The Alien’s Claim by Zoey Draven

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jaxor was dragged into the command center of the Golden City with heavy chains draping his wrists. The two guards flanking him wore cold expressions, but Jaxor paid them no mind.

The moment he’d landed outside, on the black sand, and requested to speak with his brother, they had secured him, as he knew they would. They had ensured he carried no weapons. They knew who he was—of course they did. One of the warriors he even recognized. They’d gone through training together.

He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and he could sense Erin’s distance like it was a tangible thing. He was frustrated because it had taken longer to reach the Golden City than expected and it was by sheer luck and perhaps the Fates’ blessing that he had made it at all, considering he’d run low on fuel just as he’d begun to cross the Black Desert. He’d skidded in on fumes and a moment later, he was in chains.

Jaxor could hardly comprehend that he was about to see his blood brother, that he would speak with him for the first time in over ten rotations. He didn’t know what to feel. All he felt was the pressing need to reach Erin before…before it was too late.

They made the short walk to the war room, where Vaxa’an often met with the council and his Ambassadors.

But when the doors opened and his brother looked up from the Coms, Vaxa’an was alone.

His brother stood from behind the circular table and they stared at one another for several long moments. Jaxor’s throat closed up and he had the strongest urge to look away, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Leave us,” Vaxa’an finally ordered the warriors.

The warriors hesitated, obviously loathe to leave their Prime Leader alone with a known traitor, even if that traitor was his brother.

“Now,” Vaxa’an clipped and the guards inclined their heads and left, pulling the two heavy doors closed behind them. No doubt they would alert the council and perhaps the Ambassadors that Jaxor had returned to the Golden City, that he was in the Prime Leader’s custody.

Jaxor had forgotten how large the war room was. Cavernous, even. Coms lined the walls, but the ceiling was so high that Jaxor couldn’t even see where it ended. The light would not reach there. And in that massive space, he thought that his brother would seem small, but he did not. He had become the great leader that their sire had always known he would be.

Jaxor had the stray thought that they were strangers to one another now. They might as well be.

Vaxa’an’s swallow was audible in the thick silence as he rounded the circular table, an unforgiving slab of Luxirian steel.

“A part of me,” Vaxa’an said, “believed that I would never lay eyes on you again, brother.”

Jaxor’s chest heaved with unnamed emotion and a thousand thoughts flooded his mind as he studied Vaxa’an’s face. Standing before him in chains was not how he envisioned this reunion, but it was no less than he deserved.

Erin.

“I know I have no right to ask it,” Jaxor started, his voice low as he connected his gaze with his brother’s. Twin eyes. They had always had the exact same eyes. The shade of their mother’s. Many had commented on it when they’d been younger. “But I am in need of your help.”

Vaxa’an looked at him. Something flashed in his gaze. Anger. Fury.

“This is what you have finally returned home for?” his brother asked. “So I can be of use to you?”

“I have not returned home,” Jaxor said quietly. “I came here, though I know the consequences of returning, to seek your help.”

Vaxa’an’s hands shot out so quickly that Jaxor thought his brother would strike him. But instead, he placed his hands on the sides of his neck, touching his flesh for the first time, and Jaxor felt the agony in his brother. Blood was strong. It was why fated mates performed a blood bond, the fellixix. Siblings shared blood and so they already shared the bond. They’d been connected all their lives, since the moment Jaxor was born. He could feel his brother’s soul, felt it taken up by another—his human mate—just as certainly as Vaxa’an felt Jaxor’s soul consumed by another, by Erin.

Touch helped connect them and Vaxa’an’s nostrils flared with the realization that Jaxor, too, had a mate. Jaxor brought his chained wrists up, clasped his hands on his brother’s forearm, felt the heat of him and the pulsing of his heart.

“I need your help,” Jaxor pleaded. “She is in danger.”

“What have you done?” Vaxa’an asked him, his pupils wide.

“More than she will forgive me for,” Jaxor said, inhaling the same air between them. “But I will spend the rest of my lifespan making it up to her. However short that life may be,” he added softly, knowing that his execution was very probable now that he had returned.

Vaxa’an seemed to realize this too and he released Jaxor, but didn’t step away.

“There is much you are not telling me,” Vaxa’an accused softly.

“I will tell you everything you wish to know,” Jaxor replied, “but first know that the Jetutians have breached our atmosphere on multiple occasions over the last ten rotations.”

Vaxa’an shook his head. “Not possible. We would have—”

“There is one male I know of that has been coordinating with the Mevirax. A male stationed here at the command center. There may be more, but I have no way of knowing.”

“Rebax?” Vaxa’an asked softly, absorbing his words. “You are telling me that the Jetutians have breached our planet’s surface with the aid of a Luxirian warrior. One of my warriors?”

“Tev,” Jaxor said. “Bring Kirov here. Have him scan the surface manually. That is the first step.”

“Kirov is not here. None of the Ambassadors are. Cruxan just…” Vaxa’an trailed off. “The Lunar Celebration is tonight.”

Vrax.

Which meant the Ambassadors were at their respective outposts.

Jaxor swallowed this news down and said, “You must summon him. Immediately.”

“Why?”

“I fear that the Jetutians will come. Soon. If they are not here already.”

Vaxa’an looked at him like a stranger. His brother had remained unchanged—at least physically—but Jaxor knew that he was different. Jaxor felt the long rotations like they were lashes against his back, felt them stretch tight.

“Do you believe me?” Jaxor asked, looking him straight in the eyes. Through their blood connection, he felt Vaxa’an’s unease.

“I do,” his brother said, without hesitation. Relief made Jaxor close his eyes. “But I worry what I will think when you tell me everything else.”

Jaxor nodded. “First, ensure Luxiria is secure. Only allow those you trust in the command center until Kirov arrives.”

“Why come to me now with this information?” Vaxa’an asked. Jaxor sensed his rage then. A tangible thing between them. “You have known this entire time. You have put countless at risk in not telling me. Why?”

Jaxor felt the metal biting into his wrists. He knew the answer but he didn’t want to say it. He knew it wouldn’t make a drop of difference in his brother’s eyes.

“The Jetutians have only ever come to speak with the Mevirax,” Jaxor told Vaxa’an. “Three times that I know of.”

“Were you there during these meetings?” Vaxa’an asked him.

“Nix,” Jaxor said. “They happened after I had already broken away from the Mevirax.”

After he learned what Tavar had planned to do with the Luxirian crystals…

Vaxa’an was shaking his head, frustrated. “You need to tell me everything.”

“And I will, brother,” Jaxor said, that same frustration rising in him. “But the Mevirax have Erin.”

“Rebax?”

“They took her, just yesterday, from my base. That is why I need your help. To get her away from them. To keep her safe.”

Vaxa’an was already walking over to the wall of Coms. “I will send for Kirov.”

“And the others?”

“There are already plans in place, Jaxor’an,” he said and Jaxor flinched at his proper name. It mocked him now, a symbol of his family, of his lineage, of his place in their world. “We were planning to storm the Mevirax’s base in seven spans. This will move up the timeline, but I am not certain how much. But tonight, with the exception of Kirov, I will allow the Ambassadors their night. Tomorrow, I will send for them.”

“Seven spans?” Jaxor rasped. “Erin cannot wait that long!”

Vaxa’an turned from the Coms after he’d presumably called for Kirov, studying Jaxor in the dim light. “I will ensure the planet is secure now. Kirov will double-check when he gets here to tonight. I will send warriors to scout near the Caves of the Pevrallix,” he paused, “if that is still where the Mevirax are.”

“It is,” Jaxor said, distracted, unable to shake the feeling of dread and unease. Was Erin safe? Was she fed, cared for?

His only comfort, if it could be called that, was that Tavar wouldn’t abuse her. He needed her for the Jetutians. As long as the Jetutians had not breached their atmosphere already, it would give them time to prepare.

Vaxa’an turned back to him, looking at him with a blank gaze, as if preparing himself for what would come next.

“Now tell me everything,” his brother ordered softly. “From the moment you left the Golden City, ten rotations ago, until the moment you stepped inside here, this span.”

“Even though you will hate me more for it?” Jaxor asked, his tone quiet. He was exhausted, but this could not wait.

“I could never hate you, brother,” Vaxa’an said, approaching him again.

There he was. His brother. Inherently good, always better than Jaxor could hope to be. His love for him burned brightly in that moment, love Jaxor was not worthy of.

“Even still,” Jaxor said, feeling his heartbeat drum in his chest, “you might, after you learn what I have done.”