Page 6 of Taken to Heimo
He takes my hand in a gentle, platonic grip. “I’m sorry. I forget you are a sensitive female.”
My lips quirk at that. Sensitive, or weak? I don’t like that in the Voraxian culture, there doesn’t seem to be much of a difference. I know how Krisxox sees me.
I nod and force a smile, returning my gaze to the training ground as Krisxox’s tone picks up along with the pace of the warriors’ next movements.
He stands elevated from the others, positioned in a spotlight. At least, that’s how it looks with the way the sunlight filters down, illuminating the dark orange-red of his skin. It contrasts violently against the bright white of his hair. He has it tied up in a bun on the top of his head, but strands still break free of the knot and stick to his skin in sweat.
I swallow as I watch him move. If Tur’Roth is an attractive male, then Krisxox is averyattractive male. He is almost all muscle, yet he moves with the sinewy silence of a snake. Elegance. Grace. Words I would never have though to describe him, once. Now, I can’t think of anything else.
He lowers into a crouch and his hide pants stretch taut around his rear. I quickly divert my gaze, only for it to land on the muscles swimming across his back. I admire the way they catch the light when they shift and swell. A single droplet of sweat claims my attention next, winding slowly down his spine, catching the sunlight.So impossibly slow…until he moves.
He’s here and there and then he’s not. He’s remarkably fast. The other warriors attempt to match his speed, but it almost seems as if time has two different tempos — one where the rest of the warriors and I live, and a second where Krisxox moves alone.
A moment of stillness and then he thrusts his weapon forward like he might a spear before ripping it down. The motion draws my attention to the scars winding across his body. He’s covered in light, silvery ribbons, like xamxin rivers winding their way across a crowded map, but no scar stands out so prominently as the one Tur’Roth gave him.
My breath formed steaming clouds as I struggled to control my anger. I felt filled with fire, like a dragon of ancient Earth’s lore. Then came the charged whip. The way it sang when it met Krisxox’s bare flesh. I was angry with him yes, but I didn’t think he deserved that.
Tur’Roth raised his weapon to deliver Krisxox another blow — this one unsanctioned — and I will never forget it. Frozen in my thoughts, as the world was frozen around me on Nobu’s icy fields, it was the first moment I saw Tur’Roth as…someone else. And the way Krisxox bore the first stroke of the flail and then, despite having heard it, patiently waited for the next… I was angry, yes, but I found that there was also something noble in that.
I suck in a breath as I watch Krisxox repeat the same motion, drilling it into his recruits over and over. And I can’t help the warmth that spreads through my belly as I do. Okay,lowerthan my belly. I press my knees together and squirm as I try and relax the tensing muscles high in my thighs, because squeezing them only makes the pressurethereworse.
While I have no experience with males short of a few chaste kisses with human boys, I have always been…easy to excite. For many rotations, I was ashamed of my thoughts — far too ashamed to touch myself in the darkness of the lunar — but after openly confiding in my mother about my body and its treacherous ways, she convinced me otherwise.
Your body is a pure, natural vessel of the Tri-God. He would not have created you this way, if it was not his intent.
After that, I stopped feeling so self-conscious and I learned how to alleviate the pressure myself, but…among the Voraxians and Drakesh, some of that old shame has resurfaced because the aliens…they can smell it.
“Svera,” Tur’Roth grunts. His teeth are clenched and the ridges along his brow are a fluttering jumble of blues and purples.Lust. Purple is lust. The darker, the more demanding.
“I’m so-sorry,” I stutter, smoothing down my skirts and breaking his gaze.
His hand reaches out and touches my thigh, just above the knee. I jerk up to stand. “I will just go down to speak with…” I glance around frantically. “…the Evras below.”
“Do you want me to come…”
“Nox.” I laugh nervously. “Nox, it’s alright. I’ll just be a moment.”
Tur’Roth gives me a conciliatory bow before pulling back and allowing me to slip past him. I don’t look back at him as I descend the arena-style seats. I don’t look up at Krisxox either.
My name is said by many of the Voraxians gathered. I greet them in return and doing so helps my head clearand the heat knotted in my belly. I know these beings all by name — or occupation, rather — and I know their families, their hobbies, what they like and even their hopes for Voraxia.
Taking a seat nestled among the Evras — those responsible for managing the food stores, including everything from harvest to import — I listen to them talk, enrapt, as I continue to keep my gaze focused and away from Krisxox as he lowers his star sling — starsaw— and repeats new motions without a weapon.
Tel’Evra is in the middle of describing a new type of bean the Evras are trying to source from Quadrant Three when my life drive buzzes.
I glance down at the holographic image floating across my skin, like a constantly changing tattoo scribbled in letters that are as blocky as they are green. The message is from Lemoria. My heart stills. I flick open the holoscreen and view the full contents of her communication.
I leap out of my seat and have to catch myself on Tel’Evra’s outstretched hand to stop myself from tumbling down onto the next bench as I shout, “The Rakukanna has gone into early labor!”
Naturallabor. Her labor was meant to be induced on the coming solar from the safety of the moon colony’s new medical facility, but something must have happened.I hope it is a blessing. Not a miserable repeat of what happened to so many females who came before who lost their young ones, or even their lives.
“Verax,” Tel’Evra says, his lashless eyelids fluttering rapidly.
The younger male continues to grip my hand firmly as I stand up on the wooden bench beneath me and look up at the faces of so many Voraxians and Drakesh.
I find that most are already looking at me — the novelty of having a human among them has yet to fade for most, even after the half-rotation we have already shared together — and it does not take long to catch the attention of the rest.
With all eyes on me in swirling shades of purple and blue and black and orange and grey, I shout as loud as I can, “The Rakukanna has gone into labor! Voraxia will have it’s Ra or Rakuka soon!”
