Daahn Rising (21 page)

Miri Johns was a minefield. They’d told her she was training as a negotiator, but her understanding of human nuances was nonexistent. She didn’t understand jokes or lullabies or even compassion and caring.

He paused with the fork halfway into his mouth, realization slamming home in his sleep-deprived brain. The Xxan cared for their young. If anyone knew it, he did.

Then why doesn’t she know it?
She was raised by them. She should know it as well as he did.

He chewed at the
z’haahn
, considering it. Smiles were perceived as a threat. She hated her own name. She’d obviously been berated often.

“Because, weak as I am, I survived.” Convenient...

That was what she really believed her only value was to them.

His appetite deserted him, and Aleeks placed the fork on his plate, kicking himself for missing this all night. How many times had he rolled this problem over and let the obvious slip him by?

She’d been a distraction for them, a human decoy. She’d been trained to fight, in the belief that, when the reversal came, she would protect the Xxan.

How bad was it?
His ridge plates had sent her into a panic. His smile had forced her to a defensive posture. She’d taken the submissive at the first sign of his status as a Dominant male.

Questions coursed through Aleeks’s mind. They were questions only Miri could answer.

Determined to have those answers, he took to his feet, turned — and came face-to-face with Jacks.

The lieutenant glanced at the half-f plate, his smile wide. “Off your feed, Daahn?” he teased. “The little lady Xxan getting under your skin?”

He’d lost track of how many times in the last day he’d had to fight his ridge plates back. This time, he didn’t fight it. Aleeks let them extend fully.

Jacks stared at them, his eyes going wide and his face paling. He scrambled back two steps, running aground on another table.

“You tortured her,” Aleeks informed him. “You didn’t even turn down the lights for her when you took your glasses back.”

“She’s a prisoner, Daahn,” he protested weakly.

“Oh? Then I suppose you’d want a cell kept at forty-five degrees Celsius? Or at five? You’d accept it without bringing charges of abuse of a prisoner?”

Jacks darkened, and he didn’t reply.

“Don’t do it again, Lieutenant Jackson. Next time, I won’t be nearly this forgiving.”

“Understood... sir.” His lip curled in disgust at using the title for Aleeks.

That’s right. Remember my rank. I won’t hesitate to pull it, if you try this again.
Aleeks forced his ridge plates back and headed for Miri’s cell, punching in the code for the outer door so hard his fingers ached.

He paused at the desk, her situation tumbling around in his mind. “Has she requested food?” Aleeks asked the guard on duty.

“Not on my watch.”

“Check the logs.”

The guard tapped at the screen. “Not at all. In fact, she hasn’t requested anything. Not toiletries. Not a change of clothing. Not food or drinks. Nothing.”

Though he’d expected as much, Aleeks felt his temper rise. This time, he kept his ridge plates fully retracted, but it cost him in effort. “
Z’haahn
.”
No. She’s been raised by the Xxan.
“A meat tray... just meat, prepared as I like it.”

“Yes, sir.” Unlike Jacks, there was no disrespect in the term.

Aleeks strode to the door, opening it when the lock clicked, pulling off his glasses as the light behind him disappeared.

Miri lay, curled on the bunk again, her hands drawn up under her chin. Her face was raw and swollen, so much so that he initially thought someone had disobeyed his orders and turned up the lighting.

Closer inspection showed she’d been crying. Even now, she wasn’t still. Tremors racked her body, and her muscles tensed and released.

She murmured a protest in Xxan, then another in English. Her breathing went ragged, and a weak cry escaped her lips.

Her eyes opened, and Miri lunged at him, wild-eyed, hissing a warning. Aleeks turned her beneath him, pinning her wrists to the floor near her head and her hips beneath his. A second cry... one of pain, rattled his nerves.

The door opened, and she squeezed her eyes shut to the light. Aleeks endured it, gauging her responses in her half-awake state.

“Do you need assistance, sir?” the guard asked.

Miri winced, no doubt envisioning punishment for attacking him.

“No. It was my error. Miri was sleeping, and I startled her.”

“If you’re certain...”

She opened her abused eyes, lost again.

By the stars, she has no concept what understanding and kindness are.
“I am,” Aleeks replied. “Close the door, please; it hurts our eyes.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll log the incident for you, sir.” The guard withdrew and shut the door, before Aleeks could protest the report.

It’s probably better to let him report it. If I try to stop him, it won’t look good.

Still, there were answers he needed. “What were you dreaming?”

Miri closed her eyes, relaxing beneath him. “The attack.”

“The attack on Xxania Hethhh?”

She hesitated for a long moment, opening her eyes, the slits widened in some strong emotion she’d masked otherwise. “Was there any other?”

Yes, but why won’t you tell me about it?
Aleeks eased off her, kneeling on the floor by her feet. “Did I injure you?” He motioned to her midsection, piecing together that she’d cried out when he landed over her.

Miri scurried to the corner where the bed met the wall, then folded her knees to her chest. “No.”

Her eyes called her a liar, but Aleeks decided not to press the issue. A hundred questions fought for his attention. “Who were the three Grea Elders you killed?”

“Uuumaal —”

“No,” he interrupted her. “Who were they to you?”

Her breathing hitched. “The first... was my
seir
.”

The one who ordered her killed. Her own seir ordered her death.

Damn, he never claimed her. Why wasn’t she named Mirienne Uuumaal?

She waited, tense, adrenaline tainting the air around her. Did she expect him to condemn her for killing the
seir
who had wanted her dead?

“Go on,” he invited.

“The second was the one that... mixed the genes to create me. Me and the many others who didn’t survive it.”

Aleeks nodded grimly. “You’re not a natural phenomenon then.” He’d suspected as much.

She bristled visibly.

“I only meant that your parents didn’t —”

“No. They never mated. They said my mother chose to... donate to me... to carry me, but I doubt that now.”

“Did you ever meet her?” Aleeks pressed.

“No. I never did. They said she didn’t survive carrying me. She was old by then. It might be true.”

He considered that. “Who raised you?” It was a safe bet that her
seir
hadn’t.

Miri shrugged. “My trainers.”

“Trainers? What are trainers?” It wasn’t a term his
gran-seir
had used.

She furrowed her brow, seemingly seeking a translation. Before he could suggest she use the Xxan and let him translate for her, she spoke again. “The ones that taught me. Is there another —”

“No, Miri. Who cared for you?”

“When I was ill, there were physic —”

“No.” Why was this so difficult? Aleeks tried to order his thoughts. “Who... fed you?”

Her expression announced clearly that he’d offended her. “I assure you, I am more than capable of feeding mys —”

“By the stars!” he cursed.

Miri pressed herself farther into the corner, watching him as if for an attack.

“When you were a child, who fed you?”

She shook her head, looking young and lost.

“Before you could feed yourself?” he qualified.

“You remember such a time?” Miri asked.

Aleeks bit back a string of curses. “Did anyone... bathe you?”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She shook her head in a negative response.

“Send you to bed?”

She glanced to the mattress and back, her confusion deepening, if her expression was any indication.

“Comfort you?” he continued.

“I don’t understand. Why should I require comfort?”

Aleeks put up a hand, motioning for a moment of peace. He was getting nowhere; he had to face that she didn’t remember a time when anyone had cared for her as a child was typically cared for. “Who was the third?” he asked.

Miri shook her head, lost by the abrupt change of subject.

“The third Grea Elder you shot?”

She averted her gaze, wrapping both hands around one small foot. “One of my trainers,” she grumbled. “Master S’sie taught me
Xxan-Dree
.”

“And?” he pressed. “Why one trainer?”

“The next would have been Master Haauulen, my human martial trainer,” she admitted.

“Why S’sie first?”

She peeked up at him, her adrenaline level rising alarmingly, refusing him an answer.

He’s the one she fears most. But why?

A knock on the door broke the tension.

“Come in,” Aleeks ordered.

Miri looked to the far corner of the room, narrowing her eyes but choosing to leave them open.

The tray settled before Aleeks, and he waved the guard away, watching her reactions. Miri’s nostrils flared, and she bit at her lower lip. She shot a look of longing at the platter but averted her gaze almost before he’d noted it. She made no move to take the offered food.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

“I know you haven’t eaten in at least a day.”

“I haven’t eaten in three. What has that to do with it?”

“Your system...” No. It was unlikely. None of the crossbred had eaten on a Xxanian cycle, even the first generation, like Aleeks’s
seir
. “They only allowed you food weekly?” He’d thought she was thin because they’d fed her only meat. He hadn’t realized she’d been deprived of a proper eating schedule, as well.

“It is how the hunter eats,” she countered. “Hunger makes the senses keener.”

“Hunger weakens you. It makes you sick and —”

“The Xxan didn’t seem weak to me,” she grumbled.

“But
you
were. You were sickly and weak, off balance as you came due for another meal.” He didn’t question it.

Miri didn’t answer it.

“Their systems are made for that abuse, Miri. Ours are not. Don’t you understand? You aren’t weak. They made you weak.”

Her breathing hitched, but she didn’t reply. She didn’t look around at him or the food.

“Eat, Miri.” Why wasn’t she taking what he was clearly offering?

She glanced at the platter, then locked on his eyes, waiting, tense for a reason he couldn’t put a name to but wished he could.

“You’re refusing to eat?” he asked.

Her jaw tightened in anger. “You taunt me,” she accused. The tears she cursed so vehemently pooled in her eyes, and she blinked, doubtless trying to banish them.

Aleeks worked at that, realization making him ill. “The Dominants ate first. Since you weren’t their young, you ate the scraps they left, as a Subdominant would.”

“The weak eat last,” she confirmed.

Changing her perceptions was going to be harder than he thought. “Not when a Dominant views you as his own.”

Females were never treated the way she’d been raised. They were always fed with the Dominants... instead of the Dominants, when food was scarce. Even young, unmated females were pampered.

Miri didn’t offer an answer to that.

Aleeks moved into her space, and Miri planted her hands on the floor, preparing to strike. He plucked a cube of meat from the tray and tried to offer it. She stared at it, wary.

****

Miri hardly dared breathe. The scent of meat had her stomach grumbling, jarring her injury so that food almost became unappealing again. Her head spun in the combination of pain and hunger.

Commander Daahn cocked his head to one side, assessing her as the Xxanian physicians often had. “Maybe I should feed you,” he suggested.

“What?” What was he talking about?

“You have never been fed correctly, as far as I can tell. If you learn how a proper Dominant feeds his young, maybe you’d learn not to fear me.”

“I don’t fear you,” she lied.

A slight smile pulled at his lips. Daahn placed the offered meat in his mouth, chewing it. Miri chanced another peek at the platter out of the corner of her eye, calculating that there would be little or none left for her at the end of the meal.

He leaned toward her, and she gasped in surprise. His meat-heavy breath washed over her face, making her hunger more acute. It was torture, but she didn’t run from it. For a moment, neither of them moved, beyond her trembling and their tandem panting.

“Open your mouth, Miri.”

She did so, and Daahn sealed his lips to hers, pushing the chewed meat into her mouth with his tongue. It was warm, spiced... and tasted of him. His lips retreated slowly. Miri savored the meat, then swallowed it down.

The next cube was already in his mouth. Miri watched him chew in a sense of anticipation.

He didn’t order her to open for him that time. Daahn met her lips as they parted, pushing the meat across the join. His tongue lingered, stroking, affecting her as a light touch across her mating stripe might. His tongue and lips eased back, and Miri swallowed.

She glanced to his lap, wondering at the bulge of his cock. Was this why Master S’sie and Master Haauulen had never mouth-fed her? Because it might cause a sexual reaction? Miri knew well enough that the very hint of that was distasteful to them.

Or perhaps it was just as Commander Daahn said. Since neither of them was her
seir
, perhaps they felt no compulsion to show her such care.

Daahn’s lips nuzzled at hers, seeking entry. Miri admitted him, but he didn’t press the food into her mouth. She drew the meat from his mouth with her tongue, shivering at the low growl from him.

He withdrew, and Miri stared at him, trying to feel out his state of mind. He was tense, but she was fairly sure Commander Daahn wasn’t angry. She swallowed slowly, caught in the intensity of his gaze.