Retribution (Kall Alien Warriors #3) - Sue Lyndon Page 0,14

all alone without a male to protect her. In his culture, the females were always protected. Exigency plans were put into place which named guardians for females who might find themselves widowed or orphaned, no matter how old the female.

Humans were so different in that females were expected to forge their own lives, often with little help from their families. Marriages weren’t arranged on Earth either. Instead, humans were free to marry whomever they wished, a concept that struck Zamek as incredibly strange.

Both his marriages had been arranged. Second marriages between the Kall weren’t always arranged, but not long after his first wife had died, Zamek’s father had wished to match him with Shessema, the daughter of a former council member, and Zamek had agreed to the marriage despite having never met her before.

He looked over at the viewscreen again, his heart clenching as he recalled how excited Shessema had been during her first interstellar trip. She’d enjoyed standing at this very viewscreen and watching the stars streak by. She’d always awoken before him in the mornings and he’d often found her standing here during the early hours of the day, a steaming mug of couffta in her hands.

He would never see her standing here again. He would never see her smile or hold her in his arms. He would never watch her place her hand gently upon her stomach as she wondered aloud if this would be the moon cycle when they would finally conceive their first child together.

Fluxx. He shoved the tablet aside and rose to his feet. He began to pace his quarters, as if trying to outrun his grief.

Females on his planet usually outlived their husbands by a year or two. It was unusual for a Kall male to find himself widowed, yet he’d already lost two wives. One to a rare illness, and another to a brutal act of violence. Each marriage had lasted less than a year.

Though he wasn’t in the right mindset to even contemplate a third marriage, he knew finding another wife would prove difficult. His people might be technologically advanced, but they still clung to old traditions and superstitions. A twice-widowed male would be viewed as cursed by the ancient gods. No Kall male in his right mind would allow his daughter to marry Zamek, even if he was a highly decorated warrior who’d risen to the rank of general.

Alone. He would spend the rest of his days alone. No wife. No children.

He ran a hand through his hair and paced faster.

He’d never held faith with old superstitions, but perhaps he really was cursed.

And now he had a human prisoner he was supposed to be torturing, but for a reason he couldn’t yet understand, he hadn’t actually hurt her yet. After three moon cycles of planning and imagining the moment of Layla’s death in the courtroom, he’d been unable to carry it out.

It was those damn soulful eyes of hers—so dark and full of pain—that had stopped him. She’d looked so innocent kneeling on the tarp in the courtroom, so innocent and frightened.

He’d spent the three moon cycles before the court date sharpening his weapons, preparing himself for the act of retribution.

Though he’d announced to the whole courtroom that he was keeping her in order to prolong her suffering, the words had tasted bitter, and he’d experienced a brief surge of sickness as he’d spoken them.

Why? Why couldn’t he march straight to the brig and exact his revenge?

He strode to the wall where he kept his weapons when he wasn’t wearing them. Knives, swords, axes, and hatchets gleamed underneath the overhead lights. Moving from weapon to weapon, he traced the blades.

Why couldn’t he will himself into a frenzy of excitement over the prospect of spilling Layla’s blood?

He backed away from the wall and returned to his bedroom, where he found a thick leather strap stowed away in a drawer beneath some clothing. He picked up the implement and turned it over in his hands, a plan forming in his mind.

His wrist comm buzzed, distracting him from his thoughts of revenge. He returned the strap to the drawer. Later. Perhaps later he would use it on his little human prisoner. Maybe once he saw her in pain, he would find he actually enjoyed her suffering and then he could bring himself to finish her off, as was his right, as was his duty. Her life belonged to him.

“Yes?” he spoke into the comm.

“General Zamek,” came Commander Vavvis’s voice, “we’ve discovered a field