Page 8 of Taken to Heimo
I spit, “I was thinking that it would be an excellent occasion for the people of Qath to celebrate their federation’s newest member. What is happening now is the most significant event in the history of Voraxia since the dissolution of Cxrian’s empire and the Drakesh absorption into the Voraxian federation. If you cannot see that, then you’re blind.”
“I can see it, human.” He growls and ducks his head, patronizing me in that way he knows I hate. He crosses his arms and licks his dark red lips. “But it’s not a moment worth celebrating.”
I tense. I wish I didn’t let him rile me like this, but he is either intentionally trying to hurt my feelings or he genuinely believes what he just said. The latter is a worse scenario than the former, but both hurt.
I decide then that Krisxox must have been placed in my path by the Tri-God’s own hand in order to test my faith. Not in the Tri-God, of course, but in myself. In me. Can I endure him?
I close my eyes and exhale through my mouth. I count to three.One. The weight of the sun pressing down on me from through the canopy. Two. The sound of the faraway rope bridges swinging as vendors and shoppers swarm the rowdy market. Three. Cold citrus drink on a hot sunny solar. The smell of Krisxox’s skin.I open my eyes.Release.
“I am very disappointed that you feel this way.”
A muscle in his neck spasms and his whole head twitches. I’m under his skin, just as he’s under mine. This is a battle between us, our every interaction. I lose often, but not as often as he does.
The Tri-God does not place rivers before us too wide to cross.
“You’re disrupting my xoking training. Look at this. It’s chaos.” He isn’t wrong.
Only about half of his warriors are in their original grid formation. Perhaps less. I don’t care though. This isn’t a day for training. This is a day for celebration, inshallah, and I refuse to let him ruin that.
“It’s perfect timing to leave, then. Wouldn’t you agree? Training looks like it’s over.”
“Why the xok would I leave now?”
“I thought you said you heard me, Krisxox. The Rakukanna has gone into labor. We need to travelnow, not this lunar as originally planned.”
“We leave when I say we leave and I’m not letting some filthy hybrid ruin this training session or any other. You need to sit back down and shut up and wait until I tell you otherwise.”
The insults I could stomach — at least that’s what I tell myself — but the callous, listless way he speaks about Miari and the Raku’s baby?
I want to scratch and claw and bite. I want to enter his arena and wage a war I know I’m unlikely to win…but that Imight.
Words rile within me and I spit out the first ones that come, without thinking. “You are a foul, ruined thing and Ihateyou,” I snarl and in this moment I mean it even though I’ve never hated anything.
He freezes. Even the strands of his hair, once caught in a breeze, seem to still. He narrows his gaze and red rolls across his ridges.
“Krisxox, settle down,” Tur’Roth grits out at my back.
Krisxox is breathing hard now, shoulders lifting and sagging with each breath. Ignoring Tur’Roth, he leans even closer to me and that scent…that cruel scent. It plays tricks with my body that my mind is too weak to fight. I break. Wetness surges past my underwear and drips down the seam of my clenched thighs.
Krisxox’s mouth opens. His hands flinch for me and he seems to be fighting a losing battle, too, because he brings himself even closer. My chest is one deep inhalation away from brushing his. I stare straight up at him. Purple flashes in his brow and he chokes and the sound is not full of malice, as I’d hoped, but thick with male desperation.
I quickly turn away from it. Krisxoxcannotthink that the arousal pooling in my core is for him. Hecannotbe rewarded for his degrading and demeaning behavior. I have to get myself out of this because if he comes any closer, I mightgive in…so, I do the first and only thing I can think to do.
I turn around, reach for Tur’Roth, raise myself up on my tiptoes and brush a kiss across his cheek. At least, that was my intention. But Tur’Roth turns and captures my mouth with his.
He moans into my lips, curves his hand around my head and holds me in place. We kiss, while the male I’d been so close to killing or embracing stands a pace away. Close enough I can still smell his skin and the sugary sweat that it makes. Even though I don’t like the sensation of Tur’Roth’s kiss, I whimper anyway at the effect that scent has on me. My head spins and Tur’Roth catches me.
Kissing is not common in Voraxian culture and it’s clear he has no experience with it. His lips are hard and stiff and his tongue invades my mouth, sliding much too deep. I almost choke and carefully separate us with my hands, pushing against his abdomen to put some space between us. I’m in shock.
I’ve kissed three boys before this. The first two were boys from my congregation. Feeling rebellious, we pressed our mouths together after our Seventh Solar Youth Group. The third…the third was an attempt…to do more.
I wanted to be prepared for my time in the Hunt and I asked a kind, gentle boy called Raffa to…help me. Or well, he offered, but all he succeeded in doing was terrify me when he mashed my breast through my dress and then attempted to take my head scarf off. I retreated and have not been near a boy since. Until now.
“I…” I don’t know what to say.
Tur’Roth is holding onto my arms, keeping me close. He’s breathing hard — practically panting — and his forehead ridges are blazing purple lust blotted with bits of brown satisfaction.
He grins down at me and the shame in my gut doesn’t do what it’s meant to because it just liquifies, becoming one with my arousal. I can still smell him behind me. I can still feel him, like he’s touching me, even though he’s not. And Tri-God forgive me, I want to be touched…
