Page 21 of Chieftain
We housed most visitors to the Bardaga on the second deck. I'd had Orzon install Emmy in quarters a few doors down from my quarters. She would occupy a large suite with many amenities, a space made for a chieftain's visiting wife or mistress—if he had one.
My heart flinched. Charick was right. The tiny human affected me in ways I could not understand or explain. I knew desire and the touch of carnal pleasures. While I did feel the burn of passion for her small human body, this was something more… something precious, and the idea both intrigued and terrified me.
The access panel of her door was set to respond to three individuals, Emmy, myself, and Orzon. I knocked lightly, not wanting to startle her with my entrance. The creature that opened the door appeared even more fragile than before. From the dampness of her curls, it was apparent Emmy used the sanitizer, the unit that cleansed our bodies with a mixture of steam and air. She wore what appeared to be a uniform tunic, which swallowed her body, hanging to a point past her knees. What made my chest tighten hardest was the redness of her eyes and the tear tracks staining the paleness of her face.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Emmy grimaced, swiping at her eyes as more tears fell. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't stop crying." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "Shit! I've never been one to cry, but now I can't stop. I must look like such a wimp."
"Hush, little human. I do not know thiswimp, but you have every right to cry." I stepped into the room, closing the door.
Emmy watched me, the tears flowing furiously.
Gently I placed my hands atop her shoulders, feeling the tremors that flowed underneath her skin. I turned her toward the bed in the far corner of the room. It was large with a thickfoam pad and covered by soft blankets. "You are exhausted. You need rest."
Emmy offered no resistance as I propelled her toward the bed.
"Thank you," her voice was small and trembled slightly. "What you and your crew are doing to help me means everything."
"Rest now," I said as she climbed onto the mattress, resisting the urge to smile. Vaktaire, even our females were considerably taller than humans. The bed stood half as tall as Emmy, and she looked like a youngling clamoring under the blankets. "When you awake, we will have passed through the wormhole and be close to the space station," I promised, pulling and tucking the covers around her shoulders.
"Will you," Green eyes regarded me as she gnawed at her lower lip. "I'm sorry, never mind."
“Will I what?”
"It's stupid. I'm just being a wimp."
“Tell me, please.”
"It's just… the last time I fell asleep, I was on Earth, in my home, and I woke up on a spaceship with a four-boobed cat-alien with my body forty years younger than it should be. I’m kind of afraid to go to sleep.” She gnawed at her lip again for a few moments, before asking, in a fragile voice. "Will you stay with me till I fall asleep? It's stupid, I know, and I feel ridiculous even asking, but…." Deep green eyes met mine. “I feel safe when you’re nearby.”
My chest swelled with a feeling I didn’t recognize, but it was warm, thick, and fiery, pushed through my veins by the heavy thud of my heart.
I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to take up too much space. "I will not leave until you are deep in slumber."
The sigh that escaped her lips was thick with relief, followed by a soft smile. She nested in the blankets, pulling her hands to rest under her chin. Feeling weight settle onto the mattress, the automatic lights blinked off, leaving only the glow of steadily blinking stars outside the window.
Tentatively I reached a hand to her thick curls, letting my fingertips stroke through the silk of her hair repeatedly as I had in the pod. The gesture seemed to calm her, a complete juxtaposition to how it made me feel.
Within minutes the transition in her breathing told me she was asleep. Yet, I could not pull my fingers from the softness of her hair, nor could I tear my eyes away from the beauty of her small, pale face illuminated by starlight.
She was the most fascinating creature I'd ever seen. Even now, when the need to protect her was tantamount in my thoughts, my body craved to settle into the blankets next to her and hold her close.
Could Charick be correct? Could the Garoot Healer alter human bodies so that Emmy could withstand the Valakana? I pushed down the explosion of hope, not letting myself be strayed by imagining a future impossible for a Vaktaire Earth protector. I would keep my word to Emmy. I would find her friends and see them all to safety. Gratitude was all a Vaktaire should ever desire from a human.
Why, then, could I not push away the craving for more?
Chapter 7
Emmy
Someone put a Gordian knot in the middle of space.
At least that’s what the Lernax Centauri space station looked like to me—an impossible knot made of metal and glass. The idea of setting foot on the helix sent ice water through my veins, but Willa might be there, and for that reason alone, I swallowed back my fear.
Khaion sat on his throne—he hated when I called it that—but the winding wooden command chair resembled the iron throne from Game of Thrones. Besides the two of us, Charick, and a couple of crew members, the bridge was empty. Most of Khaion's council left hours ago, each dropping to one knee and giving an oath to do what was necessary to find my friends. The Alliance gave Khaion and his crew three months of leave. Three months to search for my friends. It seemed an impossible task when faced with the vastness of space, but I had faith. I had faith in Khaion—a fact that was as shocking as true.
We were well through the wormhole when I finally awoke, jetting past planets, quasars, and nebulas so colorfully beautiful all I could do was stand on the observation deck and stare. In the week it took to travel to the space station, Khaion, and his warriors behaved as though training for battle, stocking each warrior's skiff with enough weapons to fight asmall war. The crew stayed engaged with training, strategizing, and combing through hours of what Jutuk calledspace chatter, trying to find clues to the whereabouts of my friends. Khaion checked on me often, but his visits were short, always chaperoned by Orzon, who took his role as my companion to heart.
The Framaddi showed me the ship, including how to use all the gadgets, such as the sustenance generator--a vending machine on steroids responsible for feeding the three-hundred-member crew. I wish there was one of these on Earth. The apparatus used the building blocks of protein, carbohydrates, and fats to construct various dishes. I couldn't pronounce the name of anything I ate, but that didn't stop it from being delicious. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were served in minutes without washing, cutting, cooking, or doing dishes afterward. Same for the machine Orzon called a fiber fabricator, a nifty little machine the Vaktaire used to manufacture clothing. All one needed to do was upload a sketch or picture of the garment, select the color and type of fabric, and voila—instant wardrobe. Orzon had images from several 1950s movies. I'd sashayed around looking like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast from Tiffany's for the better part of the week.
