She would be completely wrong as a S’rentha,he thought for the hundredth time as he mentally reviewed the facts.She isn’t tall enough—or stern enough. She isn’t serious enough.
And yet despite all this—despite not looking or acting in any way like a traditionalS’rentha—touching the little blonde had made his back feel like someone had poured hot coals down his spine.
When he had gotten back to his domicile, he had gone directly to the 3-D viewer and activated it at once, wanting to see what had actually happened and if he had been imagining the strange burning sensation. As the viewer hummed to life it showed him his body from all angles—including a good view of his broad, bare back.
It wasn’t his imagination—for the first time in his life, his Sen Stripe had appeared. The deep cerulean blue which was his normal skin color had been changed. Running down his spine was a brilliant scarlet line which melded outwards to orange and then to yellow. It ran from the base of his skull all the way down his back and disappeared between his buttocks.
T’zaren frowned as he reached over his own shoulder and gingerly touched the new colors that had appeared on his back. The Sen Stripe throbbed in response, making him wince. He had heard that in time the touch of hisS’renthawould bring more pleasure than pain—though there would always besomepain mixed with the pleasure. Some described it as a burning ache mixed with need and desire.
He remembered asking his Sire when he was young how anyone could wish to feel such things.
“I don’t want my back to burn, Sire,” he had protested, when the older male was explaining the way of a Stri’vor male with his S’rentha. “Why wouldanyonewant that?”
“It isn’tjusta burning, son,” his Sire told him earnestly. “Or rather, the burn isn’t the only thing you feel. When I worship your mother—myS’rentha—I feel not just pain but deep pleasure in knowing that she has chosen me to protect and provide for her. There is pride and honor in bearing pain for yourS’rentha’ssake.”
At the time, T’zaren had been too young to understand the implications of the word “worship” when used in this context. Now he understood it was a sexual reference. For a male Stri’vor didn’t just “make love” to hisS’rentha—he worshiped her body with his own—paying special attention to lapping and kissing her sweet pussy until she came for him again and again.
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine worshipping the little blonde. He could see himself on his knees before her, pressing his face between her thighs, finding her sweet spot with his tongue. She would moan and twine her fingers in his hair as he lapped her, calling his name and begging for more…
But no—he pushed the thought away. It was ridiculous. He was certain his Sire had never meant for him to find a female like her. She just wasn’trightfor him, no matter how attractive she was!
His parents were long gone now—they had stayed on the Stri’vor home world and been swallowed in darkness along with the rest of the Monstrum universe when the Darklings came. T’zaren had been unable to get home in time to save them. But despite his sorrow at their loss, he still remembered the deep and abiding love between the two of them.
His mother had been a properS’rentha—tall and serious with dark hair and eyes. But despite her height, she had still been tiny compared to his Sire, who had been large and muscular as all Monstrum Kindred were. They had been deeply in love, always staring into each other’s eyes and murmuring together too low for him to hear. When his mother would ask something of his Sire, his Sire would kneel before her and say,
“Yes, my S’rentha—whatever you ask of me, I will do.”
A male had to be able to respect hisS’rentha—to feel she was worthy of his service and the pain that blended with the almost unbearable desire she raised in him every time she touched him. How could he, T’zaren, possibly have that dynamic with the little blonde he had rescued last night from the river?
She’s too short,he thought again.And not nearly serious enough. How can I bow before her and offer her my pleasure and my pain? Worse, what if she laughed at me when I did so? Or what if she was disgusted like the other Earth female at the idea of me worshipping her?
He didn’t think he could bear that. But given his recent experiences with human females, it seemed like a distinct possibility.
No, the little blonde was all wrong for him, he told himself. But then he looked at his back in the viewer some more. If she was wrong for him, how had she caused his Sen Stripe to flare?
Maybe it’s just because she’s human,he thought.Maybe my body is confused because she’s a different species—one that was absent from my old universe.
But he had “dated” several human females, including the one called Ashley, who had for some reason found his request that she bite him to try and activate his Stripe repugnant. Why would his body react to the little blonde and not any of the others, wholookedlike they would be goodS’renthas?
T’zaren had no idea, but hedidknow that he was not looking forward to his meeting with the blonde human female and Chief Commander Rarev. He didn’t even know what it was about—only that the Commander had told him he was needed for a special mission. But to where, T’zaren didn’t know. Also, he had no idea what the little blonde human—whose name he didn’t even know—had to do with it.
Well, he supposed he would find out, but he vowed to himself not to touch her again or let her touch him. It seemed that his body was confused about her—T’zaren didn’t want to perpetuate that confusion or give the wrong impression.
The little blonde wasnothis S’rentha and she never would be—he was absolutelycertainof that.
FIVE
LUCY
Oh my God, why am I so nervous? What’s wrong with me?Lucy wondered as she stood outside the door that led to the Monstrum Commander’s office, trying to calm her nerves. She felt like a little kid sent to the principal’s office and half suspected that Chief Commander Rarev was going to be angry with her for falling into the river which ran though the entire ship like a kind of circulatory system. What if she had somehow polluted it with her humanness? Did that even make sense?
Or maybe you’re just nervous about meeting the guy who saved your ass,whispered a little voice in her head.After all, holding onto him in the river is the closest you’ve been to any man besides Mike in a good long time. How long was it that you wasted with that jerk? Eight years? Nine?
No, she had to stop that. Lucy forced an end to the negative self-talk. She normally didn’t have this problem but for some reason, she just felt sojittery—as though she’d swallowed a double shot of espresso before she’d come to the meeting.
Trying to calm herself, she smoothed down the white silk blouse she was wearing tucked into a black pencil skirt. The outfit looked professional and—as Iyanna had pointed out—also showed off her full curves, which she kept assuring Lucy the Monstrum Kindredloved.
Lucy didn’t know if she bought the idea of a whole race of males who really liked curvy women. Mike had always been prodding her to lose some weight—which was easy for him to say. He could eat whatever he wanted and never gain weight—he had the anatomy of a toothpick—skinny and pale and pointy. Well, at least his knees and elbows were pointy—sleeping in the same bed with him hadnotbeen fun.