He had revealed nothing of what should be a warrior’s ability to control himself during clutch.
If he were a Scholar or an Artisan then perhaps he could say sentimentality overwhelmed practicality.
He could not.
He’d been trained to control his body’s responses since a hatchling.
He felt her disgust at what had happened, tasted it at the back of his throat, acidic, resentful.
It wounded him.
So he would do better and she would not lash out.
Yes, she is ugly, but she is mine.
She deserves the best of me as I do of her.
Clutch was shared in honour of life and its creation, and it pained him he could not comfort her with a vow to build her a larger lair, share with her the joy of her womb opening for him where he planted his seed.
Venomous snorted in disbelief at his thoughts.
How can I be so cruel as to bring newborn life into this place?
What was supposed to be the greatest moment of their lifecycle left him feeling replete in body but hollow in his soul.
It almost felt as if their coupling damaged her in a hidden way.
As if she hated him for joining them as was natural.
Venomous shook himself at his senseless thoughts to focus on what must be achieved.
It was early, most of the slaves had yet to rise, and now was the best time to gather nourishment; less than a span since the L’Odo dumped it.
He’d need as much variety as possible to tempt his mate into eating.
She was stunted, and her stomach rumbling through the night in hunger disturbed him.
Truth, her littleness unnerved him as his species was not sexually dimorphic, so he was not used to her frailty.
Though she was physically weaker he could tell some of it stemmed from a lack of rest and food.
He was impressed she’d fought him as long as she had the night before.
She had spirit, and more than proved she would be adept at protecting their egg should they be so blessed.
He touched her frail ankle. “Waken.”
When she did not stir, he gave her foot a gentle tug, careful to leash his strength.
The female made a low sound.
Eyes fluttering open, she groggily peered around.
Her eyes were bizarre, her pupils round, black, and circled by a colour he’d previously seen only on hard-stones mined from the deepest caves on this L’Odo slave planet.
This attribute of the alien Venomous found pleasing.
The stones were transparent, treasured, and greatly expensive, which was why the L’Odo enslaved other species to extract them.
The volatile caverns were dangerous, and they considered themselves a superior genus, too precious to waste digging in the dirt.
Erratic, her eyes slid side to side.
Wispy filaments on her arms lift as they settled on him, and her breathing coarsened as her eyes leaked clear fluid.
She pushed onto her hands and knees then scrambled back until she hit the wall.
Venomous hissed, his tongue snatching at the air, tasting her fear.
He waited for her to calm then greeted her with a big, welcoming smile. “Good rising.”
When she whimpered, eyes locked on his mouth, he exhaled, nice and slow, then tried again reason with the creature, his mate, stooped at his feet.
Filthy, covered in dirt and bodily fluids, she huddled in the corner.
It was a pitiful sight, one he never imagined of his honoured Rä’Na, and her fear grated on his nerves.
What have I done to deserve her hysterical behaviour?
He bred her and ensured his protection for life.
Was he too optimistic to think his mate would be pleased by him?
Perhaps she did not understand what he offered?
The nonsensical thought irritated him.
How could she not know?
Some things went beyond the divide of species.
Male takes female.
It was elemental, as deep-seated a need as air and water was to survival.
He wished she’d cease to act like a backwater savage and attempt to communicate as an enlightened being so they might move forward.
Snatching up the smooth cylinder containing the last of his liquids, he frowned.
Judging by her wet insides and supple flesh, she needed hydration much more than he did.
Crouching, he pushed the canister of sweet water to her mouth. “Drink.”
Sucking cushioned lips into her mouth, she turned then pressed her rounded forehead to the wall.
Venomous growled.
Drawing her knees to her chest, she lashed out a hand, knocking the canister from his grip.
It skidded across the floor to clang against the worktable.
Tangled filaments obscured her subtle features as the female rocked back and forth.
She breathed in ragged pants that spoke of her terror as did her dilated pupils, empty expression and trembling limbs.
Annoyed by this irrational response, Venomous crossed his upper arms, lower hands fisting.
His tongue flickered at the seam of his lips, and tasted a range of emotions that translated to a state of denial.
He’d long come to terms with his slavery, but his mate did not acknowledge the reality of her new existence.
It took solars before his defiance had changed to weary acceptance, so he could relate.
Expression gentling, he gazed at her with compassion.
The alien was strange to his eyes, unattractive compared to Rä females, but he had seen uglier specimens.
The brown membrane that covered her was not so deviant from the tawny umber of his anima though his under hide was paler, more similar to the membranes on her palms and the soles of her feet.
Her filaments were unlike any he’d felt, not fur and not bristles.
Aliens he’d come into contact with in the mines called the filaments hair.
The kinky strands sprouted from her cranium, on her brow ridges, around her eyes and grew around her female core.
There were many curious textures on the female.
Mostly so very, very smooth.
Intrigued as he was to explore her, he felt no leave to touch.
Much to his surprise, his desire to do so was strong, and grew stronger with each moment he passed in her company.
She offended a traditional sense of beauty, but she did attract his sexual interest.
Venomous’ eyes narrowed.
Does that make me perverted?
How could it when she was his?
His fingers twitched as he imagined stroking all that softness at his leisure.
Strange thoughts swirled inside his mind, but he didn’t suppress them.
I want to hold her.
Indeed, he longed to caress the soft curve of her face and without thinking, he reached to touch her.
Jerking, he closed his hand into a fist then pulled it back.
Rä were not overly affectionate as a species, the occasional touch between mates was expected in private, and rubbing mandated during clutch.
Certain touches were encouraged, but at no point was it considered normal to yearn to make prolonged bodily contact.
He stared at the mass of curling, coiling filaments that sprouted from her head and flowed across her neck and shoulders.
The colour had many names.
It reminded him of the universe, the colour left behind by empty space.
He wanted to run the mass through his claws to see if it was as soft and dense as it appeared.
Gem eyes glittered with emotion as they connected with his.
They jerked to the canister he retrieved then back to his face.
She moistened her lips.
Her pink tongue had a rounded tip.
It was an anomaly to him, but not, he admitted, as unattractive as he’d first considered.
He tried again to wean her onto the sweet water and felt a
ggravation when rebuffed. “You thirst. Why do you not drink?”
Again her eyes darted to the canister then roamed the lair before returning to the cylinder as she licked her parched lips.
The blatant distrust of her environment kindled suspicion in Venomous.
A Rä’Na of his birth world outside of the Warriors Guild would never worry her refreshment was unclean.
She would expect her mate to have provided well for her.
His mate’s dramatic change in circumstance and the battle to win her might have brought her to the conclusion he was too brutish to know how to care for a mate.
After all they could not communicate as free-thinking beings!
He had traded his hardsuit solars ago for machine parts.
Such things allowed sentient beings to judge the technological advances of a race at a glance.
Judging by how she stared and gulped at his gold, she found such displays of virility and strength primitive, in addition to being unnerved by his size and physical differences.
He found her strange to his eyes, so the reverse must be true.
Yes, he was certain her intelligence matched his as her reactions indicated a strong, stubborn personality.
If they could speak to each other they would do better.
Venomous understood he might appear hostile from her perspective, so his offer of water would rouse suspicion.
Holding her gaze, he put the canister to his lips and drank.
Again, he offered the cylinder.
Slender fingers tipped with flimsy, translucent claws snatched it from his grip.
He chuckled as his mate struggled to understand the push and suckle mechanism needed to release the sweet water, but she reasoned with gratifying swiftness.
Soon she gulped the nourishment, her malleable cheeks hollowing.
She paused only to swallow and breathe.
Her gaze alternated between his face and her surroundings in panicked flicks, and the apprehension causing the anxious movement proved distressing to his anima.
It rippled across his scales in a gold-tinged rainbow.
She froze, watching his scales with wide eyes.
Venomous shuffled back a step to give her space, show he meant no harm.
Though she did not drink from his hand as was proper, she drank, and that was good enough.
He shifted from his knees to his buttocks then placed both palms on the floor exposing the backs of his hands to maintain a visual communication of nonviolent intent.
He returned the female’s blank stare with one of his own.
She responded better to his lack of expression and silence.
Venomous began to think she did not like it when he smiled or tried to share amusements with her.
Or perhaps a smile did not mean the same to her as it did him?
Soon her desperate, dry sucks at the canister echoed off the walls.
“More will come.” He pulled the empty canister from her grasp and met no resistance. “We will visit the fountain. One thing they do not keep from us is water. Gladiators make Sorkbhal no credits if they die of dehydration while mining for the wealth of the L’Odo home world.” He set the canister between his legs then crossed them. “I am appreciative of this now. Your skin is fragile. You need watering often in the dry heat, I think.”
Remaining silent, her eyes narrowed.
He found them striking, beautiful even, and when she understood him he would tell her so.
Perhaps he’d been judgemental and hasty when he called her ugly.
There was much to enjoy in her alien shape.
“I know you cannot understand me,” he muttered, “but that will change.” Venomous rose and left the female cowering in her corner. He reached the slab of rock that acted as a door then motioned her to come. “You cannot stay here alone. The others fear me, but not enough to ignore the temptation of stealing you. I must not make it easy.”
He waited with all the patience and grace he could gather and again motioned her to his side.
He had no desire to drag her around, and carrying her was not good.
He needed his hands free to fight to protect her.
Venomous grew weary of waiting and dropped his gaze to the floor in resignation.
Straightening his shoulders, he readied himself to deal with her pathetic blows and shrill noises as he manhandled her into doing what was necessary.
He did not want to, he hated her fear, but there were things they must do to survive the harsh environment.
Her reticence in approaching him did not make the burden of her protection easier to bear.
Small feet padded across the dirt floor.
She warily advanced, eyeing him as if he were a wild animal known to bite.
Venomous controlled the surge of joy that urged him to sweep her up and press her to his hearts.
His movement was faster than hers and he tended to frighten her when he acted on impulse.
Nostrils flaring, his tongue flicked out and lingered to curl and clasp at the air.
A curious fragrance as alien as her appearance drenched his taste receptors.
The alien’s scent was cold, tingly mentha bloom with salt mineral overtones.
It wasn’t more pleasant than the burnt, spicy smell of the Rä, merely different.
The waterfalls found below the surface of Rök had a similar etherish fragrance, but hidden caves and glorious subterranean caverns that stretched for land leagues, and were filled with ecological systems unable to thrive in the scorching heat aboveground is where the main body of her aroma could be found.
What grew in these havens on delicate, blue creepers was the mentha bloom, a leafy plant energizing to scent and taste.
Those caves had been a source of great joy during his youth, and he’d always brought home a fistful of mentha for his father to season the meat for high meal.
His female smelt like Rök salts, cold water and his favourite fresh cut herb.
To Venomous, she was a piece of home.
She stopped a pace from him, and her gaze steadily moved over his body.
Strange colour suffused the lower layers of her brown membrane when she reached his groin.
His seed stem was exposed, it would always be now that he was male, and would reach full maturity within another half-rotation.
Waking from his sleep to growing pains, he’d looked down and fretted that her tight body would reject him once it grew to full size.
To his relief his growth slowed, and he was sure with preparation she could take him in at least one of her vents.
This calmed his fears she would suffer during his seeding.
Already he could feel the fires heating his blood, the tightening of his sac.
Am I pleasing to her view?
His chest puffed out and he widened his stance to show his physique to its advantage.
It was his wish that she took pleasure from examining his form with her eyes.
She might grow bolder, and continue her exploratory perusal with her hands.
He felt a dart of disappointment when his preening met with a shuffling of her feet, and an alarming heating of skin.
Excessive touch was not a Rä trait, but he’d hoped his mate’s species took a more tactile approach to affection.
“There is danger outside.” He pointed hoping his message would penetrate her uncertainty. “You must not leave my side.” He clasped her squashy hand between his then ducked his head to level their gazes.
It was peculiar to look down on a female.
Lowering his body to meet hers yielded a more natural result to his mind, which expected his female to be equal with him in all things.
“Stay with me and no harm will come to you,” he promised squeezing her hand to physically convey his pledge of protection.
At her return squeeze, he thought she understood him as her head bobbed in what he assumed was a gesticulation of agreement.
She said something with an attitude that co
uld be obedient, or highly offensive, who knew?
He gave into an urge to run his claws through her cranial filaments.
She shied at his touch, but did not stop him.
Encouraged by her lack of trepidation, he feathered his finger pads though the soft mass, taking care not to sever the delicate strands with his claws.
He kept his secondary hands behind his back, fighting the temptation to grab hold of her and explore to the content of his hearts.
As she remained docile, so far as to lean into him, he broadened the contact to a gentle sweep of his knuckles across her cheek.
It was an intimate gesture of affection most Rä’Vek indulged in after many solars of a happy union.
It pleased him she did not flinch, or think him overzealous.
She caught his hand and said something in her melodious voice.
When he angled his head sideways to indicate amusement, she looked stressed and pointed to her stomach.
Shapely legs crossed, she hopped from foot to foot.
He realised she needed to expel wastewater, a function not inherent in Rä, but he’d witnessed in other species since his enslavement.
Patting the juncture of her thighs to show he understood, he turned and shoved aside the heavy black rock.
Dawn had yet to come.
Moist air and the pungent scent of jungle billowed through the opening.
A knife thrust from the shadows.
He grabbed the shank aiming for his neck then yanked the malefactor close enough to wrap another hand around its throat.
The emaciated Zozon squealed, its many eyes blinking in its sallow face.
Zozon were a nonviolent species from a world with a lower point of gravity.
Their planet’s temperate atmosphere and gentle terrain developed the bipeds physically inferior to the warrior species that originated from the more hostile worlds.
Often the slaves forgot they came from nations of great honour.
They had forgotten there was more to life than digging in the dirt, fighting for dominance, and trading flesh to mount or eat depending which hunger reigned fiercer.
It should not have challenged him.
Venomous snapped the Zozon’s spindly neck then spun at his mate’s horrified shriek.
Tensing, he expected her to fly at him in a fearsome rage.
She kicked the unclean blade from the limp, three-fingered hand across the lair then looked to him, concerned for his wellbeing.