Page 81 of Torn from the Alien Commander

I snicker at his words, though I remain unconvinced, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Didn’t you say only after our mating did the visions give you peace?” I smile, remembering his words, yearning to help him, to ease his burdens, so he can relax and just be himself.

“You got me,” Xandor laughs, throwing up a hand in surrender. “I knew where the wrist console was. Gods, you don’t miss much, do you?” He asks, as he unsheathes his massive laser sword to clear large dense red-leafed bushes with blinding speed.

Says Xandor, the one who always finds me, always cuts straight to my core—uncovering my heart.

His words trouble me, as my mind reels, trying to comprehend Xandor’s thoughts. He knew where his wrist console was, yet pretended he didn’t. But he would’ve known I’d catch his lie and even now probably knows my next and future responses... How can any person stay sane and grounded knowing so much? “You don’t have to do that, Xandor,” I plead, my voice surprisingly emotional.

Xandor halts, turning with his sword resting against his shoulder. “Do what?” he questions with a neutral face.

“Even now you’re doing it,” I sigh, glaring at him as he scrunches his face in yet more fake confusion! “You don’t have to pretend you don’t know things for my sake. I just want you to be happy,” I finish with my eyes downcast.

“You really don’t miss anything, my smart Mortakin-Kis,” Xandor approaches, the branches and leaves crunching under his immense weight. He sheathes his sword in a smooth single motion to place a finger beneath my chin, drawing my gaze upward. His intense golden gaze takes my breath away. “Remember what you did when I said I might’ve lost my wrist console?”

“No.”

“You laughed, and then when you called my buff?”

“I laughed.”

“And that’s why I do it,” Xandor says softly, his voice a warm caress. “I see every possibility, every outcome. But I choose the ones where I see you smile, where I hear your laughter. That’s what makes me happy, that’s what keeps me tethered to the present, Rebecca.”

My heart swells at his words, and relief floods through me. “I was just afraid of losing you, Xandor. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, knowing so much.” Placing my hands on his cheeks, he leans down to rest his forehead against mine, creating an intimate space just for us.

“You’ll never lose me. Not in this life or in the next. I promise.” His lips brush against mine, massaging softly, dancing along the outside. Just as I moan, leaning into him, wanting his tongue inside me, he pulls back. “We can’t linger here,” he says, casting glances towards the sky. “Voiding arrohawks swooping this way soon. A real mood killer, trust me,” he grins.

I’m only vaguely aware of what an arrohawk is, but suddenly I now hate them. Xandor continues to lead us through the dense woods that seem endless. The immense red-colored trees tower into the skies, surrounded by dense bushes and brush as flickers of purple light struggle to penetrate the sprawling canopy above.

“Do you feel any different, after our Mortakin-Tok?” Xandor asks, as he swings his long sword through the bushes witheffortless ease. “You know, we’re only the third couple in over two hundred years.”

Third?

“It feels special, like solidifying our relationship, making it official, you know?” I reply, thinking about how difficult it was. Some cultures have ceremonies and bonding rituals, but nothing like the Klendathians’ Mortakin-Tok—more a test of survival and endurance, something that must be earned or proven. We had to fight wave after wave of horrible robots that melted people to such nothingness that even I couldn’t heal them. All the while, two other Gods with the powers of Krogoth and Rocks fought some awful machine monster called the Void Bringer. “I’m just glad we made it to the end.”

“The end was the best part!” Xandor laughs, and my cheeks heat, remembering how we were transported into the beautiful transparent room in space. I was so transfixed by the view I didn’t notice I was voiding naked until Xandor told me—what came next was as inevitable and more enjoyable than Klendathor’s rising sun. “But we survived until the very end. The Gods have blessed us heavily.”

Have they?

“But we haven’t tested our abilities since the Mortakin-Tok?” I ask, sensing Xandor’s reluctance for some unknown reason. With my eyes closed, I can feel Xandor’s presence as vividly as a location on a wrist console map. His general sense of well-being fills my consciousness, like we’re two halves of the same soul. A tingle runs down my spine as a gust of wind tussles my hair. “I can feel you through our bond, stronger than ever.” I smile, happy we’re even closer now.

“Good,” Xandor grins over his shoulder. “What you sense now is how I found you on Omega Flux Station.”

I can imagine it. “And all this time, I thought you were just an excellent tracker,” I jest between heavy breaths, struggling to keep up with the extensive travel and Xandor’s long strides.

“I’m a good hunter, but not that good!” Xandor laughs. “Just a little longer. We’re nearly at Draxru, my love.” His attentiveness sends a flutter through my chest.

Moments later, through the dense trees, I spot the two towering wooden statues of the Klendathian Gods. They seem to represent the deities from the Mortakin-Tok vision, but these immense figures convey an awe-inspiring sense of grandeur: the male heroic and strong in his victorious pose, the beautiful female serene and graceful.

We’d only stayed briefly in Draxru before setting off to complete the Mortakin-Tok, but like before, I’m still mesmerized by it. The wooden buildings, some seemingly grown within the very trees, others constructed with intricate wood and beautiful runic patterns, captivate me. But it’s the hulking Klendathian males milling around that catch my attention.

On Nebia, I felt like a giant, but here, it’s as if I’m a child. Everything is oversized, and everyone towers over me. Unlike the warriors on Krogoth’s ship, the males here are older, many with longer hair flecked with gray. My heart aches as I see many with missing limbs or disfigured faces, marked by angry scars and burns—just like my Xandor.

I look at my hands, wishing I could do something for them, but it’s beyond me. Xandor clutches me tightly in a delightful, possessive way as we approach the raging bonfire at the heart of Draxru. As if I would ever leave him, or my eyes would ever wonder from my golden hero. Despite the Klendathian’s impairments, they are a good-natured bunch, quick to smile and offer greetings. Their imposing physicality is a little frightening, but their warmth fills me with relief.

Many incline their heads towards my love, muttering ‘Xandor,’ while their gaze shifts to me. Instead of disdain or naked lust, they offer warm smiles that don’t linger too long.

“You’d think the lazy znats would grow bored jabbering all day,” Xandor chuckles, passing the large furred seating area bustling with Klendathians who rest with plates of food, conversing with one another. “Losing a limb never stopped, Rylar. If anything, it drove him.”

I’ve never met this Rylar, but I assume he’s strong, like Xandor. My love holds himself to such high standards that he feels disdain when he meets people who fall short of his ideals—especially his fellow Klendathians. But when I see the injured males, all I feel is pity and sorrow. Combined with their lack of females or children, I’m impressed they can smile at all.

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