In the reception area of the arena I tap on a small screen set into the crumbled red stone wall and it lights up. I state the name of my contact and it isn’t long before I am greeted by the long, sharp nose and void-black eyes of the Eroder.
“Wrax,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching as he sees my face.
“Anaxis,” I greet him, and then despite my internal protestations I bring my hand up to place, palm outward, on my forehead. He twitches more and then does the same. It is important that this is as honorable as it can be. For Cara. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Settling, are we?” he asks, with a smirk. There have been cases where both parties decide that instead of going through the trouble of an arena battle, they will just privately exchange an inordinate amount of credits to decide who is right and who is wrong.
“No,” I say. “I wish to bring the date of our … meeting … up sooner.”
His eyes are glittering like the dark ore we mine from the deepest crevices. “I hope you’re not too excited about winning, Wrax.” I knew it: he can’t help but gloat. It’s unpleasant to watch. “I have, ahem, an ace up my sleeve.” The last bit is in Cara’s mother tongue. It is a chilling choice for him to have made.
My brow furrows. I am in no mood for his triviality. My mechanical eye clicks gently as I look him thoroughly up and down; what kind of a warrior decides to throw away his honor like that? If the Firosan mechanism inside my eye still worked the way it was intended to, I would have a chance at defeating him without feeling the tip of his weapon. That’s all it would take to end my life, after all.
“When?” he presses, and his excitement gives me shivers.
But I don’t show it. I fold my arms across my broad chest instead. I cannot allow her to fall in love with me. It will be too painful. “Tomorrow.”
Chapter Ten
Cara
When I return, it is light again. I have been travelling and talking to a god for the entire night — though they are shorter here on Paxia than they are back on Earth. But I don’t feel tired. I feel invigorated; energized.
When I return to the bath house I don’t see Wrax, and I feel guilty at the thought that he woke up at some point and I had disappeared; that isn’t how I wanted it to be. But I think that I did what had to be done. I trusted my instincts on that. We will see if Paxia reaches out to me from now on.
How will I even know?
The whole thing is so … well, alien to me. At least I know that I have a few days or even weeks until Wrax’s death match. I make a mental note to confirm when it actually takes place. I want to be as ready as I can be.
I take the twisting steps to the arena itself, hoping I can catch him here if he hasn’t already gone home. I don’t feel like spending much more time cramped in a hovercab listening to Aphrodite’s comments on humanity. Fascinating as I’m sure I’d find her if I wasn’t so stressed out right now.
I can hear voices. I step closer, straining my ears as the translator in my ear works on turning the guttural noises into something that I can stand a chance of understanding. I want to know if it’s Wrax.
The voice is softer-spoken than him, though. And then the voice that responds is deeper, more commanding. That’s him alright. Beaming, and with no idea how to share with him what I have just learned, I stride forward.
“The Viper, yes,” the other man is saying. They sound slightly out of breath and I can hear the zinging of blade against blade. What is happening? Their conversation sounds so calm, but they are fighting?
“And what did happen to him, in the end?”
“He did not survive. They attacked him in his sleep. Screamed ‘coward’ in his ear. It was heard four apartments away.” I get closer and then round a corner to see that the other voice belongs to Riven, the warrior apprentice and assistant that I met once before. They are sparring; practising techniques I have never seen before.
The Viper? That was the man I saw surrender before Wrax when I had only just arrived. I swallow. He was murdered? For giving in and choosing life?
“I look forward to you proving the guilt of his attackers in the arena in the coming weeks,” Riven says with a bitter laugh. Wrax does not return it. They turn and notice me, and they sheathe their blades. Riven gives me the traditional Firosan greeting and I return it with an awkward smile. I will never look as proud and serious as a thickly muscled Mahdfel with my own hand on my face.
Wrax is acting awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot and looking at me with intensity. I twitch my brow at him once, silently asking him what’s up. Suddenly, without warning, he sweeps towards me and wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips to my hair and breathing me in.
My entire body tingles with surprise and then a humming arousal. He couldn’t help himself, even in front of what amounts to his colleague; even with his promise to stay away from me to a certain extent.
I try hard to listen to Paxia — to see if she has any advice for me, if there’s anything I am supposed to do or say right now that will fix this, but I feel … nothing. Just the giddy warmth of resting my head against the chest of my potential lifemate.
I want him to claim me. I want to be able to call him that for real. I want it badly.
I wonder if that is Paxia’s wisdom seeping through to my consciousness, or just my own desperate desire to feel my warlord swelling inside me.
These are inappropriate thoughts to have in front of Riven, so I break apart from Wrax and smile widely at them both. Wrax looks at me, his expression … relieved? I have no idea why.
“Let’s spend the day together,” Wrax says suddenly, causing me to turn to look up at him again. “All day today. How does that sound?”
Amazing. But what’s his angle? He sounds like he is fighting a losing battle with himself internally. I know he doesn’t want to get closer to me because he only has a couple of weeks left, in his mind, so why does he want to spend the day with me alone?
As much as I’d love to, I don’t want my time with him to be wrought with his own guilt.
“Riven,” I say, rounding on the slightly leaner and darker-skinned warrior. He raises his eyebrows and glances around as if I am definitely not speaking to him. “Would you join us? I don’t know anyone on this planet other than Wrax. It would mean a lot to me.”
He looks blankly at Wrax, who coolly returns his gaze. I figure that Wrax understands why I have invited him, and he makes no movement or expression to make me think he is opposed to this idea.
“Alright, uh, Cara,” Riven says, and then flashes me his bright white smile. “Let us show you around, shall we?”
As we walk, he turns to me. “Have you visited the pet stall yet, in the market district? I have a distant, faraway memory that women are fans of small, sweet animals. Is that correct?” His grin shows me that he is attempting humor, something I wasn’t sure I would ever quite encounter again, and I smile and nod.
“I did! But I’d love to go again.”
We chatter about the market district stalls and then a little about weaponry and battle techniques for the arena — some points Wrax even weighs in on — and soon we are piled into a hovercab.
I look up at them both on either side of me. “For something designed for the Mahfel, you’d think they would be a little more spacious,” I comment with a smile. They fit fine enough, better than they would on Earth, but they are squeezed against their respective doors and their heads graze the ceiling of the cab.
“Firosans were smaller than us,” Wrax explains.
“Not quite as small as human women,” Riven points out. “Unless you are a particularly tiny human?”
I give a tiny giggle, I can’t help it. He’s trying to make me laugh, I think, and that is funnier than the silly comments he’s making. “I’m an inch below average,” I point out. “On my own planet, that is. Here I’m probably a foot and a half below your average.”
He nods sagely. “Oh, at least.”
We continue to chat while we zoo
m through the sky, and I feel a distinct sense of … belonging. Wrax is discreetly running his fingertips up my thigh just out of Riven’s eyeline as we chat, and I feel heat rush to my groin. He can’t keep his hands to himself, even for a moment, and the thought electrifies me.
We alight in the market, and Wrax can hardly keep his hands off of me. I can see him every few seconds throwing discreet — and sometimes not so discreet — looks at his protege in the hopes that he will get some telepathic message and go away, but I am enjoying the idea of making a friend on this planet far too much.
With the sun peaking in the sky, we stop near the quibbin tent and eat a cold Firosan delicacy that is creamy like ice cream but sort of savory. Once I get past the horror of it not being a sweet vanilla flavor, I find that it is really quite delicious, and cools us down in the hot weather.
The day is finished off with a pleasant stroll around the planet’s beautiful lakes and gardens, and the men chuckle as I marvel, wide-eyed, at the foreign plantlife, and then marvel at the rising of two moons in the sky, one a robin’s egg blue and the other marbled with white and pale pink.
“That’s Aeo,” they explain to me, pointing. Wrax rests his hand on the small of my back as he gestures, and I feel his warmth all through me. “And that one is Phi.” I nod, determined to remember this.
Around the lake are beautiful, singing tousorin. Riven wastes no time in bringing his hands up to his lips and mimicking their song, making himself laugh. Wrax raises an eyebrow at me surreptitiously and I squeeze his hand. “Great impression, Riven,” I say. “How’d you learn to do birdcalls like that?”
He shrugs. “I learned it as a boy. It would frighten the other children, because often a singing tousorin is ready to attack anyone that stands in the way of his lifemate.”
Wrax looks pointedly at me and I can’t help but flush red.
“Shall we get home and make dinner together?” I ask them both, and Riven politely ducks out of the conversation until I call him back. “Riven, please, feel free to join us. Thank you for helping to show me around all day — I had a great time.” I smile wide. “Especially when they let us cuddle with the quibbins!”
Wrax eyes Riven not at all as discreetly as perhaps he intends to, and Riven clears his throat and looks firmly at the ground by my feet. “I have got places to go to,” he says, with such conviction that I almost believe him.
I smirk. “That’s alright,” I assure him. “We will have you over to eat soon, though, ok?” He looks up and nods, after a quick glance at Wrax.
My Mahdfel warrior wants me all to himself tonight; I can tell. Though it’s not a good idea, I know that he is having trouble controlling himself. His tattoos have been pulsing on and off all day, related directly to how close I am getting to him.
“Well,” I say, and wet my lower lip as I look up at my warrior. “Shall we get home, then?” There is nothing left for us to do. Nothing left to put off being alone together. It’s what I want more than anything, and I know he feels the same. That’s probably why we can’t have it. It’ll hurt too much.
At least that’s what Wrax thinks. I have a secret now. One that I ache to tell him. If only I can figure out if it’s working. If it’s really true.
I can’t get his hopes up, after all, if it isn’t.
Chapter Eleven
Wrax
Riven leans in close to me as we summon our respective hovercabs to take us all home. He nods his head to my tattoos, glowing no matter how hard I grit my teeth and try to suppress my feelings. I cannot keep my hands off her, or my eyes.
“That sort of desire? For a human,” he teases, his smile broad. “You cannot really mate, surely; you would crush the little flower.”
When Cara isn’t looking, I clout Riven over the back of the head. He quietens, and accepts my mate’s one-armed hug before he ducks into his hovercab. He shoots me one last smile before shooting off into the sky. He has his own strange sense of humor — and I’ve made the decision to merely endure it without encouraging him.
When we get back to the apartment Cara instantly skips to the kitchen, already clearly feeling quite at home. I look at her swaying behind with unconcealed adoration; she is perfection in my mind and I cannot stop staring at her. I long to bite her, to claim her, to bury myself inside her and rut until she sings like a tousorin who has found her mate…
I bite my cheek hard and look away as we set about preparing ingredients to warm.
“Are you alright, Wrax?” she asks, turning around with a small pout on her divine lips and her hands resting on her hips. Today she has been confident, stronger than usual, and standing up a little straighter. I can’t figure out quite what the change in her has been caused by, but I like it. I like it a lot.
“I am fine,” I say, and it surprises me how hard that is to grit out. I clear my throat and she turns around again for my amendment. “I’m sorry, Cara; I’m not in the habit of lying. I’m not fine.”
She scrunches her eyebrows cutely and my gaze travels down her beautiful, shapely body. She is so small. I wonder if Riven was right, and mating with her would hurt her anyway.
“What is it?” she prompts, as I have gone quiet.
“You are … the lifemate I have been dreaming about, and I hadn’t even known it,” I say, matter-of-factly. I am not trying to be ‘sappy’, or romantic, I am just trying to convey to her exactly how I feel in the most accurate way possible. She tilts her head, ocean-blue eyes wide.
“I am?” she asks quietly.
“Yes. You are … strong, gutsy. Intelligent. Fun. Beautiful.” I choke the words out like they are being torn from my very core.
“Not as good as a Firosan, though,” Cara says with a small smile. “All I’ve heard about is how smart and wonderful they were.” She looks apologetic, for some reason. Does she think she is some sort of a consolation prize? I could not have even dreamed up anything so foolish in my life. On the contrary, it is difficult for me to believe that I have ever done anything to earn her love.
“You are more brilliant and dazzling than any Firosan I ever met,” I grunt. “You are … paxieht. What is the Earth word for that?” I tap on my translator.
“The word means … like a goddess in your beauty and in your worth. I suppose the correct translation is … divine.”
Cara raises her eyebrows as if the word has amused her, and I nod. “Divine,” I say again. Her eyes are twinkling. I wonder whether I have done something right by her — which means that, since I am soon to be gone, I have done something very wrong. I turn away, bitter about my circumstances, and she steps towards me and rests her hand on my upper arm.
“I always thought of myself as a monumental screw-up,” she says softly. “I chose the wrong school, I chose to stay and be controlled by my parents. I chose to hurt myself helping people who didn’t deserve it. Again and again. All of my choices have been wrong, and stupid.”
“No choice you’ve ever made has been stupid,” I interrupt. “Because everything you have done in your life has shaped you into the person that you are. And that person is…”
She cracks a smile. “Divine,” she finishes for me. “You really think I’m not a total mess?”
In response to her honesty and her sadness, I can’t help myself. The pressure of her hand on my skin. The heat of her body near mine. The memory of her taste. I close the gap between us and suck her bottom lip between mine, then claim her mouth passionately with my tongue. She melts against me, and I run my fingers through her long, soft hair. She tastes like honey and she smells like flowers. I cannot get enough of her, but I long to test that theory.
She kisses me back with as much fervor as I give her, and soon we are pawing at each other’s clothes. She tears at my pants until they are removed, exposing my long, thick cock, and I tug off her blouse, and we trip to the expensive couch I had brought in mostly for her, and fall backwards onto it. She gasps as she moves to straddle me on the wide, soft cushions. “It’s like having a bed in your liv
ing room!”
I chuckle at her amusement and pull her closer to me. The force of my movement just has her grinding her crotch against my own, now nude, which elicits a little lusty moan from deep inside her throat. If I wasn’t fully hard before, I am now.
A firm hand on the back of her head brings her lips back to mine — I don’t want to go too long without tasting her if I don’t have to — and I buck my rock hard cock against her, separated only from that hot, sweet pussy by the thin fabric of her panties. I bite the soft lobe of her ear and her breathing quickens along with her heartbeat, and she grinds harder against me.
With a growl, I cannot take another second of this, and I push the tiny panties out of my way. I plunge a thick forefinger inside her and she bucks against it with a barely contained groan. When I remove it it is slick with her intoxicating juices.
“Fuck me, Wrax,” she says, almost at a pant. “Fill me up.”
Before I answer I firmly circle my wet finger against her swollen clit until she arches her back and gasps. “I can’t,” I say, my voice low and commanding, “unless I know you really want it.”
“I do. I really do,” she assures me, gyrating her hips slightly. My cock could not be harder. Precum beads at the tip and then lashes against her inner thigh. She grips at my shaft and runs her fingers up and down, feeling every vein and causing a growl to begin to reverberte in my throat. She looks down, catching my eyes with her beautiful blues, and biting her lip. “Please.”
Fuck. I hadn’t expected the stubborn human to actually beg me. I have no choice but to comply when it comes to the wishes of such a stunning creature, so I adjust my cock so that it strains against her slick entrance, and she groans.
Then lowers herself down. I feel myself squeeze inside her, inch by inch. She is so hot, so wet, and my thick cock is pulsing with my strong heartbeat against her tight walls.
It is the most intensely divine feeling I have ever experienced. I truly feel touched by the goddess herself.
Wrax Page 9
