4. Davon

Chapter 4

Davon

H er gorgeous brown eyes widened, and she clutched her throat with one hand. “Talia?” she croaked. “You’ve seen my sister? Where is she? Please tell me she’s okay!”

“She’s safe. She’s loved. And she told me you were out here somewhere.” I pressed my fist against my chest again. “I vowed to find you and bring you to her.”

The shiny droplets sliding down her face picked up to a furious pace, plopping onto the front of her tunic. I’d seen one other human female do such a thing, Maggie’s sister, and at first, I’d thought there was something wrong with her eyes. Then her mate had explained this was how humans expressed emotions. He’d said that her tears—that’s what they were called, tears —could be released to express sadness, happiness, and even flow after a moment of high tension. For relief, I supposed.

My heart trembled, because I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. What did humans need? I sat on the bed beside her, frozen like the white crystals I’d once touched on the top of the tallest mountain peak beyond the desert, watching her sadness spill out.

“Please tell me if you’re happy or sad,” I groaned. My protective instincts clashed with bewilderment.

Her water rage made her body shake, and she cupped her cheeks with her palms, perhaps to slow the fall of her wetness. Or to capture it. Water was vital in the desert. To spill it like this was unheard of. It made sense she’d try to collect it.

“Both,” she mumbled against her hand. “Both.”

My insides floundered.

Unsure what I could do to help her, I patted her back. That only made more water leak from her eyes. If I pressed my thumbs against the corners, would that stop the flow?

I yearned to end her sorrow, to bridge the gap between us. Yet I felt lost in the pinching emotions whipping around inside me. My heart throbbed, pressing itself against my ribs as if it could break through to encase her. Hold her until she felt better.

Ah, wait. When my brother was upset, we’d—

“Would you like to go hunting?” I asked in desperation.

Her hands fell away, and her head cocked. She peered up in my direction. “Hunting?”

“My parents . . .” I didn’t want to tell her of my shame, of how I’d behaved after our parents died.

What if she rejected me? I’d want to curl up in the corner of some room and die. Walk out into the desert without provisions and water and keep going until I dropped. The sand would cover me, and it would be over except for my pain. My endless pain.

“When my youngling brother was smaller, when he was sad,” I said, “we’d take our weapons and track down prey, clean it, and bring it back to the praise of our clan.”

She nodded as if to encourage me, telling me that while she couldn’t know of my shame, she could hear the sincerity in my voice.

“While our sand gods provide some of our needs, they don’t gift us with meat, so it’s always welcome.”

“I’m sure.”

At least water no longer drained from inside her.

“I don’t understand much of what you said, but thank you for not snarling at me to get over it,” she said.

“Get over this horror you’ve been living since you reached my planet?”

“Yeah.” She wiped her face and then wasted the wetness with a swipe across her tunic.

“Get over being forced to dance until you drop for a male who should cherish you instead?”

Her mouth twisted with distaste. “I’d rather Wortek didn’t cherish me, if you don’t mind.”

What about me? I didn’t dare ask. She’d only recently met me.

“Where is Talia?” she asked, peering around as if her sister would stride down the hall and join us.

“Safe with her mate.”

“Mate? ”

“She was also placed in the desert.”

“An interesting way of describing a kidnapping followed by a dump in a wasteland, but sure.”

“After she was captured by the Veerenads living in that region, she was taken to their mine to work. She met Firion there, and they escaped. They love each other.” That much was very clear.

“This doesn’t make sense. My sister is in love with a guy she met in the desert?”

“Firion is Zuldruxian like me.” Not quite like me. Firion had honor, where I was doing all I could to recapture mine. I’d wasted it when I went wild, and I could only pray to the fates that I’d find it again. “I believe she was left in the desert some time before you.”

“This . . . All I remember is us being taken by robocops.”

“I don’t know much, but I’ll explain. These roo-boo-coops took you at the request of our gods.”

“Gods?” The lift of the dark strip of hairs above her eyes told me she was skeptical, but that was to be expected. From what I’d heard, humans didn’t interact closely with their gods like we did.

“Long ago, a ship crashed on this planet. Prior to that, it was just us Zuldruxians living on the surface. Beings descended from the ship, and they sunk into the ground, fusing with the elements around them. Some found homes in the water. Others in the trees. Still others merged with the sand.”

“They were aliens, like me.”

I nodded. “That’s what some believe. Others call them gods. Through the years, and this was still long ago, the gods and Zuldruxians formed bonds. The gods gifted us with various things, often based on the element they’d fused with, and we praised them.”

“Praise?” Her lips twisted. “Like bowing to them, worshiping them, giving them all your gold or . . . I don’t know, sacrificing children in their honor?”

“Nothing like that. We thank them. That’s all.”

“Huh.” Her face did not smooth. “I sense a but in all this.”

“A disease swept across the planet, killing many Zuldruxians. They blamed the gods and left them, living without their kindness, no longer giving them praise.”

“Did they attack you after that? Get even?”

“They . . . mourned, I suppose. We must’ve. The Zuldruxians did their best to make new lives, while the gods went dormant. Without them, we were lost, and without us, so were they. We need each other. Not long ago, some Zuldruxians decided to live close to the gods again. Those gods still able to hear emerged from their dormancy and when the Zuldruxians praised them, our lives began to get better.”

“I’d like to see your gods one day.” Her sigh slipped out. “Though that will never happen. I’ll remain here until I die. I haven’t accepted it yet, but there’s no way out of this trap.”

I would be her way out, once I’d come up with a plan.

“Our gods are not physical beings unless you count the crystal structures some merged with. The grains of sand beneath your feet. ”

She frowned at the floor. “I can’t imagine worshiping sand.”

“It’s a matter of perspective.”

“Hmm. So now your people have a symbiotic relationship with the gods again?”

“This way of life suits us. Most of us. Some Zuldruxians still scorn the gods.”

“How do Talia and I come into all this?”

“Because fewer Zuldruxians are born each generation and most are male, the leaders called traedors went to the central gods and begged them for help. The gods offered to send them mates.”

“You used that term with my sister, saying she’s with her mate.”

“Firion. The gods stole you and other women from your planet and brought you here.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Fury churned through her eyes, and her hands formed fists on her lap. “I’m sure you guys praised your gods for that action.”

“It’s true that the males who have been gifted women are grateful.”

“Gifted, huh?” Her rage only grew, darkening her face. “We’re not objects to be given to anyone. We belong to ourselves.”

“I agree.”

Her shoulders curled forward and some of the anger fled her face. “Good.”

I didn’t tell her that when the gods decided it was time to gift a female to a male, they sent a sign. Mine was the sand in the bar, something that disappeared not long after I felt its crunch beneath my boots.

I didn’t tell her she had been gifted to me, because she was right. She belonged to no one but herself.

And I also didn’t tell her that I would not claim her as my own. A male such as me didn’t deserve love and a mate gifted by the gods.

I would take her from this place. I would bring her to her sister.

And then I would turn and with my heart a pulpy thing in my hand, I’d walk away from her, doing my best not to look back.