18. Xandor

Chapter 18

Xandor

Disfunction

L ove Shanks sways her ample hips as she leads me through the ornate corridor of floor seventy-two. It features the same black and gold trimmed surfaces, complemented by plush red carpets. Lewd golden statues and suggestive holographic projections line the walls, escalating to a promise of exotic intrigue within these rooms.

My alluring Tuskarian companion smirks at me, fluttering her long eyelashes as she waves her wrist console over the black door’s mechanism, releasing the lock with a satisfying click. I step inside with my hands on her hips, leaning in closer to sniff her neck and hair, enjoying her clean, fruity scent. The expansive room, with a low amber glow, catches my eye. It features a grand bed adorned with black sheets and purple cushions, large enough to hold even me.

I waste no time. The exquisite Love Shanks stokes my need to a raging torrent. Pressing her back against the wall, filling her space with my dominating body. “Has anyone told you how sexy your little tusk is?” I ask, my voice low and husky as I trace my fingers over her single ivory protrusion. She shudders at my touch as I draw her gaze to mine, my golden eyes flashing with primal hunger.

“Just you—” Love Shanks responds with a breathy whisper, until I trace my claws gently along her soft, inviting thighs, my gaze unwavering as I revel at the sight of her lust and fear mixing in a potent cocktail. She gasps as I extend a claw, following the contours of her milky-colored shoulders till it slips under the strap of her red dress. With a swift motion, I free her from the dress, sending it to drift downward, freeing her beauty.

I drink in the sight of her, a gift from the Gods. Love Shanks attempts to protect her modesty, but such considerations are trite now. I tut as I move her hands to her side. Her four ample heavy breasts sit with perfect balance, projecting little, bold, dark nipples that beg to be touched and fondled. The scent of her musk tickles my senses as I close my eyes, breathing deep as it stokes my Rush. Tracing a hand around her broad hips leading towards her flaxen colored mound, I press in closer, nibbling her fuzzy ear with my fangs.

She gasps and shudders at my eager attentions. “You’re like a beast,” she moans through hot breaths filling the intimate space between us, this space which belongs to us, as the world outside fades to nothingness.

With a primal snarl, I run my fingers along her thigh, that grows tantalizingly softer with each inch closer to her core. Her beautiful moistness awaits me as I caress the folds of her femininity. “Such a good girl,” I mutter, as I lean down to pant kisses along her supple neck that Love Shanks arches submissively into a silent plea for more.

I work my way towards her plump luscious lips... Then, I’m stuck with the sudden urge to retch. Like I’ve just swallowed all the ships slop at once. It pauses me in my tracks, an overwhelming wrongness churning inside me. What’s happening? I’m compelled to take a step back as I scratch the back of my neck, my mind a muddle of conflicting thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Love Shanks asks, her hair a ruffled mess as concern spreads over her pretty face.

“Yeah... I think so,” I reply, yet the spark of my desire is now replaced by a creeping repulsion of unease and doubt. Love Shanks takes a step forward, placing a hand against my chest armor. “Let me get you out of that armor,” she whispers with gorgeous seduction now wasted on me.

As she fumbles with the latches of my chest plate, her scent, once beautiful and intoxicating, now wrinkles my nose with a revulsion that shocks me. And her snouted face, once attractive, now appears strange and unfamiliar to my eyes. Not like Tyrxie’s face. Hers is perfect, similar to our lost female Klendathians. The realization hits me like a kick from a borack, that this is her fault somehow.

I wave a dismissive hand to Love Shanks as I retreat to the edge of the bed with my head buried in my hands. My mind races, wondering what in the void Tyrxie has done to me. Is it not enough that she robs me of my pride but now of my very male essence, too? How is this possible that she can dominate my mind and my body like this? It’s an affront to nature and the very Gods themselves that Tyrxie can reduce me to this!

“Um...do you want me to stay?” Love Shanks interrupts my troubled thoughts, her voice full of uncertainty as she slips back into her crimson dress. I almost don’t hear her query, so engrossed in my own inner turmoil.

“No, go to Noroth if you’re of a mind,” I reply, offering a tight smile that only touches my lips, my face veiled behind my fingers.

“I think I will. You really got me worked up,” Love Shanks giggles as she rushes over, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Shame, I really liked you... golden stud,” she says, her tone sweet, but her words only enhance the tragedy.

Love Shanks turns with grace, her hips swaying, approaching the exit. “This is my shame, not yours,” I call out to her, prompting her to halt with a hand resting upon the door handle.

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Love Shanks begins before glancing downward. “I saw something like this once before, a male who had lost his life-mate,” she says absently, her eyes meeting mine. “He still loved her, and couldn’t bring himself to... well, you know. Maybe... maybe you’re in love?” she finishes, her words hanging in the air, as she exits the door, taking herself and my sanity with her.

“Love?” I whisper the word, tasting its unfamiliarity upon my lips. Is that what is happening to me? Do I love a female that I know almost nothing about, one who hates and fears me? I take a deep breath, attempting to quell the rising tide of confusion within me.

No, it’s not love. I admit I find the female intriguing, yearning to learn more about her, finding her petite frame both ridiculous and yet fascinating, wondering how her pale nakedness would feel pressed next to my body, peering down into her sad green eyes, that turn to lust as I brush my hand along her softness...

My body betrays me, my cock stirring beneath the weight of my armor, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. “Void sake!” I erupt from the bed to pace around the room in a frenzy of disbelief at my treacherous erection.

“This can’t be happening!” I shout, my fist swinging with impotent rage through the air. “Is it because she’s human?” I shake my head. “But I never felt this way towards Rocks.”

Rocks is far too petite for my tastes and Tyrxie is even smaller still, but she stalks my mind as merciless as a venefex. There is something deeper at play, something that defies logic and reason.

And then, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkness, it hits me with stunning clarity.

Tyrxie is my bonded female.

It’s the only answer to all these contradictions. The realization presses down upon me, shocking me to my core. I never dared consider it until now, the immense odds stacked against it.

When Krogoth and I traveled to Earth, along with our small party. He and only he had a bond with a single female—Rocks, out of all the human females on the planet, proving the chances are many billions to one, and yet Tyrxie lost aboard a rust bucket mercenary ship, is my bonded mate?

If only I had access to Astraxius’ scanner, I could verify the truth of it . With a resigned sigh, I concede defeat, for deep within the recesses of my soul, I know it to be true. How could the Gods be so cruel, to bond me with a female I cannot claim, one who hates me with such vitriol she forbids me to approach her?

Did Krogoth have to grapple with these troubling thoughts when with Rocks? I chuckle with a sardonic twist at the thought, wishing I could seek counsel from my old friend, the only one in the entire universe who could understand my plight. What fate awaits me if I can’t mate her? Will the bond drive me to the brink of madness or be content to render me impotent? Both prospects are equally awful. Or is there hope with enough time and distance the incessant pull of the bond will become naught but a distant memory, a mere humorous tale to recite?

With a resolute breath, I harden my nerve, resigned to endure the unyielding tug of the bond, knowing there is no other option. This room now fills me with stifling distaste, with its gaudy décor a constant reminder of what I’ve lost, urging me towards the corridor. Indeed, even the very building itself leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as my vision catches sight of the lustful holographic projections.

My ears twitch, catching the sounds of muffled laughter and moaning emanating from the adjacent rooms. Are Noroth and Logarn already in their accommodations? With nothing better to do, I step into the lift, selecting the floor that houses the intergalactic eatery, curious if my friends are still there.

As the opulent golden doors slide open, a medley of savory scents wafts into my nostrils, accompanied by the gentle hum of conversations. Striding into the white marble room, I head towards our booth. Stooping my head inside to find nothing other than the holographic projection of the moon setting we had picked earlier. My gaze shifts to the restrooms, contemplating if I should investigate if Logarn is still there, perhaps still sick.

Approaching a nook in the eatery, reveals six closed doors, each emblazoned with the galactic basic symbol for restroom etched into its frame. I massage the back of my neck, wondering if I’m going to have to open each one, until a door swings open, revealing a startled Felacia, who recoils as if struck.

“Oh... it’s you!” the tiny Nebian female stutters, shock in her voice. “What... what are you doing here?” she asks, smoothing her wrinkled black dress, straining to regain her composure.

I loom over her like a titan, as she is less than half my height. “Stretching my legs,” I answer, giving nothing away, as something about this female doesn’t sit right with me. “Is Logarn inside?” I inquire, gesturing towards the row of restroom doors.

Felacia casts a furtive glance behind her. “No.” She gazes up at me, silent for a moment, brushing stubby fingers running through her orange hair. “But now that you’re here...” Her voice takes on a seductive tone as she steps forward in a sultry manner, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Why don’t we get you out of this heavy armor?” she takes my hand in hers, peppering delicate kisses on my palm. However, her sudden shift in attitude prompts me to recoil from her touch.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you like Nebian females?” Felacia continues approaching, undeterred. She wraps herself against my leg, her head mere inches from my crotch. “Come on back to your room with me. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise,” she murmurs in a breathy voice.

My pulse rises at her alluring touches. If not for my recent and tragic affliction, such an offer might have tempted me despite the female’s comical smallness. With a gentle yet firm touch, I pry Felacia from my leg as she clings with surprising stubbornness that must be a unique trait among her species. “Let go stubborn short-stuff. You couldn’t handle me,” I reply stepping back.

A venomous snarl contorts Felacia’s once-pleasant features, a startling contrast against her diminutive stature. “Voiding savages!” she spits with a sneer, hobbling past me, retreating into the restaurant with humorous slowness, as I raise a puzzled eyebrow, marveling at the wounded pride of the female.

Distrusting the stubborn female’s words, I test the six restroom doors, finding nothing but a very frightened Argorian who flinches backward like I were a venefex closing in on him. I exit the intergalactic eatery with haste, my half-cape fluttering with each brisk step. Where has Logarn got himself?

With no better idea in mind, I decide to return to my quarters. My long strides carrying me back to the intricate golden lift. As the doors slide shut, I catch a glimpse within the seam of Felacia focused on her wrist console, a frown creasing her dark blue features. Wonder where she’s going? Folding my arms, I watch as the number on the lift continues to rise. Seventy, seventy-one, then halting.

I scrunch my face, surprised she is not heading to our floor, floor seventy-two. Perhaps she is searching for Logarn? But instead, she chooses the floor below? How curious! Yearning for any distraction from the fact I’m now impotent yet surrounded by beautiful females, I summon the lift back down, inputting the command to take me to Felacia’s floor.

Lewd holographic projections and suggestive moans assault me, mocking my plight, as I wait with patience, traveling through the spine of Fluxom Paradise. The doors slide open at floor seventy-one, revealing a corridor identical to the one above. I scan the long and narrow space, which unveils nothing other than closed doors.

I consider turning back, but bored curiosity compels me onward. With cautious steps, I stalk down the corridor, my keen senses alert to every sound. Pressing my ear against the nearest door. I’m greeted by a cacophony of suggestive thumping and low, guttural moans that wrinkle my face at how silly this idea is. Gods, if Noroth catches me doing this, I’ll never outlive the shame of it. Yet undeterred, I hasten to the next door that sits cracked open.

Leaning my head in to listen, careful not to disturb the door that could alert anyone to my presence. A female muffled tone, almost inaudible, emanates from within. “I tried, but they wouldn’t go,” she says with a hint of frustration. I strain to hear the response; but it remains an incomprehensible muffle.

“One savage is upstairs, lost in his disgusting lust. The other targets are still armed, their current locations unknown,” the muffled female responds to a silent retort. Her words cause a surge of molten lava to pour through my veins at the clear implications.

Reaching for my warvisor in a smooth movement honed from decades of experience, I place it upon my visage, hoping its enhanced sensors will reveal the full extent of this treachery. However, I’m met with an unusual awkwardness—the self-sealing mechanism is absent. Panic creeps, spreading its icy realization throughout my body.

Fake! Someone replaced my warvisor with a forgery!

But it never left my side? Not since my battle with the Mutalisk. That treacherous bastard Triandale the Gorglaxian must have taken it! The thought boils my blood until I seethe with burning hatred. This is an affront to the Gods, the rank sacrilege of it twists my heart with murderous rage.

“We can eliminate the brute upstairs now—” the muffled voice begins until I kick open the door with such force it flies from its hinges. I burst into the room that is a replica of my guest quarters with my arc blaster raised, to find a tiny stunned Felacia, her eyes wide and mouth agape but it’s her familiar lanky looming accomplice with frantic fluttering face tentacles is the one I level my blaster at.

“Triandale, what have you done with my warvisor?” I bellow, my voice reverberating through the chamber with a potent mix of rage and disbelief, my expression and voice contorted with lethal fury.

Triandale, clad in obsidian armor with his graviton rifle slung over his shoulder, raises his lanky hands in a languid gesture of surrender, his runny eyes showing just a hint of surprise. Not enough for my liking. “Your cursed tool of murder is lost to you, beast. It’s being sold as we speak in the maze of the residential tier,” he states with infuriating slowness punctuated with a smirk.

“Listen tentacle face you contact whoever you need to—” I roar, my voice cut off mid-sentence as at the periphery of my vision alerts me to imminent danger. With reflexes honed by decades of the harshest battles in the universe prompts me to raise my arc shield.

“Die Scythian whore!” Felacia shrieks, filled with hatred, firing from a minuscule weapon that glows with an ominous red hue—the color of laser technology. I flinch backward in reflective shock, catching the laser blast with my shimmering azure arc shield that blinks out of existence at the first impact. Despite the tiny caliber of her weapon, it’s enough to extinguish my plasma shield in a single hit.

Chaos erupts around the room, as loud security sirens blare. The familiar sensation of Rush swooshes through my veins, bringing a heightened clarity and increased physical prowess that tightens and swells my muscles.

Leaping backwards, out of the room, I return fire at the tiny Nebian who dashes behind furniture, avoiding the molten death that melts half the wall into a sizzling black-blue sludge in her absence.

Triandale unfurls his long-barreled rifle, releasing a barrage of large black projectiles that crash against the wall. Each orb embeds into the wall, deforming and spreading web-like cracks comprising its structural integrity, unable to resist the incredible strain of such immense gravitational forces. The ominous creaking sound of the walls is followed by screaming guests exiting their rooms in panic.

Gathering my senses, I pivot towards an opening door further down the corridor, revealing a group of Gorglaxians leveling weapons in my direction. With my eyes glowing golden, my Rush stoked to its pinnacle, I unleash a torrent of plasma bolts that burns with the heat of a thousand suns among them.

A Gorglaxian at the front catches some plasma bolts as his gravitational shield shimmers black, deflecting the blasts to land amongst the corridor, turning the luxurious décor into molten slop. I don’t have the time to be disappointed at how well armed they are, as they chant an ominous battle cry, “Revenge for Gorglaxia! Fear the Gorgons Wrath!”

In punctuation, they fire in formation, a testament to their military training. They unleash their onslaught. A motley array of ballistic, gravitational orbs and green pulsar rips through the corridor. My heart pounds in my chest as I escape through the nearest closed room, bursting through the door like an explosion in my desperate haste. Scrambling to my feet, two naked Argorian males stare wide-eyed from their bed as they dart away at my approach, hiding behind a wardrobe covering their meager modesty.

But I pay them no heed, firing my arc blaster against the wall with repeated blasts. Watching in satisfaction as the black and gold surface warps and melts under the incredible heat until an exit is forged with searing intensity. Beyond is a stairwell, a lifeline, a blessing from the Gods.

Yet my efforts have spent what precious time I had, as bullets ping off my armor, the force jolting me forward. I let the momentum carry me as I hurtle like a venefex clambering up the steps, wondering how many of these ‘Gorgons Wrath’ are pursuing me. Whatever the answer, my best option is to find Noroth and Logarn amidst the chaos, to even the odds. The thought drives me on as the bullets and orbs snap and vibrate behind me, warping and bending the very structure of my surroundings.

Upon cresting the stairwell to the next floor, I dart towards the door, kicking it open with such brutal force it crumbles beneath my strength. Before me stretches the yawning chasm of the lift shaft, like a gaping maw hungry for unwary prey. But my superior speed has brought me enough time to navigate through the hazardous edges.

As I near the lift door, it slides open of its own accord. Without hesitation, I leap through the opening, glad to leave the yawning void behind me. But before I can gather my bearings, the sight of four unsuspecting Gorglaxians stalking towards the room adjacent mine ignites my primal instinct within.

I charge towards them with my fangs bared, activating my arc claws that hum with molten lethality, savoring the thought of rendering them with the personal touch. My Gorglaxian prey turns, his eyes widening only to witness his imminent death as I plunge my four-foot-long plasma claws straight through his chest. His futile gravitational personal shield offers no defense at such close range.

Before my first victim has even registered his own death, my Rush fueled blood propels me forward as time slows to a crawl, bending to my murderous desire. I lunge towards the second Gorglaxian who is slow to turn, too slow for life. An expression of horror twisting his dropping face as I thrust my blue molten claws under his chin, shearing many of his tentacles and penetrating through his skull, as the sizzling sound and the smell of scorching hot flesh caresses my senses.

Yet I cannot stop to savor my artistry as two more patient prey await their demise. The third Gorglaxian raises his automatic gun toward me, his face tentacles floating through the air in a languid motion. I snarl, slashing my arc claws, which cut and burn with unstoppable heat, humming with a promise of death. A promise fulfilled as the Gorglaxian is sliced into molten pieces across his chest.

I push myself through his falling remains, my muscles bulging and rippling in my primal urge to kill. The fourth Gorglaxian, further away from the others, takes aim with his graviton rifle, an expression of shock and horror etched on his face.

Bounding down the corridor, I realize I won’t reach him in time, as I activate my arc shield in desperation, unsure if it’s recharged from absorbing the laser beam earlier. Void, I hope it works! It hums and flickers to life, my salvation, as I brace myself behind the large rectangular shield. Just in time.

Black orbs of immense gravitational force fly towards me, vibrating with raw power. They impact my blue shimmering shield, a jarring force pushes against me, but in an instant shift to pulling with an enormous force. With teeth clenched and veins standing out from taut muscles, I resist, as my blue shield twists and bends being warped and twisted towards the floating orbs of reality bending power.

With a roar of defiance, I tear myself free from the gravitational grip, the air crackling with energy as the Gorglaxian unleashes another barrage, seeking to press his advantage. My frantic, titanic force carries me crashing to the ground with a jolting thud.

As the Gorglaxian levels his weapon at me, narrowing his runny eyes, a look of finality gripping my heart, as I brace myself to meet my ancestors.

Will my bond with Tyrxie torment me in the afterlife?