Venomous: Erotic Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 1)

Cycles had passed, and still, memories of the festival where Venomous and Fiercely showed me what happened during a bonding ceremony disturbed my sleep, and dominated my waking thoughts.

  Lips parting, I groaned then flung an arm over my face, blocking out the weak light from the glister creep.

  Fiercely was too matter-of-fact about the bonding ceremony for me to have an ally in him, but Venomous?

  He felt the dread of it as much as I did, not for the same reasons though.

  Our time on the slave planet formed a strong bond.

  What he once considered a time-honoured ceremony now caused unease.

  He acknowledged the culture clash and it disturbed him.

  I wasn’t happy he felt that way, but I did feel relief, however, when he displayed reservations over the ritual.

  It revealed on an unconscious level, he recognised my right to choose what I wanted wasn’t being respected.

  Consciously, he wasn’t impatient to get me up on that nest where he would watch He, Cobra that Strikes gentle me.

  Toes curling, I shivered.

  I’d never been comfortable with the lesser mate tradition.

  After meeting the male they’d chosen, I still wasn’t okay with it, although, I agreed their choice suited me.

  Even if I didn’t find Cobra pleasing, contesting who they picked had never been a consideration for three reasons.

  A, I originally thought I’d be able to get out of it.

  B, I didn’t know any other males.

  C, my mates would never pick someone who wasn’t honourable in the ways that mattered to me, and them.

  So, my emotions were confusing, intense and plentiful, but I wasn’t angry.

  I disliked the thought of the lesser mate part of the bonding ceremony, but it wasn’t being enforced to upset me.

  It was a way of life for the Rä, as commonplace as any rite of passage on Earth, and my refusal to adapt, to become one of them was alarming, and inappropriate in their eyes.

  The real issue for me?

  I didn’t have a choice!

  Okay, so I had expected the Rä to be a violent, warmongering species.

  Even knowing the inner goodness of my mates, I’d used their ‘barbaric’ appearance to judge what lay beneath.

  Truth, they were a peaceable, sophisticated people that tolerated me, notwithstanding personal opinions viewing my mating with Venomous and Fiercely as misguided.

  Admittedly, I wasn’t wholly understanding of why they felt it unwise.

  I gathered from snippets of ‘overheard’ conversations there were those who fretted over our crossbreed offspring.

  Most of the talk revolved around fear of what the blending meant for the future of Rök’s restrictive stance on offworlders.

  Change seemed to frighten the Rä.

  Or maybe it was something that occurred in the history of their species that caused the disquiet?

  For all the scandalized stares, chill greetings, never did anyone make me feel as if my life were in danger.

  After what I’d experienced on the slave planet then during interstellar space travel, that was good enough for me.

  I was pregnant, Venomous and Fiercely were in hyper protective mode, so I didn’t know the minutiae of the political situation caused by my arrival, but I was aware of its existence.

  Chiefly because Venomous held to his promise.

  He discussed with me the rumours concerning us circulating the planet, and relayed the concerns brought up to be debated during the Senate conclaves, and what he’d argued to mitigate them.

  Fiercely categorically did not follow this open, trusting behaviour.

  Realising I wouldn’t hold my tongue, nor overlook discussions he felt were inappropriate for me to hear, he began waylaying me with trivial errands when he needed to speak to Venomous.

  I caught onto the ploy at once; I was pregnant, not simple.

  The deception put me on guard, and caused a great deal of resentment.

  One moon, as I retuned from digging around in the garden for a root plant he mentioned he wanted with last meal, I discovered him whispering to Venomous.

  It was a blatant attempt to keep me oblivious.

  So, that first time, I didn’t freak out like a hormonal mess.

  Hurt, but calm, I sat him down and expressed his behaviour upset me.

  “We’re a team,” I said. “A clan building trust. We must respect each other.”

  “I respect you,” Fiercely protested.

  “Do you? Situations affecting us as a clan need to be discussed as a clan. Keeping me in the dark is not only dangerous, but disrespectful. Okay?”

  He’d hissed and hugged me, so I thought he’d understood.

  However, Fiercely Comes the Night proved once again that males are males no matter where you go in the universe.

  What we discussed went in one pointy, gold-studded ear then escaped out the other.

  The second time I caught him whispering to Venomous in a corner, it was about Venin Stings the Sweetest.

  She had reached out to his kindred hoping to find support for her protests against our union.

  I again sat Fiercely down to explain he needed to talk to me about his concerns.

  His impassioned comeback enlightened me as to the drive behind his behaviour.

  “You are with egg.” His arms were crossed, chin lifted as he stared me down.

  He’d shot to his feet when I rehashed my R.E.S.P.E.C.T speech of before, and yes, I did break out into song.

  “You are supposed to be sequestered,” he said, “thinking only of the hatchling. These matters will cause you undue stress.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” I inhaled to keep my composure, and clasped a lower hand. I squeezed his rigid fingers when he didn’t grip back. “First, thank you for protecting us.” I rubbed the slight curve of my stomach. I loved to touch it almost as much as he did. “I appreciate it. Now, I need you to hear me when I say I’m feeling more stressed by not knowing what’s going on. I sense the tension in you and Venom. It bothers me. Please, in future, talk to me.”

  A cycle later, I waddled off to cook lunch, as he was hungry, but backtracked to ask if he wanted poached Zýt eggs instead of mylkgrain.

  I was allergic to the eggs, but I knew he liked them.

  Stopping outside the living enclosure, head cocking at the hushed argument occurring inside, I eavesdropped on his hurried explanation to Venomous why he had turned Singing Water and two other Rä’Na away from the lair the rotation before.

  He feared their judgements on my alien physique and hesitation to do the bonding ceremony would upset me.

  Also, that they would repeat a growing belief our ‘freakish’ hatchling would end up a mutated nightmare.

  Of course such bullshit might upset me.

  The real problem was his controlling manipulations and lies over things I felt capable of handling myself upset me more.

  To elevate our relationship to the next level, he needed to trust me, involve me in what he was doing and thinking.

  He needs to care about what I think, and take my opinions into account.

  Fiercely didn’t get it.

  I’d told him flat out to communicate over things that effected us as a clan, that effected me, and he just did not freaking get it.

  That third time, listening to him prattle on, knowing his actions patronised my intelligence, demeaned me in front of Venomous, my vision glazed red.

  I lost my motherfucking mind.

  From that point on, we didn’t speak to each other without going at it like goodbeasts with locked tusks wrestling for territory.

  “I refuse to be civil towards someone who lies to my face then demands I show affection, as if nothing is wrong.”

  “I am protecting you,” Fiercely raged as he loomed over me. “You are ungrateful!”

  “Kiss my natural black ass. I don’t need your protection right now. What I need is your respect, or else this,” my bladed hand stabbed between us, ??
?won’t work.”

  Arguments about his domineering behaviour frequently ended in tears and screaming (me) and snarling hisses (him).

  One moon, I yelled, “No matter how many times I tell you not to keep important shit from me, it never takes hold. Why won’t you listen?”

  As I came to no physical harm during these clashes, Venomous refused to get in the middle, or accept they caused me psychological harm, as I tried to argue.

  He was right to do so, as I wasn’t coming to harm.

  I was just pissed.

  “I need you to support me in this,” I gritted to Venomous in the aftermath of a bad squabble. “When you talk to him without me you’re enabling him.”

  “Dearest, I must discuss these things with my nest mate.” Sighing, he cupped my wobbling chin. “Though I will not do so if it is clear you could be part of the discussion. Is this compromise agreeable?”

  “See, you get it. Compromise. Why doesn’t he?”

  At my urging, Venomous explained the benefits of what I sought, and how it deepened the love connection; a deeper connection Fiercely pushed for whilst throwing in my face I showed one mate favour over the other, implying it was bad manners for my part.

  He even took offence Venomous dared get involved.

  While I understood Venomous wasn’t picking a side (much to my annoyance) that was how my second mate perceived his giving advice during a disagreement.

  Frustrated, I had propped my fisted hands on Venomous’ broad chest, putting my back to Fiercely, brooding over my failure to make him understand the reasons why I needed him to talk to me about what was going on.

  Venomous held the back of my neck as he kissed me the Rä way. “This is between you and your second. It is not my place to interfere.”

  He was right, of course, as he often was.

  Insufferable know it all.

  As primary mate, he could tell Fiercely to do as I said.

  Such heavy handedness would create a tenser atmosphere than we already lived in, though.

  Not wanting to fight both males, I dropped my insistence he exert his dominance for a quick-fix.

  Taking comfort from him, I’d snuggled closer and glared over my shoulder at Fiercely, who glowered, watching the exchange with covetous eyes. “Stop looking at me like that. You’re the one keeping our love from thriving. I’ve told you what I need. You’re choosing not to give it to me.”

  Fiercely’s nostrils flared. “And you are choosing not to follow my customs.”

  “I can only compromise so much.” Changing who I was simply to please him was not in my nature. “You’re refusing to bend at all. It won’t get better between us until you acknowledge that and do something about it.”

  “Refusing to bend? I altered my perception of beauty for you. Is that not change enough?”

  Fuming, I ripped away from Venomous to get in his space.

  I jabbed a finger against his chest. “What have you changed aside from that and the province you live in? I don’t see you doing human customs to make me more comfortable, and you’re not the only one who had to adjust to our physical differences.”

  “Thsst! We did dating!” He stiffened. “And I am prepared to suffer clutch your human way.”

  “We had one date, during which we got kicked out of the bloody restaurant. You believe that buys you a lifetime of breaking my back as I pander to the Rä traditions you throw at me?” My eyes narrowed. “And don’t worry about having to suffer clutch. You aren’t touching me until I’m satisfied we’re connecting as we should be.”

  To that, he’d bellowed, “I would never break your back.”

  Amidst this quarrelling, there were other stressors disrupting ‘the peace in our lair’ as Venomous said.

  Their fear for my safety was relentless.

  I spent the first cycles on Rök clueless to the reality of my situation, despite numerous softly-worded hints then more harshly delivered warnings.

  Venomous lectured me on my awareness of my surroundings, and asked me to be on the look out for potential threats.

  Feeling safe in our refined, sheltered neighbourhood, I failed to comprehend the panic.

  I pranced around far less cautious than he considered necessary.

  In my mind, there was nothing to fear.

  Compared to the traumatising slave auctions then the terrifying L’Odo slave planet, Rök was a five star resort, only free, with gorgeous males catering to my whims.

  As I wasn’t brave enough to ride a goodbeast alone, and couldn’t pilot a glider, yet, when I travelled to the inner city marketplace to shop, I used public transport.

  There was graffiti on the poorly maintained seats, litter under the benches.

  The announcement system was croaky, and the timetable all screwed up.

  So it was just like riding the trains underground back on Earth.

  Only the carriages flew aboveground, and were free of charge.

  Whispers and stares from the Rä didn’t bother me much.

  I was used to it, and I felt certain they’d become accustomed to the alien in their midst sooner or later.

  I took rambling walks across the green sand dunes using the twisting building spires as a roadmap if I happened to misplace my personal communicator.

  It had a lair locator beacon I found handy when completely turned about.

  On hotter rotations, where there were no clouds to lessen the sun’s burn, I explored the underground caves near the outskirts.

  I went as deep as my courage allowed, aware cave-ins were common and dangerous.

  The plant life I glimpsed in the caverns was breathtaking, and I swore once I wasn’t pregnant, I’d grab my males to go back and explore in depth.

  I thought the nature I’d seen out on the sand plains was beautiful.

  It was nothing compared to the beauty hidden underground.

  Rotations I was too tired to leave the lair, I taught myself how to cook, cleaned, and spent hours playing with the adorable Zýt, letting it lead me to its hidey-holes, and stroking it until its sinuous body writhed in paroxysms of delight.

  For the most part, my eyes were fixed in a state of rounded awe as I roamed my new home.

  Excitement became a familiar sensation as I gorged my senses on experiencing the regional culture; culture that thrilled even as it terrified me.

  Lured by the exotic beauty of Rök, I forgot the landscape, while extraordinary, was treacherous.

  It overflowed with perils my puny human body hadn’t evolved with, and was, therefore, in no way equipped to deal with unless vigilant.

  I had pregnancy fugue, so vigilant, I was not.

  One rotation, I failed to remember to activate the haze as I meandered off.

  I returned laden with parcels, calling a greeting to whoever was home.

  Waking from a nap, Venomous sauntered into the living enclosure.

  He greeted me with a sexy smirk that transformed into an expression of utter, unrelieved terror.

  Arms going slack, I dropped my burdens, eyes darting. “B-Babe?” I startled when he charged me, much like he did the first moment we met.

  Snatching me into his arms, he plucked me off the floor as a thumb-sized stinger struck the ground where my foot had been about to land.

  Heart skipping, wide-eyed, I slung my arms around his neck.

  I cringed at the fist-sized creature’s spiny bristles and snapping pincers. “What the hell is that thing?”

  “Viranid.” He kicked the scuttling, poisonous insect out the haze then solidified it with a nonchalant thought.

  The considerable weight of his disapproval crashed on me. “I have told you to be careful.”

  “But I didn’t even see it.”

  “Viranid have a natural camouflage.” Chest heaving as he struggled to calm, he shuddered at how close I’d come to a deadly sting. “They like the cooler atmosphere inside our lairs.” He’d set me down on the divan after he’d checked it over then searched the rest of the lair. He routed
four more of the insects. “Two were in the nest,” he informed me struggling not to shout. He cautioned me never to leave the haze open and unattended. “What if next time I am not here, Rä’Na? You must take more care.” He dry washed his face then ran his hands over his quills with a fatigued sigh. “Perhaps it is best if we install the hatchling haze early.”

  Face lowering, my cheeks heated. “I’m not a hatchling.”

  Without doubt, I didn’t want to be treated like one, not to mention precautionary measures of that nature would provide Fiercely ammunition not to tell me things.

  Chastened, more than freaked, I swore to be more careful.

  I was good, for a few cycles, but complacency relaxed my guard.

  As I tried to figure out what to do with my life, and explored my options, I grew interested in Rä husbandry, a trade falling into a subset of the Hunters Caste.

  While the Hunters were paid well by their clans to hunt fresh meat, commercial flocks were maintained as secondary provisions.

  These farmed droves were cultivated for emergencies.

  The Rä learned from their ancestors the adverse effects animal and crop monoculture caused their planet.

  It had endangered their survival as a species.

  So the Senate only allowed access to the herds in the direst of need, such as a plague in the undomesticated animals, or when the sandstorms that passed were so fierce, they disrupted the migratory habits of the wild game.

  I found the agricultural practice fascinating.

  As my new life had become about experiencing life to its fullest, and not taking anything for granted, I ventured farther from the safety of our district into the rural areas to learn more firsthand.

  Second moon waning, I observed friendly a’Rä shepherds as they drove a groaning herd of goodbeasts to a waterhole before being put out to pasture for the night.

  I trotted behind to watch the process from beginning to end, and decided it was too much physical labour to be suitable for me, but found it interesting nonetheless.

  Humming a tune I’d heard at a recent festival, I picked wild flowers growing from tufted blue grass.

  Dusk fell, casting purple shadows over the sand.

  Engrossed in the plants, and lulled by the sounds of nature, I didn’t see how dark it had become.

  Third moon crested the inky horizon before I took in my environs, and realised I needed to head home.