Page 34 of Chieftain
"It meansmy little warrior," Khaion lifted his head slightly, the golden eyes capturing mine. We stared at each other for seconds that could have been hours, the air thick and hot and throbbing with something that might have been the echo of heartbeats. It might have been romantic had we not been covered in grizzly goo. Even so, the moment felt magical, as though a part of Khaion's soul living behind the glimmer of his golden eyes invaded my spirit, finding a space for himself and settling. I felt oddly completed.
Khaion opened his mouth, eyes narrowing so whatever he was about to say held importance, but I would never know. The next second he hefted me over his shoulder and sprinted back down the alley. The motion aggravated my roiling stomach, and I raised my head, fighting off the sickness.
A flicker of purple caught the corner of my eye. Like everything else, there was crap piled in front to suggest the door was unused. Dropped suddenly to my feet, I swayed dizzily but briefly before Khaion's hand closed over my wrist, yanking me into a small dark alcove. The thick metal door pulled silently closed in my wake. Khaion knelt, pulling me to rest upon a taut thigh. The only communication between us was the universal signal for quiet.
The thud of footsteps trod by, accompanied by low growls of at least a half dozen beastly voices. Accompanying the shiver that raced down my spine was the realization that a pack of Kerzak stood right outside the purple door. My eyes widened at Khaion.
Oh, crap, will they smell me?
His finger trailed along my cheek and was warm and soothing. When the touch pulled away, Khaion held his hand close so I could see the smear of dark green blood on his fingertip. His expression was easily translatable.
No, they won’t be able to scent past the blood of the Kerzak on you.
The trembling began, more out of relief than fear. Khaion felt it. Of course, he did. I was sitting in his lap. Thick muscular arms came around my shoulders, leaning me sturdily against him. Despite the pack of wild grizzly aliens a few feet away, I felt protected. I felt safe.
I felt right.
We could have stayed there for minutes, hours, or eons. It didn't matter. I was exactly where I was supposed to be, wrapped in Khaion's arms. It didn't make sense. He was an alien warrior—I was human, but being in his arms felt more perfect than anytime Rick or any other man held me. I let myself wallow in contentment.
When Khaion finally moved, a huffed breath of disappointment escaped my lips. The Kerzak had long moved away, and I heard nothing save the rumble of machinery and faint squeaks of some kind of space rat.
Khaion lifted me, like Rhett Butler toting Scarlett O'Hara up the staircase. We descended with Khaion leaping from landing to landing without bothering with the stairs. When we came to the final doorway, Khaion sat me down, reluctant in his movement.
This door was easier to open. Khaion stepped through, his head swinging right, then left, gauging the danger. Satisfied, he pulled me to his side.
The grind of machinery was so loud it made my eardrums rattle, but the air was clearer and, despite a lingering hint of motor oil, didn't smell too bad.
Wrapping my fingers tightly in his grip, Khaion headed right, weaving between machinery and debris. Every so often, he would glance back over his shoulder, jaw tightening at whatever he saw, but he never increased the speed of our steps.
The door was glaringly conspicuous. Faded chipped red paint revealed black metal underneath, and the door's inner panel held a series of dials and levers. With a final glance over his shoulder, Khaion began fiddling with the dials, moving them in some kind of combination. Faint squeaks and hums answered his touch and the door popped open with a groan.
“We’re here.” Khaion pushed the door open, laying a hand on the flat of my back to usher me forward.
The brisk air felt clean to my lungs. Anything was better than the smoky passageways with the stench of Kerzak. I took a deep refreshing breath and stepped through, my feet stuttering to a stop as the surroundings came into focus.
“Holy shit!”
Chapter 11
Emmy
Above me, blue skies dotted with thick fluffy clouds meandered on a lazy breeze. The fetid miasma of trash, unwashed bodies, machines, and blood faded from my senses. In place, the freshness of grass and pine, highlighted by floral scents of rose, lavender, and jasmine, was a heady kiss. It wasn't a large space, about half the size of a baseball field, but every inch was bestrewn in vibrant foliage. At the far end, water flowed down a black granite waterfall, tinkling like wind chimes as it joined with a gurgling brook of crystal-clear water.
Logically, I knew I was on the space station. The faint hum of engines whirred audibly beyond the chipped red door. However, my senses, and in large part, my spirit, felt at home.
“What is this place?”
“Dixa calls it Babylon." Khaion turned from re-engaging the locks. His handsome face flushed with pleasure at seeing my expression. "Siemba built it for her when she became homesick for something she called a rose garden. We will be safe here; few know of this place.”
"He really loves her, doesn't he?" It was the only assumption to glean from the landscape. Every plant was of Earth origin as near as I could tell. The work it must have taken Siemba to not only build this place but bring all the plants fromEarth and design the garden so that it thrived in the bowels of a space station boggled my mind.
Khaion's lips twisted slightly. "She is his true mate." He gestured for us to descend the curved wrought iron staircase leading to a small patch of perfectly manicured grass. It was all I could do not to shuck my shoes and run barefoot through the small meadow. I walked back and forth between rose bushes and azaleas, bouncing on the springy ground, inhaling deeply, and grinning like an idiot.
“The male you were telling Dixa about when Siemba and I returned from meeting with the spy—was that your husband?”
I stopped bouncing and stared and Khaion blankly for a minute. His handsome face held an odd expression, curiosity, and something that might have been a tinge of jealousy.
Jealously?Surely not. I must be imagining things.
