Axxios and Braxxus Page 12

  I don’t want to mention that the stitches tearing open on my back are nothing compared to what the Glee’non did during my captivity. Her voice sounded forlorn. I imagine she’s feeling guilty that the geneslave is taking up a bed that could belong to me.

  “Don’t feel bad, Brie. That thing risked its life to carry Axx to the ship. It didn’t have to. It could have run in the other direction. It made sure to bring up the rear in an effort to protect us both. I’ve got to give it credit.”

  “Do me a favor, please don’t call him it. I don’t fully understand what a geneslave is, but he was clearly male, and clearly a sentient being. He spoke to me.”

  “Okay.” I have nothing else to say right now. My head is spinning with worried thoughts about my gem.

  She dabs my back with antiseptic, applies a layer of plas-film, and lets out a deep sigh.

  “I think I should move in here until you’re better. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  She sucks in a breath, probably realizing how horrible that sounded, reminding me Axx isn’t here.

  “I’d like that, Brie.” I don’t say what’s on the tip of my tongue, that we belong together, that she should sleep here every night.

  “I’m going to take a shower and gather a few things from my room. Want your pain shot now? You can nap while I’m gone.”

  Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m a terrible gem, sleeping while Axx is fighting for his life. “Yes.”

  ~.~

  I wake up with my arm around Brie’s waist, pulling her tightly against me. I love her long, brown hair, which is fanned around her head, some of it ribboned across my shoulder. I breathe in deeply, it smells clean and fresh, like a field of flowers on a humid day back on Mythros.

  That thought brings back memories of playing with Axx in the sprawling gardens behind the Governors’ Mansion when we were kids. We knew every hidden nook and secret hiding place on the grounds. We waged imaginary war and fought battles with the enemy, and laid on the grass and watched the clouds. We were inseparable. Even our fathers remarked on how close our twinbond was.

  We don’t exactly speak inside each others’ heads like I’ve read about psychic phenomenon in other species. We communicate in pictures. Well, pictures and emotions. We can send each other a visual along with an emotion and know what the other sees or knows or feels.

  We knew when each other was bored. Of course, you didn’t need a twinbond to know that; we were the Governors’ boys at state functions, what child wouldn’t be bored?

  But we could feel each others’ pain and longing and happiness and fear. And we loved each other so much that sometimes his pain became my own. I honestly don’t recall any jealousy of Axx—even when he did better at sports, even when he turned gold. I always wanted the best for him.

  It was hard for me when he became gold, his depth of emotion faded away and our connection seemed faulty. Now we’ve only had each other back a scant few days. It was wonderful experiencing the twinbond full blast. And now it’s completely severed.

  But I don’t want to think about that right now. There’s nothing I can do to make things better. I’m lying here with my Angel in my arms. I want to focus on that.

  I breathe in deeply through my nose to bring myself back to the present. She smells sweet and warm. The skin at the back of her neck is partially exposed. I kiss it, then my tongue peaks out to lick it there. I don’t know how to describe her taste. It simply tastes like Brianna.

  Her head is lying on my bicep, I’m cradling her. I wrestle down the urge to cup her breasts, that wouldn’t be right. I’d love to kiss her pink lips. I want to explore her lush curves, first with my hands, then my mouth. I want to discover the taste between her legs.

  And then I realize the rock-hard erection I experienced for the first time the other night, the one that should be pressing into her soft rear right this moment, is absent. My cock is soft. I can’t get hard without the twinlink.

  I’ve never disappointed a Mythrian female by my lack of arousal. No female from my planet would expect anything like that from an unbonded silver. But Brianna doesn’t understand our foreign biology. From what I’ve learned about her species, my lack of properly functioning equipment would be a serious disappointment to her. Every male’s fondest wish is to satisfy his female. If I wasn’t flaccid already, I would be after that sobering thought.

  She stirs next to me then rolls onto her side, facing me—and smiles. It’s a slow, languorous smile that starts almost shyly, then widens to a sexy grin.

  “So handsome, Braxx. You’re so warm,” her words are slightly slurred and fuzzy, her eyes are heavy-lidded.

  “I like you, Braxx.” Her eyes shift from mine to my mouth, then she breaches the gap between us so slowly I could easily stop her if I wanted. But I don’t.

  Her lips are soft and pillowy against mine. The sounds we make together are wet and welcoming. We lean into each other, tasting, mingling.

  Now that I’ve had the experience of masculine arousal, its absence is a palpable loss. This isn’t the same, not as wild or all-consuming as I felt the day the three of us shared a massage.

  My hand is pressing the back of her neck to pull her closer. Neither of us can get enough of these kisses, at first close-lipped, now open.

  Our tongues are dancing with each other. We’re like two people on the dancefloor who have just met, but whose bodies move together in perfect harmony.

  My hands glide up and down, from the small of her back to her shoulders. I notice every curve and indent. I’m cataloging every detail, to play back later when I’m alone. After she realizes my deficiencies and rejects me.

  I push those thoughts to the back of my mind and focus on the warm, willing female who’s alive in my arms right now.

  She presses her pelvis toward mine, but I jack back, wanting to prolong the mystery, wanting just a few more minimas of this, the bliss of this intimacy, even if it’s an illusion.

  “You’re right,” she says, pulling away. “I know it’s not the way Mythrians behave.” She scoots farther from me on the big bed. “That wasn’t fair of me. I don’t understand everything about the twin thing, but I know the magic number is three. I’m a shit. Here I am trying to seduce you when your gem is in medbay.” She reaches out and gently cups my cheek in her palm, then pulls away. “Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for, Brie. Every cell in my body aches for you, too.” Well, almost every cell. She’s not the villain here. I am, for not admitting my inadequacies.

  I see the way she looks at me. Hell, I don’t need a written roadmap; what just happened in this bed made it indelibly clear what she wants. I can’t give her that. In her culture, without my twin, I would be considered half a male.

  Brianna

  Luckily, Dr. Drayke interrupted that awkward conversation before I felt compelled to apologize again. As soon as we let him in he got right to the point.

  “Sorry I waited so long to stop by, but I’ve been crawling through all the information on the Intergalactic Database. Not good.” He shakes his head.

  Great bedside manner, doc.

  “I’ve removed all the irradiated shrapnel from the geneslave, and patched him up as well as I could. He was badly wounded, but will recover.”

  Long pause. The doctor’s pinched blue face is tighter than usual. He rubs the back of his neck with his palm, then tells us the bad news. “Axxios's injuries were actually less severe than the mutant’s, but there’s a serious complication. There’s a small fragment of shrapnel lodged next to his spinal column.

  “We’re in a difficult spot. If we leave the shrapnel in, he’ll suffer from radiation sickness and possibly die. If we try to remove it, we could paralyze him. The metal is lodged between thoracic 6 and 7.” He points to his middle back. “If things go wrong he’d be paralyzed from there down.”

  Braxx had been standing next to me listening to the news. He sits heavily on the bed, then rests his face in his hands. I settle in next to him and gently rub his t
high.

  “Tyree’s on the bridge, trying to find the nearest planet with Class One hospitals. The best we’ve found is a twenty-six hoara journey from here. That isn’t optimal, but it's the best we can do other than perform surgery here on board the Lazy Slacker. If…” he pauses and waits for Braxx to give him eye contact, “you decide that we should do the surgery. Some would choose to leave the metal where it is.” He shrugs, “It’s up to you.”

  It seems as if Braxx transforms before my eyes. He stands to his full height and steals his muscles. The set of his jaw seems firmer; the look in his eyes is sharper.

  “Leave the shrapnel in and it’s certain death, right?”

  “With the levels of radiation we’ve measured, I would say yes, he’ll die from that.”

  “And the surgery? What are the odds of paralysis?”

  “Fifty percent, maybe higher. The odds are the same if we rush him to Champion III or we do the surgery on board. The better performance we could expect from a top-notch hospital would be offset by the length of time it would take to get there.”

  Braxx’s gaze is fixed on the floor. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was doing complex algebraic calculations in his head, he’s totally focused.

  “He’d hate being paralyzed. Hate it.” He rubs his chin. “But you can’t let him die. Can you start the procedure right away?”

  “I thought that would be your choice,” the doc says as he stands. “I’ve already instructed the medbot to calculate the entire procedure. By the time we get back to medbay, it should be ready to make the first incision. You are going to wait in medbay, right?”

  Braxx nods.

  “You can’t be in the procedure room until the shrapnel is removed and safely disposed of, but you can wait in the hall.”

  “Brie,” Braxx looks at me, “get some sleep, it’s the middle of the night. I’ll comm you when the procedure is complete.”

  “Like hell I'll wait here.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Brianna

  Braxx and I have been sitting for hours on two small, hard metal chairs in the little medbay anteroom. Dr. Drayke set up all the instructions for the medbot, moved Axxios into the operating room, and watched the first few minutes of the procedure.

  “I’m tired, shaky, and sleep-deprived,” the doc announces as he puts fresh sheets on the empty exam room bed. “I’m going to eat some nutrition bars and grab some sleep right here. The bot decontaminated the entire room. I believe the worst of the bonding sickness is over. I think I’ll be okay without Nova.

  “Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need to, but the computer will wake me right before the procedure is complete. Feel free to go back to your rooms. I can have the computer contact you as well if you’d like.”

  “No,” Braxx says forcefully. “I’ll stay here.” He looks at me, silently urging me to go lie down and get some rest. The tiny shake of my head is all the answer he needs. I don’t want to leave Braxx’s side. I know I provide him a bit of comfort. And I want to be here for Axx as well, although there’s absolutely nothing I can do to help.

  I glance into the second exam room and see that Stryker has commandeered the bed and relegated the geneslave to the floor, one hand and one leg cuffed to recessed bolts in the wall.

  “We haven’t eaten in hours, B. I’m going to forage in the kitchen. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I kiss the top of his head and make it to the kitchen in record time. It’s after two a.m. and the halls are serene and quiet. Even though everyone’s my friend here, sometimes it’s nice to have the run of the ship to myself.

  I rummage in the two huge cold boxes in the meal prep area and don’t find anything that looks better than school cafeteria mystery meat. I set up a quick assembly line to make kindapeanutbutter sandwiches. Fifteen sandwiches later, arms laden with sammies and fruit, I head back to medbay.

  Stryker is snoring like a freight train, I’m certain he doesn’t want food right this moment. Braxx and the doc are sleeping soundly and I hate to wake them. The geneslave’s lying quietly on his back, eyes wide open and looking straight at me.

  “Hungry?” I whisper.

  He nods.

  I toss him a napkin-covered sandwich. He unwraps it with his free hand and teeth, then inhales it. I’d forgotten how emaciated he is, and how he had to avoid kicks from his master to eat the revensell I’d thrown him.

  I know he can talk, but he doesn’t say a word. It’s obvious he’d like another sandwich, and equally obvious he won’t ask.

  I toss him another. It, too, is gone in a few huge bites. His eyes haven’t left mine.

  I throw him a third. He scarfs it down.

  “More?” I ask.

  He nods. Once. The tiniest movement of his head.

  “What’s your name?”

  He’s quiet for a long time. His eyes don’t leave mine.

  “Honestly, I thought that was a pretty easy question,” I laugh nervously.

  Even though I just threw the conversation ball into his court, he obviously feels no need to answer my question. Maybe there are reasons why everyone hates these guys. Even Braxx, the nicest male on the ship, called him an “it.” Although he can understand human speech, it doesn’t necessarily mean he has any humanity.

  Originally, I was going to give him a sandwich when he answered my question, a little behavior modification. But he’s obviously not answering, and he’s probably still hungry. Not to toss him another sammie would just be cruel. I throw him number four; he actually chews this time.

  “Another?” I offer.

  He nods. This time he leaves it on his chest, still wrapped in a napkin. He gives me a challenging look, almost daring me to try to take it back.

  “I have ten more. There’s enough for everyone. I’m not going to snatch your food. Here,” I toss him two of the spiky fuchsia fruits that have become my favorite food (well, favorite after KFC which I don’t think I’m going to get for a while).

  He looks at them like he’s an orphan and he just got an iPhone and a puppy for Christmas. Is his hand trembling? Are his eyes a little shinier or is it a trick of the light?

  “We’ll feed you. No one is going to steal your food. And we’ll keep tending your injuries. I haven’t thanked you, but you saved my friend’s life. I don’t know what we’ll do with you. I’m new around here. But there must be a place for...people like you to be safe. I’ll help find that place for you. And when you’re ready, you can tell me your name.”

  I move to leave, but he’s still staring at me so intensely I wait, sensing there’s something he wants to say.

  “Don’t have one.”

  It takes me a moment to replay our conversation to my last question—his name.

  “You don’t have a name?” It’s been a long day. I’ve been shot at and both the males I care about have been wounded, one perhaps mortally so. So I have no idea why this matter-of-fact statement from this poor male brings tears to my eyes.

  “Well, give it some thought. I’d say it’s high time you gave yourself one.”

  I walk into the little waiting area and see Braxxus in one of the two small, metal chairs that are sitting side by side. He’s sound asleep, his head braced against the wall behind him. He has to be uncomfortable, but I doubt he could find a better position.

  I put the plate on the floor in front of him so when he wakes up he’ll see it immediately. He has to be starving. I devoured a sandwich in the kitchen, so I’m ready to catch a nap. I pull my chair next to his and tilt sideways, putting my head against his thickly-muscled bicep. This seems to do the trick, I figure I’ll be asleep in minutes.

  The deep rumble of Braxx’s voice wakes me. I have no idea how long I napped, but at some point he’d pulled me so I’m sitting cross-wise on his lap, my head on his pec and his arms protectively around my waist.

  “Sorry to wake you, Angel.”

  I open my eyes and try to wiggle off his lap. I’m so heavy I probably put his thighs to sleep. He holds me cl
ose. “Stay here, you looked so comfortable in that position.”

  I see Dr. Drayke is back in his hazmat suit, exiting the small operating room. “The surgery is complete. I’ve reviewed my scans, all radioactive material is gone. I just have to jettison the last piece.”

  “Will Axx be able to walk?” Braxx asks impatiently.

  The doc himself looks paralyzed. Like a wind-up toy that quit walking in mid-step. He pauses a moment longer, obviously searching for a way to deliver some particularly bad news.

  “One piece of shrapnel was lodged more deeply than our scans indicated. The bots did their job. It’s just...the spinal cord was severed.”