Page 9 of Taken to Heimo
And only by Krisxox…
“Let’s go back,” I say, not daring to look over my shoulder at Krisxox. All I know is that I need to get Tur’Roth away from here.
And then Tur’Roth’s ridges grow an even brighter violet and I register what I’ve just said.Oh comets. He doesn’t think that I mean to go backto my nest, does he?
“I didn’t…I meant…”
“Svera.” The word is spoken in a pitch so dark and rough, it sounds like a new language. “Step away from Tur’Roth.”
My thoughts are firing. My belly is somehow both steel and liquid. Perhaps molten metal. It drags me down, begging me for something — anything — to alleviate the ache.
I need to think. Quick!
“Tur’Roth needs to help me…carry my packages! Come, Tur’Roth.” I start away from him, still unable to look back and meet Krisxox’s gaze.
Tur’Roth doesn’t immediately follow me but instead watches the male over my shoulder, the one emitting a tension so palpable, the arena that was jubilant moments before has gone utterly silent.
My face is burning hot embarrassment. “Tur’Roth,” I whisper-shout. “Please!”
His feet come unstuck and after another black-ridged glare at the male whose gaze I refuse to meet, he comes after me.
We ascend the rope ladder and cross the bridge and I still can’t bring myself to speak. It’s only outside of the stalyx doors to my home — to Krisxox’s home — that I turn to him.
“I cannot invite you in.”
He nods, but is still staring back the way we came. I notice he has his hand on the holster of the blaster at his hip and I panic, worried he is thinking the same thing I am — that Krisxox is going to slit his throat.
“Tur’Roth?”
“Hexa, Svera?” He looks at me and tries a smile, but his soul isn’t in it. “Here you are.” He hands me the packages in the basket he carries on his free arm.
“I am sorry,” I say, taking them.
Confusion colors his brow. “Verax.”
“I just…” I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t mean to kiss him. “If Krisxox doesn’t mean to join us, will you take me to the human colony as soon as I’m packed?”
His grin becomes a broader, more generous thing, then. “Of course. It would be my honor.”
Why couldn’t Krisxox ever say that? Or anything kind, for that matter.
“Thank you.” I smile shakily up at him and he takes a half-step towards me that I quickly evade. I place my palm to the reader and the stalyx doors whoosh open and I step inside without saying anything more and, in the darkness, I breathe.
My legs are shaking as I set down my basket by my place at the window. I’m genuinely scared for Tur’Roth. I’m a little scared for me. I know that Krisxox hates me and does not want me, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either. He’s made that abundantly clear anytime any male so much as winks in my direction.
I’m sweating. Am I sweating? I wonder if my sweat would smell so good to Krisxox and wrinkle my nose at the thought, then I remember the way he smelled when we stood so close. Looking down at me, ridges a beautiful indigo, the scent of his skin. What would have happened had we been alone? Would I have been able to remember the teachings of the Tri-God and resist him?
No.
I enter my room and have to brace both hands against the largest basket against the far wall. The baskets contain all of my neatly folded clothing and even though I should be packing, right now all I can think is to take my clothesoffand relieve the ache between my legs. It nearly hurts. There’s a pressure in my stomach as well, like a bubble. It wants something…
To burst.
I mewl and the sound of the door whooshing shut behind me makes me tense.
“Krisxox,” I gasp, trying to brace myself for war, but when I turn, the male standing there has the same red skin Krisxox does, but an entirely different face.
My fever breaks over ice. My stomach lurches into my throat. I’m going to be sick. I fall back against the basket behind me, nearly tumblingintoit. I glance around for a weapon, but there’s nothing here I can use. It wouldn’t matter, either. I only have one weapon in this dangerous, bloodthirsty universe and I think he wants to kill me right now, too.
