Braxx ignored him and simply looked at the Elder.
“In a case of The Race, the male who wins need not claim his female at once,” the old male replied. “But he must at least mark her with his scent so that other males know he intends to claim her at a later date.”
“Which is exactly what I did at the Feast of Pledging back on the Surface,” Braxx growled, feeling a surge of frustration. If only he had gone with Molly when she went to take her wash in the stream—all this could have been avoided!
“The Surface is another world—you are in the Depths now,” the Elder answered stonily. “Are the two of you ready to run The Race? You must start at the Stone Finger, follow the path up and over the Bridge of Safe Distance, and come at last to the door of the Claiming Cottage. The first male to get there is the winner and the owner of the contested female. Understood?”
“Understood,” Braxx said, nodding.
“Understood,” Drogor echoed.
The two of them went to stand at the base of the huge stalactite which was as big around as a good sized oak tree and as tall, Braxx thought. He sized up his opponent as they both tensed, waiting for the word from the Elder to begin. Drogor was muscular but heavy and Braxx knew himself to be fast. He should be able to win this easily, barring any unforeseen events.
He tensed, ready to spring into action the moment the Elder said “go.” He was still barefoot, as he had taken off his boots along with his other “off-worlder” clothes when he put on the negu at the Wise One’s hut. But the road seemed smooth and level and he didn’t anticipate any difficulty. On either side of it were loose pebbles and rocks, however, so he must be certain to keep on the path.
“Get ready,” the Elder said and Braxx felt the Deep Dweller tense beside him.
“Go! And may the male deemed worthy by the Cha’llah win!” the Elder shouted.
His thin, reedy voice echoed in the dim cavern but Braxx was off like a shot, before he even spoke the second word. Drogor was right beside him, to his left, keeping pace. Apparently the Deep Dweller was faster than he looked.
This might be a close race after all.
Braxx put on a burst of speed and began to pull ahead. Looming in the foreground was the steep rise of the Bridge of Safe Distance. Any moment he would be there, then up and over and to the Claiming Cottage with Molly in his arms…
Suddenly Drogor was beside him again. With a hard shove, shoulder to shoulder, the Deep Dweller knocked him off the smooth path and into the loose pebbles and scree on the side of the road.
Braxx felt his right ankle roll even as he tried to regain his balance. He swore as he jumped to his feet and felt it give way beneath his weight. Either it was broken or very badly sprained. There was no way he could run on such an injury—not fast enough to catch up to Drogor who was already mounting the steep bridge.
Braxx took a step and groaned. He saw the Deep Dweller throw a look of smug triumph over his shoulder as he raced up the bridge. Then his eyes were drawn across the river of Cha’llah to see Molly, still standing at the window with a look of horror on her face.
No, he thought, tightening his hands into fists. No, I can’t let him have her. I love her!
He didn’t know where the thought came from but he knew it was true. He wanted to claim Molly as his own for life, not just as a sham to keep her from being taken by Drogor. But how could he do that? How could he get to her first when the Deep Dweller was already a fourth of the way up the bridge and Braxx had a severely injured ankle? Even if he ran on it—which he was prepared to do—he wouldn’t be fast enough to catch up, let alone beat the other male to the finish line.
If only there was a short-cut he could take!
His eyes were drawn to the river of Cha’llah, roiling in its stone bed. A short-cut. It would be much faster to walk straight across, through the river, than to go around the long way by the Bridge of Safe Distance.
Wincing as he put weight on his wounded ankle, Braxx began making his way as quickly as he could down the bank to the river of blue and green.
“Beware the Cha’llah,” whispered the Wise One’s voice in his head. “If your inner healing is incomplete, it can freeze you, at least on the outside.”
Braxx knew his inner healing was nowhere near complete. He was a mass of turmoil inside because of what he’d felt compelled to do during the crash that had taken his brother and ruined his face. If he walked into the Cha’llah now, he would lose any chance he might have to one day look normal again.
Once more he heard the Wise One’s words. “In order to take back Molly, you will have to let go of your last hope.”
My last hope, he thought. I’m losing my last hope of ever being healed.
He kept going, making his way quickly down the steep river bank towards the flow of Cha’llah. He would be scarred forever—so be it. Molly was worth more to him than any hope he had of regaining his old life. It was gone, anyway—burned away in fire and blood the moment the ship had crashed. For how could he ever be whole again on the inside after what he had done?
Broken inside and out, he thought and took his first step into the Cha’llah.
* * * * *
“Oh—oh, no! Oh my God—what is he doing?” Molly stared in horror as the big Kindred started wading into the swirling river of greenish-blue light. It was like watching him walk into a pool of blue lava.
Does it burn? she wondered wildly.
If it did, Braxx didn’t show it. He simply kept moving forward, sinking deeper and deeper into the Cha’llah flow until first his hips, then his broad chest, and finally his head disappeared into the roiling bluish-green depths and he was gone from her sight.
Beside her, the healer Llewith drew in a long, shuddering breath.
“Oh, Molly from the Stars,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “Truly, he must love you.”
“Is…is it that dangerous?” Molly asked timidly.
“It can be. The Cha’llah can heal or harden, transform or transfix,” the healer said softly. “I have never known anyone to go into it willingly.”
“But will he come out again? Will he be all right?” Molly demanded. “Please, Llewith—tell me he’ll be okay!”
“You love him too, don’t you?” the healer said, looking at her. “You do—I can tell it.”
“Yes,” Molly whispered and knew it was true. Despite the short time they had known each other, she had fallen hard and fast for the big Kindred. The thought that he had sacrificed himself for her by going into the Cha’llah put a lump in her throat.
What if he doesn’t come out? What if I never see him again?
The thought made her eyes sting and her heart feel like someone had dipped it in lead.
Please, she prayed, although she wasn’t sure who she was praying to—maybe the Kindred Goddess her new friends aboard the Mothership had talked about? Please bring him back to me! Please don’t let him be gone forever—please!
It seems she watched the rippling waves of the Cha’llah flow forever, waiting, hoping to see Braxx’s head emerge. The minutes ticked past and still he didn’t show. How long could he hold his breath? Or was it even necessary to hold your breath in the Cha’llah? Was it more like water…or fire…or electricity? Or maybe some kind of radiation?
Maybe it was all of them mixed together somehow into a deadly amalgamation of power.
Molly bit her lip, watching anxiously. Was Braxx dead at the bottom of the river? Had his body dissolved or distorted or mutated past recognition? She couldn’t help remembering what Llewith had told her about the reason the Bridge of Safe Distance was so high above the flow.
It causes birth defects if a pregnant woman touches it directly, she thought. So what might it do to someone who had completely immersed themselves in its raw power?
She was dimly aware of Drogor arriving and claiming that he had won The Race, shouting triumphantly that she was his. Thankfully, Llewith put him off and told him to leave her be for a moment. Then the Elder arrived, his f
ace very grave. Together, the four of them watched the banks of the river, waiting to see if Braxx would reappear.
At last, after what felt like hours had passed, Molly thought she saw something.
“Look—look there!” she exclaimed, pointing. It was just a faint golden spot in the turbulent bluish-green flow at first but then it grew larger and larger. Finally it broke the surface and she saw that it was, indeed, Braxx.
He walked slowly out of the Cha’llah, like a man in a dream. She could have sworn that his ankle was injured before—a result of the fall he’d taken when Drogor pushed him at the beginning of the race. But now he walked steadily and solidly, saying nothing, a far-away look on his face. The golden light around him blazed so brilliantly he was difficult to look at and yet she couldn’t bear to drag her eyes away.
The one difference she could see, other than the fact that his ankle appeared to be healed, was his left cheek. Before it had glowed a cool blue, like his hair or anything else that didn’t put out much heat. Now it was entirely black against the brilliance of his golden aura.
Molly wondered what it might mean but she was too glad to see him again to care—as long as he was alive and all right she didn’t care what he looked like—only that she could feel his arms wrapped around her again and know he was really and truly all right.
“Braxx!” she cried, running up to throw her arms around him. “Oh my God, you made it! You’re alive! I was so worried.”
“I am…all right.” The words seemed to be dragged out of him, as though he was learning how to speak all over again. “I had…had to go through the Cha’llah. It was the only way to reach you first.”
“You failed!” Drogor came swaggering over, hands on his hips. “You still came in last, off-worlder. You lose The Race—your female is mine.”
He started to grab Molly but to her surprise, it was the Elder who came between them.
“No,” he said sternly. “Leave off, Drogor. Braxx the off-worlder has won the right to Molly from the Stars. Beyond question he has won it.”
“What? But he lost The Race!” Drogor protested.
“He may have lost The Race but this off-worlder has preformed the greatest Act of Daring that I have ever witnessed. He walked into the raw power of the Cha’llah and came out again, all for the love of his female,” the Elder said quietly. “His courage is beyond praise. He and no other shall claim Molly from the Stars.”
“But—” Drogor began.
“Leave be, Drogor,” the Elder said sharply, turning to him. “The Race would have been even had you not shoved Braxx the off-worlder at the beginning. Do not think I didn’t see your actions—in the light of the Cha’llah, I see all.”
Molly thought the Deep Dweller’s face went pale—at least it turned from red back to gold which seemed to be a cooler color in her heat-vision—and he backed away from her.
“Very well,” he mumbled. “It shall be as you say, Elder.”
“Good.” The Elder nodded. He seemed about to say something else but Molly’s gasp of, “Oh!” cut him off.
Her outcry of surprise was because Braxx had swept her into his arms with no warning and was carrying her to the Claiming Cottage.
“Braxx,” she exclaimed. “What…what do you think you’re doing?”
“What I should have done in the first place.” His voice was a low, hungry growl as he took her inside the dim cottage and slammed the wooden door behind him. “Marking you as mine.”
Chapter Seventeen
The time in the Cha’llah had been of unknowable length. He had seen things, felt things, known things he could not now remember but they stayed with him, a bright shadow on the wall of memory.
One thing—one thought—stayed with him though. He must mark Molly with his scent—he must taste her and take her with his tongue and he must do it now.
There was a mattress spread with furs and the soft, leaf and flower stuffed pillows on the floor of the cottage but Braxx couldn’t even wait to lay her down. Instead, he pressed Molly to the wall just inside the door and kissed her fiercely, tasting her mouth in the way he would shortly be tasting her pussy.
At first she seemed in shock but then she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, moaning softly. Braxx plundered her mouth, glad she was willing, but at this point, he was going to taste her and mark her, willing or not. He needed her too much not to and besides, it was their only way out of the Depths.
“Braxx!” she gasped as he broke the kiss to lick a hot trail down her neck. He brushed aside the trailing grass strands of her top negu, baring her breasts so he could suck her nipples. Molly moaned as he feasted on her sweet peaks, sucking them deep and hard, leaving his mark on her with the scent glands in and around his mouth that all Kindred males carried.
Braxx wasn’t gentle—he bit as he sucked, leaving bright red patterns of possession on her creamy mounds—but Molly didn’t seem to mind. She moaned and thrust her breasts out, offering him better access, offering herself.
His shaft ached as he heard her soft moans and cries as he sucked and licked and marked her breasts. Gods, he wanted her—wanted to taste her warm, wet pussy and feel her trembling under his tongue!
He ran his hands over the curves of her waste and hips, loving her softness, wanting to mark her all over. He parted the strands of her lower negu and slipped a hand between her thighs.
“Oh!” Molly stiffened for a moment, then let him in. “All…all right,” she whispered.
Braxx cupped her soft pussy in his hand, feeling like his shaft was hard enough to fuck through solid rock. Goddess, she was wet! He could feel her moisture even though he was only holding her closed, like a flower yet to open, in his palm.
“So wet,” he murmured to her, his voice hoarse with need in his own ears. “Your sweet little pussy is so wet, Molly.”
“I…I can’t help it. Braxx, what are you—?”
“Going to spread you now.” His fingers were already parting the lips of her sex, opening her outer petals so he could glide his fingers along her slippery inner folds.
“Oh!” Molly gasped and shivered against him as he circled her clit with one fingertip.
“Feel that, sweetheart?” he growled. “Your pussy is getting ready for me—ready for my tongue.”
“For your—Ah,” she gasped again as he found her entrance and thrust two fingers deep inside her. “Oh, Braxx!”
“Here,” he growled. “This is where I’m going to taste you. Going to spread your soft little pussy open so I can lick as much as I want. And let me tell you, sweetheart, I want to lick a lot. I want to bury my tongue inside you and have your juices all over my face.”
“But…But I never…I mean I don’t…” Her protests were lost in wordless cries as he fucked her—fucked her hard with his fingers—taking her closer to the edge, willing her honey to come down for him.
He had to have her, Goddess-damn it! He couldn’t wait any longer to taste her sweet nectar and lap her soft little cunt.
But when he dropped to his knees before her, Molly seemed resistant for the first time.
“Braxx, no,” she gasped, trying to close her thighs when he parted them with his hands. “Please, wait—I was trying to tell you—I don’t…this, uh, isn’t my thing.”
“Well, it’s going to have to be your thing now, sweetheart,” he growled, looking up at her. “I have to mark you as my own—have to spread my scent all over your sweet pussy. It’s the only way we’re getting out of here.”
“But I don’t want you to do this because you have to,” she exclaimed. “I mean, if you don’t really want to—”
“Don’t want to?” Braxx gave her an incredulous look. “Molly, don’t you know this is exactly what I’ve been wanting to do to you, almost from the first moment I saw you? From the second you fell in my lap back at your domicile you’ve been making my shaft hard. Tasting your pussy, feeling you tremble against my tongue, hearing you moan as I lap your soft little cunt…all of that is my ple
asure and desire.” He dropped his voice to a commanding growl. “Now let…me…in.”
With a shocked little gasp, Molly at last complied, spreading her thighs for his pleasure.
It wasn’t enough for Braxx. Grabbing one of her legs, he put her thigh over his shoulder, widening her stance and forcing her to be even more open for him.
“God, Braxx!” she exclaimed, gripping his shoulders for support. “I don’t—”
But her words turned into a moan when he tongued her open and began to lap her pussy in long, wet licks that went from the bottom of her slit all the way to the top.
Molly convulsed against him in surprised pleasure. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin but Braxx didn’t give a damn. He was at last doing what every Kindred longed to do to his mate—he was tasting Molly—tasting her deeply and to the core—and it was everything he had ever longed for.
Gods, she was sweet and salty and perfect! And the way she cried out and jerked against his mouth as he dragged his tongue over the tender button of her clit made his cock so hard he couldn’t stand it.
“Braxx!” she gasped. “Oh my God—Braxx!”
He loved the way she called his name, loved the way her nails bit into him and the way she pulled his hair as he first lashed her clit with the tip of his tongue and then sucked the little bud into his mouth to torture it gently while she moaned.
Her honey was flowing now—flowing even more than he had hoped. Her inner thighs were coated with it. Wanting to make even more, Braxx thrust two fingers deep inside her again, fucking her roughly as he lapped and sucked her throbbing pussy. She was close—he could feel it. Her impending orgasm was written in every line of her body…was made obvious by the honey she was producing and the way her muscles were tightening as she moaned and begged for more.
“Braxx,” she cried brokenly, pumping her hips shamelessly against his face. “Oh God yes—yes, I’m so close! So close.”