Page 23 of Asmodel

With a last glare, lips curled in a snarl, the Vargrux turned, his armored figure disappearing into the neon haze of the night outside the bar. Behind him, his troop followed, their unconscious liquor-soaked companion carried out by two of his companions. They left behind a lingering sense of foreboding, putting a wedge in the previous camaraderie of the Grub & Grog.

Asmodel watched the mercenary aliens leave with a thoughtful frown. If those aliens found the real Raxx, he doubted the human would escape as easily as he did. Maybe when everything was all said and done, he’d find a way to help the guy.

But for now, time to leave with a lasting impression. He hefted the wrist unit he ‘borrowed’ from the leader. Tossing it to the bewildered bartender, he quipped, “Use this to buy a round for everyone.” He glanced at the mess. Broken tables and chairs littered with splintered glass among a river of mixed drinks. “And maybe something for the cleaning crew.”

The Grub & Grog erupted into cheers and laughter. Everyone returned to their previous revelries. Looked like the night's entertainment faded as the brawl turned into distant memory.

Asmodel, with a satisfied grin, blended into the crowd and morphed back to himself, leaving no trace of Raxx Jorlen behind.

Izzy frowned when Jaltaar poked the Lumiview device with an extended claw and the image faded. “I don’t understand.” Her face flushed. What choice did she have but to admit her ignorance. “Who or what is that, uh, unusual-looking woman… lady? And why does she want me?” The thought of that mean-looking alien wanting her for whatever reason made her shiver. “And why does she agree to eliminate pardalions, whatever those are?”

“That, my human friend—” Jaltaar put the now-silent device back into the side pocket of his pants. “—is a Krystalii by the name of Prisma-Solara, who hails from another dimension. Their primary goal is to take over our galaxy by raping our planets of their resources for their own use.” He turned his bright-emerald eyes her way. “And their leader, a fellow by the name of Lord Baelon, believes they can use human women to speed up their ability to create more of their crystal citizens. Apparently, it takes thousands of years for one of them to grow into a sentient being. And he’s looking for a way to cut that timeline in half.”

Izzy wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound right.” She clasped her hands behind her. “I may not be a biologist, but I don’t see how we’re compatible with something like them. And are you telling me she’s the one who caused that ship—” She thumbed to the billowing smoke from the crash behind her that now coated the air with noxious fumes. “—to crash and then somehow pulled me out before I got hurt?”

Jaltaar shrugged. “Apparently. She comes from a race with a high degree of various psychic abilities. Which somehow got depleted when she pulled you out of that ship.” He glanced at Talira. “We should keep that in mind. Knowing what makes her weak might be something we could use against her later.”

Talira’s pink tongue peeked out and wiped across her downturned thin black lips surrounding her snout. “Do you think she has the power to eliminate all of us pardalions?” Her concern came through loud and clear, even in a whisper.

“What do you mean, eliminate you pardalions? Why would the Alpha Regent want to kill his own people?” Izzy swore if the furrow on her forehead got any deeper, it’d get stuck like that.

“The Alpha Regent doesn’t want to kill all scikvak.” Talira’s long tail swished in hard strokes behind her. “Just the pardalions.”

Well, goose feathers. Now the frown lines around her mouth were going to get stuck, too. “A pardalion? What’s that?”

Talira pointed an extended claw from her paw at her chest. “I am. I’m a pardalion.” She gestured to Jaltaar. “And he’s a zaltrixan.”

“Huh?” Okay, call her confused. She glanced between the two feline scikvak. “Is that the name of the country where you come from?”

Jaltaar shook his head. “I don’t know what the wordcountrymeans, but on CeluriaVO, the ruling class are my people, the zaltrixan. Talira is part of the lower class called the pardalions.”

Izzy’s eyebrows rose. “Why? What’s the difference? You’re both the same species, aren’t you?”

Jaltaar’s whiskers twitched. “Yes, but the differences between us is unsurmountable for a great majority of our population.”

Her brow tightened, giving her a headache. Not sure how to avoid offense by her observation, she did her best to be as careful about her wording as much as possible. She nodded at Talira. “Is it because she’s a female?”

Jaltaar’s incredulous expression made Izzy giggle.

“Female?” Talira snorted and crossed her slender, muscular arms. “What would that have to do with anything?”

“Because you have dark-blue eyes and his are a pretty green?”

Jaltaar rumbled.

Okay, that was a definite no. Looked like color and gender weren’t the issues. Must be something else. “Is it because Jaltaar has a bow and arrow and you carry a stick for a weapon?” She was grasping at straws here.

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” Talira’s whiskers, in their pale-orange color, fanned out. Her pointed ears twitched back and forth. “Can you not tell the obvious difference between our races?” She waved a paw between her and Jaltaar.

Izzy tapped her forefinger on her bottom lip. Okay, this was serious. She narrowed her eyes and studied the couple in front of her. They both had pretty midnight-blue fur covered in orange stripes.

There stood Jaltaar, proud and erect, the epitome of feline masculinity. Strong jawline, high, chiseled cheekbones framed a slight snout over a slit of a mouth outlined in black. The only thing on his face with any hint of softness were his beautiful eyes, a swirling blend of iridescent emerald green.

The midnight-blue fur on his visible chest had wide, dramatic orange stripes that reminded her of a Bengal tiger. Even his thick tail swishing behind him coiled with dark-orange stripes. Not an ounce of extra skin or fat marred his muscular form.

Izzy turned her attention to Talira. Her face was soft and streamlined, as graceful as a ballet dancer’s. Lush black lashes outlined with striking black tracks framed her midnight-blue eyes, speckled with silver star-like streaks.

Luscious, long, dark fur, a touch lighter than Jaltaar’s, covered Talia’s graceful, lovely feline form. Her form-fitting garment was a light tan that showcased her toned arms in short sleeves and ended at her mid-thighs. Her slender tail had freedom of movement, now agitated in bold swipes behind her. The entire ensemble allowed a full display of her willowy and lightweight feminine form in its hourglass, human-like figure.

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