Ajos: The Restitution - A Sci-fi Alien Romance, Book 1, стр. 24
He moved straight to the back and began going through the shelves there.
As he searched for some sort of bedding, his nefre pulsed annoyingly.
It was hard to focus on the task at hand.
Ajos swallowed hard.
Keh-reh-nah needed the bedding.
Focus.
But thinking of her only seemed to make things worse.
Her touch lingered on his skin and he held back a groan as what felt like a lightning bolt traveled from his nefre straight to his genital pouch.
Minutes passed as he searched, unable to find anything suitable for the female in his quarters…on his rest slab.
Inappropriate images of her stretched out over his rest slab flew to his mind and Ajos squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing.
In that brief silence in his mind, the voices of two other beings within the supply center caught his ear.
“They are the reason they bombed the base.” The voice was hushed, but he could still hear. Ajos cocked his ears.
“The Tasqals have never been successful with bombing us before. Why now?” The male snarled.
“It is those creatures’ fault. The hyoomans.” The word was spat as if it made a sour taste form in the other male’s mouth. “We have lived relatively peacefully. Our sky towers have always protected us. But this stasis hold…” the speaker growled, “I knew it would bring us trouble from the first day I set sight on it. And now…”
“They might bomb us again…”
Ajos stiffened as he listened.
“The commanders are bound to the code of protecting all who are vulnerable to the Tasqals…including the cause of this disaster. They will do nothing about these new pests.” There was a pause. “We have to do something about it. We have to protect ourselves.”
“By any means necessary,” the other agreed.
Ajos was no fool.
He knew exactly where their thoughts were going and what their conversation meant.
But to hear such words…
A sudden rage filled Ajos, so much so he was moving before he even realized what he was doing.
Turning the corner, he grabbed the male nearest to him, his hand closing around the male’s throat as he slammed him into a shelf.
Supply boxes fell, their contents scattering with a loud crash.
“Do something like what?” Ajos growled, his words barely making it through his teeth.
In his grasp was a Krinqrid, and the male’s purple skin paled. His four arms were flat against the shelf behind him as he lay plastered against it, his terrified gaze locked on Ajos.
Having not realized Ajos was so close, the friend had stumbled in an effort to escape and now he was trying to regain his footing.
Ajos’ gaze didn’t even flick to the male scrambling to his feet. His sole focus was the one in his grasp, and his other fist burned with the need to bury it into the male’s flesh.
It was the gods’ own hands that were holding his fist back from doing what his muscles itched to do most.
The male stuttered, unable to form words, and Ajos’ rage only grew.
“Listen to my words,” Ajos snarled, “and listen to them carefully.” He leaned in close so the male could focus on nothing else but him. “If you even have the thought of doing something stupid to the humans…erase it,” he growled, “or I…will…erase…you.”
The male gulped and nodded vigorously, his gaze flicking to his friend.
“Ajos?”
Ajos stiffened at the sound of his name, and he looked sideways to see V’Alen and Hemmil standing there.
Hemmil’s mouth was wide open in shock while V’Alen’s gaze simply flicked over the fallen items, the Krinqrid in his grasp, then back to him.
Ajos let go of the Krinqrid so suddenly, the male fell to the floor in a heap.
He was hardly aware of the male and his friend rushing away with a scramble of limbs.
“Is everything all right, brother?”
“Everything is fine.” Ajos squeezed his eyes shut for a second.
What the hell had gotten into him?
Sudden fits of rage were not a character trait of his. That was more like his brother, Akur.
Akur was a ball of Shum’ai rage all-round.
Ajos wasn’t.
He was the calm one.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and glanced around the supply center.
He’d made a mess.
“I apologize, Hemmil”—his gaze flicked to the Ghanzot—“for the mess.”
Hemmil’s mouth finally closed. “I have never seen you behave in such a—”
“Ajos is ill,” V’Alen spoke up, cutting the Ghanzot off and closing the conversation.
Ajos’ throat moved. He’d never been more appreciative of his friend’s lack of decorum.
Hemmil’s mouth opened again slightly. “I don’t think I have ever seen Ajos ill either.”
“He is ill because of the explosions.” V’Alen didn’t wait for Hemmil to question that, he simply stepped in front of the male and addressed Ajos instead. “And it would be wise for him to head back home to rest.”
Ajos swallowed hard.
V’Alen was right, as usual.
“Yes,” he finally managed to say, his gaze flicking over the boxes that had spilled and that’s when he saw an inflatable foam. That should work well for Keh-reh-nah.
Her name in his mind made an odd feeling develop within him.
Ignoring it, he grabbed the package and walked toward the door.
“Leave the mess, Hemmil. I will return to clean it up,” he said as he passed the male.
He needed some time to think first, and he wanted to be alone.
Hemmil blinked, his singular eye making that one movement look dramatic. “No, you are ill. Please rest, my friend. I will take care of this.”
Ajos moved his head in a nod before the doors opened and he walked out.
There was mild discomfort within him from the lie he just told, but he had no other explanation for his behavior.
A commander didn’t behave the way he just did. He didn’t behave the way he just did.
Maybe he was ill.
He walked in silence, completely aware of the fact that a few steps behind him, V’Alen followed wordlessly.
He could almost feel his friend’s eyes boring into his back.
For the next