love, then with a longer lifespan. He’d just have to go looking for another chosen to extend this one. And if that bothered her nearly as much, then she was being contrary and selfish…and a total girl. That final thought gave her the strength to cease and desist. She who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day. Old Russian saying.

  Forcing her attention back to the more pressing matter, she stared at the flow chart Leric had compiled. At first the numbers and events meant little to her, for many had taken place a long time ago, and they were nothing she’d read in Earth history that she recalled. As a pattern coalesced, she tore her gaze away and stared at Vayne. A new history lesson had unfolded within that chart and held terrible implications. “No,” she breathed.

  Neira thought she possessed more than a modicum of intelligence and most certainly had an ability to string words together in coherent ways, but it seemed she had lost the skill to do more than protest when faced with the improbable. Being a chosen. Intended as a royal broodmare. No and no. And finally, no to that pattern she interpreted. Her time in the military placed her in the final stages of the war and at the mercy of the Juxtant, one of two Marines to survive and be held by Baraith, Vayne’s mortal enemy. She’d boarded the Astris only to be kidnapped by Vayne, and she could well hold information he required about the bio weapon because of her imprisonment under Baraith. But clearly there were forces at work here beyond her understanding and perhaps beyond Vayne’s. Although he was probably more a believer than she in the whims of fate. Fate. According to the conclusion she’d drawn
from the raw data, their lives had always been entwined and the outcome inevitable. Lifemates.

  “You see it, then.” Was there admiration in his voice? More fool him. She railed against fate. She’d been in the wrong place at the right time was all. Nothing admirable about that, definitely the wrong time for her, and it had left her stunted and damaged. Not true. He’s taken that from you, the pain and trauma. You are more yourself, like the Neira Grekov of old. Right, she told that unwelcome voice. And he’ll take everything else until I’m but an extension of him, a resource for him to draw from and live a long life. Neira no longer wished to die, no matter the form of death. Vayne had perhaps healed her soul, given her back her life, but what price would he exact? Is being part of him—like him—such a terrible thing? Why fight what is meant to be when he’s come to mean so much to you? She quashed that reasonable, inquiring voice playing the devil’s advocate. She’d had quite enough of the devil.

  “You’ve been searching for the ones who unleashed the genetic weapon on the Shadalla.” She summarized what she’d detected. “And you have evidence it was the Juxtant who provided the necessary scientific information to build such a thing, if not the technology, and the means to deliver it to Nibiru.” She drew the heel of one hand over her brow. There were no coincidences, merely actions and reactions, cause and effect that combined, forming patterns and creating outcomes with a common denominator. “And apparently there’s an opinion that I know a name—names, because of my time with Baraith, so I’m a threat to the conspirators.”

  Ah, and now she was minimizing that terrible torture and mind-crippling agony at the mercy of the Juxtant ruler. Her time with that psychotic bastard.

  The sovereign stared back, unblinking, and she desperately wanted to crawl inside his head and take refuge, because it wasn’t minimization. She had indeed found a way to cope and deal—using whatever it was he provided her. The therapies of the Home World had been but a thick bandage between her and the horror. Before she gave in and voiced her epiphanies and her need, a thought struck her. “But the Juxtant attacked the Home World and all its planets. Why help them?”