her burn with further jealousy or rejoice that he was unleashing his finely honed skills on her.
Her eyelids fluttered shut when his mouth pressed kisses along the column of her throat, and she gasped, her nipples tingling, when he lightly bit down. Hard enough to leave a mark? That dark side of her, the one she’d tried so hard to repress, hoped so.
Maybe we really are perfect for each other, Erin mused suddenly.
“We are here,” he murmured and she felt the vibration of the words against her back.
Her eyes flew open and she gasped, taking in the beauty of the landscape before her. That glimmering hint of water in the distance had turned into an expansive sea.
“The Lopitax Sea,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I want to know about the Mevirax,” Erin requested softly, looking out over the sea, perched next to him at the peak of a sand dune they’d climbed.
Jaxor was leaning back on his hands, his belly full from the obiraxi, which they’d gorged themselves on that morning and even into the afternoon. Their thighs were pressed together and his female was sitting close.
Jaxor had never felt more at ease, but then her question made his chest jolt.
Erin watched him carefully. She was her steady self right then, quiet but expecting him to answer her, knowing that he would. He hadn’t denied her an answer in the past couple spans.
“About their history?” he hedged.
Her lips quirked and she nodded her head. “About their history…and about yours with them. Because I sense there is a story there and much you haven’t told me.”
Jaxor’s heartbeat sped in his chest, wondering if he should lie to her. He believed that if the Mevirax appeared right then to demand he give them Erin…he wouldn’t. He would fight for her. He would fight to keep her.
And yet…he hadn’t consummated their bond, had he? Because he knew that if he mated her fully, he would never let her go.
So had he made a decision?
Jaxor hated it, but he hadn’t.
He could be selfish and claim her as his. But he’d been selfish ten rotations ago in turning his back on his brother and his people, and he didn’t know if he could bear it again. For once, he was trying to be selfless.
Only, it would cost Erin just as much as it would cost him, if not more.
Would two sacrifices be enough? For the future of the Luxirian race? Is that what Oxandri would demand?
It was late afternoon. The suns had arched across the sky and were just beginning to descend. It had been a perfect span. Relaxing. Jaxor had kissed his rixella when he felt like it, touched her when he felt like it, and the strange, foreign feeling of happiness had stayed with him, as long as he was next to her.
Yet, Jaxor still thought to betray her.
“About fifty rotations ago, a male named Likar organized a rebellion in the Golden City. The Prime Leader at the time, the current Prime Leader’s sire,” his own sire, “fought back. Crushed it before it could take root, though many lives were lost. The surviving males and females, Likar included, were banished from the Golden City and the outposts, defeated, and so they were forced to travel across the Black Desert and start anew in the wild lands. They made their home in the Caves of the Pevrallix, rumored to be a favored place of Oxandri, the Fate of Sacrifice.”
He watched Erin’s gaze drop to his pectoral, where the mark Laccara had given him still remained, though it had mostly healed. He’d told his rixella it was the mark of Oxandri and she’d remembered.
“Why did they rebel in the first place?”
“Luxirians were not always so…civil,” he told her. “We are a warrior race, built and bred for violence and war. Many believe that our destiny is to conquer, to become one of the greatest powers in the universe. For a long time, we were not so different from the Jetutians, seeking battle where we could find it for the sole purpose of victory. But three hundred rotations ago, our ways began to change, minds began to change. Most began to pray to the Fate of Prosperity, not the Fate of War or the Fate of Sacrifice. And now, many Luxirians only want to use our power to promote peace in the universe.”
“And which Fate do you pray to?” she asked. He knew what she assumed. That he was among those who still sought bloodshed, given Oxandri’s mark in