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Pyrite Prison: Warding Gait Book II (#6)
7.1 This Might Sting A Little

7.1 This Might Sting A Little

{Enki}

Sip.

Tumu helped Tameka lay out pallets for everyone in the open living space. When no one wanted to confine themselves to a room alone, Sagan tossed all the pillows to the floor and insisted on a slumber party. So now the Sovereign Ambassador of the Two Worlds snapped sheets in the Officer of the Third’s face.

It was passive aggressive, but the punishment fit the crime. Although Tameka sided with Ross’ decision to find her sister, she still couldn’t believe the Tritan left a teenage girl on an alien planet unattended. One that bartered and traded humans like slaves.

Eventually, he asked, “Is that fury I’m detecting?”

Sullen, she admitted, “Maybe.” After rolling her neck along her shoulders, she exhaled out all the frustration. “I know you saved her from sneaking off on her own with no resources. I know you did the right thing.”

He set to assembling the next makeshift bed. After a minute of comfortable silence, he muttered, “Thank you.”

Tameka whipped her waist-length curls over her shoulder. Again. One more time. She’d give it one more time. To distract herself from the irritation, she asked, “So, Tumi.” It proved difficult not to cringe. “You and Lamassau. Did that happen after your crush on…” Damn. Couldn’t she even joke about him without the knife twisting in her heart?

“He’s an on-again/off-again obsession of mine. Well, we try anyway.”

Sip.

“Shower’s free!” Sagan joined in the conversation then, having Seamswalked into the living space with more pillows and wet hair. And of course the axes. “What do you mean by try?”

Clutching a pillow to her chest, Tameka took a break on the sofa while Sagan helped with the pallets. Engaging in girl talk with a Tritan. But why not? “Is Lam too much of a cheater?”

The Tritan chuckled, but the sound was sad. “The cheating is my fault. Punishing me for running off after…” He cleared his throat as if ridding himself of a bad memory. Guess he couldn’t bring himself to say Xelan’s name, either. “Our relationship is forbidden. Lam and I. As a scientifically curious people, Tritans genetically enhanced our species until we could no longer breed females. Now we’re expected to remain celibate until we find a suitable one from the various races we cultivated.”

“Is that why I see Tritans with Lamias and Lyriks on Gait?” Sagan offered.

Tameka raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. “They date their historians? That seems unethical.”

Tumu shook his head. “No. I mean one suitable female. The Mother.” Tameka recoiled when he looked rather intently at her as he continued, “The reproduction program collects a chosen few females to broodmare less and less diluted children. Until they’re interbred more and more into purer Tritans. Until we produce females on our own again. We aren’t permitted to interact with males until such time. Nor anyone outside of the program.”

“That’s why Abresson wanted Rayne.” Sagan gasped. Followed up with a sour face.

Tumu nodded solemnly. “She was one.” He glanced over the living space at Tameka.

The room spun. She swallowed hard as the color drained from her, and she clutched her chain for strength. After two tries, she shared, “Primary Bol called me that. He called me ‘The Mother’ when I asked to visit Earth.” She caught her head in her hands. A warm hand scratched along her back, comforting her.

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Sagan.

“All three of you are candidates. But Sagan is off limits. I don’t know why. I didn’t press, given the small mercy.” Tumu approached, and Tameka rolled her eyes to glare at the constant bearer of bad news. He retracted the hand offered in comfort, as if he thought better of it. Smart Tritan. “No one has claimed you yet. There’s a hesitation until we see how Pax turns out. If results are favorable, then I’m afraid they’ll try to push me onto you. But I assure you have no intentions—”

“If my nacre would let me vomit, I would have just now,” Tameka confessed on a disgusted groan. Her hair fell over into her face, forming a suffocating curtain. “That’s it. Sagan. Please. Cut it.”

Sip.

“What?! Are you sure?” Sagan’s eyes widened to the size of a silver dollar.

Tumu backed off and gave the girls some space.

Tameka recognized the gesture for what it was. While she appreciated it, her gut still reeled from his earlier horrendous revelation. Sweeping her hair back behind her shoulders, she affirmed, “I’m certain. It’s in the way and a battle hazard. If we… If we ever get back to a time where shit isn’t blowing up around us, literally and figuratively, I can always grow it back out. I’ll get the scissors.”

As she rushed off, Tameka overheard Sagan ask Tumu, “‘Off limits?’” While upstairs, she checked in on Jack and John in “the room.” For a second, they drew her in with Caedes’ map—an amazing feat—before she broke away to check on Pax. He passed out in his room while playing with a train. A black, gray, and white one. She let her heart soak it in for a moment before approaching the only bathroom. It worked fine for their household. Spacious and lots of storage. Nacres recycled energy in their bodies, preventing waste. They only needed the shower, and not very often. Mostly out of comfort.

With everyone else in the house accounted for, Caedes must be in the shower. And Tameka needed the scissors. He loved her. She couldn’t love him. She couldn’t think of anyone that way. Not after…

Swallowing hard, she opened the door like a grownup. No curtain. Only tiled walls peppered with shower heads. Two drains drank in the run-off. Tameka never forgot the communal showers in the Ionas. It was uncomfortable, but not impossible. People mostly acted professional with her, save for the occasional curious glimpse. For the same reason she wasn’t curious then, she wasn’t curious now.

Sip.

Cupboard. Scissors. Where were the scissors? “Shit.”

“What do you need?” Caedes asked with that familiar gravel in his voice. A little extra rattled given the state of his throat. His trachea busted all the way out during the collapse. While he protected her and Pax.

A good man wasted on her. “Looking for the scissors.”

“Try the second shelf down. No. There. In the back.”

Right where he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tameka stopped herself from fleeing. Rigid, she left something unfinished. “No. I mean it.” She turned all the way around and faced him. “Thank you. Even if we’d survived the cave-in, because of you, Pax never knew pain like that. Thank you.”

Do not look down.

Icari were not modest by human standards. Still, Caedes blushed until his bald head turned blue. He looked mostly uncomfortable. But he still didn’t turn away or hide himself. Nor should he. What Tameka allowed herself to see was perfectly honed and in great warrior condition. Yup.

Do not look down.

“I’m glad that you’re both alive, and if any part of that was because of me, then I’m honored for serving you.” Caedes’ impressive chest visibly swelled. Impressive, considering it concaved under the weight of the rocks that fell on him like a nine-car pile-up. His missing chain implied the reason for his survival. Thank Elden, he used it in time.

When Tameka reached for the door, an internal debate finally resolved itself. “John’s human blood is a little on the weak side. Tonight, you can feed from me to help with the healing.”

Without turning around, she imagined how the proposal affected him. “No sex” went without saying. The Progeny woman wasn’t over her lover. Her soulmate. But she cared for Caedes, and he showed his love for her and Pax in so many ways. All the ones that counted.

With that in mind, Tameka cut off the unseen protest before it could start, “Tonight. There’s no need to argue with me. I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

Tameka headed downstairs, ready to tackle the next item on her agenda. Including her excursions throughout the week, they learned Sagan could Seamswalk around Enki without detection. It was time to confirm with Tumu if this was truly the case. And to test the limits of that particular advantage with one specific objective in mind.

The Pantheon.

Sip.