Page 60 of Taken to Heimo
But instead of answering me, he says, “You are the garden. Proud, fiery, bloodthirsty and sweet. And you ruined me, Svera. You ruined me before I even knew who you were. You ruined me the first time I looked into your eyes and saw stars. You’re pure light and better than me in every way and you make me want to be part of that light, to rise up beyond my heritage and beeverythingyou deserve, even though I know I never can be because you deserve the universe. But it won’t stop me from trying. I’m not a decent enough male for that, but I’m your male. Your mate. And I willmay’reeyou. You will call mehouse-bandand I will call youwhiff.”
I grin up at him and shake my head. “Husband,” I say. “Wife.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Nox.” I laugh. “It isn’t.”
He grunts and opens his mouth, but the ship is suddenly lurching along at a violent, jerky pace. I grab hold of his arm to stabilize myself. “Where are we going, Krisxox? What’s Evernor? Are they allies?”
“It’s not a species. It’s a place.”
“A…friendly place?”
He grins in a way that unsettles me.
“Krisxox…”
“Your way got us this far, now it’s time for mine.” He takes my hand, the one holding the sword, and lifts it up high. “Now, we fight.”
16
Krisxox
“Krisxox, explain to me again why in the comets you thought this was a good idea.” Her voice is tight and furious as she hugs close to my side and watches the waving Eshmiri fool appear in the broken doorway of our transporter, beckoning us out with an infallible grin.
Svera has the gall to smile at the creature and wave back as she follows tight behind me out of the transporter into the pit, onto the black-and-red-sand battlefield.
The Eshmiri giggles loudly when she waves and snaps all its fingers. Eshmiri are each born with different numbers of fingers. This one has eleven of them strung across two hands and it waggles them gleefully.
Stupid, smug little bastards.
Svera just smiles and waves back.
I roll my eyes at the both of them. “Because the Oosa would never have sold you back to the Voraxians. Reoran has been talking at length to Raku about buying a human off of him. He hasn’t mentioned it to you humans because he didn’t want to frighten you, but Reoran is obsessed with the Rakukanna and wants a hybrid for her collection.
“The Sky would kill you or sell you and take me for parts, turning me into some mindless assassin.
“The Voraxians can’t offer what the Eshmiri want — more than credits, they want access to Niahhorru technology or Kintarr. We have neither in abundance.
“If we fight our way out of Evernor, we’ll win a percentage of the credits and be set free. Those are the rules. We only have to win one battle.”
Svera huffs and clutches her sword and her carpet to her chest. In her hands, both are equally deadly. “You keep sayingwe,but I don’t remember signing on to fight anyone.”
I just shrug, feeling strangely light as the smell of her smoky skin guides me into the light, through the gates, and around the perimeter of the arena.
The arena is ringed by low, metal walls that stack high to provide seating for the spectators. There are thousands of them.
My mind is calm and steady, the Xanaxana running like a smooth current, powerful and disruptive, but no longer destructive. I can breathe. The tingling in my skin is just that. Tingling. It’s no longer the powerful gnashing bite of Xana’s punishment, or the cutting talons of my own Xaneru being ripped away. Xaneru is settled. Xana is satisfied. My body glows with a light that I feel reverberating through every inch of my being.
She’s mine.
Somewhere back in the past half solar, something changed for her. I can feel it pulsing through me, in the way her fingertips touch the strap of one of my weapons, like she knows now that she has that right. Like she knows she owns me, and that she should never be scared.
I want to hold her hand, but my hands are full of weapons, so I content myself with her touch. I inhale… And exhale.
“You’re a mighty warrior,” I whisper. “You’ll do just fine.”
She grunts at that.
