Page 49 of Taken to Kor
“You plan on keeping her for yourself. I can see it in your face. You love her. Like the Voraxians love. Like Xiveri.”
Xiveri. It’s a concept not known to Niahhorru, but one we’ve heard of. One we’ve built up with a certain reverence. The Voraxians and the Niahhorru have always had opposing strategies for breeding. The Voraxians let fate decide for them by waiting, sometimes for a lifetime, for their gods to choose their mates and reveal them. The Niahhorru don’t do fate. That’s why we shekurr. Spread our odds, let as many males as it takes couple with as many females as it takes until kits are born.
I smile. “It’s not Xiveri,” I tell her. “It wasn’t immediate. I fell in love with Deena over a thousand conversations, even ones she didn’t know I was listening to. She’s a fighter. She’s a survivor. And she’s a warrior. I could not do better than this if I hunted for such a female through the entire galaxy.”
Meghanora makes a soft mewling sound. I look down at her and blink, registering the water in her gaze and feeling terrible. I bring her to my chest and give her a soft, encouraging rub up and down her soft-tined spine. In her ear, I whisper, “I do not say these things to disparage you. You know that I am honored by the time we spent in the shekurr. You are a worthy female for any male. Worthy of a thousand shekurrs to come.”
She laughs. “I hope so. It’s been some time and I’ve been…restless.” She pulls back and looks up at me, wiping her cheeks. “I’ve been nervous to organize another for fear of the outcome. If I organized one though, would you join? I remember you from our last time. You were very worshipful.”
I smile, but the smile fits all wrong. It’s odd to deny a female such a request. However, there’s no tingling in my groin whatsoever and, in this moment, looking down at a female who I have felt pleasure from before, I don’t know if I evencouldmuster the requisite amount of enthusiasm to perform shekurr with her.
And I don’t want to.
Because what did I tell Deena?
There would be no other females. No sharing for either of us.
I squeeze her shoulder again fondly, then give her shoulder a soft pat. “It may not be Xiveri that binds us, but I do feel the same attachment to my mate as the Voraxian males do to theirs. I won’t be participating in any shekurrs and neither will Deena. We will mate together just the two of us. I’m sorry if this is disappointing to hear.”
She sulks, shoulders curling inward. “I suppose that’s fine. I just worry.”
“About what?”
“Our traditions. How will it work if some females want shekurr with males who want to keep them for their own and vice versa? It will be a mess.”
I laugh at that and ruffle her tines. They are soft, like Deena’s, but that’s where the likeness ends. Female Niahhorru tines are covered in silken scales while Deena’s are coarser, like furry fibers woven together into thick strands.
“Of course it will be chaos. This is Kor, or have you forgotten? You females have been spending too long in Paradise. Come to the gambling halls more often. Play a round of mok-biz. When the humans wake up, they’ll do whatever they want, just like you’ll do whatever you want. It will work itself out. Just never forget that we’re doing this for something far more important than tradition.”
“And what’s that?”
Love. “Life.”
She smiles a little more fully then and her gaze pans back out to the mok-biz table where Deena is waging war. “I suppose you’re right. I guess I’ll have to learn some patience. But — oh my.” She laughs. “Your human seems to have lost the battle.”
I glance down at the table, feeling light, feeling fuzzy, but when my gaze locks on Deena all that good feeling is scraped off, like skin from bone. “The shrov!”
Deena is standing on the edge of the table directly in front of the Egama she’d been fighting. Her lightning stick is stowed on the leather belt at her waist, she has her hands on the Egama male’s face and, before I can pull the blaster from my back, aim and fire, she kisses him. His hand is on the small of her back — covering her entire back — pulling her close as he tastes what he has no right to.
Rage. It burns like a muted sensation of battlefield bloodlust. I have a weapon in my hand and I’ve already leapt over the edge of the balcony by the time Deena breaks the kiss and steps out of the Egama’s hand. He catches the leg of her pant and she withdraws her lightning stick and zaps his wrist before jumping off of the opposite side of the table, leaving it in the same chaos that it was when she first started this carnage.
I am stupefied. Confused and stunned.
But also furious.
It’s not a common emotion for me. Then again, few of the emotions I’ve felt when it comes to Deena are. I am used to sharing females. I had no problem at all entering Meghanora, spending inside of her until her quivering body orgasmed around me, then stepping back and watching eleven of my pirate brothers take my place between her thighs and spend inside of her one after the other.
But watching Deena press her mouth to this Egama male and give him the same kiss that she’s given me makes my blood heat and my palms flex towards the weapons hanging from my tines.
I told her I loved her and that I refused to share and this is how she baits me? Like a true pirate. One who needs to face the reckoning that my rage will bring.
Standing at the edge of the crowd, I take a running leap, using the back of a Hypha as a springboard. I vault onto the table, remove the long dagger from my tines and throw it at Deena. It hits her pant leg right at the heel, as intended, and pins her trousers to the metal floor.
“Hey!” She shouts, turning and brandishing her weapon. It takes her a moment to locate the hilt of the dagger and then another long moment to look up at the mok-biz table and see me.
When she does, there is no contrition. There is only a glare deserving punishment. I fire on my token and push through the barrier of hers. “Don’t move.”
She tenses, but doesn’t lower her guard. A fist finds my calf and I turn to see an Oroshi latching onto my foot, preparing to pull. I kick it away and spin towards the Egama. I pull both left fists back and let them fly into his mouth. He staggers away from the table, falling back and I might have spared the time it would take to slit him open from neck to naval had Deena not yanked her pant leg free, shredding the gormar fabric in order to escape.
