Waking Dream [Tales of the Citadel 23] (7 page)

“She hasn’t seen you.”

“No, once a Prishkin woman leaves her world, she can’t return. Once she mates with someone outside her species, she is dead to her family. It is their way. The picture I have must have been their wedding day.”

“At least you have that image of them. It seems like Miyan is not welcoming to her own blood.”

“My mother was an only child. Miyan has no grandchildren but us.”

Burin held her hand in his, and she took the comfort for the emotional surprise she had just undergone. Shesali hadn’t mentioned that the population was Prishkin, but then, why would she when the people of this world didn’t speak to others except under duress.

Urada was the name of her mother’s home world, and Wiyra was going to hold it close to her heart. It was another piece of herself found in the scattered reaches of space. She held Burin’s hand tightly. Not every piece of her soul would come to her.

Chapter Eleven

“Prove to me that you can uphold the honour of your bloodline.” Her grandmother grinned at her. It was the first warmth that Miyan had shown.

Wiyra looked at the assembled folks and the band that was setting up. “You have to be kidding.”

“I am not. You trespassed on our sacred beach, and you have to show proper tribute to the gods. It won’t be horrible, I am sure your mother taught you what she could before she passed on to the great stellar wave.” Miyan looked thoughtful. “Mind you, she wasn’t a very skilled dancer.”

Burin put the nail in her coffin. “Whatever price needs to be paid, I owe half for my part in her landing.”

Elder Miyan clapped her hands, and the band started up.

Wiyra turned to Burin and whispered, “You have no idea what you just agreed to.”

He jumped as the drums picked up ferocity. “Uh, what do we have to do?”

“Why, dear partner, we have to dance.” She ignored his surprised look and backed up while holding his hands. The crowd formed a circle around them, and as the music and beat became insistent, she started to sway.

She pressed her hands against his palms and used her arms to move him to the beat. After a few stunned seconds, he relaxed and stepped forward and back with her to the sound of the drums and the strange metallic chixka.

She twisted with him until he was behind her and his hands were on his hips. The crowd murmured appreciatively as she kept stepping in time and Burin followed.

She heard a whisper. “What can’t we do?”

She grinned, “Sex on the dance floor is frowned on.”

He spun her out and brought her back against him with a thud, still moving to the rhythm. The crowd cheered. Wiyra snaked her hands up around his neck and loosed his hair. He did the same to her and with another twirl, her hair swung loose in a heavy wave while his floated eerily around him.

She stepped, twisted, pulsed with every shift in tempo, her hands moving from neck to chest to arms and back to hands as they circled, parted and came back together.

Other dancers started to move with them as the gods were satisfied by their physical sacrifice. Wiyra and Burin kept dancing, twisting and writhing as much as their armoured suits would allow.

As the beat finally slowed, they were chest to chest, slowly moving in a circle that, to Wiyra, felt like the mark of harmony on all the local temples. She inhaled Burin’s scent from the crook of his neck, and his lips nibbled at her ear. Her body was definitely warm, coated in sweat and she had never felt less like being in public.

When the music stopped, they froze in place and slowly lowered their arms.

Wild applause broke out, and Elder Miyan came up to them, a hot blush in her cheeks. “Well, that was…well. Excellent, Yavila’s daughter. You and your partner are free to go.”

She tried to control her breathing and bowed her head. “Thank you, Grandmother. We will be on our way.”

Burin put his arm around her waist and started on their way back to the shuttle when they heard, “Wiyra!”

Wiyra turned. “Yes, Elder Miyan?”

Her grandmother swallowed. “Your mother would be proud, and I would be happy to tell you about her if you would visit again.”

Her throat closed with emotion, and she nodded.

Burin spoke for her. “That will be acceptable. She will contact you when she knows an available time.”

“Thank you, Tracker.” The Elder brushed at her eye and turned away.

Wiyra and Burin returned to the shuttle and headed back to Reevish. Wiyra was busy writing the report when Burin took the data pad out of her hands and pulled her into his lap.

“I didn’t know you were such a passionate dancer.” He smiled and caressed her hip.

“The Hayish are great dancers. We have a party every time two platforms get together. If you don’t dance, you will never meet a member of the opposite sex or the same sex if that is your preference. You have to get out onto the dance floor where clans and families don’t matter, just for a few minutes.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I can see that it would be an important socialising skill.”

“Oh, it was. You had some nice moves. Do Wyorans and Azon dance much?” She teased the closure of his suit near his neckline.

“They are both species that are very big on any rituals that will get them closer to a mate.” He chuckled and played with her hair. “Dancing is one of the necessary skills I had to acquire.”

“I like it. I am normal when I am dancing, just another girl.” She feathered small kisses along his jaw toward his mouth.

“You are never just another girl, Wiyra. You are extraordinary in every way and a truly unique female. I am glad you didn’t find a mate among your kind. It was far luckier for me.” He turned and caught her lips in a kiss that made the insulated suit seem stifling.

He reached out and set the flight computer to automatic return.

“That will take days.” She gasped as his hands opened her suit.

“I will just tell them that your suit was damaged and that the containment could not be assured.” He leaned down and his teeth crunched through the circuitry of her suit.

She held on as he moved them to the back of the shuttle, and she sat on the bunk as he peeled the suit off her, carefully damaging a few more nodes on his way.

She removed the thick fabric of his suit with a bit of effort. When they were both unclothed, he took his time, stroking her skin and tracing the complicated patterns of the veins under her skin.

“It is like a vine has sprouted and brings life to all your limbs.” He smiled and leaned back in admiration.

“And you are a piece of deepest space all my own. I always loved looking out into the endless darkness.” She stroked his chest and moved her hands lower.

Burin confirmed she was ready for him and joined their bodies.

Wiyra squirmed at the discomfort of her first time.

He was surprised, but he paused and kissed her slowly until her body undulated against his again.

She moved with every stroke, and eventually, she shivered as her mind came apart and reformed with him still inside her.

He nipped at her lips and kept moving until he exposed his teeth and bit down on her shoulder with a sharp lunge.

She shrieked, but her body embraced the pain and her concentration was lost, as she had to find all the pieces of her mind and reassemble them.

Burin was careful not to crush her as he fought to regain control of his breathing. He kissed her, and she tasted her blood in his mouth.

She smiled. “Well, I am glad that we were alone for that. I am getting the idea that I was kind of loud.”

He chuckled and kissed her neck, licking the bite he had inflicted. “I liked it. In fact, I would like to try it again at the earliest opportunity.”

She laughed. A chirp got her attention. “What is that?”

“Com unit. They have been trying to contact us for twenty minutes.” He nuzzled at her neck.

She sighed and arched to let him have free rein. “What do you think they want?”

“Probably to get us home as fast as they can. I am going to guess that eventually Shesali will come through. She can force a connection.”

It took ten minutes, but he was right. “Answer the damn com, Burin.”

They were already showered and dressed. Wiyra was wearing her armoured suit, but it had the damage clearly showing.

The com came up, and the Reevish coordinator was scowling at them. “Where have you two been?”

Burin shrugged. “Wiyra needed some rest after her assignment, so I turned the com down. Is there something up?”

“We have a request to retrieve a young woman from a Hickom colony. They have agreed to let her go provided that we can get in and out without too much disruption. I thought Wiyra could do the recon and you could both go in to do the retrieval. She is a highborn Nyal and doesn’t have a landing visa or permission from her patriarch.”

Wiyra grimaced. “Spoiled brat?”

“Yup. She is scheduled for an arranged marriage, and she decided that she would rather live in squalor with a Hickom.”

“Well, if she is in love…” Wiyra shrugged.

“She hasn’t even met a Hickom before today. She just wants to tick off her parents. We have had Readers look into it already. The girl is just a brat, and in less than two weeks, she goes into heat. Get her, bring her home, tie her up if you have to, but get her out of there before their instinct overrules good sense.”

Burin felt it necessary to report, “Wiyra’s suit has taken some damage. Jumping with her might be unsafe.”

Shesali grinned, “Check the furthest left storage compartment. There is a spare restraint suit for her, but you bite another one and you are going to have to pay for it, Burin. Your teeth marks are too distinctive to pretend it wasn’t you.”

The information started to scroll on their screens and data pads.

Wiyra laughed all the way to the storage unit where she pulled out the pristine suit and slipped it on. It seemed that privacy was going to be hard to come by, but she had confidence in Burin’s ability to improvise.

She settled back in the nav station and took a look at the coordinates. She grinned at Burin, powered up her restrictions and said, “I know a short cut.”

He clutched the arms of his chair as she rode the edges of gravitational fields before rocketing them into a jump that had them skimming around a gas giant and toward their destination.

It was his fault, he had chosen her as his partner, after all. He might have been better off with a ravenous toxic lizard, but now, he was stuck with her, and despite looking queasy, there was a proud grin on his face.

“I suppose that everyone has a kink, yours is losing your lunch.” She winked and made contact with the colony.

“Ah, the tension is great, but the sweet relief after is a kink I would gladly chase. Now, turn off your suit and get to work.” He winked and settled back in his seat, watching the com streams and bringing up neighbourhood images of where the young woman had last been seen.

It was business as usual for the Citadel, and Wiyra had to admit, she enjoyed it.

Author’s Note

Why do we like happily ever after? Why do authors plot death and destruction? Why do I keep putting these notes at the end of each book? Life is a mystery.

Next Tales of the Citadel will be
Walking Haunt.
After that Tales, the series will be going on a slight hiatus while I finish writing a dozen tiny sci-fi fairy tales. From one tale to the next, I am going to skip along. The Tales of the Citadel will return at Xmas. Yes, it is horrible of me, but I acknowledge my bad timing.

The spur to this decision was the lack of cover art and a busy cover artist. I already have the covers for the fairy tales, and so, they will soon be gracing your eBook readers if you so choose.

Thanks for reading,

Viola Grace

http://www.violagrace.com

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[email protected]

About the Author

Viola Grace was born in Manitoba, Canada where she still resides today. She really likes it there. She has no pets and can barely keep sea monkeys alive for a reasonable amount of time. Her line of day job tends to be analytical which leaves her mind hopping to weave stories. No co-worker is safe from her character analysis. In keeping with busy hands are happy hands, her hobbies have included cross-stitch, needlepoint, quilting, costuming, cake decorating, baking, cooking, metal work, beading, sculpting, painting, doll making, henna tattoos, chain mail, and a few others that have been forgotten. It is quite often that these hobbies make their way into her tales.

Viola’s fetishes include boots and corsetry, and her greatest weakness is her uncontrollable blush. Her writing actively pursues the Happily Ever After that so rarely occurs in nature. It is an admirable thing and something that we should all strive for. To find one that we truly like, as well as love.

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http://www.violagrace.com