The only thing I care about tasting now is sitting beside me.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER THREE

OceanofPDF.com

NIKI

Relief shoots through me. The food is good, especially delicious after eating prepackaged space meals, and even though being the focus of all the hulking alien’s attention is slightly concerning, he’s been very respectful and polite.

He can clearly understand the words I’m saying, and tries to communicate back, despite the fact I have no idea what he’s saying. I hope my crew are remembering my order not to say anything stupid. A quick check shows they’re relaxing, too, all except Gen, who never relaxes, and our intel officer, Michelle, who’s analytical gaze misses nothing. Her face is uncharacteristically pale. She mostly ignores the alien sitting next to her, only doing the bare minimum of politeness.

Hmm. I’ll have to ask what it is she’s figured out as soon as this welcoming ceremony is over. Maybe it will help us get out of here quicker.

Draz holds up a pitcher of some kind of sparkling liquid, pouring it into a mug. When he pushes it at me, I try to take it from him.

He grins at me again, those sharp fangs flashing, and brushes my hands away.

Right. This again. Must be some kind of guest ritual—we offer you bread and water or whatever else, and that signifies some kind of secure place in their household while visiting. Makes sense, and I know several human cultures have similar principles.

He holds the cup up again, saying something guttural in a low voice, and I try to smile back at him.

This is weird. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but something about this entire shebang is completely and utterly off. There have been no welcoming speeches. No group activities. We’ve all been separated, paired up with a Suevan warlord apiece.

Though, perhaps the speeches will come after we’ve accepted their bread and salt or whatever, and they decide were worthy enough to bestow their sacred translator tech upon us.

So I let Draz of Edrobaz, the scarred warlord capable of tearing a spine out of his enemies, press the cup to my lips. I try not to think too hard about the spine thing as I take a sip.

It’s cool and refreshing, the taste somewhere between lemon and cucumber, and it’s welcome in the heat and humidity of the jungle.

He says something to me again, and I jerk back as he brushes his knuckles against my cheek.

“That’s a little too familiar, buddy,” the words snap out of me, surprising me. I eye the cup, wondering at the contents. Alcohol? Drugs? I feel… fizzier than I should. Lighter.

He makes a harsh barking sound, and I rear back, on guard, until I realize he’s laughing. He retracts his hand though, and it clenches into a fist on the table as he continues to talk.

He stands suddenly, holding his elbow out like he did when he escorted me from our ship, which still sits on one side of the clearing, the lights of whatever the strange floating lanterns are reflecting off the many silver solar panels. I blink, and a slight dizzy sensation washes over me.

The drums pick up, and I stand, letting Draz, the most fearsome Suevan warlord, tug me towards where the Suevans dance.

“I am not a good dancer,” I tell him.

He shrugs, muttering a harsh string of syllables I don’t have a chance of understanding. The rest of my crew are filing onto the polished surface, too, each led by the male that escorted them from our ship.

Draz grabs my hand, and I try to swallow down my instinct that screams something is wrong.

The Federation made it quite clear that if we were to succeed at this mission, at helping defend Earth by shoring up our defenses, that we had to win the Suevans over.

If that means a little harmless dancing, so be it.

Unfortunately, whatever was in that lemon and cucumber tasting drink must have been alcohol, because the familiar buzz of it turns my limbs loose, and suddenly, I’m smiling and clapping, imitating the huge warlord’s steps as best I can. Beside me, Bex is laughing, and even Gen has a slight foolish grin. Only Michelle stands still, her arms crossed on her chest, her face furious.

I need to check on her.

But the music is so good it seems to sweep me up in its embrace, my heart pounding in time to the intoxicating drums, and I push it away for a moment and just enjoy dancing.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER FOUR

OceanofPDF.com

DRAZ

My little female sets me on fire. Unaccustomed though she is to our mating dance, her body moves sinuously, her soft curves enticing.

And she said she was a bad dancer.

I would watch her dance like this for me, this mating dance, every night. Though she is not Suevan, the genetic information her people sent proved beyond a shadow of a doubt their species is compatible with ours. Lust rides me hard at the thought. A low growl tears from my throat, and swish my tail, knocking it against the back of her knees and bringing her closer into me.

Her breath gusts against my chest, and her pleased expression fades, replaced by wariness at my proximity.

I do not understand it. She has accepted my gift of food and wine, and she has performed my dance in front of our people. She should be eager to come to me now.

No matter. Perhaps this shyness is a way of her people. The more I think on it, the more it makes sense. They cover their delicate skin with primitive fabrics. They must be a conservative species.

I growl again, wrapping my hand around her soft waist. I want to rip that fabric from her body and spend the rest of the night exploring it.

The music dies, and my female moves to step away from me, but I hold her tight.

A small noise of protest sounds from the fragile column of her throat, but I point to the Suevan medic circulating, a platter of translators held in front of him.

“He will give you this, and then, when I say how much I desire you, you will finally understand my need for you.”

Her pretty eyes are round, and her throat bobs as she swallows. I watch the movement, fascinated by how fragile she is, that I can see the movement. Before I can think better of it, I run a finger down her throat, curious.

Instead of shying away this time, though, she watches me curiously, lips parted slightly.

Yes. This is good. This is more like it.

The medic hands a translator implant to Kanuz first, and everyone cheers as he takes it. The medic comes to me next, and I take the tech from him carefully. My woman watches with big eyes.

I motion for her to turn her head. Even her ears are insubstantial looking, thin veins visible along the incredibly soft shell of it.

“This will not hurt her?” I demand of the medic. I cannot imagine harm coming to this creature, would rather cut off my own hand than administer something to her that might mar her smooth flesh.

“No. We engineered it with the information her government sent. It will work. They’ll be fine.”

“It better,” I snarl at him. The medic ducks his head in a sign of respect, scurrying away as he seems to remember who he is speaking to.

“I am going to put this in your ear now, sweet wife,” I tell her. “He says it will not hurt.” I touch my own ear, trying to show her what’s going to happen.

Obediently, she tilts her head, allowing me access. Her thick brown braid slips over her neck, falling away down her back.

My cock strains against my pants. I yearn to claim her, to mark that smooth shoulder with my bite, and to make her fully mine. My mate.

I thought I would never have one, not after the virus that swept through our people devastated our female population.