The Alien’s Equal: Drixonian Warriors #7

  The Alien’s Equal

  Drixonian Warriors #7

  Ella Maven

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Ella Maven

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Copyedited by Del’s Diabolical Editing

  Cover design by Natasha Snow

  First edition October 2020

  Dedication

  This one is for the readers. Each and every one of you. I hope I gave you the happy ending you wanted for these big blue guys.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Rexor: Stolen Warriors

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  One

  Justine

  I crouched low against the outside wall of my building, trying to control my breathing, as I waited for the mingo to show itself. Dusk was when the little creature ventured up a tree near outside the main wall and took a flying leap with its arms out and skin flaps extended like a flying squirrel to enter the camp.

  In front of me, between my spread knees, sat Bazel. Her body quivered with excitement and her tail thumped the ground. I gripped it in my hand to stop the sound and she turned around to shoot me an apologetic grin.

  I returned her smile, because honestly, as the daughter of a human and Drixonian, she was the cutest thing I’d seen in my life. About five years old, she would be full-grown in another five or six. She had human-like blue flesh instead of Drixonian scales. Her little horns were small but had grown considerably since she’d arrived at our clavas, so the tips had narrowed to a dull point. It was her freckles which got me. Darker blue dots scattered across the bridge of her nose and reminded me so much of my sister my heart ached.

  Maybe that was why I could never say no to her. Well, that and the rest of my human friends were shacked up. Bazel was the only one who seemed to have time for me anymore. Not that I was complaining. I was happy for my friends. And I preferred spending time with the young Drixonian-human hybrid since the last thing I wanted was a mate.

  With our pockets full of leftovers, we’d made excuses to leave dinner early. We’d snuck behind the building where my room was located and heaped a plate full of a few pivar ribs, some antella nuggets—an Anna recipe—and some fruit. We set the feast at the base of the wall and waited, like we’d done every day at dusk since we caught the little mingo peering down at us at the top of the wall.

  We learned the mingo was less an omnivore and more of a scavenger. It would eat anything and had even tried to chew on a bowl that we’d left out full of water.

  “Do you think he’ll come?” Bazel asked.

  He didn’t come every day, although the trips had been much more frequent since we started putting out food. Still, even if we didn’t see him, the plate was always empty when we checked it in the morning.

  “I hope so,” I whispered.

  In the distance, leaves rustled, and Bazel squeaked with anticipation. I held my breath just as I caught sight of striped fur sailing through the air. The mingo landed on the ground about ten feet away in a low crouch. The animal had a face only a mother could love, but that didn’t stop Bazel and I from hoping to catch a glimpse of it every day.

  About the size of a small dog, its short fur was a dull green with stripes of a darker green. Not a pretty green, but a kind of dull army green. The skin that stretched to give it the ability to glide was hairless and hung limp at its side in rest. It gazed around warily with huge round eyes before stretching out a three-fingered hand and snatching a meaty bone off the plate.

  The best part was it hummed when it ate—a weird musical sound which reminded me of an out-of-tune piano. Bazel covered her mouth, but her shoulders still shook with her giggles. Even I had to bury my face in her dark hair to contain my laughter.

  The Drix considered mingoes pests, similar to how we viewed raccoons on Earth, but I’d always been a sucker for the neglected and outcasts, so I refused to tell anyone a mingo had been sneaking into the compound. The Drix would most likely kill it and feed it to either Luna—Reba’s welf—or Brutus—Bazel’s pet blukas.

  I didn’t want the mingo to be welf or dog food. I found it kind of endearing with its round panda-like ears and fuzzy tail. The rest of its face was smushed like a Himalayan cat, which was cute on Earth animals, but odd on this already weird-looking animal.

  Bazel sighed softly and whispered. “Mozart is so cute.”

  That was the other thing. We’d named it. I’d mentioned Mozart because of its musical-eating, and Bazel had pounced on the word. She had sat engrossed when I told her all about the famous composer. So that was it. The mingo was Mozart and if anyone caught us feeding this thing, we’d be in trouble. I had never been good at doing what I was told, so sneaking around was a skill in my repertoire.

  Mozart was in fact, not cute, but I found him utterly fascinating. At least, I was pretty sure it was him, based on the anatomy I could see swinging between his legs.

  Sometimes he’d take food with him, stuffing it into his cheeks like a chipmunk. I imagined he had a family somewhere and was delivering food to his mate and their young. And that was why I couldn’t resist putting food out at dusk every time I could get away with it. This was my secret with Bazel, and I’d taught her to pinky swear over the secret and everything.

  The mingo was just starting on the fruit when boots crunched behind us, signaling we were about to be busted. I froze, and so did the mingo. He let out a screech that hurt my ears before skittering up the wall with his little claws to perch along the top. And there he sat, feeling safe enough at that height to continue munching on the fruit while I cringed as a long shadow stretched across the ground near the corner of the building where I hid. I plastered my back to the wall.

  “Go,” I whispered to Bazel. “I don’t care if they catch me but save yourself.”

  “Justine—”

  “Go,” I urged with a push to her small shoulders. I held up my pinky. She clasped it and then scrambled off to my left, leaving my sight around the corner of the building just as a large figure stepped around the corner to my right.

  For a moment, I thought maybe he didn’t see me. I could barely make out his face, but I didn’t need to. I knew who it was by the way he stood silently with his hands on his hips and his feet braced apart. I kept still, hoping he hadn’t noticed me or the mingo, who’d now fallen silent and froze like a statue.

  “What are you doing back here, Justine?” His soft voice rumbled down my spine.

  I blew out a breath. Freaking caught. I rose to my feet and dusted off my pants. “Hi, Nero.”

  He took a step forward so one of the last rays of the setting sun cast a swatch of yellow light across his face. I tried not to look at the soft purple of his eyes as his gaze scanned my body. He frowned. “Are you okay?”

  I cleared my throat. “Fine. Fine. Just … hanging out.”

  He looked around before lifting a questioning nubbed brow. “Here?”

  “Yeah, here.” I retorted. His calm demeanor rankled my ner
ves. Any of the other warriors would have told me to get back to my room or dragged me there, but not Nero. He had to … investigate. Ask questions. Pry. Always with the prying.

  He didn’t react to my harsh tone. He never did. “Not much to look at back here but a wall.”

  “I happen to think it’s a nice section of the wall.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  His lips twitched and he inclined his head. “It is.”

  “Are you patronizing me?” I glared.

  His eyes creased in the corners. “Never.”

  I huffed. “Okay, well. I’m … done admiring the wall now.” I patted it with my palm and took a step forward. “So, I’ll be getting back to my room now.” Except I didn’t want to leave Nero here with the mingo. Any minute now, he’d notice the creature and the plate of food.

  Outside these walls, he had strategically placed cameras he called his “eyes” to warn us of danger, but Nero’s own eyes were legendary. The damn Drix missed nothing. Smart as a whip and not as impulsive as some of the warriors like Sax and Xavy, Nero held his emotions close to his chest.

  I swallowed, needing a plan to get him away from here before he spotted Mozart. It would break my heart to see the creature gone, and Bazel would be devastated. I took another step toward Nero, adding a sway to my hips that felt unnatural. “Do you… Want to come back to my room with me?” I tried to make my voice husky, but instead it just came out like a pack-a-day smoker’s.

  Nero’s body tightened as I approached him, but that was his only reaction to my seduction attempt. “Do you need an escort?”

  “Yes!” I blurted out.

  The Night Kings had recently brought together all the remaining Drixonian clavases, so strange males were always roaming the grounds. Not that I thought any would bother me, but Daz had remained protective of us females. As the only unmated female left, I was watched closely. Normally I accepted the protectiveness begrudgingly.

  Something thumped the ground behind me, and Nero’s shrewd gaze flicked over my shoulder. Needing to distract him, I placed my hand on his chest and beamed a smile at him. At my touch, his chin jerked down to stare at my palm on his pectoral. Fucking hell, he was warm as a heated blanket.

  His scales were smooth, coated in what felt like a fine velvet, and I found my fingers curling in simulation of a scratch. “So, do you have any plans for tonight?” I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. God, I sounded stupid to my own ears. Was Nero falling for this?

  He blinked at me. “Why?”

  “Oh, I uh—” Think, Justine, think. A lightbulb went off in my head. “I have something I’d like you to fix in my room.” I was proud of myself for thinking of that on the fly. Of course, I didn’t have anything to repair, but I had five minutes until we got there to think of something.

  “And Hap didn’t have time to take care of it?”

  Hap was always in our rooms delivering furniture and generally making our living spaces as comfortable as possible.

  “Uh, no.” That was it. That was my answer. I couldn’t think of a quick excuse.

  Nero wasn’t paying attention to anything behind me now. He was solely focused on me. With his sharp teeth, he tugged his labret piercing into his mouth and clicked the ball against his fangs before placing his hand over mine where it still lay on his chest. A warm, excited shiver ran down my spine to pool in my lower stomach with anticipation. My lips parted at the strong reaction.

  His strong fingers curled around my palm and he lowered our hands before tugging me along at his side as he walked. He was just so … big. And warm. And his purple eyes bored into the side of my face like he sought to infiltrate my mind. “Well, then let’s take a look.”

  Take a look? Oh right. The repair I invented. I needed to ignore the feel of his hand in mine, and the way the setting sun shone off his short black hair. I had to pretend Nero wasn’t the only male—Drixonian or human—who made me wish I wasn’t a mess inside. What would it be like to let myself be carefree like Tabitha or utterly devoted to a mate like Naomi? I wouldn’t know, because that life wasn’t for me, no matter how much Nero’s steady presence sometimes calmed the storm inside my mind.

  * * *

  Nero

  I’d heard the mingo eating before I ever turned the corner. I’d expected to find it making off with some of our compost only to find a tidy plate with a selection of dinner leftovers.

  While I was curious why Justine was not only feeding the mingo, but also determined to keep it a secret, I was more curious how far she’d take it. I’d been about to tell her I saw the creature so there was no point in pretending she was only out for a stroll.

  But then she’d placed her hand on my chest and spouted some stuff about a repair which was clearly only meant as a diversion, and I promptly shut up. Was this what it took for Justine to finally pay attention to me? She never willingly touched me or any males. She rarely even hugged her friends. Justine walked around as if a barrier surrounded her. No one dared penetrate it, not even me, no matter how much I longed to.

  Justine was my mate. I’d known it from the time I placed her on my bike as she fought and hissed like a salibri. I’d known it all this time as I saw my brothers find their happiness. But Justine was different. She didn’t lust after the males like Tabitha used to—now she only lusted after Xavy—and she didn’t declare loyalty to one male like Naomi had done with Gar. She rejected all males with a toss of her hair and an upturn of her nose.

  I’d often wondered if she was immune to attraction. But I’d felt the shiver in her small body when she touched me. I saw her nipples pebble beneath her shirt, and the dilation of her pupils. She’d felt it, this connection between us I’d long thought was one-sided.

  So, I’d let her continue this little lie about a repair in her room. If this was the only way she’d let me hold her hand, then I’d take it. Maybe that made me just as shameless as her, but I didn’t care right now.

  Her hair had grown since she arrived on Torin and the straight edge now brushed the tops of her shoulders. The roots were a lighter color than the rest of her hair, and I’d learned the humans often dyed it different colors. Tabitha had purple hair that she continued to dye, but Justine hadn’t done the same.

  Her arms bore colorful tattoos I wanted to trace with my finger. The shape of her body enticed me. She’d been thin when she arrived, but since eating our food, her hips had flared out, her thighs thickened, and her belly was rounder. Her breasts swayed when she walked, and I ached to draw her hard nipples into my mouth. But I was getting ahead of myself. It’d been nearly half a cycle, and she’d only now let me hold her hand.

  We arrived at the door to her room, and she stood in front of it for several long moments before I had to prod her. “Should we go in?”

  She startled at my question. “Yes! Yes, right. Okay.”

  I didn’t show it, but I was nearly giddy as her door opened and I took a step inside after her. I’d never been in her room. The rays of the setting sun still streamed through her windows, and I gazed around at the plaques on her walls. I’d heard Justine could draw, but I’d never realized how talented she was. Pictures hung everywhere—some black and white, while others were colorful. Foreign scenes met my eyes—blue qua with green grass. A small building with white walls and black squares beside the windows.

  There was even a picture of a small animal—all black with yellow eyes and triangle ears.

  “That’s a cat,” Justine said.

  I turned around to find I had stepped right in front of the drawing. Justine stood behind me twisting her fingers together.

  “A cat?”

  “It’s an animal we keep as pets. That’s my sister’s cat Midnight.”

  “What’s a midnight?”

  She smiled a true genuine smile that warmed her brown eyes. A small laugh escaped her lips. “Midnight is a time of day—the middle of the night, basically. And it since it’s very dark outside… We sometimes say something is as black as midnight. Hence hi
s name.”

  “What’s your sister’s name?” I spoke casually, knowing this was one of the first times Justine ever willingly opened up.

  “Fallon,” she said. “She’s ten years younger than me. I practically raised her.” Her voice went low and soft. “Bazel reminds me of her.”

  “My sisters were older,” I found myself saying.

  “How many did you have?”

  “Three. They were…” I closed my eyes, remembering their laughter, their teasing, but most of all how much they cared for me. They were so proud when my aptitude tests showed I was off-the-charts skilled at tech. “They were perfect. Smart and beautiful. They would have done so much good, just like my mother.” My throat went dry at my memories of her. The grief never faded. “My mother seemed invincible to me. I thought she would be able to survive the virus. Even after she took her last breath, I convinced myself she was only resting. She was the best female I’ve ever known, and all I’d ever wanted to do was make her proud.”

  Her hand settled on my shoulder. “She’d be so proud of you.”

  I closed my eyes briefly as the familiar sense of guilt lodged in my throat. She wouldn’t be, not when I’d failed to the fulfill the promise I’d made to her on her deathbed.

  I didn’t want those thoughts in this room with Justine. Pointing to another drawing, I asked, “What’s that one?”

  She took a minute before tearing her gaze away from my face to focus on a black and white drawing. It was a face—round with no hair and eyes the shape of upside-down water drops.