“Do-doyou make me repeat myself? In this, I am unmoved-moved. Win or die!” He walked away, his harem and guards following slowly behind him.
The supreme’s words echoed through Xefe’s mind as he carried the unconscious earther to his quarters. The fragile alien weighed no more than his right leg. Her head lolled as he carried her up the winding path. The Aavvee preferred lower, darker spaces, so they occupied the bottom half of the mountain. The guards, warriors, and workers remained above.
Xefe’s eyes trailed her body, pausing on her surprisingly long legs. Her skin fascinated him. Resisting the urge to take in her rich scent, he held her tight, unwilling to jostle her even the tiniest bit. So scrawny, so defensive, and very, very soft.
He set her down on the floor in his sleeping quarters. A few chairs, an old table, and his sleeping platform were most of his possessions. His bed dominated the small room. He had built it himself from discarded parts. The heavy concrete blocks created elevation to help with the night creatures. His sleeping chamber was his alone. As First Warrior, he had spilled enough blood to earn the right to his own domicile. An unusual reward. Warriors were taught all actions, thoughts, and accomplishments were for the supreme and the planet. Personal possessions were notpermitted beyond their staffs, weapons, and uniform. Anything gained must be shared by all warriors.
Till death. Supreme first!The phrase automatically reverberated through his mind. It had been drilled into him since childhood. Since his parents had relinquished him to the supreme for the ultimate honor of being a Nozaroc warrior. He had devoted his life to his leader and planet—followed every tenet.
But would I share this… earther?The uncomfortable feelings the question evoked were quickly shoved away.
She moaned in her sleep, her small heart pounding violently. What a surprise she was. The speed, the way she owned the field… Freckles would have died painfully if Xefe hadn’t intervened. He had never seen a competitor run as quickly as the little earther.
Unwilling to lay her on the dusty floor, he grabbed one of the discarded blankets he’d commandeered for his bed. It was torn and scratched, probably material used for one of the Aavvee’s pets, but it had suited his needs perfectly. Refusing to wonder why he wasted a perfectly good blanket on the flea-infested alien, he threw it on the ground and placed her atop it.
What had Tontoh done to her?
His chest tightened, and anger flared. Before he could clench his fists, the burst of emotion faded, subdued by theGlrtsstlllloroggg, the glittering gold substance that was the lifeblood of this planet. Only measured emotions were allowed. It ensured a warrior always maintained control while fighting.
He watched her fragile limbs fall to the side, her alluring skin a constant temptation that cycled his emotions between need and blissful nothingness. The power of theGlrtsstllllorogggto block any emotion was failing. The bursts of feeling reappeared faster and faster.
He waited for the little earther to stir, but it became evident she’d pushed herself too far. She’d need an injection, or theGlrtsstllllorogggwould start to feed on itself. Walking back to the alcove where he kept his weapons and clothes, he used the imprint of his thumbs to open the safe. No one knew of his stash, but he and his warriors needed an injection from time to time. But only when they had battled too long for the protection of the supreme. Xefe grabbed the golden vial and stepped toward the earther.
Before any unfamiliar feelings like regret popped up, he placed a few drops under her tongue. No longer hesitant because the action meant life, he watched as theGlrtsstlllloroggglit up her skin, branching out and following the path of her veins. The pattern was fascinating. Hundreds of tiny ropes came alive under her skin.
His own veins jumped in response as if longing to reunite, to fuse with herGlrtsstlllloroggg. To merge withher. Xefe had long thought that theGlrtsstllllorogggmay be alive. He had no proof, but it was a whispered knowing. His supreme never acknowledged the theory. One Xefe had shared when he was much younger, before he learned to keep his thoughts to himself.
The wave ofGlrtsstllllorogggcrested, traveling through her limbs, past her delicate neck, and staining her cheeks. It ran riot through her curls, painting random strands in glittery gold. She would be changed. Once theGlrtsstllllorogggpushed its host and itself to a critical point, only more of the substance would balance the loss. And if theGlrtsstllllorogggbrought its host to a breaking point, anywhere between three to five times, the host would become dependent and need a constant replenishment of it.
The more you use, the more you need.
He had only ever pushed himself twice. TheGlrtsstlllloroggghad shifted organs, strengthened his muscles, and warped hismind to battle, to victory. If he overtaxed himself to the brink of death in even one more fierce battle, he might meet his limit. It would mean he could never leave Nozaroc. Would never be rewarded with hisalmax, his true mate, after he completed his term of service to the supreme.
TheGlrtsstllllorogggnow moved toward her tri-colored eye. So strange. The smaller black circle grew and shrank for no apparent reason. Her fingers twitched as ropes of gold traveled over her forehead and straight for the brain. It would only be a fewticsbefore—
She shot up and fought for air, the generous globes on her chest rising and falling violently. After a few seconds, she squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Hijo de la chingada.”
Her words did not immediately register. He had adjusted to the earther language, but perhaps she spoke a dialect he was unaware of. Or theGlrtsstlllloroggghad permanently damaged her brain. The last thought brought on a millisecond of… sorrow.
She hadn’t noticed him yet, the room too dim as her body adjusted to the powerful infusion. He faded back to the chair toward the darkest corner of the room. Her recovery rate was of great interest to him. The faster, the better. The mark of a true warrior.
Time for the tiny earther to talk.
To reveal her secrets. No one would be allowed to jeopardize his facility or threaten his supreme. She was an enigma with a large amount of the most powerful substance in the known universe coursing through her veins.
Tontoh had said she couldn’t speak—was too stupid to understand—but he knew that wasn’t true. He had watched her expressive face react when the supreme proclaimed they could compete. She’d understood him, and his leader’s language as well—the aristocratic tongue of the Aavvee.
But most importantly, he remembered her softly spoken word inhislanguage when she’d touched Xefe’s cheek in Tontoh’s ship. It had been too ridiculous to believe, but she had uttered it as clear as the stars. “Pretty.”
That should be impossible. How could she speak his tongue? What gifts had she been granted by the Glrtsstlllloroggg?I know her secret. She is much cleverer than she lets on.
Earthers were a recently discovered species—physically inferior to Xefe and his warriors, but then, most species were. But who knew about their mental acuity? If she had survived the overdose ofGlrtsstlllloroggg, there was no telling what she could do.
I will make her talk.
CHAPTER 9
Lucha. Lucha. Lucha!Fight. Fight…
