TWO
VIKAN’S MOOD WAS already soured that span because he’d dreamed of Nitav again the night before. The dreams were becoming more and more frequent, perhaps in direct correlation with his own guilty conscious. He felt like the worst sort of bastard, though he knew others wouldn’t agree. Others wouldn’t understand.
During another restless night of sleep, he dreamed of Nitav in the early days of their courtship. As mutual, young Breeding Partners, their attraction had been immediate and overwhelming. It had taken them only a few spans to become attached to one another, another few to begin their mating process, and only another few to fall in love.
It had been effortless. It had been easy and natural.
And her image kept haunting him, ten rotations after her death.
So when Vaxa’an, Prime Leader of Luxiria, stepped inside the command center that morning, Vikan was in no mood to deal with his friend’s grim expression.
Vaxa’an gave him a hard look, one that Vikan returned. In the back of his mind, he began to feel the beginnings of panic. Did he know? Did his friend and leader suspect what he had tried to keep hidden?
“Come with me,” Vaxa’an ordered as he passed him. Vikan’s jaw ticked, but he obeyed his leader. On their way to the war room, they passed the doors that housed the human females. And among them was the female that had awakened him once more. Feelings that he had not felt since Nitav, feelings he thought never to experience again overwhelmed him and he clenched his fists so hard that he felt the warm rush of blood pool into his palm.
Except this time, it was a different awakening, one he had no control over.
Once safely enclosed in the confines of the war room, Vaxa’an drove straight to his purpose when he asked, lowly, “Has your Instinct chosen one of them for you?”
Vikan’s gut clenched.
“I remain loyal to Nitav,” was what Vikan found himself replying.
“That is not what I asked you,” Vaxa’an said, voice raising ever so slightly before he seemed to make a conscious effort to quiet it. Impatience lined his leader’s face. “Has your Instinct—”
“Yes,” Vikan said, cutting Vaxa’an off, knowing there was no way of getting around the matter. Delaying the truth would accomplish nothing.
Vaxa’an went quiet, his jaw pulsing. “Why did you hide this? This is…concerning.”
Vikan straightened, meeting Vaxa’an’s steady gaze. “I was there when we rescued them from the Krevorags. I had already seen her, so there was no helping my Instinct’s reaction. You wish to limit other males’ interactions with the females but I had already been exposed. It does not matter.”
“It matters,” Vaxa’an snarled, his teeth baring slightly. “I do not want the females snatched up before they have made their choice to remain here or return to their home. Your Instinct reacting to one of them is dangerous because it makes you unpredictable. We all know it. One thing that will not be compromised while they remain here is their safety.”
“I will not act on my Instinct’s will,” Vikan told him through gritted teeth.
No matter how much I wish to, he thought, guilt and desire mingling, creating something within him that made him want to claw his chest.
Vaxa’an went silent for a moment and then reached out to clasp his shoulder. Vikan stiffened under the touch, but forced his muscles to relax. “You have not been the same since Nitav’s death. You know not what you tempt by denying yourself, Vikan.” Vaxa’an released him. “It would be hypocritical of me to order you to leave the Golden City and return to your outpost. I claimed a human mate from the Pit, after all. However, I ask, as your leader, that you leave now. Return to Lopixa. I will send for you once the humans have been returned safely to their home planet.”
Everything in him rebelled and Vikan was shocked at the stray flash of rage that boiled his insides. This was Vaxa’an, his friend, his leader, his warrior brother. And all Vikan could think of was how much he wished to crush his fists into his face.
But Vikan had always been in control of himself, in control of his needs. Instead of giving into his baser desire to solve this conflict with violence, he said lowly, “You are right. It is hypocritical of you to ask me that.”
Vaxa’an straightened. “Vikan,” he warned.
“You claimed your female. Lihvan claimed his. Now Rixavox as well,” Vikan said softly. “You think I am dangerous because I am unpredictable. You are right. I cannot see my own future, you know this. So I cannot say what I will do if you ask this of me.”
“Vikan,” Vaxa’an bit out.
“Do not ask it of me,” was all Vikan said. “You know I do not like to be cornered.”
“You say you will remain loyal to Nitav, who journeyed to the blackworld ten rotations ago,” Vaxa’an began quietly. “I believe that you think you can. But you underestimate the power of our Instinct, especially when it concerns a fated mate. I can tell you now that if you step down that path, there is no journeying back. You do not want me to order you to leave? Fine. I will let you decide your future, but know that you also decide hers.”
Vikan took in deep breaths, trying to remain calm, when his Instinct was tearing his insides, urging him to be near his female.
Not my female, he reminded himself, clenching his jaw. Nitav had been his female. It would do him well to remember that.
Even as the thought appeared, he couldn’t help but see the human female in his mind. Her black hair, her pale, strange skin, her flushed, pink lips. He’d seen Vaxa’an ‘kiss’ his human mate before. It was not an act that Luxirian pairings participated in, but he’d been tempted and wondered what it would feel like. He’d stared at the human female’s lips much too often the past few spans, wondering, aching, needing.
“Have the Fates shown you her future?” Vaxa’an asked quietly, his blue eyes burning into Vikan.
Vikan had been born special. It was no secret and hardly a surprise. His mother’s sire had had the same blessing from the Fates and his sire before him. Although, on more than one occasion, Vikan had considered that blessing a curse. It was exhausting, to get glimpses of the future, or—frustratingly enough— one possible strand of time, one possible outcome that could be shaped and crafted by Vikan’s own actions. His alone. It was a grave responsibility he had never asked for.
Perhaps the most unfortunate part of his gift was that he could not see the futures of those closest to him, of those that would become a significant part of his life span.
Which was why he had not seen Nitav’s impending death, nor the attack by the Jetutians that led her there.
Vikan clenched his fists, hissing out a low breath. He was always in control. He had to be. But lately, ever since his Instinct had been awakened by the human female just down the hallway…he had felt undone, like a string that had once been pulled tight but that was now haphazardly unravelling and tangling into a mess.
It was something he’d never felt.
“No,” he bit out. “I have not seen her future.”
The meaning of which he didn’t want to dwell on, but couldn’t help but think about every moment of the span.
He had seen the fates of the other human females, however, which, whether he liked it or not, told him everything he needed to know about the dark-haired one’s fate.
That it was tied to his.
There is always choice, he reminded himself, pulling himself tighter once more.
Still, with all his gifts, he wasn’t prepared for what Vaxa’an said next.
“Now that Sessela has been cured of her illness, there is no reason to delay the others,” his leader started carefully. “We were waiting on her return to the Golden City to send the females back to Earth. Now that she has decided to stay on Luxiria with Rixavox…I plan to have the remaining females boarded on a vessel this next span. It is fueling now.”
The words hit him in the gut and travelled up to his throat, where they burned like acid.
It was one possible future for them, yes. It was undeniable. But Vikan saw others. Other paths that depended on what he did next.
A sharp prick in his mind made him jerk, followed by a pounding ache that he knew would only be cured by yikava. When he returned to his dwelling in the Golden City, he would dip into his stores and burn some of the coveted drug, so he could stop the pain. At least for a little while.
“As your Prime Leader, I request that you return to your outpost in the western lands, Vikan,” Vaxa’an continued softly, reaching out to clasp a hand on his shoulder again. “As your friend and warrior brother…I leave that decision up to you.”
Vikan inhaled a steady breath, lifting his eyes to meet Vaxa’an’s. It was hesitant permission he saw in his friend’s gaze.
Vikan looked away, jerking his head in a nod. The twin suns had just risen over Luxiria. It was a new span and he had the entirety of it to decide…or to lie in his darkened, empty dwelling in a painless, soft stupor until the next morning came…until she would be gone. Out of his reach forever.
Without another look, and with another spine-numbing pound of his head, Vikan left the war room and then the command center, greeting the dry heat of the Golden City as he stepped outside. Breathing in the heat felt like sand being poured down his throat.
Once he returned to his dwelling, he locked the door and stumbled to the black metal chest where he kept the yikava. The dried plant crumbled easily in his fingers when he plucked it from its rectangular vial, and with trembling hands, he packed it down into his slim, silver, worn pipe before holding it over the flame of his fire pit, blackening and burning the withered substance inside.
Once he was satisfied, Vikan lifted the pipe to his mouth and breathed the grey smoke in deeply, letting it fill his lungs like water.
The yikava deadened his limbs immediately and he slumped on the cushions lining the fire pit, his eyelids closing briefly as the pain melted away. Faces and threads and decisions melted away and for the first time all morning, Vikan felt the way he should.
Normal.
He took another pull on his pipe, tasting the tangy, pungent smoke as it drifted over his tongue.
It didn’t take him long to sleep. He stumbled into a dream. And for once, he didn’t dream of Nitav.
He dreamed of her.