Red Sands: Warlords of Atera

by Kyle, Celia

  “The Living Baths are a natural wonder of the Living Sands. The richest of the green sands meet the purest of waters from the south,” Traze explained. “Immersing oneself in them will heal any injury, short of death. Healing Sands are created from the Baths though they are not as potent as the source.”

  Traze’s attention turned back to Drazan. “If the injured females are not permitted to accompany us south, many will die. Perhaps not today, but in turnings as the infections spread and injuries worsen, they will die. The Aterans of the Living Sands are their only hope.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sheri refused to be brushed aside. “And what happens after they get better?” She wasn’t going to wait around for Drazan to coax the truth out of the warlord. “What will their lives be like? Will they become servants? Slaves? Will they be free?”

  Traze growled, his words for Drazan, not Sheri. “Your female dishonors me, Drazan. To believe I would bring harm to the gifts from Eana…”

  Hadn’t she said they weren’t gifts?

  Drazan spoke over her, his voice strained. “Forgive me, Warlord Traze.” If Drazan’s body language was any indication, Sheri figured the red-hued alien struggled not to draw a blade on the other alien. “She is unfamiliar with our ways. She does not mean to insult but is concerned for her companions. She wishes to protect them.”

  Traze pressed his thin lips together and nodded. “Very well. The other gifts will not be harmed. If they wish to go elsewhere, they will be granted passage. But if recent events are any indication, I expect many of my warriors will find their kode among the females.”

  Sheri crossed her arms over her chest and stepped further into sight. “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here.”

  Drazan glanced at her. “He is acting with honor, my kode. To address you without permission would be an insult.”

  She grunted and tossed her head back to flick a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Talking to me like I’m a person is an insult? Hmph.”

  The blue alien kept his stare on Drazan though his words were for her. “It would be presumptuous for me to speak to another warrior’s kode. I would not wish to intrude nor would I have done so were the situation not dire.”

  She harrumphed. In a way she was both insulted and almost honored by his explanation. It was almost as though he treated her like a queen—saying he wasn’t worthy of talking to her. As if he were beneath her. But at the same time, the implication was that this wasn’t because of her but rather because she was connected to Drazan as his kode. Whatever that meant. Every time she asked, he managed to dodge the question. Did it mean slave? Or… dare she even think… did it mean wife?

  “I’m no one’s kode.” She raised her chin. “Not… unless I choose to be.”

  Traze smirked and let out what she now identified as an Ateran laugh—a deep, rhythmic hiss. “Your female is strange. I look forward to discovering if the others are so… spirited.”

  “Leave us.”

  “Very well.” Traze turned toward the tent flaps. “I will depart in the morning. We must make haste to the Living Sands. I will take nine. The rest, you may do with as you wish.”

  The moment they were alone once more, Sheri raised her arms in the air with frustration. “You make no sense! You talk about us as if we’re these special gifts to be honored and protected, right? Then he says ‘you may do with us as you wish’? We’re not property. We have rights, you know.”

  “If we wished to treat you poorly,” Drazan growled at her, “do you believe you could stop us? What power do you have?” He spread his arms widely. “One might believe you would show gratitude for our hospitality.”

  “Hospitality?” she echoed. “Hospitality?” she repeated the word. “Is it hospitality to be carted off without any explanation? Or to take other women away without any of us getting a say?”

  Drazan crossed his arms over his broad, muscular chest. “Very well. You may have it as you wish. I will instruct Traze to leave the other women here. In a few days, when they begin to die, you may explain that it was you who chose to separate them from the only help available.”

  Sheri opened her mouth to scream at Drazan with her mounting frustration and then snapped it closed once again. Instead, she chose to turn her back on him while she struggled to calm her racing heart. He had to be the most infuriating male—alien or otherwise—she had ever met. It wasn’t even his temper or the way he growled whenever she stood up to him. He was just so… so… frustrating.

  Half of what he said was sweet and protective and turned her into mush. Then he would turn around and spout some illogical crap. She supposed it was at least partially due to the difference between their mindsets. They were aliens to each other—literally. He was raised with a different set of customs, traditions and moral beliefs, but she didn’t believe that was much of an excuse for some of his more barbaric thoughts.

  How did Ateran females respond to this sort of behavior? Did they simultaneously allow the males to pamper and control them? The males made all of the decisions while treating them like queens? Or perhaps they had a subtler approach? Her mother used to tell her that a woman had the power in a relationship through subtle means. Men boasted and bragged, but women were coy and seductive—making the men think they called the shots.

  She snorted. She’d never known how to be that sort of person. With her ex, she had simply obeyed him out of fear. Until now, she knew fear was a big part of the reason she hadn’t truly defied Drazan. She stood up to him a few times but ended up backing down. Yelling hadn’t gotten her anywhere either. Maybe she could find a subtler way to control the situation. To get what she wanted while letting him think it was all his idea.

  Sheri prepared herself for a performance worthy of an intergalactic Oscar. She hung her head and pretended to be cowed. This approach was better than nothing, even if she had doubts about whether it’d work.

  “You must understand, my kode.” Drazan brushed the back of a finger across her shoulder. “We seek what is best for you. You are gifts from the goddess, sent to us, helpless, that we might serve and protect you. I can only protect you if you follow my words. Tomorrow we will venture to the Red Sands. My home—your home, now. It is for the best. I assure you.”

  Tears stung her eyes, but she held them back. “And the other women? They’re frightened and confused. They’ll need guidance to understand.”

  Drazan gently touched her back, his malleable scales rubbing along her spine. “You shall travel with them as we journey to the Red Sands. You are a true leader and they will find reassurance in your words. I am confident that you will convince them this is the best action.”

  “And if any of them want to leave?”

  Drazan hesitated. “I will not stop them, but you should ask where they would go. Where we will take them, they will have food, water, and shelter. All of their needs will be met. Not an easy task in the fields of the desert. They will want for nothing. What more could they ask for?”

  To go home, Sheri thought, but she didn’t say the words aloud. There was no point. There was a good chance she would never leave this planet. She had to accept that and make the best of the situation.

  “Rest, Sheri of Earth.” Drazan eased away from her. “Traze’s decision leaves me in a difficult situation I must now deal with. You will be safe here until I return. If you have need of anything, ask my warriors and they will provide for you.”

  She couldn’t come up with any worthwhile protest or reason for him to take her with him. Dammit. “All right.”

  She settled on the tanned hide covering floor, not taking her attention off Drazan as he gathered a few items before leaving the tent—and her. She didn’t know what he planned next or how it would affect her. All she could hope for was that she found a way to guide him to do the right thing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Drazan stalked across the Heart Sands encampment, passing tent after tent occupied by lone Aterans and new couples alike. Many eyed him with curiosity while o
thers ducked their heads to whisper as he passed.

  He ignored them all.

  No doubt word had traveled, the gifts from Eana spoken about in low murmurs. He had been a fool to think he could keep their arrival a secret. They knew he had found his kode among the gifts, as well. Some would mock him for such a thing—a warlord who could not find a kode among his own kind—while others envied him, viewing Sheri as proof the goddess gave him her favor.

  He did not care for their thoughts. His mind was consumed with Sheri. He longed to return to the tent and lay at her side, but he had a task to complete first.

  Drazan approached the tents of the Hard Sands warriors. Like his own tribe, they erected a communal tent where males could greet the eligible females, all the while praying to Eana that one stirred his blood. Outside this tent he located the warlord of the Hard Sands, Nakan. A gray-scaled Ateran, he was taller than Drazan though not as wide and bulky. Quite young, he still needed years to harden his scales to life. His father, the former warlord of the Hard Sands, had recently fallen in battle, leaving the younger male to lead the tribe. Drazan had dealings with Nakan since he had become warlord, but this meeting during Ulmur was their first formal interaction—one warlord to another.

  “Drazan, warlord of the Red Sands.” Nakan straightened as Drazan approached. “You honor me with your presence but insult me by refusing to speak with me before now. I sent a delegation to your camp and you turned them away. We must discuss the gifts from Eana.”

  “That is the reason for my presence.” He grimaced, a sour taste coating his tongue. His pride would be wounded by his next words. “Traze, warlord of the Living Sands, is taking one-third of the human females to the south. They need the Living Baths if they are to survive. His tribe is the only one that can tend their needs.”

  Nakan raised his chin. “Then a third should travel with me to the Hard Sands. You may have the right to first claim, but that does not give you the right to keep them all. Word has traveled that you found your kode among the alien females as have several of your warriors. Your tribe has spent enough time with the females to know that their kode is not among the remaining unclaimed. Those who found their kode among the humans have been blessed.” Nakan gestured to the sprawling Heart Sands encampment, where dozens of other communal tents remained. There were many more females waiting to be claimed—Ateran females. “Those who have not know their kode is to be found elsewhere.”

  Drazan had kept his warriors guarding the human females and had yet to allow them to search the remainder of the grounds, if only to keep the gifts safe. But Nakan was correct. Each of Drazan’s warriors had presented himself to every eligible human. To his knowledge, only a handful had found their kode as he had. The remaining females, by right of custom and will of the goddess, must surely be destined for others. Perhaps others would be of the Hard Sands.

  As much as he detested giving up any of the goddess’ gifts, he did not believe it was her will that he take them all to the Red Sands. There, they would only find loneliness. All eligible males of mating age were in the Heart Sands now for Ulmur, the only ones left in the Red Sands were those who were already mated or too young for a mate. To hide females from the potential mates of other tribes would be a travesty. And, he admitted to himself, a defiance of the will of Eana.

  “I will make the remaining females available to you and your warriors,” Drazan spoke though he was unable to meet Nakan’s eye. “There are conditions.”

  Nakan’s gaze narrowed. “What conditions?”

  “The females do not know of our ways. Even those who have been chosen do not show the proper signs. They display no mating scales. They do not behave as females ripe for quickening should. They are hesitant to accept our gifts and attention. They must be… guided into accepting their new life. This includes postponing the bonding until they are prepared.”

  The nearby warriors muttered among themselves and Nakan’s eyes went from narrowed slits to wide. Then a gleeful grin stole across the gray-hued warlord’s lips. “Are you stating that the great Drazan—warlord of the Red Sands—has not yet bonded with his kode?”

  The warriors laughed and Drazan growled, fists clenched. It took every ounce of control to resist the urge to draw his blade and strike the fools down where they stood.

  I must respect the Heart Sands. I must respect the time of Ulmur.

  “They have different customs.” He forced himself to remain civil. “They do not wish to bond right away. They do not wish to be ‘used.’ I believe that in their culture, it is for the females to decide when the time for bonding has been reached. Males are required to wait.”

  More mutters came from the guards and it caused his scales to twitch. He raised his voice so many could hear him. “Since that is the way of the gifts from Eana, we should honor their customs. Surely, if that is the way of Eana’s distant worlds beyond the stars, it is her will and is to be obeyed.”

  The other Aterans fell into silence. No doubt they worried they would fall out of the goddess’ favor if they did not respect these new customs.

  “Very well,” Nakan spoke after taking a moment’s thought. “We will embrace these new ways. Perhaps it is a sign from the goddess. A warning that Ateran females may someday behave in the same way—teasing their males instead of luring them in and embracing them in passion.”

  Drazan could not blame the warriors who still appeared uneasy. It went against every mating tradition they held, but then everything had changed the moment they learned how different the Aterans and humans truly were.

  “I will order our communal tent open to your people.” Drazan tipped his head toward the location of his warriors. “Those already claimed as kode to one of my warriors will be taken to private tents and your warriors may present themselves to the remaining females to see who may stir their blood.”

  “It shall be so,” Nakan agreed.

  Drazan turned and left, ready for their conversation to be at an end. It had been difficult to let the remaining females go, but he had no choice.

  He found himself stalking the grounds once more, uncertain where his feet led him. Every instinct demanded he return to his tent and bond with Sheri, to take her without hesitation. Except, while he did not yet understand much of the human’s ways, he did understand she did not wish to bond. Not yet. Which only served to leave him frustrated and confused. He did not know how to respond to denial.

  He passed other tents, tipping his head in greeting to lesser warlords. Drazan might lead all of the Red Sands, but there were many other lesser warlords—each with their own tribe, which deferred to Drazan’s, for he had proven himself in battle against all leaders in the Hard Sands, earning their loyalty. Custom dictated Drazan would only lead the other tribes directly during times of war, uniting the Red Sands under one banner.

  He consulted with a few of the lesser warlords, inquiring after their tribes, and offering his assurance of aid should they find themselves in need. He congratulated those Aterans who had found their kode on this day. Some were experiencing their first Ulmur while others their fifth or sixth. For many years, Drazan had wondered if he was somehow inadequate. This was his seventh Ulmur and only now had he discovered his kode. Now he knew the goddess had simply kept him waiting until Sheri arrived from beyond the stars.

  When he finally returned to his tent, he discovered Sheri there, sleeping peacefully on a mound of furs. Only a light blanket covered her lush form, not nearly enough to protect her from the frigid temperatures of the desert night.

  He crawled onto his pallet beside her and cradled her from behind until they touched from chest to ankles. In her sleep she responded to the touch, easing her body more firmly against him. Her well-rounded backside rubbed against him, teasing his mating slit and causing his blood to stir once more. Urges built within and he grew hard within his mating pouch. His length hardened and flexed against the sheath.

  Drazan closed his eyes and fought against his urges that demanded he let his desire have fre
e reign. It was his duty as her mate and right as a male, but she made her wishes clear. Wishes he must respect.

  Sheri squirmed against him once more, her neck curving and drawing closer to his lips. On instinct his forked tongue slipped out. It glided along her slender throat and the taste of her sent shivers through his body. She tasted of home—of bright suns across the sky and cool desert nights. He pressed his lips to her skin and exposing his fangs, nipped her ever so lightly.

  A soft moan escaped her, and she pressed into his scaled flesh. She was soft, unlike a hard-scaled Ateran female. Her body was warmer than an Ateran’s as well. Her pulsating warmth stoked the fires in Drazan’s loins, making him struggle for control even more.

  She whimpered and grinded her backside into his hips as she slept, and the scent of her arousal coated his tongue until he was filled with lust. Surely, he told himself, if she responded so easily to his touch she was ready to bond with him.

  He drew her even closer, his length straining his mating slit near to bursting. It would not take much more for that part of him to break and release his hardness for his first ever mating. Not much at all.

  Except that was the moment Sheri stiffened and released a startled gasp. She twisted in his arms, soft hands going to his chest.

  “I can scent your need,” Drazan spoke softly, forked tongue flicking out to gather more of her flavors. “It is good that you are ready to mate with me. It is long past time.”

  “Oh, hell no.” She shook her head and pushed him away. She pulled a hide over herself as if tanned ceaq would protect her. “That’s not happening.”

  Confusion overtook him. “But I can smell your need.”

  Her face reddened almost to the same color as his scales. “You can smell my…” Her face scrunched and she covered her mouth with the hide.

  Drazan reached for her. “It is our destiny, Sheri of Earth. The goddess sent you to me.”