by Presley Hall
Of course I will win. How could I not, with my brother Vendar at my side?
He is just as wild and deep in the trenches as I am. We move in perfect sync, with spears and blades and shields raised high. I push a body toward him, and he spears it, slaying the enemy. He laughs as it falls, the sound laced with the visceral pleasure of fighting and winning.
I know this is a dream, but for a moment, the sight of my brother’s smiling face is enough to make me want to linger in this impossible land where things cannot be real. We had the same eyes, my brother and I, and the same dark hair that we both inherited from our father. His markings were not as thick as mine, and when he smiled, it was much more crooked, as our mother used to smile, especially when she would laugh at my father’s terrible jokes. He was younger than me, and shorter; I was able to put my arm across his shoulders and playfully rub my knuckles into his skull without stretching too high, even after he was finished growing.
Vendar lets out a victory cry as his spear impales a squirming, red monster with large claws, scales, and a vicious stinger at the end of its tail. He shoves the dying beast off his spear and shakes the black blood off.
“Come, Axen!” he calls, grinning fiercely. “I’ll beat you at this rate.”
This is a wild battle. It is never-ending, and it seems to encompass every enemy I have ever faced. Worry for my brother wars with the bloodlust inside me. I want to destroy, defeat, and conquer. I want to share in this with him, to show him what it is like to fight in such a glorious battle. I want to stand tall above the burning bodies of my fallen foes and scream my victory to the sky. I want—
My head snaps up as I hear a familiar roar.
Droth. My prince has sounded the call for the rebellion.
I take off running toward the war cry, a weapon in my hand and shadows blurring past me. I am aware of Vendar keeping pace with me at my side. Although this is a dream, and I understand that I cannot change the outcome of what happened in life, knowing he is with me slows my stride.
No, he can’t come with me. Not in this battle. He is too young. He could die.
I reach out to stop him, but my fingers pass through smoke.
“Vendar, turn back,” I command, already knowing it is futile.
Vendar merely smiles. It is, I realize, the exact smile he gave me when he told me that nothing could keep him from fighting for what was right. That he had joined the rebellion without my knowledge, determined to bring down the tyrant king no matter what the risk.
I couldn’t protect him from that. And even in my dream, I still can’t.
We emerge into sunlight, and the battle of rebellion is already raging. I throw myself into it with a roar, seeking out Droth so that I can protect him and fight by his side.
I remember this battle. It felt like it lasted for an eternity, although in truth it took less than a day. Warriors on the usurping king’s side were home for dinner while the rest of us slept in jail cells or became ash within the funeral pyres.
My stomach twists, and I try to forget those thoughts, focusing on the opponent before me. Dream or not, I am still fighting for my life. Voxeran weaponry is amongst the finest in the galaxy, and our skill with it matches our prowess in making it. Blades gleam in the bright and shining sun. The heat stings in my lungs and brightens the edges of my vision, putting everything in incredibly sharp focus.
I lunge toward an armored captain of the king’s guard with a fierce war cry, and we become locked in a fierce, bloody bout. The other man has a clouded eye and a scar down one side of his face, and he bares his teeth at me as we fight, trading blunt force blows. I finish the captain off with my spear through his eye, grunting and baring my teeth as he goes to his knees in front of me.
Turning around to search for a new opponent, I freeze.
Vendar is behind me, and he is quickly being overwhelmed. For a moment, in the shifting landscape of my dream, he becomes Kzuri, overcome by the raiders Churbac led. Then he becomes my brother again.
When I try to call to him, to rush to his aid, neither my voice nor my legs work.
I watch, frozen in time, as Vendar stumbles and falls to his knees. Strength returns to my voice as I scream, watching as a blade glints in the sunlight, covered in a sheen of blue blood that is almost beautiful in the light’s refraction.
Then the blade comes down.
I see my brother’s head roll, and my vision goes white before it goes red.
Fury and grief flood me in equal measure.
I don’t know who killed my brother back on Vox. If I did, I would have made sure to separate his sorry head from his shoulders before my exile. But in my dream, my brother’s killer has a face. The face of a more recent enemy—Churbac.
And by all the gods, I will end him.
The alien raider’s eyes widen as I charge toward him with a battle cry. I know nothing but the terrible wrath in my blood. It thaws through fear, through exhaustion, through pain. Perhaps I am sustaining wounds, but I don’t care, as long as the man who slaughtered my brother dies like an animal.
In my dream, Churbac snarls at me, and pulls out a heavy blaster like the one he carried during our real fight. I bare my fangs in answer and knock it to one side, yanking him forward by the front of his shirt and bashing our foreheads together hard enough to make blood well from his mandibles. He stumbles back, but I give him no room to retreat. I advance with another loud, guttural snarl and bring my spear down in an arc.
Churbac shudders and dies beneath me, and for a single moment, I feel peace.
Then a scream cuts through the air.
My head snaps up.
I know that voice. I recognize it. Elizabeth.
She’s in danger. I pivot on my feet, spear and blade gripped in my hands. She’s still screaming, and I can hear the raw terror in her voice. I don’t know why she’s here on Vox, but that doesn’t matter. Dreams don’t care for the borders of reality.
I run toward the sound of her cries, finding myself overcome with a new horde of enemies. I snarl and desperately cut my way through them, no thought in my head but the need to find Elizabeth, to protect her. She is strong, but she doesn’t know how to fight, and Terrans are so much smaller than other creatures that would do them harm. Her blaster doesn’t have enough charge to take down more than two or three should they converge on her. She could be overwhelmed, like Gemma and Kzuri. Like Vendar.
The thought of her being destroyed by the monsters in my head fills me with fear and dread.
I cut down another enemy, and finally, I find her. She’s breathing hard, her eyes dark and wild, but she looks unharmed.
Time slows when our gazes meet.
I go to her, the fallen body behind me forgotten, my weapons still embedded in the corpse. My heart is pounding, and my blood sings with victory. For the first time, the battle fades away. There is nothing but me and her, a blissful silence surrounding us as my dream focuses on nothing else.
There is no danger.
There are no more enemies.
There is just victory and safety.
Elizabeth is so much smaller than me, and yet she stands strong and beautiful, her eyes lit with the sun, her brown hair darkened by sweat.
She is breathtaking. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest heaving, and her clothes spattered with blood—not hers, the color is not right for Terrans. She’s wearing the new makeshift outfit some of the Terran women have fashioned from the skins we use for our loincloths. The same outfit she wore the day she collapsed.
I can feel my heart begin to pound for an entirely different reason than battle fury, my cock twitching beneath my loincloth as my gaze roams up and down her body. I fought, I killed, I won, and now my blood burns with the desire to claim what is mine. My focus narrows to the rise of her chest, her delicate collarbones, and her flushed skin.
I need her. I need to put my hands on her waist and feel her fingers in my hair. My skin prickles with awareness as I approach her. She stares up at me as though she’s n
ever seen me before. She bites her lower lip, unconsciously teasing me and making my cock pulse again.
“Are you all right?” I whisper, my voice low.
I’m aware that I am so large and powerful compared to her. I have her cornered just like the monsters who were attacking her earlier. Perhaps she will see me as yet another beast seeking to devour her. But there’s no fear in her eyes, which have grown dark in my shadow. I can see heat burning in her pupils as they go wide.
Her lips part, plush as ripe fruit and wet from her tongue.
“Axen…”
She whispers my name, and the plea in her voice breaks the last of my restraint.
I reach out and pull her into my arms, lifting her into a kiss. She tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before, sweet and wild. The fever of the battle still rages in me, tempered by her soft cry against my mouth and the way her hands wrap around the back of my neck, urging me to kiss her again.
I want her.
Akhi, I want her like I’ve never wanted anything else.
I press her down to the ground, my hands greedy and rough on the clothes barely covering her. I tug them away, revealing her completely. She is all fine curves and soft skin, and the way she arches into my touch sends fire coursing through my veins.
“Yes. Oh God, Axen, yes.” She whimpers softly beneath me, writhing against the ground as her nipples peak.
I lower my mouth to her neck, and she shivers, turning her head to give me access to more of her warm, sweet skin. Her nails rake down my arms, her back bowing off the ground as she presses more of herself against me.
My cock is so hard by now that it aches, already leaking from the tip. I need to be inside her. I desperately need her to be mine.
She is mine. We belong to each other. All that’s left is to claim each other, to consummate the connection that flares hot and bright between us.
When I lift my head, she sucks in a breath and cups my face as she whispers a single word.
“Please…”
It’s all she needs to say. I tear my loincloth away from my body, freeing my hard cock as I push her thighs apart. She meets my gaze and rears up for another savage kiss. She nips at my lip as my cock parts her flesh, and I’m gripped in a tight, silky heat the likes of which I’ve never felt before.
By all the gods, it feels so slanching good.
Her muscles clench and draw me in, her warm legs wrapping around my hips and her heels digging in to coax me deeper. She is strong. She must be, to take me as her mate. She wants me, and I need her.
She moans like something wild, her cries swallowed as I cover her with my body and sink inside her once again, thinking of nothing but deeper, harder, more. My hands wander greedy paths up her thighs, her hips, her waist. I lower my mouth and suck on her neck, and she tilts her head back and cries out more loudly, clawing at my back.
My beautiful, wild little thing.
I will spend the rest of my life making her feel this good.
After every battle, I will return to her. I will claim her, worship her, give her everything she desires until my dying day.
Her body grips me tight, her walls fluttering around me in a way that makes me groan. Elizabeth lets out an answering moan as I kiss my way down her throat, her hands tangling in my hair as I thrust into her. She feels so slanching good. I never knew anything could feel this incredible.
“Yes, Axen. Fuck, just like that…” She writhes beneath me, clinging to me like she’ll never let go. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”
I won’t, I want to whisper. I want to promise her that I’ll never leave her, that I’ll give her anything she desires. But she kisses me, and the word is lost between our lips.
Gripping her thighs to spread them wider, I settle into the cradle of her body as I cover her. We’re in the middle of what was once a battlefield, but I’m filled with the possessive need to shield her from sight. She is mine. I know this like I know the arc of the ring that surrounds Nuthora, like I know the scent and markings and laughter of my brothers.
She grips the back of my neck, panting, our eyes locked as she starts to tremble. Her body grips me so tightly, so warm and soaking wet. Our bodies collide with heavy, slick noises, her breasts shoved tight to my chest. I want every bit of me to touch every bit of her. Even the small space between our lips is too much.
Elizabeth’s wet heat tightens around me as her body goes rigid, a new sort of cry falling from her lips. I slow down, snarling loudly against her skin. Her muscles are squeezing my cock so hard it’s almost impossible to hold back. But I don’t want this to end. It feels too good, too slanching perfect.
She sighs, lashes fluttering over her storm-dark eyes, and smiles up at me.
“Yes,” she whispers, running her hands down my back, urging me on. I’m so close; I know I’m not going to last long. Any effort to warn her of my impending release comes out as a choked, guttural growl.
“Please, Axen,” she urges, and something in her voice hits me right in the chest. She traces the markings on my face with her fingers and kisses me, like she only wants the air I breathed first. “I want to feel you. I want all of you.”
The naked truth in her words is my undoing.
I shove my hands into the wet ground beneath her shoulders, bow my head, and muffle my cry of pleasure against her neck as I push myself deep inside her body and fill her with my release. Thoughts of seeing her swell with my child rush through my head in the aftershocks of my powerful orgasm.
She is so fierce, so wild.
So perfect.
Our bodies seem to melt together in the aftermath of our pleasure, skin pressed tightly against skin. She kisses me, and as my eyes close, a single word echoes in my ear.
“Rhael.”
7
Elizabeth
The realization that I’m pregnant brings up another wave of nausea, and I add to the little pool of vomit—mostly liquid, of course, since I didn’t have time to eat much before the battle started. Pressing one hand to my stomach, I lean over and heave, sweaty and panting and bracing myself with my other hand against the outside of Axen’s hut.
Dammit, dammit, dammit, shit, son of a bitch, no, no, no—
Oh fuck.
With all my fears of sickness and injury on this planet, I barely even thought of pregnancy being an option. I mean, sure, I thought about it as an abstract possibility with Charlotte and Sadie—they’re mated to Voxeran men, after all, and if the noises that came from their huts at night, or in the middle of the day, or any time at all are a good indication, Voxeran men have incredibly high sex drives. So it’s only a matter of time before pregnancy became a reality.
Honestly, I’m not even sure Voxerans and humans can produce offspring, but they’re certainly trying, and I was prepared for that at some point down the road.
But me?
It never even fucking occurred to me to consider it. I’m not mated, and I’m not exactly getting laid right now. I haven’t had sex since I was back on Earth, and I used protection.
Not that it apparently matters. With every passing minute, I become more and more certain that I’ve found the cause of all my symptoms. Kaide’s scanner didn’t pick anything up, but it’s not like a baby is something that would register as a dangerous parasite or an infection.
Closing my eyes, I curse myself for what feels like the thousandth time. How could I have been so careless and stupid?
I can’t even remember the guy’s name. Not that it matters, I suppose, because it’s not like I can call him up and, what, demand child support?
I laugh, but it comes out as a hysterical sob.
Honestly, if I had one phone call I could make back to Earth, it wouldn’t be to the stranger from my one-night stand. It would be to the condom company to rip them about ten new holes.
Shit.
I’m freaking out. I can feel myself freaking out. My hands are shaking, my breath is coming fast, and I feel dizzy. If someone were to see me right now, especially
if it was one of the other women, they’d be beside themselves with worry. They’d demand to know what’s wrong, and I’d have to tell them what I just realized, which is absolutely not something I can deal with right now.
I open my eyes, then close them again immediately when the world around me seems to spin.
Shit, shit, shit…
Of course the one night I allowed myself to have a little bit of reckless fun with a tall, dark, and handsome stranger before I left Earth would come back to bite me in the ass.
Dammit, Elizabeth. You’re usually so careful. So smart.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes again. I need to push past this. I’m a doctor—I can compartmentalize. This is no different than, say, having a patient coding and going through the steps to try to save them. I shove the hysterical, coding part of my brain into the back and focus on the rest of my symptoms. I’m pregnant, which means I shouldn’t stress myself out. I should drink something to replace the fluids I just lost.
There’s water inside Axen’s cabin, and it has the bonus of not being far away. I’m still standing right beside it, after all. I kick some stray dirt over my puddle of vomit, suck in another deep breath, push my hair back, square my shoulders, and head inside. At least he’s still unconscious, and I won’t have to pretend to be calm. If anyone walks in, I can pretend I’m just worried for his sake and not because of anything going on with me.
In the cool interior of his hut, I find a jug of water and tip it back, swishing the liquid around in my mouth before swallowing and grimacing at the aftertaste. I force myself not to think about it. This probably won’t be my last bout of morning sickness, and I need to start getting used to grinning and bearing it.
I take another drink, then set the jug down. I should check on Axen. That will give me something to focus on and help me not freak out, because I absolutely should not be freaking out right now. There’s a coding patient in my head but a very real patient right in front of me, and he’s not out of the woods yet.
He looks better than he did last night, thank goodness. The medical supplies and my ministrations have helped him round the corner. I put my hand on his forehead again and am pleased to find that his skin no longer feels unusually hot to the touch.
