Maxym
MAXYM
What goes on around me is as if time has been slowed down. I see my eregri . She shouts something at the Remek. He grabs hold of me, and I can’t stop him, I can’t move fast enough. I fall, he drags, I’m limp, he’s stronger than I thought, injuries or no.
The planet might have given up on time, but I feel every bump of the stairs as I’m pulled down, anticipating the next and the next until everything speeds up, and I can hear Cleo’s voice whispering my name as Retah growls orders at his vid screen.
“They’re outside. I’ve locked everything down. They won’t be able to detect us in here,” he says to Cleo. “How is he?”
“I think he’s coming round.” Cleo is studying my face, her hand gently caressing my cheek.
“Wha—happened?” I croak, one wing flailing as I sit up.
“You said there was something in your head and collapsed,” Cleo tells me.
“There was,” Retah says grimly. “The Bogarok.” He glares at me. “Has this happened before? In the dome?”
“In the dome, I had pain when the Bogarok arrived, but I always do. My injury made me that way.” I clutch at my scar.
I look at both Retah and Cleo, searching for answers.
He looks at his vid-screen. “They’re using some sort of scanning tech. I’m not sure what it is and why not all of us are affected.”
I shake my head and immediately regret the action as my brain feels like it’s swimming in treacle.
“I’ve been…violent.” I look at my sweet mate. “Until I met my Cleo. Things changed.”
“Finding your mate has helped your healing.” The Cirmos bustles over and hands me a tankard, which unfortunately only contains water.
I take the tankard and swallow the cool liquid in three long gulps.
“Back at the dome, my colleague…another Gryn…he said his head hurt when the Bogarok arrived. He collapsed,” I say as the events in the dome gain clarity. “I had to put him into the undercroft.”
Cleo’s eyes widen.
“I mean I put him somewhere safe. I can’t imagine anyone being able to dispose of Klynn,” I say, putting my hand over hers.
“Could it be your injury was somehow blocking whatever it is the Bogarok are doing with their scanners?” Cleo asks.
“I don’t have the tech here to be able to tell, but if they’re using something which causes you pain, regardless of what the true nature of this tech is, we’re going to have to do something about that,” Retah says, looking me up and down. “Given you’re our best weapon.”
I grin at him as he strides away down the basement. I look at Cleo, and she is not smiling. What flows down the thoughtbond is anything but mirth.
“It’s going to be fine, little mate.” I trace my finger down the side of her face. “It takes more than a little pain to kill me.”
“Gryn are virtually indestructible.” The Cirmos snorts.
“See?” I say. “Even Tibi knows.”
I can feel how hard my Cleo is trying to hold herself together, so many emotions packed into this little mate.
“Here.” Retah returns, carrying a large metal box which he places on the floor next to me. He presses a glowing disc on the side, and it unfolds with a hiss and a puff of sealant which makes my wings flare.
As the white steam dissipates, I peer inside and see a set of armor, including a helmet. It gleams dully gold under the lights of the basement.
“What is this?”
“A little something I picked up in a forgotten corner of the galaxy,” Retah says proudly. “It’s supposed to be impenetrable. Not that I’ve ever tried it.”
I pick up the helmet. It has a high crest on the crown, sculpted to look almost like feathers. The cheek pieces are integral, curving down to protect all the way to my jawline. I give him a long look before I put the thing on my head.
Instantly, any residual pain I had vaporizes. It’s as if I’ve taken a huge dose of paraxio but without the narcotic effects.
“How is it?” Retah says.
“Good,” I reply, expecting my voice to sound hollow, like it does whenever I wear a helmet in the dome. But I don’t hear myself at all. It’s as if I’m not even wearing it. “Very good,” I add.
“You can wear the rest if you want,” he says. “Or not. Entirely up to you.”
I turn to my sweet mate. Her eyes are large as she studies me. “Wear the rest,” she says, her voice hoarse.
I get to my feet, strength flowing through me. I reach for the rest of the armor, a set of wrist guards, a shoulder guard, and a breast plate.
Each one is lighter than it appears. Cleo helps me on with the breast plate, bucking the straps between my wings and back to the base. Once it’s all on, it feels like a second skin.
“It looks…good on you,” Cleo breathes. “Very good.” I catch the perfume of her arousal.
“You like me in armor, little scrap?” I rasp.
“Might do,” she says, looking up at me through her eyelashes.
“You don’t have time for this,” Tibi interrupts. “And surely you both did enough mating last night?”
My sweet Cleo flushes pink at the Cirmos’ words, covering her mouth with her hand and her shoulders shaking.
“Our mating will take place wherever and whenever I deem it necessary,” I boom as Cleo gasps. “My mate is with young and she is insatiable.”
Cleo collapses into giggles and gasps. “You’re too much,” she finally forces out.
“Did I say anything which wasn’t true?”
Cleo shakes her head, a smile dancing over her lips. “Maybe not out loud though?” she suggests.
“I want to shout my mating from the stars because I’m the luckiest Gryn in the universe,” I respond, pulling her gently against me, wary of the breastplate and her tender form. “And now I will protect you ‘til my last breath.”