Dekkir (Galaxy Alien Warriors #1)(16)

I numbered our company at perhaps twenty, most of them members of my warrior caste, with a few gatherers, like Elorie, acting as beast tenders and camp organizers. I was glad she was the one transferring my father to the healer’s forest retreat. She wasn’t just a friend and sometimes lover; she was also the most competent caravan master I knew.

“It’s just a few days to the healing sanctuary. Whatever happens, stay with us. If you get separated from the caravan, chances are we will not be able to help you in time.” Elorie’s tone was grave.

“Is the local forest that dangerous?” Grace looked calm on the outside, but I immediately knew better.

Elorie shrugged. “Compared to some regions? It’s an easy ride. But from what Dr. Stirling told us of your world, yes. Compared to what you’re used to, any forest on Lyra is that dangerous.”

I felt a brief surge of fear that I identified immediately as not my own. It seemed my bond with Grace was deepening, and the empathy had begun. Barely thinking about it, I reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She relaxed slightly under my grip, and I felt the foreign fear recede a little. She did feel safe around me. It was progress. But as I stared at her like a starved prisoner might look at a plate of food held just out of reach, I knew it was not enough.





CHAPTER 7 / GRACE

“I think I have something that could help your father,” I said as I sat next to Dekkir on the swaying bench of the second sedan.

He looked over at me. “What are you speaking of? I thought your technology was all confiscated.”

The caravan was nothing like I’d ever experienced. The three giant cargo sedans had no wheels, instead bearing massive handles on their front and back end, which the giant Grogs used to carry them through the forest. Our seats swayed as the creatures clambered over deadfalls and waded through rivers across the trackless landscape, where it was too dangerous to maintain roads.

As we jolted along, I gradually noticed Dekkir looked a little . . . sick. His skin was always pale, especially in contrast with his black-scale armor, but the shadows around his narrow, fierce eyes were new. He had the body of a god and the face of a superhero and radiated self-assuredness even now. The signs of illness stood out even more sharply in contrast.

Guilt gnawed at me as I watched him. I knew somehow that I was responsible for his suffering. Either it was my rejection of him or the stress his father’s poisoning and my trial had caused or some combination. So as soon as I remembered, I spoke up about my possible solution to some of it.

“Everything was except for this.”

I pulled the pendant Dr. Stirling had given me out of my jumpsuit collar. “This contains an emergency pill that was given to me in case I was seriously hurt or got very sick. I don’t know how good it is against poison, but it may be worth a try to give it to Dorin. He needs it more than I do.”

He took it and held it up, peering at the tube-shaped pendant. “I am not certain. That strange bandage you gave me did me good, and this may indeed help my father. But I suggest you show this to Neyilla when we confer with her and let her decide. She is the finest healer on our world. She will know better than I how such a thing may affect a Lyran.”

I nodded . . . then reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

A shudder went through him, and I saw his shining golden eyes hood, like those of a cat I was petting. “I will . . . endure. I mean to ask the healer about our . . . predicament . . . as well.” His throat worked, and I stared at him sadly.

This is my fault. I hadn’t meant it to happen. I didn’t want to see him suffer. It wasn’t even that I didn’t like him or find him attractive. But the urgent hunger he aimed at me, sometimes without even meaning to, completely overwhelmed me. I didn’t feel the same. I couldn’t feel the same, and so his passion came very close to scaring me off entirely.

As I looked at him, I honestly wished there were some way I could match his ardor. But whether it was pheromones, something psychic, or something else the Lyrans had that I didn’t, I couldn’t. My stomach boiled with a mix of shame, apprehension, and frustration.

“If she can help, I’ll cooperate any way I can, okay?” I rubbed his massive arm soothingly around the armor straps, and he shivered again.

Maybe I should just sleep with him, I thought. The idea had some appeal. I haven’t gotten laid in a long time. If I could just get over these weird feelings, it could be nice. But it was more than that. The longer we went on, the more he seemed to . . . pine for my love. He was so tough, so smart and brave, but I saw how this chewed him up from within. He needs me. Maybe I should just make myself.

But the idea of gritting my teeth through a sexual encounter I wasn’t entirely into made me even sicker. In my younger years, men had tried to guilt me into sex or tried to make me feel obligated. Sometimes, it had worked, leaving me dissatisfied and in need of a long shower after. And what if once wasn’t enough to satisfy this . . . imprinting of his?

I brooded on it as we spent our first day on the road. We traveled as constantly as we could; camping was out of the question. But every six hours or so, the Grogs had to rest and eat for a while. Each time, they would set down their burdens and then proceed to eat themselves a small clearing out of whatever vegetation was handy. It didn’t matter if it was thorn bushes the size of small buildings, masses of green tentacles that constantly moved on their own, or the ever-present vines. Into the Grogs’ massive jaws it all went, to be chewed up and swallowed with the same enthusiasm every time. Eventually, their vast bellies full, they would settle down for short naps and proceed to snore so loudly it scared birds out of the trees. Elorie explained that sleeping Grogs were so bad-tempered and destructive if forced awake, only the most dangerous or stupid of predators would disturb them.