by Sinclair,Ava
Iris felt sorry for this Lija, so simple, so certain of a superstition that justified the loss of a friend she obviously loved. She changed the subject.
“Do you have mates?”
“I did,” she said. “But they honored me by falling in battle. I was given the choice to mate again, as I had not quickened with life. Or I could choose to serve. I chose service. Now I can help raise your child!” She twirled Iris in the water. Iris was about to ask her how she could go on amid such a loss, and why she chose servitude to another union, but before she could a horn sounded, the blast so loud it seemed to resound off the rock faces above them.
“We must go!” Lija was tugging at Iris’ arm, pulling her rapidly to shore. Other women darted past, moving like bronze dolphins through the water. The ones on shore scooped up crying children, abandoning their clothes as they sprinted back toward the encampment.
“It’s the War Horn!” Lija helped Iris from the water. “We must get back to the encampment.”
Iris rushed to keep up. The women running around her were obviously afraid, but not panicky. Three huge Trogarian males on large gyrands galloped toward the women, turning to flank them as they moved toward the safety of the tents. In the distance, Iris could hear what sounded like thunder and looked over to see the mounted army of Trogarians rushing into the pass. There were screams and shouts and the sound of metal on metal.
Fear coiled in her stomach, and uncoiled like a vine that spread through her body. Zios and Utak would have led the way; she knew this instinctively. And she was surprised at the fear she felt for their safety.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Once in the tent, Iris began to pace. The distant sounds of battle were unlike anything she’d ever heard. Only when she accepted a cup of water from Lija did she realize her hands were shaking.
“No,” the servant said, draping a fur over Iris’ nakedness. “But Zios and Utak have been in many battles. And when Trogarians return from battle, they celebrate by claiming their mate. This is a good sign. Your first time will be a Battle Union. Your son will be a warrior. It is good, no?”
Iris stood, suddenly impatient with silly superstitions. A deafening roar filled the air, and Lija explained that it was a death cry of one of the gyrands. “His rider will weep as he butchers the flesh from its carcass. And he will eat of only his creature’s meat to absorb his strength as he trains another mount.”
Iris put her hands over her ears. Outside, the wind had begun to howl, adding to the surreal hellscape she was imagining. She thought of the tapestry on the wall, and had a terrifying thought. What if the Odh—whoever they were—prevailed? She thought to ask Lija, but the servant was busy sewing and humming, likely comforted by whatever stupid prophecy she believed would guide a day that seemed to go on forever.
But it did not. The sounds diminished, and hours later, the sound of the returning riders filled the camp. Iris did not ask permission as she burst from the tent, her eyes desperately seeking the two brothers. Her heart was hammering as she rushed in between the gyrands, despite Lija’s calls for her to return. In the ongoing glow of dawn, she searched each face.
“Little human!” She felt herself scooped up, but could not see who’d taken hold of her since her back was to the mounted rider who’d grabbed her. The gyrand was steered away from the other riders and he dropped to the ground, planting Iris on her feet and spinning her around.
“Utak! You’re safe!” She couldn’t help but smile, even though she knew leaving the tent was probably forbidden. “What happened? Did you win? Where’s Zios?”
“We were victorious. Nearly all the Odh are dead. Zios has gone to track down the wounded to finish them off.”
Iris jumped up, wrapping her arms around her neck. She felt foolish and giddy, then elated as Utak clutched her to him.
“Do not tremble so, little Iris flower. We are safe.”
He picked her up, carried her inside. “Lija! Prepare meat and good drink and the best fruits! We celebrate!”
The flap of the tent opened and Zios came in.
Iris wriggled to be let down and ran to him next. Over her head, both brothers grinned at her enthusiasm, realizing she did not know that their seed contained something that was already increasing the bond she felt to them.
“Did you find them, brother?” Utak asked.
“We found two and cut them down. The third fled, but is bleeding. No doubt the beasts will find him first. We will look after we feast and rest…” He looked at Iris, his expression openly lustful. “And celebrate.”
She flushed, marveling at how her body seemed to pull toward the two on a cellular level. It was a different kind of want, an inexplicable one. But for the first time since Iris could remember, she felt a sense of belonging.
As they ate, the two brothers passed her back and forth to sit on their laps, each taking turns feeding her. There was a bowl of brightly colored fruit. She sampled it from their hands, savoring the textures and flavors, some sweet, some tart, some so ripe they burst in her mouth, sending juice running down her chin. Zios lapped some from her face, and she was reminded of how a lion might lick a lioness, and felt as if she could purr from pleasure.
More food was laid out. The feast was one visited by the other warriors and their mates; other members of the tribe came and went. In some cases the conversation was upsetting to Iris. One warrior recounted beheading a charging Odh, and Zios shook his head, telling the others how the Traoians were wrong to have been so worried, that the Odh was the most unprepared force they’d even encountered, and easily slaughtered.
“We shall go find the lone survivor, but later,” Utak said. “For now my brother and I have other matters to see to.”
Their cocks were hard. They did not even try to hide it. Zios grabbed his and the other Trogarians around the low table howled with laughter, banging their wooden cups on the surface, reminding Iris that sexuality here was something to celebrate openly.
Soon the last guest filtered out. Zios cradled Iris as beside them, Utak played with her hair. They were patiently waiting for Lija, who was efficiently cleaning up the remains of dinner, to leave. When she did, Iris realized that the moment her body had been yearning for had come. And she realized something else; she was afraid. One Trogarian was almost more than she could handle. But two, together?
She expected them to move to Zios’ chamber, or perhaps Utak’s, which she hadn’t seen. But instead, she found herself laid on the low rough table and stripped bare of the clothing she’d donned upon her return. It was apparent that now, she was to be the feast, and her chest rose to Zios’ mouth as it fastened to a nipple, and her hips to Utak’s as he tasted her as Zios had done.
She tried to steady her breathing, but with each insistent suck and lick, she felt as if she was being devoured, absorbed, joined in a way she could not fully comprehend. It was a deepening of the draw she felt to them, and she was hit by a fierce need to be theirs.
“So sweet.” She could hear Utak’s words, could feel the vibration as he growled them against her glistening, engorged labial folds.
His tongue glided effortlessly over nether regions completely and permanently denuded of hair at the Acclimation Center. But the overwhelming sensation of Utak’s oral ministrations was occasionally short-circuited when his brother gently bit down on a nipple, causing a spike of pain that he instantly soothed with a gentle lap of his tongue.
Hands were all over her, large hands, squeezing, stroking, sometimes hard, sometimes gentle. Hands lifted her, turned her over. Two sets of teeth sank into her backside, one mouth on each buttock, biting and gnawing like large playful puppies while two fingers from one or both entered her ass and pussy at the same time.
Her bottom had barely had time to recover from the punishments she’d received. The skin was still tender, but her helplessness to this additional, exquisite torture only increased her excitement. In the back of her mind, it occurred to Iris that she was reveling in their domination. The brother
s were solid, large. When they finally allowed her to sit on her deliciously tenderized bottom and face them, she marveled at their size, their broad shoulders, the sculpted muscles of their massive chests and forearms, the narrow waists and twin nests of dark curls that sprouted at the base of impossibly large cocks that jutted toward her like heat-seeking lances. They were so powerful, so virile, so male… they could break her in half if they wanted to. But the hands that were on her again, this time guiding her head to Utak’s cock, were gentle and coaxing.
The cock filled her mouth to overflowing, his skin tasting of musk and salt. Iris had been taught the oral arts on a model of a smaller Traoian penis at the Acclimation Center, and was pleased to practice her skill now on the two men who had given her pleasure. Zios’ cock was soon bobbing next to her face, a greedy creature demanding equal attention. She moved between them, cupping and gently rolling one heavy pair of balls as she moved her head up and down the shaft of the other. Then she’d move her hands to the other’s tightening sac, lower her head and lick up the second shaft, lapping it like a lolly before closing her mouth over the head to suck with a sweet, soft urgency.
She moaned in disappointment when she was pulled away. Just as her pussy throbbed with want of their cocks, Iris longed to swallow their seed. But the brothers had other ideas. They’d placed her on all fours on the floor, and both were behind her side by side. She looked back to see Utak fisting his huge cock, sliding his hand up and down the already turgid shaft. Iris moaned when she felt the smooth head push against her, sighed with abandon when he slid into her, the stretch so welcoming, so wanted.
He had hold of her hips, pumping hard and fast. But then he slid out, and his brother took his place. Her mind was racing. They were sharing her, literally, each brother taking no more than ten strokes before the other would take her hips and continue. The cocks were slightly different in size and shape, and Iris was overwhelmed by the heady sensation of being touched inside in ways so subtly variable as to increase her pleasure more than she could imagine. She could feel herself edging toward a powerful orgasm; her fingers curled into the fur of the rug beneath her. Her toes curled, too. It was the luck of the draw as to whose cock would be inside her when she came. And when she did, they shared her orgasm; Utak caught the first strong waves and Zios the soft, sustained pulsing caresses that seemed to go on and on.
She did not stay long in the valley before they were driving her back up. Another strong orgasm, this one causing her to scream. She lost track of who was in her, whose hands were slapping her ass or thrumming her clit or pinching her nipples. The brothers were as one as they fucked her. And when they came, one after the other, she felt as if her body opened up deep inside, as if their spending furrowed a reservoir into her anatomy to hold their seed.
Iris was weak, overwhelmed, and more sated that she’d ever been in her life by the time they laid her down. They were one to either side of her, Zios mumbling endearments into her hair, Utak kissing her brow. And down deep, down inside, she felt something small and precious take root, felt it cleave to her, felt it settle with patience as it waited for the special life spark to make it grow.
Chapter Eight
The beast was this time, at least, smaller than the last. Zios and Utak had begun tracking it since leaving the camp, a difficult task considering the warm and welcoming mate who now carried the seed of life within her. Tracking gave them a dual purpose to focus on; another dead beast would mean one less threat and meat on the table. Also, they were sure as they followed the tracks that they would find more than the beast. The creature itself was on the trail of something that had been trailing spots of purple blood—the last surviving Odh.
When they saw the beast stalking outside a narrow cave, they knew this would be a double catch. Utak climbed up on the rock overhead, silent as a cat. He was downwind from the beast, giving him another advantage since it could not smell him.
This beast was a juvenile, and had neither the size nor strength to widen the opening into the small cage. As it paced back and forth, it snuffled the air, becoming more and more agitated at being able to smell wounded prey it could not reach. Utak waited patiently for the agitation to grow until the animal raised its spine in the characteristic display. When it finally did, he was ready, sending his spear to land between two of the raised spines.
It proved to be his most accurate throw since hunting the unnamed solitary hunters on TraoX39; the animal fell without a sound, moaning twice and then breathing heavily several times before relaxing in death.
They would come back for it later; there were other matters to attend to first. The cave they entered was dark and narrow, but opened up to a wider section. Phosphorescent larval insects hung on the walls, illuminating the interior as bright as day. The brothers blinked; outside it was still the perpetual early light of morning, and the glare of the cave took some getting used to.
It wasn’t long before they found what they were looking for. The Odh was lying on his side. When he saw them approach he tried to scramble away, but could not. The deep blue of his skin was now a washed-out gray. This was a fugitive close to death.
The brothers stood over him, both knowing he could not be saved. Even for an enemy, a merciful death was better than a slow one. Zios unsheathed his great knife, but as he did, the Odh raised a slim hand with four long, spindly fingers and uttered one word: “Why?”
There was such a plaintive, desperate quality to it that Zios sank down.
“Because your war party came to kill the people of TraoX39,” he said.
“No…” The Odh coughed, the sound ragged and wet in his chest. The brothers exchanged confused glances.
“Explain,” Utak said, as both Trogarians knelt.
“No… war party…” The Odh struggled to continue. “A trade delegation. We have been… rival traders. Much… tension…”
Zios’ brow furrowed as he glanced up at his brother. If what the Odh said was true, it explained why they lacked proper weaponry, why they had seemed so unprepared.
“We were invited here,” the Odh said. “Told the landing area by the domes was not safe due to sandstorms. Were told to land… on other side of mountains and come through short pass. Told we would be welcomed…”
A picture was emerging, one that was both devastating and enraging to the leaders of a people who’d acted as sworn protectors of other planets for as long as anyone could remember. The Trogarians had been used not to protect, but tricked into ambushing and killing competing traders lured to the planet on a promise of peaceful negotiation.
“Who did this?” Zios’ normally calm voice shook with barely controlled anger. In the dying Odh, he saw the hundreds of others cut down, peaceful Odh who likely had mates and children waiting for them back home.
“Senator Oran and Senator Clim… and a trader. Powerful. He was… he organized… all…”
“What is his name?”
“Ingus… Sprang.”
A chill came over Utak. “I know this name,” he said.
Zios looked up at him. “How?”
Utak told him of his first night with Iris in the spring, how she’d recounted her rejection of a powerful Traoian named Ingus Sprang as her mate.
“She said she was sent here as punishment,” he concluded.
Zios’ jaw was fixed in anger. He stood. At his feet, the Odh was struggling to speak again. With his final breaths, he appealed to the Trogarians to not only seek justice, but to shroud the bodies of his fallen delegation and see them transported to his home planet for burial. His ship, he said, could be set on autopilot and would know the way.
The brothers promised the Odh they would not only fulfill the Odh’s wishes, but see that their hosts answered for what they had done.
“The Traoians are not what they seem,” Zios said. “The bond and word of Augustus Bron has been shamed by what has happened here.” He stood. “The alliance with this race has been broken. There will be consequences.”
The body
of the fallen Odh was borne from the cave to the camp, where a council meeting was immediately called. The bodies of the other Odh had been gathered for a mass pyre, but now that plan was changed. Each would be shrouded and taken to the ship on the other side of the Blood Mountains.
As with the previous meeting, Iris had been sent to the bedchamber. This time, she did not eavesdrop, but even so, Zios was sure she heard the raised voices. Her expression gave her away; she looked worried when he came to her.
“I could have told you they were liars,” she said. “I could have told you if you’d ever stopped to ask a female her opinion of the Traoians.”
Zios turned away. “It is our job to protect you, not to worry you with the affairs of the leaders.”
“Affairs of the leaders?” Iris walked around to stand in front of him. Her hand was placed low over her pelvis.
“When Lija told me I would know when the promise of your child was placed in me, I did not believe her. I thought it was silly superstitious nonsense. But when you and Utak took me, I knew. I felt him take root. And when I fell asleep, I dreamt of a dark-haired boy child who would tame his first gyrand as his mother and fathers watched with pride. But it was not here; it was on another planet, one lush and green. And I knew in my heart it was Trogar.” She paused. “My future is your future. What threatens you—what threatens any Trogarian male—threatens every female and youngling.” She paused. “If you don’t believe me, ask Lija. Do you believe for a moment that if she’d had information that could have saved her mates, she would have shared it?” Zios looked up at Iris. Her beautiful face was pained, but worse, disappointed. “Perhaps if you’d come to me, if you’d asked instead of discouraging me from knowing what was going on, perhaps if you and Utak had taken my opinion of the Traoian leaders seriously, then the Odh would not have been slaughtered.”
There was a time when such a speech would have been cut short with a stern punishment. But Zios knew Iris spoke the truth. Innocent beings were dead, and the reputation of the Trogarians was damaged—perhaps beyond repair. Even if they had not been willingly enlisted to slaughter innocents for the sake of Traoian trader profits, once word spread, the proud image of the Trogarian protector would be in shambles.
