“I expect you to tell me exactly what my kor’yr requires. I will provide it, not the old woman. And I expect you to correct my mistakes in our communication.”
“You want my advice on how to woo your female?” Such a thing was unheard of; embarrassing for both parties.
Humiliation was nothing to a lifetime without his mate. “Yes.”
“I’ll”—gnawing her lip as she considered, Etaine took steps toward the safety of the golden line—“send suggestions when I update today’s report.”
There would be only one acceptable outcome to this arrangement. Though patient and eager to see her happy, Simin was waging a war. War against an ugly, painful history. War against the women who did not trust him enough to release his mate to him. War against his own expectations. “She’ll find her way back to her mate, and should she get lost, you will gently nudge her back onto the path.”
Etaine didn’t look so sure. Out of his reach, once again in the sanctified space where Simin might not touch her, the Omega translator said what Simin feared the most. “She is very young, sir. Even with constant suggestion, Morgaine might not be ready to mate.”
“Then I will wait, and meet with her in this blasted hall for one blessed hour of each day until she is.”
Chapter 20
Simin Gralloch, Heidron of the fleet, had groomed his hair and left it loose instead of bound at the nape. He had dressed in the leathers of a warrior broadcasting his prowess, displaying battle scars and warning all who saw the swath of oiled flesh of his tried and tested skill. Unarmored to show potential combatants he was fearless, he came bearing gifts.
This was how she had first seen him. This was how she should know him, just as he would learn to know her on her odd Nierran terms.
Uncovered hair was a sign of flirtation. Well, his was flowing down his back, combed to a shine by his own hand. Not a single slave had been invited to prepare him. He had bathed himself, prepared himself, and milked his cock three times before their meeting so the damned beast might lie down behind the breechcloth.
Etaine’s suggestions had been… terrible. The female was not feminine at all.
What kind of woman would suggest offering flowers? They would only die in a day or two. Flawless rubies though, there were so many things that could be done with precious stones.
In an effort to gain at least a little headway, there was a bunch of wilting petals on the tray, dotted with fat rubies to catch her eye. And in the middle of the offering was what he had spent the morning preparing: a pot of gruel and the burnt nutcake Simin had made himself.
After all, it was the duty of an Alpha to feed his mate, prepare meals to an extent, even hunt fresh meat when near a planet that boasted worthy game. But to bake… to stir and season… this was the work of slaves.
She enjoyed slave work. He would try to please her.
Burnt fingers aside, he was determined to impress the woman standing out of reach, wearing the same white dress.
Though today, the dress boasted a bit more detail than the day before. A collar had been sewn on, the sleeves embellished into gathered folds. Even the skirt’s silhouette had gone from a shapeless drape that covered her well-formed legs to something that nipped in at a curved waist.
Morgaine looked less like a woman in a shapeless sack and more like a seamstress displaying her work.
Simin took notice, running his eyes from her hidden toes to her glorious hair, he took his time studying what she presented, keeping his expression light and his smile pleased. He then forced his tongue around her strange words, performing the only phrase he’d learned. “Good afternoon.”
It sounded appalling, tripping from his tongue, but blue eyes came alive. Shy smile on her lips, Morgaine repeated the pleasantry.
Hearing her form the words, Simin realized he’d said it wrong, but that was not what mattered. The Omega was impressed with his effort.
“Those are the only words I’ve learned so far, but I will come each day with something new to surprise you.” Far more comfortable conversing in his native tongue, he set the tray of food on the golden line for her to take when she was ready. “I made you something to eat, though I am not nearly as skilled with the preparation of recipes as you seem to be with needle and thread.”
She looked down at the tray strewn with flowers and sparkling blood-red stones. Bemused, she refused to step forward. “Etaine explained to me that Omari males serve meals to their wives. On Esin’s ship, they tried to feed me often. When it was Esin’s turn he brought… I can’t even remember what he called it.”
Retreating a step back before she might smell the musk of Alpha anger in the air, Simin took a controlled breath. He even managed to speak without grinding his teeth. “Did you enjoy his food?”
Lost in her thoughts, Morgaine failed to notice his shift in mood or his blatant attempts to hide it from her. Instead she stared down at the tray with its yellowing flower petals and simple fare. “I never tried it. I couldn’t eat after the caning. Or if I did, I don’t remember. Nothing there tasted good because everything they served me had been stolen from my settlement. The women here call me Nierra, but my people were nothing like those men.”
He could work with this line of information, lead her to pleasant things. Crouching down so he might sit upon the floor and cross his legs, Simin grew casual, smiling as he asked, “I can’t make any promises that your lunch will taste good. Fairly certain I burned your cake, but after you eat some, take pity on a poor man and tell me what I did wrong. Tastes like burnt nuts to me. Believe it or not, that was the better of three. The rest were ejected straight into space.”
She’d gone from wide-eyed shock to see the male sprawl on the floor, to trying to bite back a laugh at his foolishness. “I’m sure the inside is just fine.”
“So you’re saying it’s not supposed to be charred on the outside…” Rubbing his jaw, he gave her a playfully pained look. “Don’t spare my feelings, I can take the truth.”
At that she did let a little snort of laughter free and cracked a grin. “I have not met a man yet who could.”