Warrior (12 page)

“I wish to have choices. Like Tara.”

“She is Terran. And the breeder of a Commander. His status grants her leeway.”

“So I should go to Ilian then?”

No!
“That is not what I meant.” He slipped his arm across her collarbone and held her against him, but she remained rigid. Tara’s brashness had a way of infecting the females around her. Were there more females like her on Parseon, the males might find themselves with a revolution on their hands. He was not confident they would win. “Tara has diplomatic immunity from Protocol.”

“Then perhaps I shall go to Terra.”

Urazi brought his face close to her ear. “Perhaps you should,” he said, knowing war had halted all shuttle flights to and from Parseon. All the aliens had been evacuated. The few who remained were stuck till the end of the war. Urazi brushed his lips across the rim of her ear. Pressing closer, he settled his erection between the moons of her buttocks.

Anika stiffened. “What are you doing? Is that all you think about?”

“Not all. But mostly—when I am with you.”

He slid one hand between her legs to press and rub against her mons. She had seemed to like having her sex caressed the last time they’d been together.
He
had liked her moans of pleasure.

Anika grabbed his hand and pressed it firmer against herself. “We are taking a big risk,” she said in a breathy voice.

“What risk is that?” He massaged her mons, seeking the nub just below it. “Nobody will see. They are asleep. At least a kilometer away.”

Her head lolled against his chest. “Not that kind of risk.”

“Then what?”

“I fear your manhood will freeze in the winter chill.”

Urazi chuckled. “It will not be exposed for long.” He tugged at her pants until he loosened them enough to slip his hands underneath.

Anika gasped. “Your hands are cold!”

“You are warm.” He cupped her sex, and her wet heat lit a fire in his groin. He found her little nub and rubbed it as best he could under the tight confines of her clothing. He wished they could strip, but she was right—they could freeze.

Still holding her sex, he nudged her legs and walked her to a large boulder. “Lean forward. Put your hands on the rock.”

He freed his manhood from his pants, and tugged her uniform down. Bound by clothing, she could not part her legs much—but it was wide enough. Guiding his organ to her wet center, he entered her sex.

Together they rocked in a slow rhythm like terpsichorean performers Urazi had once seen at a dignitary function. He continued to stroke the fleshy bud as he pumped into her.

Perhaps they
were
dancers because, as if on cue, the tempo of their thrusts increased. Anika moaned through closed lips, and he groaned in the same manner. She went rigid then shuddered. He spilled himself in the tightness of her channel.

Anika slumped, breathing heavily, and Urazi’s panted also. He’d done it again—committed an act of breeding. This time without self-recrimination. Perhaps, like Anika, he preferred more choices. Perhaps traveling to Terra would not be a bad idea. It would not be possible now, and arranging it in the future would be
almost
impossible.
He
would be able to go—but their laws did not permit a Parseon female to travel.

He freed himself from her channel and pulled up her pants. Of course, no one had to know she was female…as an
alpha
, she
could
travel to Terra. There they would be free to do as they pleased.

Fantasy. But an enjoyable one.

Urazi readjusted his clothing. Now that the heat of their coupling had abated, the cold intruded. It
was
freezing.

Anika turned to face him. The moon shone on her face, highlighting her wary expression. “What are you going to do now?”

“I shall infiltrate Qalin’s caravan.”

She widened her eyes. “How?”

“I do not know—but by morning, I shall devise a way. Come. I will escort you back. Let us hope they are sound sleepers.”

URAZI ACCOMPANIED HER to the camp perimeter but surprised her by pressing a hard kiss to her mouth and shoving her gently. “Go now. Change your uniform.”

“You are not coming?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight. I will join you in the morning. Do not worry.”

She pushed through the brush, imagining she could feel the heat of his gaze, but when she checked, he’d disappeared. Anika halted in the center of the settlement and took stock. A gentle wave of snores reassured her no one had noticed her absence, but she scrutinized the site to ensure nothing was amiss.

From within a females’ tent, she detected a clank of metal, as if one of the breeders had stirred in her sleep. Her conscience smote her; she trod about unfettered while her gender slept in chains, destined for a fate she had fought to avoid. If she had not left Marlix’s domicile, fled the guerilla camp with Urazi, and killed Icor, she might have been with them. But rather than bow in submission, she had opted to fight. She refused to be cowed. Her freedom—tenuous though it might be—had been carved by
her
will,
her
actions.

Though the future remained precarious, and she worried what dawn would reveal, inside, she felt full.
Pride
, she realized with a sense of wonder.

I am worthy of what I seek
.

I deserve to be free.

But would she truly be free if all she did was walk among those who were not? Should she not use her autonomy to help others? Her gender?

I am but one. Two with Urazi, and I do not believe he shares my views.
And how could the will of one—maybe two—change Parseon?

If Qalin and Artom won the war, life for everyone—alphas, betas, and females—would become sorrier for it. To serve out a desolate life as a breeder to Ilian would seem like a joy compared to the ensuing misery.

I cannot let that happen.

At once, she felt the crush of the world upon her shoulders. A breeder had no might to change anything. What was she thinking, to drive toward Qalin? Would it not be wiser to seek out Urazi and run far, far away?
I should go now.
Perhaps Perce would think Icor and I left together.

If she was going to flee, now would be the time—while everyone slept. She listened. Quiet—except for the snores. The fire had been reduced to ash. She knelt before the hearth. A few red specks glowed.

Anika placed a handful of dried grass atop the vestiges of embers and blew. A speck flickered then flared and caught a flattened reed, producing a small flame. Anika puffed again, and the tiny conflagration spread to the rest of the grass. Before the hay could burn itself out, she added a kindling of twigs. When it burned steadily, she topped the flames with some larger wood.

The males of the camp who should have been watchful had given no thought to the fire. Not much thought to anything. Should there not have been a sentry on guard? They had trusted her too easily—looking no further than her uniform to decide to draw her into their inner circle. She could have been anybody—an insurgent, a spy—or a female who was both. She had expected more from Qalin’s men who wore alpha gray.

But she’d delved no further than their uniforms either,
assuming
they were worthy of their titles because of what she’d been taught. What if they hadn’t merited their status? What if they were just inexperienced males conscripted into service?

The fire, now robust, crackled. From a few insignificant embers, an inferno had grown.

Could she be the insignificant ember from which a conflagration would spread?

Somewhere near, Urazi had hunkered down for the night. Together they could run, hide among the chaos of war. She stared at Icor’s main wooden structure, a dark hulk in the night, its TERRAN BAZAAR sign unreadable. But she knew it was there.

Such a bustling hive of activity the Bazaar had been. People had flocked from all five provinces to buy unimaginable wares brought to market by the enterprising Terrans and the late Commander Dak, the most progressive Alpha. How Qalin and the High Council had reviled the Bazaar’s ingenuity and possibilities. Free market—free society. Liberty symbolized in all its glory. Parseon citizens had loved it, and the Bazaar had thrived until war had forced closure. How Qalin must have crowed in triumph. It would bring him great pleasure now to see its signage board re-employed as lumber for a hovel.

A symbol of the new paradigm.

The fire popped, and Anika stared into its flames. From a small speck….

A symbol of a new paradigm?

From within the females’ tent, metal clanked again.

Tomorrow would be a long day, its outcome uncertain. Anika rose to her feet and swiped a hand over her face, wincing as she encountered her battered cheek. She crept into her shelter. Perce and two betas snorted in slumber, mumbled in dreamy conversation.

She dug her spare uniform from her carryall. Turning her back to the sleeping males, she quickly pulled off the bloody shirt and tugged on a fresh one, wincing as she disturbed her still-sore shoulder. Unsplattered, her pants would suffice. She rolled up the bloody garment and hid it in an outside pocket of her bag. She would dispose of it in the morn.

Slipping under her sleep coverings, Anika waited for night to end.

Chapter Twelve

“Monto! What happened to your face?”

Out of a dead sleep, Anika sprang to a sitting position. Perce, his chest bare, sat among his bed coverings, his eyes wide in shock. The other two sleeprolls lay in disarray, having been vacated by Perce’s beta Faja and Luka. “Your face is purple.” He brushed his fingers over his own cheekbone.

“Oh.” Anika blinked the sleep from her eyes and faked a sheepish shrug. “I arose to relieve myself, and, in the darkness, I encountered a tree.” She touched her face, which throbbed now that she was awake and attention had been called to her injury. How bad did it look? Icor had delivered several good hits.

“A tree? You must have encountered an entire forest.”

“It is no consequence.” She dismissed her condition the way she’d heard alphas do countless times, and, kicking off her covering, bounded to her feet, trying not to betray how the sudden movement caused the world to spin faster than its normal revolution. “But our duties are of import….” Anika hinted to divert him, to get him moving.

Perce stood then, the coverings falling away to reveal his nakedness, an unimpressive sight since his manhood had retreated to avoid the cold. Protocol did not demand that males sleep without clothing—but they all did. The male body held no fascination for her—she had seen far too many male sexual organs at the breeder facility to be impressed. Even with Jergan, she had averted her eyes.

But not with Urazi. She liked studying
his
body. His specimen was quite…majestic.

Perce shivered and yanked on his uniform. “You sleep clothed?” He frowned. He had already been abed when she’d slipped in the first time.

She could have pointed out that
chill-shudders
did not wrack her body, and her manhood—if she’d had one—would not have shrunken to the size of a worm, but did not wish to further any discussion about nakedness. “It was fortuitous I did, since I tended the fire. It had gone out.”

“That is a beta’s task.”

Except all three betas had slept as deeply as he.

Perce’s youthful face took on an edge. “I shall speak to them.” His tone left no doubt
speaking
involved physical chastisement. They would blame
her
, and although alphas maintained overt power, betas could be—
were
—underhanded and manipulative. They could retaliate. A conveyance wheel could work loose, a beast could become unbridled. Her food could sicken her. Guiltily, she remembered the tea she had laced with a sleeping agent for Urazi after they’d left the guerrilla camp.

To cause the betas punishment would draw undesirable attention.

“Do not do that,” she said. “Since I was awake, there seemed no point in rousing them. They had to rise early enough to prepare the morning repast.” She fervently hoped they
were
preparing the sunup meal, and were not engaged in the idle pursuit of gossip. “Do we not need to resume our travels to deliver the females posthaste? Flogged betas might hinder our travels if they are too injured to assist with driving the conveyances.”

Perce’s truculent expression relaxed. “You are right. Betas do not have the fortitude of us alphas, and they would cry and whine like females the rest of the way. Though I hate to let their dereliction slide, we must focus on the larger objective.”

“You are wise.” Anika stroked his ego. “It is no wonder Commander Qalin chose you for such an important assignment.”

Perce’s chest expanded like a
puffer fowl
’s
in mating
before his face clouded. “I hope I do not disappoint him. I have secured a congregation of females for breeding, but I have failed to acquire the one he targeted. Anika.”

A surge of fight-or-flight hormone raced through her veins at the mention of her name, but she maintained a bland expression.

“Initially, I had received numerous sightings,” Perce continued, “but no one has reported seeing her of late. I fear Commander Qalin will be displeased.”

Failure would be punished. Perce’s authority over the mission meant he would bear the brunt of Qalin’s malice, but everyone associated could be disciplined. And if
she
were stripped before being sent to the flogging posts…hiding within Qalin’s sphere was starting to seem like a very bad idea.

“Perhaps the one known as Anika no longer lives?” she suggested. “These are dangerous times. Bands of brigands roam the territories. Anything could have happened to her. Perhaps you have not been able to locate her because she is dead.”

Perce’s eyes lit with hope. “That is possible! No, in fact, it is most likely what has occurred. And Alpha Qalin’s orders did say that while he preferred her to be captured alive, dead would suffice,” he said, but doubt darkened his countenance. “But Commander Qalin will require proof of her demise.”