Page 80 of Taken to Voraxia
Svera’s scabs and bruises were hard to look at, but she’s in good spirits, as ever. Kiki is also healing quickly and should be up and out of the merillian any day. Va’Raku doesn’t leave her side. He just stands there, ridges colorless, seeming almost despaired. He has nothing to worry about, according to Raku.
I think differently. He has nothing to worry aboutuntilKiki wakes. Then he’ll be in for a reckoning. I’m just glad she’ll be here first on Voraxia in Illyria where Svera and I can get to her quickly and hopefully mitigate her anger.She won’t want to be here, and she definitely won’t want to be bonded to an alien. Her hate is too strong.Then again, I thought mine was too…
“Xoran,” I groan, “the baby’s heavy. I’m tired and my legs hurt.”
“Shh. The baby is no larger than a talon and you were complaining earlier that you didn’t get out of our werro enough. Now you are out.”
I smile and squeeze Xoran’s too big hands. All twelve of his fingers curl around my palms. “My big jerk.”
“I will be any jerk you would like so long as I am yours.” His deep voice blossoms from very close and I start at the sudden proximity, then settle. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and a moment later, we come to a stop.
“Are you ready?” He whispers against my skin.
I turn my face up towards his and wait for him to kiss me. His lips are smoother than they look and the moment they touch down on my own, my whole body lights in fire.
I’d blame it on the pregnancy, but I know it’s not that. Or that it’s notjustthat. It’s the storm that swims through my belly anytime he’s close. I call it love. He calls it Xanaxana. It’s definitively both.
His tongue dives between my lips to meet my own. He devours me, pressing down from above with power. I reach forward, blind, and my fingers find his bare chest. He always has his chest bared and I love every cut and groove carved into it.
My palm passes over his nipple-less plate and slowly climbs to his neck. Finding softer flesh, my nails score it. Xoran hisses and reaches behind my body to cup my rear so hard my feet lift off the ground. I gasp.
He growls. “Enough.” He lowers me until soft sand sifts through my bare toes, stretching up my ankle to meet the bandage I still wear even though the cut is scabbed over. “You will not distract me again.”
He switches behind me and slides one hand over my stomach where our little bean lives. It’s incredible that even with the slower gestation period for Voraxians relative to humans, the Niahhorru technology was able to pick up signs of life at just seven solars. From the night we celebrated our Xiveri mating and I became thexokingRakukanna of an entire quadrant of the galaxy. Orphan to queen. But I’m still me. Still the tinkerer. Still the hybrid. Just with a littlea lotmore responsibility.
“My Rakukanna, are you ready?”
I exhale, “Hexa.” Because it’s true. I might be going into a wholegalaxyof new responsibilities, but one thing is absolutely true: I’m not going alone.
The silk he’d used to cover my eyes slips free and I blink the darkness from my gaze. As soon as the world in front of me crystalizes, my stomach jumps up into my throat and I cannot help but laugh.
“Oh my stars,Xoran!You saved the guest werro?”
“Ourguest werro,” he says sharply, and then, “Its roots survived the onslaught. We were able to repair it. It grows still.”
“Incredible. But what…what is this? What did you do to it?”
My laugh dies a little thinking of Rhorkanterannu and his Niahhorru brood. They still haven’t caught him. He and a handful of the other Niahhorru were able to escape — beamed off of the ship with a machine no one has ever even heard of before — to who knows where. Still out there.
And even though he has no way of contacting Pe’ixal to get the location of the human colony’s moon, he’s already shown us that he’s capable of surprises. We cannot underestimate him again…
“You are displeased,” he says, voice flat.
“No, not at all. Just distracted. But what is this? You…you covered the whole tree.” Black and red bark-colored paper are stretched wonkily around the red werro tree, fully blocking the door.
“You said it should be covered,” he says and I look up into his face to see his ridges colorless for the first time in days. His jaw is set. I reach up and stroke it, wondering what could have made him so upset.
“I don’t understand.Whatshould be covered?”
“The gift. It should be covered before I present it to you.”
I turn back and suddenly see the tree in a whole new light. My bottom jaw drops. I clap both hands over my mouth and surge towards the gift Xoran put together just for me. “Xoran, I…” I run my hands over the paper, unable to figure out what it’s made of, or what it could possibly be hiding.
As if he’s reading my thoughts, he says, “From the fallen werros. We use every part of the trees to create paper and tools. I had Tri’Herion and the other xub'Herions create this, as well as what’s inside.”
I let out a squeal and Xoran’s ridges flare white. “Well don’t just stand there! Help me. I want in.”
My heart is pounding and my palms are clammy. A gift from Xoran? I’m so excited. I feel like a girl again receiving a gift from Svera’s parents at the celebration they call Christmas. It was a dress. A flowing gown. I wore it once, and then used the fabric to create a hammock in back of their house. It was sturdy stuff and best —the only— gift I ever received,until now…
