Page 13 of Taken to Lemora
“You don’t?” Tana scoffs. “I’d say many males in your position would be pleased.”
Pleased does not begin to describe it. She’s the most beautiful creature in the whole of the galaxy — in the whole of history — and I’m sure that there will never be a female who comes close to rival her. She’s taken the top position asmost beautiful creature in the history of the cosmosand shattered it so that all others who come next will only ever be able to hope for second place. A very distant second.
But the thought that I’ll have to take her back to Lemora where there are other males — and females — who would look at her and be pleased by her makes my bones ache.
My face heats as I stare at her, wondering how much of our conversation she understands. It’s clear that she speaks Lemoran flawlessly — a fact that I would have thought was bizarre if Igmora hadn’t said what she had.
“I’m pleased that this worked out as I planned for it to three rotations ago.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what she’s ohring talking about as we wait for the other clan chiefs to arrive so we can get this ghastly sum sorted out.
She doesn’t need me to reply, however, she just crosses her arms over her chest and looks down the hall where her mate just fled. “Tyto had no faith in me either.” She laughs softly, “Males. You all are easy to manipulate and even easier to anticipate. I knew she’d be your mate the moment I showed her your image.”
“What are you talking about?” I grumble.
“She smiled,” Igmora’s eyes flash with something that horrifies me. It’semotion. She doesn’t have emotions. At least, she isn’t supposed to. She glides one hand back through her hair, pulling a tangle absently out of the sleek black mass. “You were almost three rotations her senior — fully grown to maturity, then, and she’d been but a youngling. But it did not seem to matter. She liked your eyes. She said they looked kind. And I had a sense that Xana and Xaneru were looking out for the little female. And for me, too.” She laughs, and this sound is crueler. More like her. Callous in every way.
“Because I knew of your reputation, even then. That you do not negotiate. And I planned to be able to extort you for everything I could. It has worked. I am now a very wealthy female. And my progeny is now in the hands of a male with kind eyes who will want her for more than her ability to breed little hybrids for him.
“It is a good thing I managed to place her in your path. Had this not worked out, I would have not succeeded in deterring Tyto from claiming her.”
“TYTO!” I shout and all the blood rushes from my horns’ base to my big blocky toes encased in big blocky sandals. “Tyto is…he’s…he’s…”
“He’s lusted after her since she received her first moon tide.”
An urge to slaughter ruthlessly grips me. By it, I am nearly undone. “But he’s your mate!”
She looks at me as if I’m the most foolish creature in all creation. Moving with the elegance of water, she crosses her smooth, lovely arms. “It is only a matter of time, clan chief.”
“Time? Time for what?”
She blinks at me. “It is only a matter of time before I kill him or he kills me. And I assure you, it will not be the latter.”
I did not doubt her in the least.
Fighting off the sour taste in my mouth that this female was groomed for me by the two most abhorrent creatures across all kingdoms, I return my focus to the female who speaks Lemoran as if she were born and raised on planet. Clearly, the language isn’t an issue, but if the subtleties of my actions were lost on her, then maybe — justmaybe— Igmora did not prepare her for what it means for a Lemoran male to see her and for his horns to begin to flake.
I can’t decide if I’m relieved, or if that makes me want to give into that base rage all over again. I’ve never been angry like that. When the Egama looked at her and staked his claim, I knew with certainty that I’d die before I let that happen. And I’ve never wanted to fight anything ever in my life and I never want to fight anything ever again. Unless it’s for her. That I’d do without question.
I look down at his dried blood on my fists and shake my head gruffly, wishing I could somehow resurrect him and start our war all over again.This time, I’d win. I want her to be sure I can protect her.I hate this! I hate feeling all of these foreign emotions! Pagh!
“Pagh! That’s not what I mean and you know it. These things are a nuisance. I have too many other things to worry about besides going through…” My voice catches. I can’t get the words out past the barrier of my teeth.
“Thechange?” Reyna, bare-chested, offers impishly.
Bebette giggles. Tana flat out chokes on laughter. Merquin offers nothing. The female —myfemale — looks like she’ll say something, which floods me with a lethal combination of both panic and yearning, then she flays me alive when she decides against it.
“Don’t call it that,” I huff, feeling more exhausted even as an unfamiliar energy zips and zings through me. “I hate it.”
“Itisa change,” Tana insists and then her pitch gets softer and infinitely more evil. “I can already see your whites peeking through.”
My stomach drops and my bones harden. I think about what I saw in the reflector Merquin held up to me when I cornered her in the hallway. She’d said something similar.Your whites are showing through.
All Lemoran are born with dark grey horns that remain that way until the solar their big blocky bodies die and they get burned up in pyres built atop kintarr sands that, when lit, bring about bright, colorful flames.
Unless…
They find their true mates. We’ve taken to calling our mates Xiveri, in the Voraxian fashion. We don’t believe in Xana and Xaneru, their deities, but we do believe in the universe and we understand the power of our horns. The power of true affection. Because when our Xiveri Mates come along, the dark coating that sheathes our horns flakes off and white horns are what’s left beneath.
