by Kyle, Celia
When he felt as if he had conquered the raging fire in his blood, he reached for the door, nudging it open and striding into his rooms.
Empty rooms.
Perhaps it was only the entry area that lacked his kode’s presence. He decided she was elsewhere within the suite. Perhaps she played a game with him and hid, hoping to tease a smile from him. His sire and life giver often did such. Yes, that had to be the reason she did not wait for his return.
He stalked through the adjoining rooms, searching the bathing room as well as the sleeping chamber. He explored the balcony and even went into those prepared for his young—should he and Sheri breed.
Those rooms were like the first—empty.
Drazan stomped back into the hall and stopped the first warrior he encountered. “Where is my kode?”
“Warlord?” The guard frowned.
He shoved the warrior against the wall and pinned him in place with a forearm to the throat and his bulk. He snarled and bared his teeth. “My kode! She was to be brought to my quarters. Why is she not here?”
“I… I do not know, Warlord.” The warrior’s red-hued eyes flicked around the hallway, staring at anything but Drazan. “I can search for her, if you wish.”
Drazan snorted and shoved the guard aside. He strode down the hall, searching for one of the Aterans who had accompanied him to the Heart Sands. The rest of the warriors in the stronghold likely were unaware that he had found his kode, though he did not doubt that rumors already spread across the city. Within a few rises he was sure the city would be abuzz with the news. Not only that he had found his kode, but also that she was from the stars.
He strode out of the building and found Telu overseeing the care of the ceaqs. Drazan reached the male, grabbed his arm and hauled him away from the stables. “Where is my kode? I ordered you to bring her to my chambers. She is not there!”
Telu cowered for a moment before straightening and standing tall—showing Drazan exactly why Telu and not another was his second. Telu respectfully feared and loyally served him. Though the current circumstances made him question that loyalty.
“She is with the other human females, Warlord.”
“What? Why? I gave an order. I expect my orders to be followed.” Drazan clenched and unclenched his fists.
“She insisted, Warlord. She is your kode, Lady of the Red Sands. I was compelled to obey.”
Drazan gritted his teeth and growled before spinning on his heel. He stomped across the red sands toward the barracks where the human females were to be kept. When he arrived, he found that—yet again—his orders had not been followed. There was no warrior guarding the entry. Was this how his rule was to be now that he had his female? Disorganized? Seeing that his warriors had abandoned their posts filled him with an even greater rage. He threw open the door and stormed inside, gaze scanning the interior in search of his one.
Once inside, he discovered something he had not expected. Not just the warriors on duty, but several males were inside, seated on the floor near some of the human females or lounging in the seating area alongside them. The guards stared at the females, attention wholly on the humans as they asked question after question about the humans’ Earth. The females, for their part, seemed to enjoy the attention. Some even laughing as they shared stories of their world.
Not spying Sheri, Drazan’s frustration mounted, and he sought an outlet for his rising fury. He stalked to the nearest warrior, grabbed the male’s bicep, and hauled him to his feet. “You are derelict in your duties, warrior. You are meant to guard these females, not fraternize.”
“But… Warlord…” The warrior’s attention bounced between Drazan and the female he had been sitting near. The male’s scales flushed dark, body trembling, and Drazan easily recognized the signs. The guard experienced the same stirring of his blood that Drazan had experienced for the past two days.
Experienced and had not yet been soothed by his kode.
“Useless,” Drazan shoved the warrior aside. The male slammed into the wall and tumbled to the floor in a heap.
The females screamed, several scurrying away from Drazan. The female the guard had been speaking to then rushed to the fallen warrior’s side, kneeling next to him and gently touching his face.
She looked up at Drazan and snarled like a true Ateran female just before she shouted at him. “Leave him alone, you monster!”
Drazan clenched and unclenched his fists. Some rational part of his mind reminded him he could not punish the warrior for his actions. If this female was the warrior’s kode, he was as helpless to her charms as Drazan was to Sheri’s. Yet in his rage, he did not care to listen to reason. Not when his kode remained parted from him. He blamed all the guards fraternizing with the females when they were meant to act as guards.
He took a step forward, intent on beating the warrior until he was conscious again so he could reveal Sheri’s location. Then he would beat the male until he passed out once more. The only thing that saved the male from further injury was the sound of his kode’s voice.
“Drazan, leave him alone!”
He spun and found his Sheri, his tiny kode striding across the room from the bathing rooms. Her fists were clenched, and her glare was as hot and fierce as his own. She stared at him as if he was not the warlord of the Red Sands.
He crossed to her with long, strong strides, intent on feeling her supple skin beneath his scales once again, but she was not quick to give him what he desired. She screamed and ducked behind one of the bunks.
Which he easy knocked aside, letting it crash to the ground. When she dove behind another, he tossed it aside as well, as if it was a speck of sand. Before she made it to a third, he gripped her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. Just that simple touch, no matter how innocent, sent a surge of fire to his groin.
Ah, how his kode stirred him.
Sheri shouted and beat her fists against his scales, but he hardly felt the blows—his back scales thickened by battle and abuse.
He carried her out the door, determined to secure her in his quarters and then explore her body—as was his right.
The warriors he passed darted out of his way as he stalked through the halls with Sheri over his shoulder. She shouted and snarled at him, demanding he release her, but he was beyond reason. He had found his kode, lost her, and had found her once more. He would not let another moment pass where they did not become one.
Drazan threw open the door to his quarters and stepped inside, slamming the door shut in his wake so hard the walls shook. He retraced his path of only moments ago, stalking the interior of his suite until he reached the sleeping chamber. Not stopping until he stood beside the sleeping surface, he tossed her onto its softness.
“No!” she snarled and crawled to the other side of the large platform. “Leave me alone.”
Leave her alone? Never. He could not. She was his one, his kode. He could cease living easier than he could leave her. He had attempted to give her space as he met with his staff, but…
But it took one glance at her features to douse the burning in his blood. Tears escaped her eyes and her breaths came in billowing heaves of her lungs, her ample chest rising and falling with each panicked breath. She appeared weak and helpless, so close to being broken, and it struck him that her fear and vulnerability were… utterly his fault.
He froze in place for a moment and then turned away from her, presenting her with his back as he struggled to bank his rage and the fiery need in his heart. He had done it once more—lost control and filled his mate with fear. This was not how an honorable warrior behaved around his kode. He was meant to be both caring and attentive, even subservient to her desires. He had attempted to be those things she needed and yet he failed. Utterly. Completely. Totally.
Part of the cause was his biology, the urges hard-wired into every Ateran male from birth. He was denied the thing that was written into his very blood, the mating urge that drove all males during Ulmur. He had no idea how to deal with the fr
ustration that was brought by finding his kode but not becoming one with her.
Though he also knew that denial was no excuse for his behavior. His rage was his fault, not Sheri’s.
He sought the words to explain all, but he had no clue where to even begin. He turned and stared at her for a moment—her tear-stained face and pale flesh—then spun and walked away. He had to put space between them. For now, he hoped the bathing chamber was enough and he went there, ensuring the door closed in his wake.
Locked away, he allowed his rage to have free reign. He smashed and destroyed all within the bathing chamber, nothing left untouched by his fury. He could not control his anger, but at least he could control how he channeled the burning needs until they were spent.
Then, and only then, could he give his female what she deserved—his love, care, and service.
Chapter Sixteen
The bathroom door slammed shut with a resounding thud, the force making the wall tremble and vibrations travel through the floor. She cringed with the deep sound and remained frozen in place, watching and waiting for what was to come next. Then crashes and the shattering of pottery reached her ears—Drazan destroying the space—and she moved to duck behind the other side of the bed. She held her breath and kept her eyes on the door, expecting him to reappear at any moment. Reappear and take his anger out on her? She hoped not. She was no match for the alien warlord. Something she should remember when she felt like arguing with him. He was just so… gah!
Soon the noises died out, the bangs and clangs no longer reaching her through the door, but still she remained in place. She would wait. And then wait some more. He would reappear, and she didn’t want to be caught out in the open. She stayed frozen in her spot, curled into a small ball. Except, after a few minutes, he hadn’t returned and part of her was… sad about his absence. Which was just plain dumb. But stupid or not, she couldn’t shake the worry that he had hurt himself during his rampage.
Why am I such an idiot? Who gets concerned over an alien that’s holding them captive?
Her, apparently. Which was why she carefully pushed to her feet and silently padded across the room, taking care to keep her steps silent. She placed her hands on the doorjamb and leaned forward, careful not to flop against the door. She pressed her ear to the flat surface and listened for any sounds from the other side. The whoosh of his breathing reached her, but nothing more. So at least he hadn’t killed himself while destroying everything.
Assured he was still kicking, she left the doorway and went back to the bed, crawling onto the soft surface. It was heavily cushioned and welcoming, a comfy place to sleep that reminded her of home in a place that was so alien to her. Her thoughts drifted from home to the rest of the life she’d left behind—the hoops she’d had to jump through and the pain she’d no longer have to face.
Her ex.
Which reminded her of violence, which brought her head back to thinking of Drazan, and that had her mind whirling with all of the things she didn’t yet know about this world. Her mind refused to quit, refused to simply let her anxiety lie, soon exhausting her with the spinning, unending tornado of emotions. This torrent tired her until the worries faded and transformed into utter boredom.
She stared at the burnished red walls and the matching stone floors, the shades of red that were threaded throughout the suite. But a gal could only stare at the same four walls for so long before restlessness settled in. She rose and stretched her arms above her head while also pushing to her tiptoes, easing some of the tension that lingered in her muscles before turning her gaze back to the room.
The room, though beautiful, was sparsely decorated, but she explored all she found nonetheless. A shelf held some kind of bound leather sheets, covered in a series of symbols she didn’t recognize. Books, she supposed. She flipped through them but couldn’t decipher any of the writing—if it was writing.
Then she moved to her pack—double-checking the contents and taking inventory of the scant medical supplies that remained. She’d have to ask Drazan about Ateran medicine. If the humans were going to be there a while, she would need to learn to care for herself and the others. She didn’t trust the Aterans to have the necessary knowledge to manage a human’s medical needs.
After checking her supplies, she continued exploring Drazan’s room. She discovered a closet filled with Drazan’s clothing… of a sort. The majority of the Aterans she had seen only wore leather belts and straps to hold their weapons, canteens, and other gear. Inside Drazan’s closet she discovered what looked to be ceremonial robes made of light, breezy fabric. The clothing looked like it would be quite cool and comfortable to wear in the scorching desert heat.
Another closet was even more sparsely filled. It contained fabrics in smaller sizes and more delicate styles. For a female, she supposed. Did Drazan expect her to wear these? She still wore the stained, cotton top and pants she’d been wearing when she’d woken on the ship. A change of clothes—no matter their purpose according to the Aterans, seemed like a fine idea.
She grabbed something light, not much more than a bra with beaded straps and a sheer skirt that hung to her ankles. She located a light scarf to drape around her shoulders and arms and then sought out the floor-to-ceiling mirror she’d spied earlier. She stepped in front of the large, reflective surface and simply froze in place. Damn. She looked amazing in the sheer fabrics and tight top. The Ateran females she’d seen all had very small breasts, so she hardly fit the clothing designed for them, but the outfit made her feel like an Arabian princess ruling over her desert palace.
She discovered a small box of jewelry, as well, though the box looked aged and delicate. The jewelry inside was made of precious metals in shades of gold and silver and held polished red and brown stones. A keepsake box Drazan had inherited, she wondered.
She replaced the box where she’d found it and gave the smooth lid one last, lingering caress. No matter how much she wanted to dress up, it didn’t feel right to borrow the jewels without permission.
She padded to the bathroom door once more and carefully listened. There was no sign of movement within and she wondered if she should burst in to check on the alien warlord. She lifted her hand, fingers curled into a fist, and prepared to knock, only to have someone cut her off before she made a sound. There was the quiet rap of knuckles on metal coming from the other side of Drazan’s quarters.
Sheri crossed out of the bedroom, careful to close the doors in her wake, and moved to the sitting room door. She tugged it open and found an Ateran female dressed in an outfit not unlike the one she wore. Only this female held a tray of food.
“My lady,” she gave a slight bow. “I have brought food.”
“Oh,” her stomach grumbled, and she hoped the woman didn’t hear the sound. “All right.” She stepped aside and gestured for the female to enter. The Ateran’s movements were graceful, a delicate glide across the stone floor to the table, and the placement of the tray on the polished wood surface was smooth and sure.
“By your leave.” The female straightened and gave her another bow before turning for the exit.
“Wait,” Sheri jumped in front of her, stopping the woman from leaving. “Can I ask you something?”
The female’s brow furrowed and lips pursed. “My lady?”
“The thing is…” She shook her head. “What’s your name? I’m Sheri.” She held out her hand and waited. And waited.
The female stared at Sheri’s hand, brow still lowered, but didn’t move. She pulled her hand back, fingers curling into a fist as she realized shaking hands was probably only an Earth thing.
“I am called Zanya,” the female’s voice was soft, lyrical. “How may I be of assistance?”
Sheri went and sat on a cushioned bench—a piece of furniture she’d almost call a sofa if she were on Earth. She gestured for Zanya to sit as well. The Ateran female’s attention went from the sofa to the floor then to a nearby stool, but never falling on Sheri. Finally, the woman claimed the stool and Sher
i tried not to be annoyed that the female didn’t join her.
“So, Zanya, you… work here? Are you a servant?”
Zanya’s lips parted and a rhythmic hissing wheeze escaped—an Ateran laugh. “Servant? By the goddess, no. I am kode to the warlord’s meal keeper.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” As long as Zanya was willing to talk and answer questions, Sheri was ready to poke and prod her. She wasn’t getting anything out of Drazan, after all.
“I run the kitchens and oversee the staff. We have a number of males and females who cook, clean, and tend to the grounds. I supervise them.”
It was Sheri’s turn to frown. “But you’re delivering my dinner. Shouldn’t someone else…” —someone less— “…do that?”
Zanya smiled. “It is an honor to serve the kode of our warlord on her first night. I dismissed the servant assigned to this task and wished to honor you myself.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure why they were treating her with such deference, but it felt nice. Better than being surrounded by the furious warlord. “Can you tell me…” She licked her lips and hoped she wasn’t about to step in a steaming pile of ceaq shit. “What is a ‘kode’? No one will give me a straight answer.”
Zanya smiled, the scales on her face darkening in what appeared to be the Ateran form of a blush. “The males are quite… silly about such things. They do not speak of such details. I assume that in the place you come from—the home of the goddess beyond the stars—things are quite different?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and her stomach twisted and clenched. She didn’t know how much the city Aterans knew about the humans’ arrival, though she was sure rumors had been flying ever since they entered the center. “I don’t know any goddesses. I’m from a planet called Earth.”
Zanya nodded. “And on this Earth, you have males?”
“Men, yes.” Sheri shrugged.
“And you know the way of males and females? To mate and bring forth hatchlings?”
