Classified Planet - S.J. Sanders Page 0,72

diners and performers, it was difficult for her to enjoy the sight with the palace looming nearby.

The rich tang of food filled the air, and she longed to try it. Another time, she promised herself. Even if she were to be imprisoned among the Tak’sinii, she would ask Rhyst to indulge in a meal among the vendors there before she met her fate. That wouldn’t be too much to ask—a kind of last meal?

Her eyes prickled with tears, and she tried to tell herself that it was because she was aware of all the experiences that she would soon be missing. Not that the idea of being separated from Rhyst struck like a blow to her heart.

Chapter 26

Rhyst looked around his abode, aware of just how drab it looked compared to the natural beauty of his people’s homes. His dam’s home had been full of warm colors, steeped in their family’s history and traditions. Ag’hana had wanted him to take his half of their dam’s belongings when she traveled to dwell among their ancestors, but at the time, he had felt it was a foolish request.

What use does an a’sankh have for possessions that should rightfully be kept by one who could pass them down to their children? Now though, looking at his bare surroundings, he tried to imagine how bleak Cha’lii might find it.

Gray rock and a flat frame that held a large padded mat in the main room, and a larger one in his sleeping quarters where he currently stood. The sleeping quarters did not have any other furniture. Though the main room had a low table at which he might recline while he ate, there was little else that an a’sankh required for furniture. In short, it resembled a well-equipped cave.

Despite all its shortcomings, at least it was now clean, and he had a cupboard filled with simple plates, cups, and eating utensils. He even had an orb unit to access global Tak’sinii entertainment programs. There was just a lot dull gray rock everywhere amid large, spacious rooms that a’sankhii required to move about freely.

He grimaced knowing that Ag’hana believed he avoided the market because he loathed it. That might have been true in part, but it was mostly because the twisting market streets were ancient and not built with a’sankhii in mind, since his kind had not yet existed when the streets and principal buildings were planned.

Attempting to walk through the market streets with his girth was an accident on the verge of happening. Better for Rhyst to remain home as much as possible when within the city, or to stick to the main passage and the square if he went out. A meal in the square after sundown was a pleasure, sitting among pillows piled around low tables. It was one of the few indulgences that a’sankhii could enjoy with their brethren.

Perhaps Cha’lii would also take pleasure in it?

He imagined reclining outdoors beneath the moonlight, enjoying a meal with the female. It would not be a plain meal around a fire, but a real meal crafted with pleasure in mind, and fermented a’tanri to drink. She would be dressed as a Tak’sinii, wearing flowing clothes rather than her gray covering, her face glowing with happiness as she looked upon him. The smile would be entirely for him and no other. He might even feed her from his own hand.

A shiver shook him, and his cock began to press insistently against the opening of his genital sack. Days of rigid control to keep himself from reacting to the sweet scent of her body and the heat of her sex were crumbling. His need raged through him no matter how he tried to rein it back in. And now he was facing the next few days of being surrounded by her presence and the potency of her ripe scent. Staring down at his bed with its plain, undyed bedding, his traitorous imagination supplied him an image of her stretched out on his bed, her body responding to his every touch. Perhaps he would purchase a beautiful blanket for her to stretch out upon…

His breath burst out of him in a pained groan. The gods surely must either hate him or have a dismal sense of humor.

“Rh’ystmal, we have arrived,” Ag’hana sang out as he heard the soft chime through the dwelling of the door sliding back into its frame.

Her voice ringing through the house was as effective as being doused with icy water. Gaining firm control of

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