“Bite me. Here.” T’zaren pointed to the side of his muscular neck. The throat was a point of both power and submission among his people. To offer it willingly to a female was a great honor—but clearly Ashley didn’t understand that.
“Eww—no!” she’d exclaimed, stepped away from him with her hands raised in revulsion. “Look, I don’t know what kind of freaky alien sex you’re into but I amnotlike that.”
“I’m not asking you for anything ‘freaky,’” T’zaren had growled stiffly. “This is perfectly normal among my people. I just need to know if you’re my trueS’rentha—the female I can dedicate my life to. The one I can worship and protect and care for forever.”
But his words had not calmed Ashley. In fact, if anything they had only made things worse.
“The one you canworship?Look,” she said, putting one hand on her skinny hip and frowning at him. “I mightlooklike I’d make a good Dominatrix—I mean, my agent is constantly trying to get me to do modeling gigs like that—but I amnotinto that weird-ass shit. I’m not going to slap you around or tie you up and spank you or anything else like that! Gross!”
T’zaren had been bewildered. Why would he want her to tie him up? As for “slapping him around,” a warrior might have to endure pain for the sake of hisS’rentha,but that was considered an honor, not a humiliation or a curse.
When a male knelt at the feet of his S’rentha—his personal Goddess—he did so from a position of strength. It was not so much a sign of his submission to her as an expression of respect and love—letting her know she was worthy of his worship and protection—worthy of him devoting the rest of his life to her.
He tried to explain all this, but he must have done it badly, because Ashley had kicked him out of her domicile and instructed him to “lose her number” whatever that meant.
He assumed it meant she didn’t want to see him again, which was fine with T’zaren—he hadn’t really been very attracted to her anyway. He had only “swiped right” on her picture on the dating app because she had looked like what a trueS’renthawas supposed to look like.
But inside, she had been lacking—she hadn’t had the strength of personality and character that would earn his respect and cause him to kneel before her, T’zaren admitted to himself. It was just that he was lonely and wished for a female—that was the only reason he had even gone back to her domicile in the first place.
As he stood under the tree beside the riverbank after his failed “date,” he was considering these things when two human females came into view. One of them had smooth brown skin and long, tightly braided curls. She was also obviously spoken for—not just because of her rounded, pregnant belly but because of the scent of the Drake Kindred that hung around her like forbidding perfume, warning any other male away.
However, her companion—the short, curvy blonde—had no male’s scent on her. Which meant she was available, T’zaren thought as he watched her speculatively. She was nothing like aS’renthaought to be, though. She was short instead of tall, and her hair and eyes were light instead of dark. Also, she smiled and laughed too much—at one point she and the other human female laughedsohard they wiped tears of mirth from their eyes!
No trueS’renthawould act in such a fashion, T’zaren thought, frowning. A trueS’renthawas cool, calm, and collected at all times. She was stern and she demanded loyalty, obedience, and respect. So though he found the short, curvy blonde extremely attractive, he reluctantly ruled her out. She might be available, but she would never cause his Sen Stripe to flare—he was sure of that.
And then her foot slipped and she fell into the river.
Her friend gasped and began to shout for help at once. Then she closed her eyes tightly and seemed to be sending a mental message to her bonded mate through the connection they shared, but T’zaren didn’t wait to see if he was near enough to come and help her. He was a Monstrum warrior and the Monstrum were a branch of the Kindred. Which meant that a female’s safety came first for him—even a female he didn’t know.
Luckily he had no shirt or shoes on. Like many of the Monstrum who lived on the Dark Side of the ship, he usually wore a pair of black trousers as his only form of clothing. So he didn’t have to struggle taking everything off—he simply dived right in with his trousers on and began swimming as hard as he could.
The river was rough in this part of the Mother Ship—the current was swift and the water was dark. Also, visibility was limited. Luckily, T’zaren could see in the dark as well as he could in the daylight, so the little female’s blonde hair—even though it was matted to her head—was clearly visible to him as she bobbed along.
She was in the middle of the river where the current was strongest and she was headed for a place where the water went underground for a ways. This underwater tunnel was a favorite haunt of the Mer-Monstrum—huge, muscular males whose lower halves were piscine in nature. They were natural predators and might look at the little female as prey, rather than a possible mate.
But even if the Mer-Monstrum didn’t get her, T’zaren doubted she could hold her breath long enough to emerge on the tunnel’s other side. Hehadto reach her before she went underground!
He sent a quick, desperate mental prayer.
“Please, Goddess, let me get to her!”
And then he redoubled his efforts, stroking hard with the current, swimming as fast as he could to reach her. The water chilled him to the bone but he barely noticed it. At last, she was within an arm’s reach and he was able to reach out one long arm and tangle it in the soft, silky fabric of her upper clothing.
He kicked backwards, struggling against the current now, desperate to get her to the side of the river and out of the water before both of them were dragged into the underwater tunnel. And then, his free hand found something—a root from one of the huge old trees that overshadowed the river was sticking out. It almost seemed as though it had been put there just for him, T’zaren thought.
He grabbed for the root and held it tight while he kept a firm grip on the little blonde’s blouse. She had realized that he had her now and turned to him, also kicking against the current.
“Can you hold on to me?” T’zaren shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of the river. “I can pull us both in but I need both hands to do it!”
She nodded mutely, her eyes wide and frightened. But there was a determined set to her chin as he pulled her closer.
“Put your arms around my neck but don’t strangle me!” T’zaren ordered. “I’ll pull us in.”
She nodded again and found a grip on his arm and then his shoulder. Her little nails were sharp as they dug into his flesh but he barely noticed. Because suddenly, when she touched him, he felt as though someone had poured a river of fire down his spine.
He gasped and nearly let go of the tree root—only instinct kept him clinging. What was this? Was he imagining it or had his Sen Stripe flared for the very first time?
There’s no time to think of this now—I have to get us both to safety!T’zaren lectured himself.I’m probably imagining it anyway.