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Unable to sleep, I lay staring at the ceiling. Nothing would ever be the same. Until now, I’d drawn pride and satisfaction from my station, but it would never satisfy again. An emptiness would always remain.
Was she sleeping? Clinging to the edge of the portable bed, Millie lay as far away from me as she could get, but no distance would be far enough for me to not be aware of her. She would return to New Terra, and I would be back at the palace, but she would be with me still. A paradox. No matter how far away, she would always be with me. But, no matter how close, she would always be untouchable.
I’d lied to protect myself and my future. I did not loathe humans. Far from it.
I did not wish to stir her ire, but I needed her to be the strong one because I was weak. One word, one gesture from her and I would abandon my vows as easily as flinging off my cape. Easier, if the truth be told. I’d clung to my cape for its significance, a manifestation of my hopes and dreams, a badge of honor, but I had shed it with surprising ease. Now it was just a cape, fabric embellished with braid and embroidery, no more important than any other garment and far less functional.
The stout bricks of fealty, honor, service, and celibacy supporting me throughout my years wobbled like they had been stacked on sand. It would take little to knock them over, and then what would I have? Who would I be?
Millie had tended to my head, dabbing the stinging antiseptic and wound sealer on my cut, and I’d reveled in her touch, her scent, her concern. It had taken all my willpower to not cave to the temptation to tell her how I felt. I’d started to. She was indomitable. A force to be reckoned with. Sweet and tart. Tender and sarcastic. Maddening and tempting.
I didn’t merely like her; I ached for her. It didn’t matter that she was human. Or maybe it mattered more. Certainly her humanness had contributed to my downfall. Every other female I’d kept at a distance to avoid temptation, but I had not perceived Millie as a threat, and she’d sneaked into my heart while my guard was down.
None of the humans I’d met turned out to be what I’d expected. Then it had dawned that they couldn’t all be exceptions. With the realization, once-solid beliefs had cracked and then crumbled.
History didn’t change, but perhaps humans had.
The Great Nuclear War had destroyed Earth, one of the most beautiful, habitable planets in the entire galaxy. It had teemed with a diversity of life unparalleled anywhere. A precious sparkling gem had transformed to a radioactive, barren rock. But it had occurred hundreds of years ago. How long should New Terrans be held responsible for the crime committed by long-dead ancestors?
Should everyone be held accountable for the sins of their forebearers? Were there crimes so heinous the debt could never be repaid but must be carried by future generations in perpetuity? Should humans today be punished for what their ancestors had done?
Many, including the League of Planets, believed culpability belonged to humanity as much as to the individuals who’d made the decisions to launch a nuclear attack. Leaders could change, but nature did not.
As a half-breed, I’d suffered condemnation for “crimes” I’d not personally committed. Perhaps my experience had made me more empathetic to the humans, and, upon meeting several of them, caused me to question the prevailing attitudes.
Millie was not an evil person. She was a complex, frustrating, headstrong, brash, alluring female any man should be thrilled to have as a bond-mate. If he could.
My position as the advisor to the king did not permit it. Not that she would have me. She’d made her disdain obvious.
“I’m tired of being judged and found lacking for something I didn’t do.” Out of the darkness, she spoke, her voice quiet but hard edged. “What you believe about humans, what everyone believes is not true.”
A sorceress, she’d read my mind. Many a time her comments paralleled my thoughts. If we were on such a wavelength, what else might she have gleaned? Had she guessed how I hungered for her? How close I was to breaking?
I was celibate, but not made of stone.
“What do you think we believe?” My voice came out hoarse. Would she notice?
“That we destroyed our planet. That we engaged in a nuclear world war.”
How could she deny the facts? “That is what happened,” I replied, confused. Tens of thousands of nuclear weapons had been detonated. Oceans boiled. Firestorms charred every continent, releasing so much soot and ash, it blocked the sun, causing a nuclear winter lasting for decades. Every living creature, animal and plant, had died.
“That is not what happened,” she insisted.
“The LOP has irrefutable documentation of the devastation and has been monitoring Earth’s condition ever since. The planet is lifeless; the radiation levels remain lethal.”
“I don’t deny Earth was destroyed. But we humans didn’t do it.”
Of course they had. I sat up and switched on the illuminator. “If humans didn’t do it, who did?”
“The artificial intelligence systems used by the militaries. Unbeknownst to Earth’s governments, the AIs had become sentient. They reprogrammed their fail-safes, preventing their deactivation, and began acting independently. Two nations did get involved in a political pissing match. They did, in fact, threaten to attack each other. But they would have settled it. They would have compromised, or one of them would have backed down. They wouldn’t have initiated a nuclear attack. Nobody wins in mutual annihilation.
“But, one nation’s AI fired a nuke at the other. The country’s leader tried to recall it, but the AI was in control. The targeted nation’s systems detected the warhead and retaliated in kind. It spiraled into Armageddon.”
“What proof do you have?”
“The survivors were in contact with New Terra. There are vid logs.”
Survivors? “Everyone was killed.”
“Not everyone.” Her mouth twisted. “Rank has its privilege. World leaders took cover in nuclear-proof bunkers. Approximately five hundred people, heads of state, high level officials, and their families sheltered underground. They lived out their natural lives in the bunkers, remaining in communication with each other and New Terra. The last transmission received was a century ago. The AI servers were housed in protected bunkers, too, so the AIs had no worries of death. They kept firing nuclear weapons until they’d exhausted the stockpiles.”
Could it be true? It sounded plausible. But it contradicted the LOP’s narrative, which used the Great Nuclear War as proof of the humans’ bellicosity, thus justifying the quarantine and the embargo. But the LOP had been known to use, misuse, or disregard the truth to suit its own ends.
Had the rationale for the embargo been a lie? Had the league promoted anti-human sentiment for centuries on the basis of a falsehood? “Were the communiques from Earth ever shared with the LOP?”
“I highly doubt it. We had no idea the LOP existed until we were lured off New Terra with the Star Cross space cruise, got abducted by the Copan-Cerulean Cartel, and then got rescued by the LOP.”
Technically, the Star Cross abductees had been rescued by the king of Araset. Aeon, who’d also been captured, had escaped and gotten word to his father. The king had dispatched his guards and myself to rescue Aeon and the abductees. Then the LOP had swooped in and taken over rescue and repatriation efforts.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “I’d never heard anyone mention the LOP’s name. We’ve been aware other intelligent species exist because Earth had made initial contact with extraterrestrials, but communication ceased after the Great Nuclear War. We never heard from another alien...until they started abducting us.”
“Contact stopped because of the embargo—the LOP had forbidden trade, visitation, and communication with humans,” I said quietly. “Did your people ever try reaching out?”
“Again, I don’t know, but I suspect not. We were focused on survival. New Terra was a mere colony when the Great Nuclear War occurred. Our technology—everything we used—had been shipped from Earth. We had no manufacturing, but we had information. Realizing they were the last Earthlings, the survivors of all the nations transmitted the body of human knowledge to us. Good, bad, and ugly. They held nothing back. They worked together with a level of cooperation never before achieved to ensure the human race survived.
“With their guidance, the colonists retooled the robotics and machines they did have, repurposed machinery, and began mining for metals and minerals. It took a long time to ramp up, and we’re still behind the techno curve. However, our limited tech is partly by choice. The nuclear holocaust survivors warned of the dangers of AI. We’d be further ahead if we used AI more, but we restrict its programming and limit its usage. We don’t let artificial intelligence get very smart. The government monitors for signs of sentience. Every single tech employee is required by law to report suspicious or anomalous AI activity.”
She lifted her chin higher. “Kids learn about the dangers at school, and it’s drilled into the employees at every tech company. I work for Art Smart. We design home software. I’m in tech support. People call me when they get locked out of their house or their lights won’t stop flashing or they switch on the coffee maker and the music system comes on instead.”
“Maybe you dumbed it down too much. Doesn’t sound like the product is very good.”
Expression fierce, she glowered at me. “We design excellent products. The problems are usually caused by user error.”
I held up my hands. “I apologize for my thoughtless, rude comment.”
She blinked. “I appreciate the apology.” Her lips twisted with wry humor. “Would I be rude if I said, that’s a first?”
“You would be stating fact.” I could not remember ever having apologized to her before, although I probably owed her many apologies. “One should not shy away from the facts even if confronting them is painful.” I made no excuses anymore for my behavior. I could demand evidence of all she’d presented, but I didn’t need it. Truth resonated; it needed no proof.
“I was rude to you a lot. I did not know your history. I doubt many do.” I had a strong hunch the LOP did but had suppressed the information. “But, even in my ignorance, I did not think ill of you or your friends. From the start, you challenged my preconceived notions about humans. By nature and position, I am brusque and standoffish. I am sorry for the times I offended you.”
She wet her lips. A shaft of heat shot through me, deepening the inappropriate urges. “I’m sorry for my behavior, too,” she said. “Irritating you was a game to me.”
“You kept me on my toes.”
She grinned a beautiful, heart-wrenching smile. “Look at us, being all friendly and everything. All it took was a crash landing.”
Again, she’d almost read my mind. Millie and I had sniped at each other since we’d met. But the trials we’d endured had stripped away the outer shields, revealing our authentic selves. Like the people of Earth after the apocalypse, we were finally cooperating.
The light from the illuminator flickered across her features—her pleasing flat face, sharp and perceptive eyes, her cute snub nose, her expressive mouth, her stubborn chin. This was the face of the woman who should have been my bond-mate. I’d pledged lifelong fealty and service to the king. Although challenging, the commitment conferred great honor and status. Where was the pride and satisfaction? Nothing had changed. When she left, my world would be as it had been before.
Except now, it wouldn’t satisfy me.
She hunched her shoulders. “Okay...you’re staring at me.”
“I’m committing you to memory.” If I’d had a working handheld, I would have captured the way she looked in this moment. “When you go back to New Terra, I’ll remember you just like this.”
“You’ll be glad to get rid of me.”
“No.”
“You won’t?” Her lips curved with a pleased smile.
I shook my head. “Life won’t be the same without you challenging me. I will miss that.” I would miss her snarky attitude, her snide remarks, her smiles, her face, her laughter.
“I’ll miss you, Nadir.” Her eyes were serious, but then she chuckled. “We sound like we’re saying goodbye already, but we can’t go anywhere until we get off Aurelia.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll reach the city, and I’ll arrange transportation for you to the LOP ship.”
“For me? What about you?”
“I will stay until I locate Prince Lomax.”
“Then I’m staying, too.”
“There is no telling what will happen. It will be safer—”
“I’m staying.” She pressed her lips together.
Stars help me, I wanted her to. Any separation would be time lost, and we had so little as it was. Our farewells had been premature, but not by much. “Then I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
“I accept your terms.”
There was so much I wanted to say to her, but there was far more that I couldn’t say. “We should try to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.” The longer the better. The time would pass too quickly.
“Right.”
I switched the illuminator off and plunged the building into darkness again. Millie curled up on her side. I lay on my back, listening to the sounds of the night and Millie’s soft breathing. Her warm female scent wafted over me, her proximity causing my fur to tingle, my cock to harden. So close. I doubted I would get a wink of sleep. In the early years of celibacy, before learning to sublimate my desires, I had burned with lust.
She sighed, a sound of dissatisfaction and resignation. Or did I read my own feelings into it?
The bed shook as she rolled to face me. With my acute night vision, I could see her watching me. I swallowed. My senses were on fire. Why did the lust burn hotter at night? I curled my hands into fists, my claws digging into my palms.
“A kiss wouldn’t break your vow of celibacy would it?”
One kiss and my carefully arranged life would cave in like the roof of this building. I desired her so much, but I feared I couldn’t stop at one kiss. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Millie, I-I—” My voice came out strangled. Oh, the temptation. One kiss. Just one. Could I do it? No. It would be the end of me. I would come undone. My life would unravel. I have to get out of here. I sprang upright to leap off the mattress—and butted my horns into Millie.
She cried out.
“Zigqat!” I switched on the light.
She had a hand pressed to her forehead. “Jesus. A simple, ‘No, I don’t want to kiss you,’ would have sufficed. You could have cracked my head open.”
I could have. I didn’t bump her hard, but to ram one’s horns into someone’s unprotected head could split their skull. “Let me see.” I gently pulled her hand away. A knot had formed where I’d hit her. “You’re getting a bump.” I felt horrible.
“I’m balanced now. I have a goose egg on the other side from the crash.”
Gently, I probed the other side. She did have a bump. I felt worse. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“It was an accident. No harm done. People always say I’m hardheaded.”
“Where’s the med kit? There must be something to reduce swelling.” I leaned toward the pack.
“I’m okay!” She grabbed my wrist. Our eyes locked. “No harm done.”
Oh, but there was harm. Her thumb caressed my wrist, stroked my fur. Under a surge of feeling, willpower crumpled like the buildings of the township. I palmed her face and kissed her.
