Chapter 2
DALOX
She does not wake, and the pod refuses to wake her. Instead it continues its low hum, the lights within searing over her, slowly, steadily, her skin at once pale, at once bright.
I slam my hand on the outer.
“Do not touch while in operation,” it intones at me.
“I touch what I like,” I growl back, uselessly. The machines do not care.
They do not care the creature they hold in their belly is mine. They do not care I am in rut. They do not care about the pain they are causing.
About how I want to rend them into their component parts, all because they have her and I don’t.
All that is holding me back is how the pod is healing her. Bringing her back to me.
“My Lord Dalox.”
The warrior says my name carefully and quietly.
“I said I was not to be disturbed,” I growl, my hands curling into fists and then slowly extending again, each finger bristling with a claw I have sharpened to the finest point. “What part of do not disturb do you not understand?”
I turn with a snarl, and my warrior is already backing away from the med bay. A place most Sarkarnii never set foot in. I certainly have not, until now.
“You wanted to know when Lord Driok was going to dance for his mate,” the warrior says, still backing away. “I have been informed it will be later today.”
I bare my teeth at him and turn back to watching my female, my sleeping female.
Why does she not wake?
I hear the warrior retreat. It is good he does because I need some violence. I need something to deal with my frustration. A Sarkarnii celebration is not what I want. But it is Driok, and he has dealt with the enemy as I asked.
And as such, he should have my presence at his dance.
My female has slumbered since we left the dusty planetoid. She slumbers still despite our return to Vorostor. I prefer not to leave her side. I want to be here when she wakes.
I want her to know she belongs to me.
“How long?” I demand of the pod once again.
“Calculating…” it responds.
The same word as before. The only word it seems to know when it comes to my female.
She might be small, she might be similar in species to the other females my fellow warlords have been mated to, but she is not the same.
I saw her in the pit with the dalxci. Those things are deadly to most species and would certainly cause some damage to a Sarkarnii, and yet she was prepared to fight it with only a piece of organic matter.
This female is fated to be mine.
The pod does not reply to any more of my questions. It does not respond to my threats. My blood boils within me, my accelerant burning in my throat as I wish to torch the entire of the med bay.
Only it is healing her.
And she is mine.
For a long time, I watch her. I see the swell of her chest as it rises and falls, steadily, under the coverings which the pod assures me are required for healing. I place my hand against the wall of the pod, close to hers, imagining, remembering what it was like to have her skin against mine.
And my blood rises once again with rage at those who put her in the pit to fight. And then it cools at the thought she might have wanted to be there, fighting all those who dared come to her.
A female truly worthy of a Sarkarnii warlord.
Even one such as myself. Especially one like me.
I brought my fleet to this galaxy. They followed me.
It is true we lost our females. It is true some Sarkarnii were more affected than others due to their breeding.
I lost my brother, Drekkan. He was supposed to be joining us when we were sucked into the vortex.
I will never know if he survived or not.
But we achieved my aims. We have a planet and we have a galaxy to rule. With our last enemies vanquished by Driok, per my instructions, we can have everything a Sarkarnii wants. Power, jewels, and more power.
We will be unstoppable, now we can control the wormholes.
But still my female sleeps. Her body is unmoving, her lips silent, her eyes closed. I raise my hand to the pod, wanting to smash it open, to pluck her out, to have her in my arms once again.
I do not.
She matters more than anything and she has to be healed. If the pod cannot tell me when her eyes will open, I can attend the celebration.
I stand, my muscles warning me about the long time spent at her side. I stretch, shifting the various parts which I can shift and stretch. Then I span my hand over the pod.
“I will return, my spark,” I rumble. “And we will be together.”
It takes everything I have to walk away from her, to leave the med bay, to not look back.
“Warriors,” I growl as I enter the dining hall where my senior Sarkarnii snap to attention. “We have a celebration to attend.”
“Lord Dalox.” They stand, bowing to me, keeping their eyes fixed on where I stand.
All my warriors know never to let me gain an advantage, or they might lose their tails. My second in command approaches with my cloak, hanging it on my shoulders as I shake it out.
We exit my ship into the neutral sector. It is filled with the sounds of the celebration. Dante, as usual, is taking advantage, and explosions resonate through the structure. I hear the occasional noise which tells me he is testing new munitions.
As I have requested him to do. Dante has always been reliable for any weaponry we might need.
Driok’s warriors bristle at my approach, but they let us pass because they know what will happen should they attempt to stop Lord Dalox.
My warriors might lose a tail. Any other Sarkarnii would lose their head.
“Where is Lord Driok?” I growl. “I want this ceremony over in the next ten nova-minutes.”
I am shown to the main atrium, which is filled with both his warriors and those of the other warlords. The scent in the air is of males and ale wine.
All I want is to scent her. The female in the pod is mine.