by Robin Lovett
“There’s talk that with your carelessness and lack of compassion for our people…” He hesitates. “Do you remember the myths of Joyeve?”
I jerk back in my seat and swear in Fellamana. I make the sign of the gods on my forehead on instinct. The myths of Joyeve are used as lessons for children on what happens if the Exstare goes wrong. It’s an ancient set of stories of one who was gifted with the Exstare and turned on the Fellamana, using his skills for manipulation and violence instead of for pleasure and unity, as I’ve been taught and continue to do. He created much death and destruction among our people before he was finally stopped, imprisoned, and executed. Those stories are the basis for our strict culture of non-violence, for good reason.
“One of the council has compared you to Joyeve,” Povape says with tight fear in his words. “Others are murmuring he may be right, and your defiance is heading in the same direction as the evil myths.” He gives a heavy sigh. “I know this isn’t true. Many of us do. But your recklessness appears that way, you understand. Please come home. Your life depends on it.” The message ends.
The final warning is a reference to the law: there are three criminal strikes allowed for a person with the Exstare before the council imposes execution. I am the only person on our entire planet who is eligible for penalty by death because of the danger I pose to the whole society, should I turn my Exstare against them.
They couldn’t execute me for this slight alone. They wouldn’t, but I don’t want a strike against me. Now or ever. It would be a stain on me, on my family, on the peaceful trust my people have in our whole way of life. There’s not been a strike against the one in possession of the Exstare in three generations.
I glance at Jenie.
She’s staring at me. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong. Something bad.” She may not have been able to translate what Povape said, but his tone of voice was clear. And I’m sure my stiff reaction even more so.
I’m not sure how much to tell her. I don’t want to turn around. It’s impossible. She’s right. The fate of not just her rebellion but also the Fellamana rests on us intercepting that transmission from Dargule.
“They’re scared and angry that we’ve changed course and aren’t coming directly back to Fellamana,” I explain. “They’re tracking the speeder, so they know.”
Her brows go up, and there’s a twist of anxiety to her mouth. “Do you want to go back?”
I can’t bear the anxiety in her tone. It’s the last thing I want her to feel. “No, I just need to send a message to explain.”
I record myself, rather than opening a direct communication channel. If I open myself up to questions, it’ll likely cause the council even more stress.
I glance at Jenie again, her hopeful, trusting face. I know I made the right decision. There really was no other option. I had to do this for her. I just have to make the council understand.
I press record and speak with as calm a tone as I can manage. It’s imperative they understand the seriousness of the situation. “By now, you will have received General Nemona’s transmission that the Hades has been commandeered and is now friendly to our human rebellion friends. But the general set a task for Lt. General Jenie and me that could only be accomplished by the aid of a Fellamana speeder with its agile speed and our invisibility stealth.”
Let them feel the pride of how our technology we have worked so hard for is indeed superior in many ways to the Ten Systems’ capabilities. The next part is going to be hard for them to handle. The fact that I, their ceremonial leader, am putting myself in harm’s way will be the scariest thing for them.
I explain the mission Nemona set for us, how vital it is that it succeed for the sake of our survival, and how I with my Exstare am truly the best person for this job. I sign off with my most adamant assurance that I am skilled and capable and will be in no danger, then I send it.
Along with a prayer that they’ll believe me and understand.
By the time they receive the message, our speeder will be out of communication range, so I won’t find out until after we return. Assuming we do.
I clench my hands in fists. To say failure is not an option is the understatement of my lifetime.
Chapter Seventeen
Jenie
“What did you say?” I ask, needing him to translate the Fellamana. I can’t help being alarmed. I’m remembering how he was chased by guards before we left his planet, how he basically had to run away to leave with me. And how I never asked him why or what was wrong.
And what kind of sacrifices he may have made to come on this mission with me.
“I explained what we’re doing,” he says, then gives me a rundown of the conversation he just had.
“Are you in trouble?”
He chuckles darkly. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Fellamana haven’t travelled this far away. We’re not explorers traditionally. They’re worried about me. And my place among them, because of my abilities, is important to them.”
I force myself to ask, “Do you need to turn back?”
He meets my gaze with conviction. “No. They will survive without me. I’ll be reprimanded when I get home but nothing more.”
“Good.” I sit back. “They’ll be grateful when we return.”
“Will you come back to the planet then? Even for a few days.” There’s hope in his voice that I don’t want to disappoint, but I have to.
The thought of having to suffer through the desidre fills me with dread. “Not if I can help it.”
His expression tightens. “Why?”
“Because the desidre was awful for me. I couldn’t take it again.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad now that you can trust me.” There’s a prurient twinkle to his gaze. He’s tempting me.
I can’t risk it, no matter how much I’d enjoy having him for a few more days when this is over—assuming we succeed. Nothing but indulgent, creative sex, even if non-penetrative sex, with him for days before returning to duty…I could dream about that.
But I can’t risk the mating bond urge coming back, and there will be too much to do with renovations on the Liberator, along with vetting its old Ten Systems crew for those who won’t betray us.
“I can’t come back with you, Koviye,” I say, though it makes me heart sick to say it. “My duty is aboard the Liberator now.”
He stares at his hands. “My duty is on Fellamana. I can’t leave. I’m bound to my people.”
“I’m not sure I understand why exactly.”
A gentle patience transcends his face. “You may have noticed that after I share my Exstare with you, there is a healing sensation, a calmness that comes in the aftermath.”
“I thought it was just the relief of the desidre.”
“It is more. If you were injured, it would heal you. If you suffered from depression, I would relieve you.”
“Healing through orgasms?” I try to hide my surprise.
“Indeed.” He smiles proudly. “It does not always have to be orgasmic. There are many superstitions among my people that as long as there is a person with the Exstare among them, no tragedy will come to them. But it is an old superstition. Our medical technology can heal any known ailment. They don’t require me, but they’re nervous without me there. I’m considered a messenger of the gods, a divine presence on earth, according to legends of our people.” His mouth twists with a mournful sadness. “But permanently, I must remain with them until another person in my family’s line of inheritance comes into the Exstare and demonstrates it when they reach full adult maturity.”
“I see.” Leaving them is not an option for him, ever.
Which is just as well. A few more days might be nice, but anything permanent with him is, well, laughable to even mention. He might have said I’m an extraordinary lover—which I’m still grappling with what that means because he’s obviously serious—but he’s bound by the traditions of the Fellamana to share his Exstare with them as healing. Plus, there’s t
he fact that he is Fellamana, which means he is as perpetually polyamorous as they come. And I am not.
Certainly, when I first felt the desidre on Fellamana, landing in the escape pod with Leinita and Ilena, that experience with them was the pleasurable exception but not a lifestyle I could maintain.
Koviye and I are left with an awkward silence. I suppose it’s comforting to know he wishes our time together could go on, but it twists something in my gut to know he still only means temporarily.
I have a flash fantasy…
What if he were capable of monogamy? What if he were available and desiring a mating bond with me? What if he could leave the Fellamana and join me in the rebellion on my travels?
Would I want him as a mate?
My heart fills at the thought, and the fullness sends a thrilling sensation of oneness throughout my body. I would be tempted. So tempted.
“What are you feeling?” he asks urgently. “What is that you’re experiencing?”
I stare at him, not understanding what he means, not knowing how to explain, knowing I could never admit this fantasy to him. I let it go, though it’s painful.
There’s no point in entertaining the impossible.
“Wait,” he says. “Don’t stop. Will you tell me? I’ve never seen that emotion before.”
Of course he hasn’t. I shake my head and turn back to the info screen. “I have to study these files and learn the layout of the Lolly Galactic hub.”
“So, you’re not going to answer me?”
I close my eyes and hope for patience. “Would you rather I lied to you?”
“No.”
“Then don’t ask me again.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I’m worried he’s going to ask anyway. I hold my breath, praying he doesn’t, but at the same time imagining what I wish I could say to him:
If things were different, if you were different, if the Fellamana and the rebellion were different…would you want to be with me?
But he doesn’t ask. I start to breathe again, and I do my best to forget he’s there. To focus on the job we have to do—the one that the safety of his people and the survival of my rebellion depends on.
We discuss our plans of how to infiltrate Lolly Galactic. He’s more ingenious than I’d have guessed. His non-traditional ideas—I suppose because he’s Fellamana and has never been a part of the Ten Systems—are helpful, though sometimes naïve and requiring correction about falsities he thinks he knows about the regime, but mostly we agree on a plan.
There are so many possible locations of Dargule’s message file, we’ll have to both go in search of it and split up, and neither of us can afford to stay with our ship. Not the ideal situation, but if we stay together or leave one of us on board the speeder, the job could take a day or more.
And we don’t have that kind of time.
He swears the speeder with its invisibility functions will be okay unguarded.
The solar wind works, faster than even Nemona had hoped. We’ll be to Lolly Galactic before we’ll need to sleep again. Thank gods, because I don’t know if I could handle the temptation of sharing sex dreams with him again. I wouldn’t be able to resist. And it would be so fucking good. Too good. I’d form an even deeper emotional attachment to him that would be even more difficult to break.
Losing myself in my research of the Lolly Galactic hub, I don’t notice the speeder entering a purplish gaseous cloud, until I look up and…the stars are gone. All we can see is a thick, tinted fog.
I look over at Koviye, who noticed before I did, and he’s staring at it with a tight expression.
“The chaotic bubble?” I ask.
“Yes.” He turns his head around, observing the 360-degree view the ship gives us, behind us and through the clear floor. There’s no end to the cloud; we are completely immersed in it.
I glance at the speeder’s level measurements on the console. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting the engines.”
“No, thankfully. But it’s going to take hours to pass through.”
I expand the view on the radar and whistle. “And there’s no hope of going around it. Gods, it’s huge.”
“It would take days to bypass it.” He takes a hard inhale through his nose. “Do you smell it?”
I scoff. “Of course not. It’s impossible for any of it to penetrate the ship’s airtight—” But then I do. A tacky-like texture inside my sinuses, thick and potent, not bad smelling exactly. Just pervasive, like it’s impossible to take in air—only the scent.
My head starts to feel lighter, easier. Like my stress and worries are floating away, and the gaseous cloud doesn’t seem so bad anymore. It’s just pretty. I like the colors.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“Really.” His voice is relaxed and eased from the strain of the situation, too. It’s just a cloud. We have no reason to be anxious.
“The smell isn’t so bad, either.”
“Almost like…” He inhales more deeply. “It’s familiar somehow.”
I inhale again. “Yeah, like…something I remember.” I feel happy, easygoing, and I relax into my chair and gaze out the window, feeling like I’m on vacation.
“It smells like you,” he says lightly, his tone free-floating yet sensual.
“It smells like the flowers in my garden, in my dream.” Though I didn’t remember they had a smell, now I do—rich and fragrant and sweet.
“I don’t mean your flowers.” He looks at me and the heat in his eyes is unmistakable, and I know what he’s going to say next before he says it. It makes me hot between my thighs. “I mean your cunt.”
My heart thuds against my chest, and words rush from my mouth. I don’t care what I’m saying; I just have to say it. “I’m in love with your cock. I’d worship it if you let me.”
“You make me feel things.” He scratches at his chest. “Things Fellamana aren’t supposed to feel.”
I can hear what he’s saying, but my desperate need to tell him all the things raging inside me is stronger. “I wish you weren’t into multiple lovers, and I could mate you.”
His face brightens but not in reaction to what I’m saying. “I don’t know what this is that I’m feeling for you. I don’t know what love feels like. I mean, I know what love feels like, but not the I-want-to-have-only-you-for-the-rest-of-my-life kind of love. But whatever this is, it hurts! How can you stand it?”
I have to keep talking. “You make me feel like a whole person. Like I could love you forever and never stop.” But it’s still not the thing I really want to say. There’s so much more.
“I hate the Exstare. I wish I could get rid of it and leave the Fellamana and go with you.”
“I have a mating bond from my Ulreya side. That’s why I couldn’t have penetrative sex. If we did, I would’ve attached to you for life. And you’re biologically incapable of monogamy.” I need to be closer to him. I have to touch him.
“I’ve never had orgasms before like you give me. I think you have some sexual power of your own. You can make me come without even touching my cock.”
I unbuckle my seat belt. “I wish I had just fucking mated you and not stopped. I want to have sex with you—real sex—like your cock buried in my pussy like in my dream. I need it. I need you.” The fiery desire burns low in my body, and I grow wet, molten, and hot.
He unbuckles his seatbelt, too, floating near me. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before. And I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else but you ever again. Which is impossible for the Fellamana. For me.”
I float toward him, almost touching. “I’m afraid of losing myself to you. I’m afraid if I stop fighting you, I’ll permanently bond with you, even without having you inside me.”
“I’m afraid I’ll no longer be a real Fellamana by the time you leave. That I’ll no longer know who I am, and you’ll be gone, and there’ll be nothing left of me.”
I reach for him, cupping his exquisite alien face in my hands. I feel a faint sense of warn
ing, like there’s something I need to stop. I shouldn’t be saying these things, but it’s a compulsion forcing the words from my throat. “I want you to make love to me. Like in my dream. I want to bond with you. I want to be yours.”
He grasps my shoulders and holds me close to him. “Be mine.”
I sink my fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands, staring at his mouth. “Love me. Please.”
He crushes his mouth to mine. He delves his tongue into my mouth, thrusting between my lips. And he pours his Exstare into my mouth. It streams down my throat, and my whole body is stormed with a vicious orgasm that has me crying against his mouth and writhing in his arms.
It wanes, and I’m still unsated. I suck on him, bite at him, claw at him. His restraint is gone. Mine is worthless. We are lust, and it rules us.
He digs his hands into my uniform until it tears, the seam at my back splitting up the middle. He growls and yanks on it with animal ferocity until the fabric is in tatters and falling off of my arms.
He buries his face between my breasts and molds them with his hands, his palms greedy but tender over my swollen nipples. He moves his mouth to one tight tip and sucks, licks. I watch my breasts start to glow with the Exstare radiating from his mouth, my sensitive tissue alive with his alien sensations. He spreads his attention to my other breast, and the bliss radiates to the apex of my thighs, where I’m vacant and aching to be touched, longing to be filled by that gloriously blue, glowing cock of his.
Which…I still have yet to taste.
I pull his mouth to mine, savor the taste of his mouth and the swipe of his tongue against mine; then it’s my turn. I try to tear the fabric at the neck of his uniform, but there’s no tearing necessary. It parts, like his Fellamana outfit was made to do that.
With no difficulty, it peels back from his chest and opens all the way down.
His erection falls out, standing straight from his hips. I groan aloud, “Thank the gods,” for his sex-ready Fellamana clothing.
I wrap my hand around his blue cock and squeeze. There is no give to his flesh. He is rigid, hard as stone, and I wonder if he feels any different when not aroused, if he is ever flaccid. I’m aching to have him inside me, to spread my legs around his hips and feel him penetrate me—feel the exquisite stretch from his long, thick cock straining to fit into my tightness.
