stolen his hovercraft. “Even then, most of my travel happened on foot anyways.”
The past few spans, Jaxor had been lazy. He’d not gone on his patrols, he’d not checked his traps. Instead, he’d barely been able to pull himself from his female, away from their furs in the cave. But that morning, he’d known that in order to keep them safe and secure, he couldn’t spend the day between her thighs again, no matter how much he wanted to.
The failing shield links were his primary concern, one that had been on his mind since first bringing Erin to his base. They shielded his base overhead, protected it. Which was why Jaxor needed to scavenge for parts to repair them, though he’d mostly picked his way through the wreckage sites he’d found over the rotations. Erin had wanted to accompany him and they’d set off in the early light of morning.
But the suns were setting low now. Soon, it would be dark and Jaxor hadn’t found the parts he needed. Still, he wouldn’t consider this span wasted. He’d spent it with his rixella, after all, with Luxirian wind in their hair and views that stretched for miles.
Jaxor had never been happier. He knew that with certainty. It was why he couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach that their time was limited. That soon, everything would change.
Erin looked around the ruins one last time and then looked at him. Her expression softened when she met his eyes—did she even realize that?
Jaxor didn’t deserve a female like her. She was too good for him. But being with her, being near her, seeing her smile, hearing her melodic laugh, feeling her soft, exploring touch…it made him want to be better. It made him want to be the male that deserved her.
When she came to him, when she slipped her hand into his own, he confided, “I have been thinking about my brother.”
Her expression remained the same, but she simply waited for him to continue.
“I have been thinking that I want to see him,” he said, the words draining from him like pus from a wound. “There is much I wish to tell him. Need to tell him.”
“That’s great,” she said softly, running her other hand to his side, holding it there. “But…”
But?
“Tev?”
Her lips pressed together. She gave a small look around the clearing and admitted, “If you go back to the Golden City, will it be safe for you?”
Realization hit him.
“You worry for me now, female?”
“Well…yes,” she said softly. He could see himself in her dark eyes, the little mirrors that they were. “The Ambassador knows you took us, knows that you were responsible. He has to be back by now. Won’t they be looking for you?”
“They will not be looking for me in the Golden City,” he told her.
She frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“I thought you would want to return,” he admitted. “I…I realize that this is not a life that a female would wish for herself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There are no comforts here,” he said, a little ashamed of that. “You bathe in icy water, you sleep on stone. There are no feasts here, no celebrations, and very little contact with other beings.”
Erin shook her head. “I—I don’t care about baths or parties or where I sleep, Jaxor.”
“You know what I am trying to say,” he said, cupping the back of her neck. “Tev?”
She blew out a long breath, but eventually, she nodded. “Yes, I know what you’re trying to say.”
“If you decide to stay on Luxiria,” he started, “I would not want this life for you.”
Jaxor had known all his life that though he would not be Prime Leader, he would still be an appointed Ambassador and a leader of an outpost. That outpost would have been Jiralla, on the edge of their world. The sixth and final outpost of Luxiria.
But with his defection, Jaxor had turned his back on that future, on that responsibility. Instead, he assumed the five Ambassadors and his brother took turns overseeing Jiralla, though Jaxor had always wondered why Vaxa’an hadn’t assigned a new Ambassador in his place.
That life was lost to him now, but it was still the life that he wanted for his mate if she chose to remain with him. A life of never needing to fear kekevir, a life of never needing to worry about patrols or scavenging for repair parts, or whether that rotation’s frost would kill off their crops.