Page 32 of Taken to Heimo
But he doesn’t. My words seem to break something in him. He drops to one knee at my feet and grabs the pallet on either side of my knees. He bows his forehead to touch them, nuzzles his face between them, forces them to spread. He bites the inside of my knee and I gasp and when he jerks back upright, he is another male.
“Please, Svera,” he says in Drakesh.
Please.
I…I’m not sure what to do in the face of that single word, and then when he repeats it in badly broken Human, I’m completely lost. “Pulayeez.”
I jump where I sit, and it has nothing to do with the fact that the transporter rumbles as it docks. “I…it would be wrong. A lie…”
“Lie for me.Pulayeez. Just for now. I will fix it. I will fix it, I vow to you, I will fix it.”
“How?”
“I read your human manual.” Shock.
“You…you did?”
He nods. “I read aboutmay’ree. It’s no different than the Xanaxana except for that Xanaxana is more powerful. We are alreadymay’reein Voraxia. I will explain that to your Tri-God people and then they will understand.”
I notice that, at no point, does he offer to marry me in my own custom. Not that I would want him to offer. He is no husband. He is only Voraxia’s battle strategist.
“Until then, wear your head cover.”
My shoulders sag. I look down at the hijab in my lap and slowly, begrudgingly, put it on.
“Married people don’t hate each other,” I whisper as I tuck my braids beneath it and fasten it securely.
“Hate or not, it makes no difference,” he says, grabbing my baskets from the floor.
“Nox,” I whisper sadly. “I guess it doesn’t.”
8
Krisxox
I am panicked. I am also drunk.
The room around me is crowded on this side of the viewing pane. I should be more interested in what the Islu’Raku is saying to me as we wait for the kit to emerge, but I grunt and wave him off, too interested in the sight of my Svera’s beautiful face on the other side of the glass.
Focus.
Xoking focus!
But my Xanaxana will not.
There. I xoking said it. My Xanaxana has gone xoking berserk for the female with the slit that smells like a burning banban tree, the type of smoke used to make ceremonial fires in the ancient Drakesh villages where they still practice the dark arts.Magic. She teems with it and when it overflows, it falls onto me in layers of irrevocable curses.
She thinks she is ruined? Ha.
The xoking human has ruined me completely. I was a proud male before but, as I stand on the other side of a plate of glass looking in at the Rakukanna’s birthing chamber, all I can see is her. I do not see the Raku standing proudly beside his human, bringing water to her lips when she asks for it — like a slave.
I do not see the human Va’Rakukanna of Nobu standing at the Rakukanna’s side, whispering in her ear. I do not feel the brush of the Va’Raku’s arm against mine as he moves beside me, watching the birth about to take place.
I do not see Lemoria and her host of xub’Lemoria rushing back and forth across the woodsy womb of a room, complete with a plush birthing nest, checking holo screen after holo screen to ensure that the Rakukanna’s vitals are within normal range as she finally begins to push.
All I see is Svera. The look on her face as, after a quarter solar, the hybrid emerges from the Rakukanna’s body, all red and wet and glistening. Its little squeals can be heard even through the mirror, even louder than the agonized, grateful breath taken by the Va’Raku beside me and the cheers of the other xub’Raku gathered in front of the viewing pane.
And then I feel my body clench. Nox. The Xanaxana is gobbling me up.Her dark magic is at work.My xora is stiffening at the sight of the wetness on Svera’s face. She iscryingagain, a practice only performed by kits and humans. So despicable and yet… I have not forgotten what it felt like to see the wetness on her cheeks when she shook apart in my arms. She was in pain, but she braved it, letting my xora bask in her warmth all the way down to the base. I was inside of her. I was xokinginside ofher and the look on her face after? Pure grief.
