With all the violent imagery on the walls above, the latter is much less likely.

“You said trap door?” she asks, her body tense once more. “I thought this place was a temple. A ruin. How the hell can there still be a functioning trap door? Not to mention, why would they even put one in a temple?”

“I cannot believe you understand me now, my flower. I have so much to tell you.”

She tugs at her earlobe. “I mean, I can mostly understand you, but I’m not sure why you’re calling me a flower. My name is Gen. Genevieve. Maybe that doesn’t translate. Is Gen a type a flower here?”

“It is now,” I tell her earnestly.

“Huh. Still some kinks to work out, I guess. What kind of translator is this anyway? It reminds me a little of the time Bex tried to bore me to death explaining machine learning and AI. From what I understood of it anyway.” Her voice trails off, contemplative.

Truly, I cannot believe how this female accepts things. Any of the other alien species I’ve taken to bed would have been screaming or crying now at being tossed into a dark, water filled pit, not to mention the Crigomar attack.

Gen simply soldiers on, tougher than many Suevan warriors I’ve fought beside. She will make a fine queen of my planet one day.

My quickly inflating pride bursts at the thought, replaced by self-loathing. If the separatists can be brought to heel, that is. Because at this point, if I do not figure out a solution to my planet’s political troubles, all I’ve won for Gen will be war and strife.

Maybe my father is right. Maybe I am not strong enough to rule. A low growl rips out of me, and Gen’s body goes taut against mine.

“What is it, Kanuz? Fuck, I wish I had my gun. Stupid diplomatic protocols.”

“We will find you a weapon,” I tell her. What I will find for her, I do not know. Another false promise. Another reason I’m not enough for the Suevans to unite behind.

“You will find me a big stick?” she replies, confusion lacing her tone.

I cannot help the chuckle that comes out of me. “Big stick? Is that what your translator says? When we reach my hometown of Perzivor, I will be having a long talk with our scientists about making improvements to this technology.”

It makes sense though, that they wouldn’t work correctly right away, considering we hold the secrets of our native tongue closely, the sacred truth-telling words something we do not share freely with other species.

Now though? Now, I wish we had spent more time on improving the symbiont that my entire world hinges on. Because, if I do not have my people united, I will have my Gen. And now that my wife can understand me, our quandary does not seem so very terrible.

Finally, my feet touch solid ground, and I heave a sigh of relief. “We’re at the shoreline.” I swing her up into my arms, the chamber we’ve fallen into so pitch black I can hardly make out her features, even with my excellent eyesight.

“Can you see in the dark?” I ask her, unsure about human vision.

“I wish,” she snorts. “No, I’m more than happy to have you use your big muscles and carry me around. The last thing I need is a broken leg. I’m not too proud to realize that.”

“Do not even joke about it,” I tell her. I flex my muscles, pleased she’s noticed their size. “I would not have any of your petals crushed, my flower.”

“Damn, just when I think this translator thing is working, it spits out the most random shit.” Her tone is resigned. “Unless you are, in fact, calling me a flower.”

“Why would I not call you a flower?” I ask. The water laps around my thighs now, and a shiver wracks Gen’s body. “You are the most stunning creature I have ever seen,” I tell her earnestly. It is true, too. “As Prince of Sueva, I have had my choice of consorts. All kinds of species, all considered beautiful. You eclipse them all, and I am truly proud to have selected you as my wife.”

She clears her throat, her fingers gripping my forearm more tightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I have tasted the delights of females from across the galaxy, but your nectar is all that interests me now, my flower.”

“My what?!”

I frown, irritated that the translator seems to be malfunctioning again. “Your honey. Your nectar. The juices of your pleasure. The sweetness between your legs.”

“What the fuck?” she whispers. I can barely see her face, but her eyes are wide and shining. She squirms against my grip, pushing against me.

I loose a low growl. “Do you want me to put you down and chase you? Is this the way of mated humans, my sweet wife? You enjoy the chase?”

“Wait. Wait.” She pushes her hand against my face.

Perhaps she wants me to lick it. Humans are strange. I press my tongue against her palm, and she lets out a small squeal of surprise.

“Stop,” she says. “Put me down.”

Confused, I do as she asks. In the dark, I can see her place her hands on her hips, a stern expression on her face at odds with the delectable scent of her arousal.

“I can smell you are ready to mate,” I tell her.

“Why… Why would you—” She holds up a hand. “You know what? I don’t want to know. What I want you to do, my fine scaled friend, is get us the hell out of here.” Gen plunks down on the ground, the water licking around her boots. She takes them off, dumping the liquid that’s pooled there out. A small fish wiggles free of one, but she appears not to notice.

I boggle at her, turning her words over in my head.

“What do you mean, you do not want to know? You do not want me to tell you of how I will bury my head between your legs and wring screams of pleasure from you?”

“Did you not just tell me all about how many other women you’ve had sex with? That’s not the compliment you think it is, my dude.”

“I do not know what this dude is you speak of. If that is what you want me to be to you, I will be it. And why would that not please you? I have practiced until I am very skilled with many kinds of females. I have never known a human female, but I am confident in my ability to lick your cunt.”

The perfume of her mating scent grows stronger. I smile to myself, my tail lashing behind me.

“A dude is just a word. A saying. Uh, kinda like friend. And I am not saying, ah, what you’re suggesting is a complete no,” she says thickly, “but we have several things we should discuss first, and I’m not doing any of that in the dark, in a ruined temple, with dinosaurs and prehistoric snake monsters lurking about.” A small laugh erupts from her. “Snake monsters.”

She mutters something about a one-eyed purple monster under her breath.

Disappointed but determined to do as she asks, I trudge up the gravelly shore, wracking my memory of what I was taught years ago about the ancients. There should be a light source around here. A glassy-textured wall looms before me, reflecting the dark and my own silhouette.

I trace the tips of my talons over it, searching for a clue as to what will illuminate the space. The ancients wanted their peers and heirs to marvel at their creations, trap doors and all. There will be a way to light this pit, I only have to find it.

“Do not worry, my wife, my sweet flower, I will find a way to bring light to this place, and then I will look upon you as you scream my name in hedonistic desire.”

“Wife?” Gen asks loudly from behind me, a note of something unfathomable in her voice. “Wife. What the fuck? I thought that was a translation fail. The fuck?!”

“We will,” I agree, pleased she’s decided to succumb to my mating overtures already. “You will be a treasured princess among my people once I am able to rescue you from this situation we find ourselves in.”

“Princess?” she asks, a weary note to her voice. “Is this like the flower thing? A cute name for your pet human? Can you just call me Gen? I’m trying to roll with the punches here, my dude, because frankly, there’s not a whole lot of other options available, but call me Gen.”