The Alien’s Claim by Zoey Draven

Chapter Thirty-One

“This is beautiful,” his female exclaimed, twirling around in the grove in that forgotten place.

Jaxor had stumbled upon the ancient ruins a few rotations ago. It had been a temple, he guessed, a large one centuries ago, but now, only columns of old facev stone and the pedestal for offerings—or perhaps even sacrifices— remained. Cracked and crumbling. Everything else was overgrown in that place, as if the planet was trying to erase the fact that it had ever been.

The ruins were not far from his base, a half-span journey, perhaps. They’d been scavenging that morning and afternoon, almost about to turn back when he remembered the ruins were nearby and thought that his female might like to see them.

“What is this place?” she asked, turning to him, taking his hand in hers, something that seemed to bring her comfort since she’d been doing it often the past few spans.

Jaxor could hardly take his eyes from her, rubbing at that spot on his chest that always warmed whenever he looked at her.

“A temple, I believe. A place of worship. Or sacrifice,” he said.

Thatpulled her up short. “Sacrifice?”

His lips quirked. “An ancient place. Remember, our ancestors were a more violent people who revered blood and war.”

Erin shuddered a little at that. “Right,” she said, looking around the grove with fresh eyes. “Maybe not so beautiful then. But still fascinating.”

He caught her around the waist, pulling her into him. He tucked his nose into her long, dark hair, inhaling its scent, before he trailed his lips down her neck. She’d been driving him mad all morning. Most of the time in the hovercraft, he’d been tempted to put it on automatic navigation and mate her on the floor of it.

“We can’t have sex here, you know,” she informed him, her tone teasing.

He grunted. “Why not?”

His hand was trailing to the laces of the pants she’d altered for herself. They clung to her like a second skin. He mourned that it wasn’t just a tunic. He couldn’t simply lift up the material and sheath himself inside her, where he always wanted to be, but the thick pants shielded her delicate skin from the cold and Jaxor was happy for it.

She caught his hand, turning in his arms, pulling away. But she was smiling when she told him, “Because you said it’s a temple. We are not having sex in a temple.”

His brow rose. Was this another thing about humans he did not understand?

“I am certain orgies took place here at one time,” he told her. “Sex would be most welcome.”

Her eyes bulged at that, but she dodged his hands when he made to reach for her again, laughing. He feinted left, but snagged her around the hips when she went right.

“I can bend you over the pedestal,” he suggested softly in her ear, his heartbeat thundering. She stilled. “It’s a perfect height so I could lick you while you screamed.”

Even under her thick tunic, Jaxor felt the way her nipples pebbled at his words. They’d hardly spent a moment away from each other for the past five spans. Most of that time, they’d been having sex, or lying in each other’s arms, talking. Jaxor felt he was well-versed in his female’s needs, in the things that turned her on.

And she had darker desires, fantasies that he loved to indulge in. And Jaxor had them too.

“I could make you my sacrifice to this place,” he rasped, his hands finally undoing the laces of her pants, his fingers dipping inside the material, finding her sex. “I could punish you too, if you’d like. Bent over the pedestal, you would be at my mercy.”

Erin gasped when his fingers found her swollen clit. It was a breathy gasp, one that made his cock throb against her backside. And just when he was sliding his fingers between her thighs, she grabbed his wrist and twisted away.

Jaxor let her go, watching as she retied the laces, though it was with trembling fingers and flushed cheeks. He grinned even though hot lust still coiled deep in his belly.

When she looked back up at him, she saw his smile and said again, though her voice was shaking and almost unsure, “We are not having sex here.”

“Very well, rixella,” he murmured, deciding it was apparently a human aversion to have sex in places touched by religion.

She bit her lip. “But when we get back home, there is that rock by the cave that looks like the pedestal. And we can always pretend.”

Jaxor wanted to laugh and groan and purr in agreement all at the same time. But what struck him the most was that she’d called his base ‘home.’

And that word alone filled him with hope, with longing, and possibility. Was it possible that she was beginning to envision a life with him? A future? On Luxiria?

He’d learned a lot about his luxiva during his time with her. He’d learned that she liked quiet mornings, but that she also liked spending her nights by the fire, watching the flames flicker, wrapped in heavy furs. He’d learned she liked something called ‘ice cream’ back on Earth and that she’d kill for ‘coffee.’ He’d learned that she cried whenever she spoke of her memories of her siblings, of Jake and Ellora, and that she missed them. He’d learned that when she looked at him, deep and soft, he felt whole and right, possibly for the first time in his lifespan.

Five spans together felt like rotations and Jaxor couldn’t remember a time he’d been happier or more content. As promised, they were taking it one span at a time.

His voice was guttural as he said, “Tev, we can.”

But as the spans drew on without incident, so did Jaxor’s worries. There was an unease in Jaxor that he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t only that Tavar’s deadline had passed. By now, the Mevirax leader would know of Jaxor’s betrayal. Without the human females in their possession, they had nothing to bargain with the Jetutians, with Po’grak. Would Tavar retaliate?

Jaxor also couldn’t stop thinking about Vaxa’an. Before, he’d thought of his blood brother almost every span, but lately, the thought of him was a constant presence in his mind.

Erin had asked Jaxor if he could mend the broken bond between himself and his brother, would he? Jaxor had replied on instinct. Tev. Of course he would.

And she’d asked why he hadn’t already.

In that moment, a thousand reasons why had flooded his mind. A thousand reasons why Vaxa’an would not wish to see him. A thousand reasons why Jaxor could not return to the Golden City—stealing away Erin and Crystal and the attack on their guards adding to that long list.

In his own mind, bringing the human females to the Mevirax, to the Jetutians, would help his people. He would kill the Jetutian leader responsible for the attack on his race and secure the cure for the virus before Tavar could. That had always been the plan.

Now, Jaxor was ashamed to admit that he’d barely given the human females a second thought. Not until one of them turned out to be his fated mate.

Ever since they’d consummated their bond, the guilt was eating him up. How many times had it been on the tip of his tongue to tell her of his deceit? How many times had he wanted to confess that even when he’d first brought her to the base, a part of him was still thinking of giving her up? Of sacrificing her well-being, her future, her life to the Jetutians in exchange for his revenge?

Sometimes, he was so ashamed he couldn’t look her in the eye.

And at night, as she slept in his arms, he was plagued by nightmares of darkness, of the dungeons deep below the Caves of the Pevrallix. He was plagued by memories of his blood brother.

Jaxor watched as Erin turned back to the crumbling temple. He rubbed at that aching spot in his chest again and followed behind her, navigating through stone and dense foliage and the black trees that surrounded it. Again, he was tempted to confess everything in that quiet, eerie place.

But the words stuck in his mouth and he stayed silent instead.

“How old is this place?” she asked, trailing her fingers over ancient stone.

Jaxor tried to see it with her eyes. This strange place. He tried to see what she saw, but couldn’t.

“I do not know,” he said.

“How’d you find it?”

“The circumstances were much like this span,” he said. “I was out looking for supplies and stumbled upon it.”

“You didn’t have a hovercraft then, though, did you?” she questioned.

“Nix,” he said. “I had the skimmer then.” The one he’d left behind for Cruxan after he’d stolen his hovercraft. “Even then, most of my travel happened on foot anyways.”

The past few spans, Jaxor had been lazy. He’d not gone on his patrols, he’d not checked his traps. Instead, he’d barely been able to pull himself from his female, away from their furs in the cave. But that morning, he’d known that in order to keep them safe and secure, he couldn’t spend the day between her thighs again, no matter how much he wanted to.

The failing shield links were his primary concern, one that had been on his mind since first bringing Erin to his base. They shielded his base overhead, protected it. Which was why Jaxor needed to scavenge for parts to repair them, though he’d mostly picked his way through the wreckage sites he’d found over the rotations. Erin had wanted to accompany him and they’d set off in the early light of morning.

But the suns were setting low now. Soon, it would be dark and Jaxor hadn’t found the parts he needed. Still, he wouldn’t consider this span wasted. He’d spent it with his rixella, after all, with Luxirian wind in their hair and views that stretched for miles.

Jaxor had never been happier. He knew that with certainty. It was why he couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach that their time was limited. That soon, everything would change.

Erin looked around the ruins one last time and then looked at him. Her expression softened when she met his eyes—did she even realize that?

Jaxor didn’t deserve a female like her. She was too good for him. But being with her, being near her, seeing her smile, hearing her melodic laugh, feeling her soft, exploring touch…it made him want to be better. It made him want to be the male that deserved her.

When she came to him, when she slipped her hand into his own, he confided, “I have been thinking about my brother.”

Her expression remained the same, but she simply waited for him to continue.

“I have been thinking that I want to see him,” he said, the words draining from him like pus from a wound. “There is much I wish to tell him. Need to tell him.”

“That’s great,” she said softly, running her other hand to his side, holding it there. “But…”

But?

“Tev?”

Her lips pressed together. She gave a small look around the clearing and admitted, “If you go back to the Golden City, will it be safe for you?”

Realization hit him.

“You worry for me now, female?”

“Well…yes,” she said softly. He could see himself in her dark eyes, the little mirrors that they were. “The Ambassador knows you took us, knows that you were responsible. He has to be back by now. Won’t they be looking for you?”

“They will not be looking for me in the Golden City,” he told her.

She frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I thought you would want to return,” he admitted. “I…I realize that this is not a life that a female would wish for herself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There are no comforts here,” he said, a little ashamed of that. “You bathe in icy water, you sleep on stone. There are no feasts here, no celebrations, and very little contact with other beings.”

Erin shook her head. “I—I don’t care about baths or parties or where I sleep, Jaxor.”

“You know what I am trying to say,” he said, cupping the back of her neck. “Tev?”

She blew out a long breath, but eventually, she nodded. “Yes, I know what you’re trying to say.”

“If you decide to stay on Luxiria,” he started, “I would not want this life for you.”

Jaxor had known all his life that though he would not be Prime Leader, he would still be an appointed Ambassador and a leader of an outpost. That outpost would have been Jiralla, on the edge of their world. The sixth and final outpost of Luxiria.

But with his defection, Jaxor had turned his back on that future, on that responsibility. Instead, he assumed the five Ambassadors and his brother took turns overseeing Jiralla, though Jaxor had always wondered why Vaxa’an hadn’t assigned a new Ambassador in his place.

That life was lost to him now, but it was still the life that he wanted for his mate if she chose to remain with him. A life of never needing to fear kekevir, a life of never needing to worry about patrols or scavenging for repair parts, or whether that rotation’s frost would kill off their crops.

Erin didn’t nod in agreement, or shake her head in disagreement. “If I decided to stay on Luxiria, it would not be for comforts, but for you.”

That warmth in his chest grew. He rubbed at it even as he said, “I want to make things right with you. I want to make things right with my brother. The Golden City is a risk, but I believe it is necessary.”

It was very likely Jaxor would be thrown in the holding cells to await trial and execution or exile. The elder council would not care that he was a son of Kirax’an, a descendant of the throne.

Vaxa’an, on the other hand…

Would his brother want him dead? Exiled?

But there was much at stake. Even now. Because he’d begun to believe that maybe the cure for the virus was not lost to them after all. There was still time.

Erin sighed, squeezing his hand, nodding. “Then we will go.”

So why couldn’t he shake the feeling of dread?