The Alien’s Claim by Zoey Draven

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Iwant to know about the Mevirax,” Erin requested softly, looking out over the sea, perched next to him at the peak of a sand dune they’d climbed.

Jaxor was leaning back on his hands, his belly full from the obiraxi, which they’d gorged themselves on that morning and even into the afternoon. Their thighs were pressed together and his female was sitting close.

Jaxor had never felt more at ease, but then her question made his chest jolt.

Erin watched him carefully. She was her steady self right then, quiet but expecting him to answer her, knowing that he would. He hadn’t denied her an answer in the past couple spans.

“About their history?” he hedged.

Her lips quirked and she nodded her head. “About their history…and about yours with them. Because I sense there is a story there and much you haven’t told me.”

Jaxor’s heartbeat sped in his chest, wondering if he should lie to her. He believed that if the Mevirax appeared right then to demand he give them Erin…he wouldn’t. He would fight for her. He would fight to keep her.

And yet…he hadn’t consummated their bond, had he? Because he knew that if he mated her fully, he would never let her go.

So had he made a decision?

Jaxor hated it, but he hadn’t.

He could be selfish and claim her as his. But he’d been selfish ten rotations ago in turning his back on his brother and his people, and he didn’t know if he could bear it again. For once, he was trying to be selfless.

Only, it would cost Erin just as much as it would cost him, if not more.

Would two sacrifices be enough? For the future of the Luxirian race? Is that what Oxandri would demand?

It was late afternoon. The suns had arched across the sky and were just beginning to descend. It had been a perfect span. Relaxing. Jaxor had kissed his rixella when he felt like it, touched her when he felt like it, and the strange, foreign feeling of happiness had stayed with him, as long as he was next to her.

Yet, Jaxor still thought to betray her.

“About fifty rotations ago, a male named Likar organized a rebellion in the Golden City. The Prime Leader at the time, the current Prime Leader’s sire,” his own sire, “fought back. Crushed it before it could take root, though many lives were lost. The surviving males and females, Likar included, were banished from the Golden City and the outposts, defeated, and so they were forced to travel across the Black Desert and start anew in the wild lands. They made their home in the Caves of the Pevrallix, rumored to be a favored place of Oxandri, the Fate of Sacrifice.”

He watched Erin’s gaze drop to his pectoral, where the mark Laccara had given him still remained, though it had mostly healed. He’d told his rixella it was the mark of Oxandri and she’d remembered.

“Why did they rebel in the first place?”

“Luxirians were not always so…civil,” he told her. “We are a warrior race, built and bred for violence and war. Many believe that our destiny is to conquer, to become one of the greatest powers in the universe. For a long time, we were not so different from the Jetutians, seeking battle where we could find it for the sole purpose of victory. But three hundred rotations ago, our ways began to change, minds began to change. Most began to pray to the Fate of Prosperity, not the Fate of War or the Fate of Sacrifice. And now, many Luxirians only want to use our power to promote peace in the universe.”

“And which Fate do you pray to?” she asked. He knew what she assumed. That he was among those who still sought bloodshed, given Oxandri’s mark in his flesh.

“I have not prayed to the Fates in a long while,” he confessed, turning to look across the Lopitax Sea. “But when I did, I prayed to Kollasor. As my mother did.”

“And which Fate is Kollasor?” she asked quietly.

His eyes burned into hers as he murmured, “The Fate of Rebirth.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Relief?

“So the Mevirax rebelled because they wanted to return to the old ways? They wanted to conquer, to extend their power across the universe, because they were not satisfied with peace?”

Jaxor inclined his head. “You must understand that there has been a long history between the two sides. The modern and the old ways. The rebellion was always going to happen. Many had happened before, even, but Likar proved to be a capable and strong leader. He was determined and driven to create a people who could prosper without the aid of the Golden City. And he did.”

“How many of them are there?” she asked quietly.

“Hundreds now,” he said, inhaling a long breath.

Erin hesitated, but he knew what she would ask next. “And do you consider yourself one of them?”

His hands dug into the black sand behind him, the grit digging into his palms.

“Once,” he confessed. “I sought them out when I left the Golden City. I wanted revenge against the Jetutians, as many did. That hatred fueled me for a long time and I knew that the Mevirax would understand that need for violence.”

Erin touched his arm. Just one simple touch. As he spoke, he hadn’t realized the way his muscles had bunched tight, but she helped relax him.

“But I realized my mistake, perhaps too late,” he told her, not looking at her. “They were not what I believed they were. Likar had created a place for his people, tev, but they had descended into rage. They were unpredictable. They had no weapons, or technology, no means of transportation or space flight. Nothing. Without those things, war—revenge—was impossible.”

But they had those things now. And it was perhaps Jaxor’s own fault, though he hated to admit it. It had been a harmless, frustrated remark, made in the presence of Tavar about three rotations into his leadership. War with the Jetutians had always been the common ground between him and the Mevirax, though they’d had no means of bringing the Jetutians there.

Jaxor had thought that in luring the Jetutians to Luxiria, perhaps the Golden City—and his brother—would finally realize the threat they posed, entering their atmosphere at will. Perhaps then, his brother would declare war and use their vast resources to take their revenge.

The comment Jaxor had made while he’d been in talks with Tavar had been just that…why not lure the Jetutians here instead of trying to acquire a spaceship to meet them on their own planet?

Unbeknownst to Jaxor, Tavar had begun to think of how to do just that. And his answer had been the one thing Luxiria was known for, a resource prized across the universe.

Luxirian crystals.

The Caves of the Pevrallix were riddled with them.

“The leader of the Mevirax now is a male named Tavar,” he told Erin. “The youngest son of Likar. It was under his guidance that the Mevirax were able to contact the Jetutians, to gain access to technology and weapons.”

“How?” she asked quietly.

“There are those even in the Golden City that are sympathetic to the Mevirax’s beliefs. Even in the command center. One such male there was able to contact the Jetutians with the promise of Luxirian crystals and allow their vessel to enter our atmosphere undetected while Tavar met with them on the surface.”

Realization was spreading across her face. But then she looked down in her lap and said, “And were those the crystals that allowed them and the Krevorags to travel to Earth?”

Dread churned in his belly, but he didn’t want to lie to her. “Tev.”

“I see,” she whispered, raking a hand through her hair, blowing out a small breath. “Tell me what happened next.”

This was where he needed to tread carefully. He hated that he needed to, but too much was at stake.

“I left the Mevirax five rotations ago. Most held radical and dangerous beliefs, Tavar most of all. So I left. I journeyed from the Cave of the Pevrallix and made my way here. I settled here, building my home slowly over the rotations. I trade with outposts, I scavenge for spare parts, I make traps…I survive.”

“It’s a hard way of life,” she noted. “A choice not many would make if there were other options.”

His lips pressed together. He could have lived at one of the outposts, but the Ambassadors would not have welcomed him, given their relationship with his blood brother. Even now, he snuck in and out, keeping a low profile. Most had forgotten his face over time, had forgotten the spare heir to the throne of Luxiria. His only real danger would have been if he’d come face-to-face with any of the Ambassadors—Lihvan, Rixavox, Vikan, Kirov, Cruxan—males he’d known well during warrior training.

“But even being out here, being away from them, you still meet with the Mevirax. You still communicate with them,” she continued.

Jaxor blew out a breath, knowing he would have to lie to her. Hating the churning in his gut at the thought of it.

“I meet with them to try to get information,” he said. A partial lie, then. A half-truth. “Because if I truly believe that they are close to endangering the whole of Luxiria, I will return to the Golden City myself and tell the Prime Leader. But for now, they are no great threat.”

She seemed to buy his answer, which only made the guilt so much worse. It was unnatural to lie to a mate. To keep things hidden. His Instinct was punishing him enough for it, the way it prowled in his chest and beat at his mind.

“And us? Were you planning to trade Crystal and me to them?”

She was looking at him, straight in the eye. She would believe him, whatever he told her. He could see her desire to trust him, and that nearly broke him down completely, nearly made him want to confess all so they could begin anew. Would she even want that?

“At first,” he found himself saying. Another half-truth? “They knew of your presence in the Golden City. They had planned to ransom you to the Prime Leader in exchange for technology they did not yet possess. That was all.”

Her lips parted. He hated the dawning of understanding that entered her gaze. Jaxor had never hated himself more than in that moment, a terrible, horrific feeling when just moments before, he believed he’d never been happier.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his mind screamed.

Just like he was. Wrong in the head and wrong in the heart.

“And what was in it for you?”

“I had worked so long to gain their trust. They asked this of me, as a test. They needed to believe I was loyal to them, or else I would not have been privy to their plans.”

“You were a spy,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

Jaxor couldn’t look her in the eye. “It was what they asked of me,” he finally said, feeling the lies growing and growing in his mind.

A part of him couldn’t help but wonder if, when his rixella found out the truth—because eventually she would—she would ever be able to look at him again.

“But you didn’t go through with it,” she said, hope tinging her tone.

He swallowed. “Nix.”

“When they came that night in the forest, you kept me hidden from them.”

The guilt was making it difficult to breathe. He didn’t say anything. For all his faults, that night, he wouldn’t have been able to hand her over. Not when so much had changed, not when so much was uncertain.

Perhaps he did need to start praying to Kollasor again. Because after this, he might not have a soul left.

Erin sighed when he didn’t answer. She surprised him by brushing back a strand of hair that fell across his forehead. When he could finally meet her gaze, she was looking at him with understanding and he wished she would look at him with disgust. After finding out about the Luxirian crystals especially, she should never want to touch him again.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly.

And slowly, as if he would be spooked by the movement, she leaned forward to kiss him.

Though she was sweet like the obiraxi, all Jaxor could taste was the bitterness of his lies.