Page 7

Artek

I held my breath so as not to draw her delightful scent too deeply into my lungs, lest it make my control snap.

She’d asked if Haven was where she could go to be safe, as if she weren’t safe right now.

My pride stung, though I knew she didn’t mean it that way, or hadn’t realized the implications of her words.

Of course she wanted to live with other humans, her species was very social, just like mine.

I’d have to go with her, ask the Shaman Council to assign a new male to these quarters, as much as I hated the idea. It was the only option.

Flicking on the tablet, I tilted it so my mate could see the footage I’d downloaded onto it.

Everything Levant had sent me. There was more than I’d expected: several different shots taken over the last couple of days.

He’d been more patient than I’d given him credit for.

“Another Shaman is watching the survivors at the crash but has not made contact. There appear to be two different species, one human, the other… not.”

I flicked on the video and watched it, Nala leaning in close to peer at the small screen with a frown.

This first video featured the strangers, taken shortly after they’d arrived.

They’d thudded out of the ship with armor on and weapons at the ready, fanning out like seasoned hunters to secure the area.

The distance from Levant to the ship meant that, at first, all you could see were the two legs, the two arms, their vaguely humanoid shape.

I could hear Levant’s excited mutter—that more of the mateable humans had fallen straight into his lap.

Then it became obvious that he was wrong, and he drew in a horrified breath from behind the camera, just like we did watching it.

“Those are freaking ugly,” Nala muttered, eyes wide and shocked.

She wasn’t wrong. Though vaguely similar in shape to a human—with pinkish skin and hair—that’s where the similarities abruptly ended.

Everything about human females was soft, innocent, oh-so-sweet, and alluring; these creatures were utterly repulsive.

Warts covered their features, tusks protruded from oversized jaws, and oddly shaped, flattened noses sat below a pair of tiny, beady black eyes.

They spoke, too—raw, guttural—using growls and commands.

Some of them butted heads and knocked shoulders, as if they couldn’t control their aggression, even toward one another.

“I think they might be Krektar,” Nala said, when the video ended as the creatures suddenly came far too close to where Levant was hiding.

He must have feared discovery and been forced to find a better hiding spot.

She leaned in even closer to tap the ugly face that remained on the screen, the last frame of the video Levant had shot.

“Yeah, Krektar. They match the description, though I’ve never seen one before, and I definitely can’t understand what they’re saying. ”

She was leaning so close that her arm almost brushed against mine.

Any more and we’d touch, and my mating marks would flare to life.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted that to happen or not, what if she asked about them?

I couldn’t lie to her. It was suddenly very tempting to bridge the gap, spill the secret, but I couldn’t.

The nape of her neck, visible above the neckline of her shirt and below the short, teasing bob of her hair…

too tempting. My tongue flicked out, tasted the air, almost tasted her skin—but I drew back at the last moment.

She turned her head, pretty brown eyes sparkling with gold, with warmth, with all that curiosity I feared—and loved.

“They’re known as slavers, so that matches what your friend said, that they appeared to be using slave labor.

Remember that?” I liked this shared look of understanding even more, the way it felt like we were solving this mystery together.

Nodding, I forced myself to thumb through to the next video so we could prolong this moment.

The footage that played now was taken during the day; changes had already been made to the crash site.

Trees were being felled in rapid succession and pulled to the entrance of the mostly intact ship by human males, supervised by Krektar holding whips.

Yes, Levant had been right, this wasn’t a voluntary workforce.

The footage shifted to a spot closer to where the males worked, and now voices could be heard.

My Shaman friend was correct again: the words were undecipherable, melodic, strange, but definitely not any language spoken by Nala or the other humans I knew.

“It’s French,” Nala said. “They’re speaking French with each other.

I don’t know if it’s Canadian French or.

..ah, French French? You don’t have that in your neural implant?

” She tapped the side of her head as she said it, a little uncertain as her voice trailed off.

“They’re complaining about the soggy ground, the hard labor, and they’re confused, they wonder where they are, and what happened to them. ”

So they were like Nala, but not at the same time.

“You have their language?” I asked, and when she nodded, I pulled my hand scanner from a pouch at my sash.

“May I?” I remembered to ask, as I raised it to the spot behind her ear where I knew she had implants, just like the ones I’d had Corin install for me, like the ones Levant had installed on himself.

It hadn’t crossed my mind until now to pull information from the little devices.

Why would I need any of the other languages she had?

It wasn’t like we could leave Serant, but now the outside world had come to us.

There were a lot of languages on Nala’s implants, and I downloaded them all, then sent the file to Levant with a note.

Nala was silent through the process, waiting patiently but not withdrawing, though she had no reason to keep staring at the tablet.

“Is that how I can understand you?” she asked at long last. “Did you add your language to my implant while I slept?” I nodded, because that was exactly what I’d done.

I didn’t think she’d mind, and I figured she’d much prefer being able to understand me when she woke.

I hadn’t wanted her to have to rely on my touch, like mated pairs did to understand each other.

It would raise questions she wasn’t ready to hear the answers to, not on day one.

“Yes,” I replied, but I didn’t explain, and she didn’t ask further questions.

When she nodded at my tablet, we turned to watch the remaining videos Levant had sent me.

She identified two more languages spoken by the men the Krektar had working in shifts to build fortifications around their crashed ship, while Krektar hunting parties appeared to go out to slaughter Vakarsa to feed the many hungry mouths at the camp.

In three short videos, we’d already seen over a hundred different Krektar, and an equal number of human men.

It wasn’t until the last video that we both straightened and leaned in.

Females were paraded outside now—only a small handful—set to work around cooking fires.

Levant was eagerly muttering under his breath as he filmed it, and I was grateful it was too muffled to understand.

“So they’ve got more than just guys on there.

We’ve got to help them, Artek. The Krektar are bad news.

My government must have secretly sold all their prisoners into slavery.

No wonder they sent us so far away, to prevent citizens from discovering their duplicity. ”

Ah, now that story sounded familiar. Yes, the human mates at Haven all had a similar history.

So they had come from the same source after all.

“We can’t,” I said to Nala. “That’s not our job.

Others will take care of it.” I did not tell her that no Clan would be willing to go up against those Krektar with their weapons.

My brethren would be obliterated, shot down before they’d ever be able to use their spears and bows.

Levant might try something, but he’d never move without the say-so of the council.

At Haven, they had a better shot, but I doubted Zathar would be willing to risk his people against such odds.

For now, the humans at that camp—sad as it was—were going to have to sit tight.

The Krektar would not be able to repair their ship; they were stranded for life.

“Oh,” Nala said, disappointed, and then she repeated the noise, but louder and more surprised.

“You are glowing again. It’s so pretty, Artek!

” Her hand slipped through the air, indicating the mating marks lit up along the front of my tail.

It was then that I became acutely aware of her shoulder resting against my arm, her hand on my wrist. She’d slipped under my guard, and I hadn’t noticed the danger in time.

My cock surged in my pouch, painfully erect, fighting to extrude.

The tips writhed, confined by the ring that locked them together.

I’d slipped it on while I was fetching her food, hoping it would help me stay in control of my desire, but it only made me ache more.

“Thank you,” I found myself saying, the words strangled, a growl as they slipped from my throat.

“I must go,” I added, rising abruptly. “Stay, Zap. Keep her company.” The tablet clattered from my numb fingers, and then I was fleeing—cock slipping out like I was a youngling again: out of control, in heat, on fire for her and her alone.

She saw only my back, but I still felt the shame of it burning along my flanks, up my neck, and still, that didn’t end the raging inferno of desire in my veins.

***

Nala