Page 1 of Taken to Heimo
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Krisxox
“Svera!” I shout.
Her body is trembling, covered in slick, glistening red —it’s blood, human blood,herhuman blood— but at the sound of my voice, she looks at me and comes to life.Good girl.She makes it to her knees. The walls of this ancient C-class transporter shimmer. They shake. Svera falls.
“You’re xoking slow! Getup, human!”
She hates when I order her. Hates when I curse. Hates when I call herhuman.
A frown disrupts the irritating kindness that is her stupid, human face and that’s fine, because it distracts her from her fear.
“That’s it. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to let him hurt you.”
But I’m lying.
I can’t move. I can’t feel my own body. I can’t feel anything except for the heat of the C-class engines releasing energy in great clouds of steam. This ancient beast comes from another time. So old, I’d never seen one with my own eyes until I climbed aboard with every intention of saving the female that I hate most in this universe.
“I need you to come towards me,” I say, trying to be gentle even though I’m never gentle. I don’t know how to be. And I’m not going to change forher.Then what is this, if not trying?
“Svera,please.”
The crinkles in her forehead smooth when I beg her. I never begexceptto her and increasingly more often. Right now I’d give her both my legs if it meant she’d walk any xoking faster!
“Move!”
She takes one wobbly step, and then another. I tense and growl and grunt and wince with each move she makes. These human females are so disgustingly fragile. The tiniest little movement and they fall the xok apart.
“Come on…” She moves so xoking slow…“Come on!”
Svera’s too wet gaze meets mine. I see pain shining in their green depths. As green as the leaves of the baby werro trees, those bright, brave little saplings.
Meanwhile, the blood on her face shines in themostalarming, visceral shade of red, a color not often seen in nature. But worse than that color is the sound the engines make. Somewhere in the recesses of this transporter, they’re screaming the same word over and over.
Failure.
“Krisxox,” she whispers.
Everything is a blur. The black and grey against the aquamarine of the floor-length covering she wears…the pale brown of her skin with its haunting, yellow undertones…the small wisps of her hair that have escaped the covering she fixes to them…and then the silver shadow that falls over her body.
The Niahhorru attacks.
“Svera!” I roar as the pirate falls on top of her, taking her to the slated, metal ground.
Bloodthirsty beasts, the Niahhorru pirates ascribe to no quadrant, have no honor, no laws, no treaties with anyone and are led by a king obsessed with finding the location to the human colony so he can steal and breed the human females to repopulate his species’ dying numbers.
I’m going to tear him apart for taking her from me, starting with all four of his arms…
These beasts are born fighters, killers and thieves andSverais a weak, pathetic humanwith skin as soft as Qath’s sands, unblemished by the suns or their winds, untouched by time.
She doesn’t stand a chance.
Xok me! Xok her.Don’t. Please, don’t.
I struggle. I don’t know what has me, but its hold is stronger than iron ion and heavier than stalyx. I’ve never been caged. Never been rendered weak. I am Voraxia’s Krisxox — its strongest fighter and battle strategist. I wage war and I have never known defeat.Until now…
Now, I’m left to watch the Niahhorru bring one clawed hand down and rip away Svera’s head scarf, revealing her hair to the light. With his next swipe, he tears through the front of her shift, baring her body.
