Chapter 9

I awoke inside an ice cave, stalactites of blue ice hanging above me. I was wrapped in soft, woven blankets. Groaning, I sat up. I was naked, my snow-wet clothes having been discarded sometime while I was unconscious. I held the blankets up to cover myself. Khofti sat next to me, carving something with a knife. When he saw that I was awake, he smiled and set the carving aside. Small curls dusted the floor around him.

“Is this where you brought me before?” I asked.

“No. It’s near to it, though.”

“Looks the same,” I said. A small fire crackled merrily beside us. It was far enough away that it wouldn’t spread to the blankets, but close enough that I could feel its warmth. Its glow made the shadows of the cave dance.

“How do you feel?” he asked me.

“Better,” I replied.

“I thought that I had lost you forever,” he said softly, and for the first time, I heard sadness in his voice.

“I killed him,” I said blankly. I was surprised at how much this world had changed me. I had gone from being a teacher and law-abiding citizen to cold-blooded killer in a snap.

“So I understood from the blood on your clothing. You are a warrior, little one,” he said, wrapping one of his thickly muscled arms around me, his hand curling around my hip. I snuggled in close to him. He had washed the makeup and the arterial spray from my skin as I slept. He held my hand, studying the flat of my palm. I wanted him to look at me, in the eyes. I wanted his undivided attention. I reached up, pulling his face down to mine. His full lips covered mine. Our eyes were open as we kissed. He pulled away, grinning.

“Your eyes are all lit up,” he said, reminding me that my body was still a captive of the Ak-hal, still undergoing their cruel and disgusting mating ritual.

“Extinguish them,” I commanded. “I want the light of the Ak-hal to leave me forever.”

“That isn’t enough,” he said. I realized that it sounded like I was using him. I placed my hand on his cheek, solemnly looking him in the eyes. I needed him to know that it was him—it had always been him, even before I had known that his planet even existed.

“I want you, and only you,” I said firmly. A small smile lit his face. He leaned in, kissed me, and did as I had commanded. He moved over me, and I pushed his jumpsuit off over his shoulders, easing it downward, over his hips. The scent of his skin was all around me—masculine, spicy. He reached down between my legs, massaging my clit. My whole body reacted to his touch. Everything about him was warm, electric—everything that I knew that the Ak-hal weren’t. He dipped his finger inside of me, feeling my wetness. I cried out, my head rolling back.

“Not yet,” he whispered, biting my lip teasingly. He pressed the tip of his penis against me, pausing for a moment. He entered me, and it hurt, much like I expected. But as he moved, slowly, easing his way in, he massaged my clit, and I felt my body respond. I writhed in pleasure beneath him. He trailed kisses along the soft skin below my ear. It was bittersweet.

Something happened when he pulled his face back. As he looked into my eyes, I gasped in shock—I had been aware of his consciousness before, but it felt as though I had fallen into it, or it had expanded outwards to bring me in. I felt like I was floating in a star-filled expanse. I could feel Khofti’s ancientness. It was as though he was wrapped around me, but at the same time, I was wrapped around his consciousness, as well.

It’s beautiful, I said.

Yes, he replied. I have waited so long for this connection. His voice echoed inside of my head as well as outside of it. I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began, this space seemed to be both within and without.

This is why the Kamani look for mates?

Yes. It’s the joining of our souls.

I drifted within his consciousness, seeing all the things that made him. They were images, unspecific, charted in the constellations within him. I couldn’t make sense of them. I could feel distinct sadness, grief, pain. But there was also happiness and warmth, which welled over all those things. I didn’t understand it, pushing against his consciousness with my own, asking him. He seemed to shake his head, as though to say, not yet. I’ll tell you soon. He was still alien to me. But I knew that, in time, it would all become comprehensible. We had eternity stretching before us.

We lay side by side in silence. I watched as the fire burned low, thinking about the tiki torches that Jenny had been lighting at her barbecue the night that I had been abducted. I missed her, deeply. I could feel the press of Khofti’s consciousness against mine when a thought occurred to me. I looked at him, wondering why it had never occurred to me to ask before.

“Have you…ever been with a woman before, Khofti?” I felt slightly jealous—had he experienced that joining of consciousness with another? Had she died? Was that where those deep feelings of grief floating within Khofti had come from? Was she being worn by one of the Ak-hal, or would I have to meet her someday? I didn’t want to meet her, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t wish the Ak-hal on anyone.

“You have to ask? I told you. The Kamani mate for life, Shay.” He said it gently, not as an admonition. His twin golden rings looked into my eyes curiously.

“Then how did you know how to do any of those things?” He had seemed pretty sexually experienced, in my opinion. Not that I really had a fully developed opinion on that, myself.

“We all know how to pleasure our women,” he said with a good-natured laugh. “The Ak-hal should know, as well. Women might be an object to them, but they are a treasure also. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have ruined the Sky Jewel to get to you.”

“They really wanted that, didn’t they?” I asked ruefully. It had been an amazing sight to behold. I felt bad that it was because of me that it had been ruined.

“That was one of the things that they wanted in the false peace treaty.”

“It was just a rock.”

“Beauty is power to the Ak-hal,” he said softly, caressing my cheek with his hand.

“What is power to the Kamani?” I asked.

“Love. Kindness. Peace.”

“The noble savages,” I commented, and he glanced at me questioningly. “Earth philosophy, I suppose. Has there ever been a bad Kamani?”

“Of course.” He thought for a moment. “You asked for a story, little one. Don’t think that I have forgotten.”

“Okay. Tell me,” I rolled on my side and propped my head on my hand expectantly. “Once, when only the first Kamani had awoken, the dark one was born,” he began.

“The dark Kamani?”

“Yes. He had black eyes. And his heart had clouds that covered it.” As he spoke, his fingers trailed across my skin, raising lines of goosebumps along it. “He was the outsider. He separated himself from the other Kamani.”

“What was his name?”

“He was called Fana.”

“You said the Ak-hal wore Fana,” I said, recalling something he had said what seemed like a long time ago.

“I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

“Sorry.”

“You are forgiven, little one,” he said tenderly. “Fana was always alone. It isn’t like the Kamani to want to be alone. That is why we mate—two together,” he said, taking my hand and placing it palm to palm with his own. We both looked down at our hands. “The Kamani didn’t dislike Fana, but he disliked the Kamani. For he had offered his heart to one, the most beautiful of the Kamani, Aisha.”

“It’s always over a woman.”

“Love is a strong emotion. When it isn’t returned, it can fester, becoming the deepest sickness in all Aman.”

“And Fana had it?”

“Yes. Fana had it. And it made him bitter. He watched as Aisha gave herself to another. And it made his dark heart grow darker. He turned away from the Kamani, going off on his own and living inside of an ice cave for many years. And then, the Ak-hal came.”

“Ah,” I prompted. “Are you skipping a lot?”

“Well, yes. Fana lived in the cave on his own for centuries. During that time, the Kamani did much. A child was born to Aisha,” he paused and coughed. “It only made Fana more bitter, as he believed that her happiness should have been his to share in.”

“The Ak-hal first approached the Kamani. They asked the Kamani for their help. They had just lost their planet, and all their women with it. They weren’t ever clear on how that had happened. They were… I don’t the word…”

“Evasive?” I supplied. He nodded.

“Yes. Evasive. They seemed sad, but it didn’t reach their eyes. It was as though they were playing at grief. Nothing touched them, not the beauty of Aman nor the kindness of the Kamani, and the Kamani, although wary, let the Ak-hal know how to grow things on Aman, as well as how to find unfrozen water.”

“After all this, the Ak-hal asked the Kamani for a gift of their women, so that they could rebuild their race. The Kamani refused, saying that mating was a choice, and a shared destiny. We don’t view our women as objects to be gifted, and the chief of the Kamani foresaw that the Ak-hal wouldn’t ever treat our women as equals. This was when the Ak-hal turned from the Kamani in anger.”

“When the Kamani didn’t wish to make such an alliance with the Ak-hal and their cold eyes, Fana did. He left his ice cave and went to live with them, helping them to build their castle of metal and ice. They asked Fana about the Kamani and Aman. He told them everything—everything that the Kamani owned.”

“The mithrim?”

“Yes. Mithrim comes from the ground.” That was surprising. “They didn’t show you their mines?” He seemed shocked. I shook my head. Mithrim seemed to be a part of the Ak-hal—like another limb. They depended upon it for so much. I couldn’t believe that they hadn’t had it prior to their appearance on Aman. “They are proud of their mines.”

“I imagine that they are quite ugly,” I supposed.

“A deep scar in the land,” he agreed.

“What was their ship made of before?” I asked. “The one that brought them here?”

“Dark metal. It glistened in the light of the sun. I don’t know what it was,” he frowned. “I’ve never seen it before. Maggie says that she thinks it was something called ‘steel.’”

“Ah,” I nodded. “But they have never come to Earth.”

“They have. Or you wouldn’t be here.” He had a point. They just hadn’t made their presence known to anyone but their prey. Clearly, they had learned from their experience with the Kamani—women weren’t always given as gifts by other races, so they found it more expedient to take in secret.

“What happened with Fana?” I wanted him to get back to the story. There was a point, or he wouldn’t be telling me this. I hardly needed to know how dangerous the Ak-hal were. I had a pretty good firsthand knowledge of the fact.

“He made a bargain with the Ak-hal. He promised them all the resources on the planet if the Ak-hal would give him Aisha and their light in his eyes. He wanted to be like them. He wanted to be a dragon instead of a bear. He told them about the Kamani’s weaknesses. He told them about the Sky Jewel.”

“Where did it all go bad?” I asked quietly.

“They gave him Aisha. They killed her mate and used his blood in their mating ritual. Fana liked that they used the other male’s blood. He liked the idea that he was taking in something of his in order to take his mate for his own. Aisha, seeing her mate killed, and being forced to knowingly drink his blood, waited until Fana slept. She killed herself by jumping off the Ak-hal’s tallest tower.”

“Heartbroken, Fana begged for her return. None of the Kamani had ever died before.”

“Never before?”

“No. The gods gifted the firstborn of the Kamani with eternal life. Since the Kamani are peaceful and rarely had confrontation, there had been no loss of lives before this.” I realized that the Kamani didn’t have a fully developed sense of the afterlife.

“Do you think that when the Kamani are worn as skins, they are still there?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “Perhaps not.”

“So where do you think they go when they die?” I asked. Khofti shrugged, looking up at the cave ceiling.

“They stay with us,” he replied vaguely before returning to his story. Clearly, this was uncomfortable territory. “Fana was angry with the Ak-hal. He confronted them, but one doesn’t confront the Ak-hal and live. They killed him while he was in bear form. He had outlived his necessity to them. Their king wore his pelt when he walked onto the Kamani lands. He told us that in order for them to stop killing the Kamani, we would need to give them access to the resources.”

“What did you do?” I began to recall—he had been there.

“The chieftain refused them.” There was a sad, faraway look in his eye. “With the deaths, he wouldn’t stand down. We may be kind, but that doesn’t mean that we are weak and without honor.” His voice was heavy with emotion, his face angry.

“You knew Aisha,” I said softly. He looked at me.

“She was my mother,” he confirmed. My heart broke for him.

“Oh.” The word came out without my being able to hold it in. “She killed herself instead of coming back to you?” I realized that this statement might skewer him emotionally. It didn’t. He merely shook his head.

“The Ak-hal broke her—when they made her drink my father’s blood.” He paused, drawing a feather-light circle around my belly button with his finger. “If she had come back to me, she wouldn’t have been herself.”

“And you were just a kid?”

“What’s a kid?” He looked confused. Maggie had taught them much, but not all.

“A cub.”

“Yes. I was taken care of by the tribe.” I leaned into him.

“Why did you tell me a sad story?”

“Because it’s true. Whatever the Ak-hal touch, they hurt. I worried for you.” He looked at me pointedly. I shook my head, telling him that I was fine.

“And then what happened? To you?” I asked.

“I lived. I grew. I did all that I could to protect the Kamani from the Ak-hal. All the while, I waited for my mate.” He wrapped an arm around me.

“And when you saw me? With the Ak-hal crown prince?”

“I heard you.”

“That was all?”

“No. I needed to get you away from them,” he replied. “There was no time to think.”

“You just knew?”

“The only reason that a Kamani has ever been able to speak to a human is because they are mates.”

“Are you talking about Maggie?” I asked in surprise. She was the only human who he could be referring to.

“Yes. When she was rescued, her mate was the one who found her. He heard her, calling out to him in the snow. They were rarely seen apart. Her Kamani mate was killed by the Ak-hal many years ago now,” he explained. “Their queen wears him.”

“Does anything good ever happen to her?” I wondered aloud.

“She is a free woman. The grief didn’t break her. She is stronger than most.” He said it like one would a koan—calmly, firmly in the right. I nodded.

“So, how does the Kamani mating ritual go?” I asked. He looked at me, eyes wide.

“We’ve just done it,” he said, surprised. “The joining of two souls is only between the two mates.”

“So, just us?”

“Just you and me.”

“No fanfare? No shaman?”

“Did you want any?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

“So we are mated?”

“Yes. Did you not feel it?” he asked. I nodded.

“For forever?” I needed him to confirm.

“For forever.” We sat in the silence of the cave. It was a comfortable silence—one shared between two beings who need nothing more than the other. He covered me with one of the blankets, drawing it up and over himself. I lay back, and he lay down beside me. I turned onto my side, wrapping my arm over his wide, muscular chest, my head rested on his rounded shoulder. I felt myself drifting off to sleep. I could feel him smiling against my hair.

“Are you always happy?” I asked him.

“No. Only when I’m near you.” Content, I fell into a deep sleep beside him. I had strange dreams—white dragons flew through the sky. I was running through the snow. All that I could hear was a violent scraping noise—as loud and insistent as a heartbeat. I looked about me. The sun was rising—it couldn’t rise. I didn’t know why, but if the sun rose, then it would all be over.