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Dilacs wraps his arm around my waist and jerks me off my feet so fast my head snaps back and my neck cracks painfully. An involuntary yelp emerges as the walls of the alley blur. I throw myself forward and wrap my arms around his neck.
Stench assaults my nostrils as the air rushes by. Defensively I bury my face into his neck, trying to block my nose. It’s so gross and disgusting it makes me want to throw up. And I can’t think of a worse thing to do, especially right now.
Behind us is a roaring mass of Urr’ki bodies. They are pressed together so tightly and have become such a mob that on first glance they look like a singular monster with multiple arms and screaming mouths.
I feel my eyes widening until they must be bulging out of my head. I grit my teeth and hold in a panicked scream that threatens to rip free. Another thing that will do no good. Dilacs bounds down the alley. Leaping over barriers and dodging side to side. When his foot slips I do scream. I can’t help myself. The two of us jerk forward as his leg shoots ahead faster than he is moving. He grunts in pain but manages to not go all the way down.
The mob is still close on our heels. They’re mindless. Some are wielding broken things, waving them in the air and even striking others around them as blind rage consumes all reason. Dilacs glances over his shoulder and grumbles something I assume is a curse before he’s on his feet and we’re moving. I clench my eyes shut and do the only thing I can. I pray.
I don’t know who or what I’m praying too. All I know is that I cannot stand feeling this helpless. This out of control of my own life, much less my destiny. I’m not sure that any one of the three of us will be alive more than the next few minutes. At a time like this, where there is literally nothing useful I can do, what else is left but to pray?
My parents were religious. They took me along to Church on a fairly regular basis. They went to the Universal Church of the Faiths on the ship. I liked it but I also never fully got it. I think, looking back, that it’s hard to really appreciate the need for faith and belief in something more when your life is more or less mundane.
Every day on the ship was pretty much like any other day. It was all routines and monotony. Never too exciting. Since the crash though, life and faith has taken on an entirely new meaning. For me at least.
The Zmaj, once they came into us humans lives, they have faith. Different versions, much like humans, but in the end it’s all a belief in something more. A destiny that each of us has to fulfill. That there is, somewhere, someone or some thing that cares. That the universe is not cold and uncaring and everything only happens by chance.
Dilacs slows, spins, then we change directions. I open one eye just enough to see that we’ve turned a corner. I see Khiara’s back continuing to lead the way. That’s enough. I clench my eyes, grit my teeth, and continue to offer up hope to the universe at large.
Please. Don’t let this be how I end. If not for me, for Dilacs and Khiara. They’ve both been nothing but nice and protective. They deserve better.
We turn once again, rush ahead, then another slipping turn. Dilacs is breathing heavily. His sweat is heavy and musky, strong enough to hide most of the offending odors of the alley. His is a pleasing scent, very manly.
He rushes forward, moving so fast that he hunches over. Wind whips past us even faster than he skids to a stop. His chest is heaving then I hear a door slamming shut and the turning of locks.
I unclench my eyes, looking around with a sense of desperation only to realize we’re home. I unlock my legs from around Dilacs’s waist and he lowers me to the floor. I linger at his side, one arm loosely draped around his neck.
Khiara is at the door and turns around. He stops when he sees Dilacs and I. He’s also panting but a glower settles over his face. A deep frown that wrinkles his brow as he narrows his eyes. Dilacs glances over his shoulder. He and his brother lock eyes for an instant then Dilacs takes a hold of my arm and removes it from his neck.
He gently lowers my arm but his hand lingers before he lets go. Our eyes meet and something passes between us. A reluctance? Maybe? Or am I reading more into it than is there.
Khiara grunts, pushes off the door, and walks into the kitchen. Dilacs lets my arm go and follows his brother.
5
DILACS
My neck is unnaturally chill, colder than it has any right to be, where her arm was. Khiara stomps around the kitchen, wordlessly pulling out glasses and a bottle. He puts the glasses onto the table so hard I’m honestly surprised they don’t shatter.
Frowning I watch but don’t interfere. Gwen stays behind me which is probably for the best. He’d never, in any world, hurt her, but his anger is still nothing to trifle with. Well, I can, but that’s me.
“Brother,” I murmur, speaking in our own language. He pauses mid-opening the bottle to glare. His lips quiver flashing his teeth. “We are fine.”
He growls as he shakes his head. The seal on the bottle emits a soft hiss as it breaks. His lips curl into a sneer that he quickly removes then he turns his attention to pouring the alcohol. He pours a finger’s worth into one glass and three in the other two, the ones that are for us.
“Fools,” he utters, his shoulders hunching, focusing on the three glasses.
He darts a sudden glance at Gwen and I see it all so clearly. He desires her, which I understand. He also cares for her, deeply, but I do not think she is meant for him. How do I cross that line with him though?
All our lives Khiara has been the stubborn one. Once he locks his mind onto a path there is no changing it. He isn’t dumb, by any stretch. He is smart, thoughtful, and gives everything true consideration, until he’s made a decision. The moment he decides on a goal he becomes someone of singular vision and intention. He fixes that idea and you might as well try to lift the mountain as change his mind.
He speaks in plurals and vague enough that it could be understood he means the ones who attacked the Shaman or it could just as easily be the rioters. But I know him too well for his tricks of obfuscation. He means, clearly, Gwen. And me.
The attraction I feel for her and she displays for me is undeniable. I want to act on it, to hold her, to proclaim my feelings, but how can I do that when I know how badly it will hurt him? My heart is torn and there is no easy path.
“The guards will regain control quickly,” I say, unwilling or unable to confront the true meaning of his words and thoughts.
He grunts and motions with one arm at the table. I look to Gwen and motion with my head that she should join us. She has a deep frown on her beautiful face. Fuck I want to kiss that sadness away from her. Kiss her and so, so much more. Take her to my bed and fuck her until she is too busy screaming my name to feel any sadness or worry. The aching in my chest is edging on unbearable but if I act now it will cause too many problems.
