“Michaela!”
* * * *
When Korkla saw Michaela standing at the edge of the cliff looking out over the beach, his heart nearly stuttered to a stop. Govi’s fears were well-founded; their beloved contemplated the unthinkable.
He barely noted the Imdiko’s stricken expression or how Raxstad tensed, ready to run over and snatch Michaela back to safety. Korkla’s despairing shout roared into the wind.
“Michaela!”
She started at the yell, whirling around to face them. The action dislodged a stone under one of her feet, making her teeter. Her eyes went wide with fear as she registered her position and the danger she was in of going over.
Then her dancer’s grace took over. Michaela caught her balance an instant before Raxstad sprang forward and yanked her away from the cliff’s edge. Korkla and Govi were there in an instant, crying out their terror.
Michaela snatched free of Raxstad to shove against Korkla’s chest. “Son of a bitch! You startled me, you big oversized alien! Don’t yell like that again unless someone’s about to die.”
Korkla’s legs nearly went out as relief flooded him. Govi’s knees did buckle, and he went to them, kneeling before Michaela. Raxstad raked his fingers through his hair, setting dreadlocks in disarray.
“Fuck,” the Nobek gasped, his face paler than Korkla had ever seen it before. “Fuck.”
Korkla grabbed Michaela by the shoulders, fighting the urge to shake her senseless. “Why were you so close to the edge? I should wear your ass out for being so careless!”
Michaela looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Careless? Govi said there is a catch field that keeps people from harming themselves whether by accident or on purpose. I was in no danger of falling anyway, at least not until you opened your big mouth.”
“That’s true,” Govi muttered. “About the catch field, not your big mouth, my Dramok. I forgot that I told Michaela about that.”
Michaela blinked at them. “Shit, did you think I wanted to kill myself? Is that what you’re freaked out about?”
From his kneeling position, Govi wrapped his arms around her waist. “I didn’t know what to think after the stunt Feyom pulled. The look on your face – Michaela, I would never in a million years have intimacies with another woman. Especially not that one.” He looked at her, beseeching with a tragic expression for her to believe him.
Michaela gave him a soft smile. She stroked his hair back. “I know. I’m slow, but I’m finally starting to figure a few things out. I’m sorry I ran like that. It won’t happen again.”
She wrapped her arms around the Imdiko’s neck, clutching him close. He hugged her hard. Korkla saw how Govi trembled as he did so.
The Dramok needed to be close to them after the scare. His arms circled around his two lifemates, holding them as if he could shield them from all bad things forever.
A heavy arm fell across his back. Korkla looked up to see Raxstad joining in the embracing, his long limbs tying the group together. At their smiles, he reddened.
“Hey, Nobeks need love too.”
They laughed, and the tension eased away. Korkla allowed himself to relax – a little.
When they broke apart, the Dramok asked, “My Matara, are you really all right? After what Feyom did?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I’m kind of pissed that I didn’t take the opportunity to kick that bitch’s ass though.”
The unusual darkness of Govi’s anger crossed his gorgeous face. “I would have appreciated that. She won’t be an issue anymore, Michaela. I swear to you. If I ever see her heading my way, I will run in the opposite direction.”
Korkla scowled. “Feyom has done more than her share of damage. She’d better not show her face around any of my clan again or I will take the matter up with her Dramok. It’s time that clan held Feyom accountable for her actions.”
Raxstad shook his head as he rubbed Michaela’s back. “You know that’s easier said than done. Once a Matara owns your heart, it’s damned hard to see anything but her beauty.” He smiled at Michaela and she beamed back.
Then she gave them all an impatient look. “What a sentimental bunch you are. You’re acting like a bunch of sissies, you know. Why don’t you take me home and fuck me before I figure out I’m the man of this group?”
The three men growled at Michaela. At least they tried to, but it was damned hard when they were laughing at her antics. Korkla smacked her ass for calling him a sissy, and then Raxstad did too. Govi decided he would join in the fun. They all did so carefully, however, remembering the bruises she still wore.
With hands lightly spanking that delicious derriere, they drove Michaela towards the hospital’s conveyance. She offered little shrieks as they moved her along, but her face was huge with a smile.
Korkla chuckled with his clanmates, his gaze soaking in the shining, happy face of his Matara. He hurried her along in a joyous procession, eager to get her home where he could put her in her proper place ... under him.
Even as he looked forward to that, he noticed how he ached from his chest to his gut. Damn it, he loved her so much it fucking hurt.
Chapter 26
Michaela hummed to herself as she strolled through the marketplace. One more stop was left to make before she was due to join Govi for lunch on this beautiful late spring day: the confectioner’s shop that Master Imold had recommended. She had sweet treats to sample and order for her clanning day’s celebration.
She nodded in answer to the bows she received from passing Kalquorian men. It was fun to be flirted with, she thought. All Earther women who came to Kalquor were spoken for at this point, but that didn’t stop the single men from smiling and calling ‘hellos’ and ‘good mornings’. Michaela wished them all lovely ladies of their own in the future. Unfortunately with the warlike rumblings from Earth, she had the feeling that hope would not soon be realized. If fighting broke out between her former home and Kalquor, things could get ugly. With Earth’s superior numbers and Kalquor’s advanced technology, it was anyone’s guess as to which would win.
If fighting broke out. Michaela hoped it would not.
At any rate, there is no reason to worry about it right now. It’s beautiful weather, Zarl is recovering, Jessica’s pregnancy is terrific and everyone loves her as their new empress, next week is my clanning ceremony, and I have the best clan in the whole Empire. Plus I have an amazing job—
“Look at this little Earther, all smiles. Why so happy, Michaela?”
The too-familiar voice froze Michaela in her tracks steps away from the confectioner’s shop. She turned to face Feyom.
The Kalquorian woman was as lovely as ever, her sly smile stretched across her beautiful face. She looked statuesque in her red and gold gown that molded to her perfectly curved figure.
Michaela’s fists clenched in reaction. It was only with the greatest control that she was able to make them open again. She inclined her head in a curt nod. “Matara Feyom.”
“Shopping again?” Feyom chuckled throatily. “It’s no wonder you’ve had to get a job. Or is the gossip about you giving other Earther females dancing lessons wrong? It’s too bad you couldn’t attract a more prestigious clan, one with better earning ability to keep you satisfied.”
A couple of passing men overheard Feyom’s remarks. They stopped and gawked at the women.
Good, Michaela thought. It would be a shame if my rehearsed speech was wasted on just her alone.
She stood up straight and spoke clearly. Michaela was determined Feyom could not ever claim she misunderstood any of what she was about to be told. “I am not interested in your innuendos, Feyom. However, I am glad to get the opportunity to tell you that if you ever come near the men of my clan again, if you so much as smile at any of them, I will forget that men have no business hurting women. Yes, I am a man as well as a woman. It’s only that which keeps me from punching you in the face right now, even though you more than deserve it.”
Mutterings in the background tol
d Michaela a crowd gathered. Feyom stared at her, as if Michaela had suddenly sprouted a second head on her shoulders.
Michaela continued. “If, however, I catch you slutting around my clan again, I will forget that men don’t hit women. I will bash your face until you never cheat on your own clan again, because no one will want to look at you anymore, much less screw you.”
Furious humiliation sparked in Feyom’s eyes. She glanced at the now silent onlookers. She backed away a step from Michaela. “You nasty little Earther. How dare you come to my planet and talk like that to me, you – you freak!”
Michaela shrugged. “What I am is beside the point. It’s what you are that all these fine people should know.” She glanced around at the shocked faces surrounding them. “They may look at you and see the pretty face and perfect womanly body. But on Earth we have a saying: pretty is as pretty does. What you do, my dear Matara Feyom, makes you one fucking ugly bitch.”
With that, Michaela turned around. She didn’t miss the admiring looks aimed at her ... at her, Michael-Michaela Blake. Not Feyom.
The men before her parted to let her pass, bowing in respect as she went on her way. Michaela entered the confectioner’s shop with her head held high and a huge grin stretching her face.
* * * *
Michaela was glad her in-laws weren’t easily affronted. After all, her clanning ceremony gown, the one she’d bought in a high-spirited lark on Plasius, left nothing to the imagination. It consisted of a silver metal collar from which a halter hung to cover her breasts. Cover and cling; the shape of Michaela’s areolas was blatant against the aqua-colored fabric. Tiny chains connected it to the excuse for a skirt, which was no more than a long, slender strip of cloth in the front only. It too clung. She may as well have been naked.
Yet there were no looks of horror when she stepped into the temple at Master Imold’s side. The celebrants’ eyes only widened at her entrance. Most sat up straight from where they lounged on seating cushions and couches. Then they all stood. The men bowed low, delighted smiles lighting their dark faces. The women giggled and nudged their clanmates with playful warnings to behave. The Nobek fathers of Michaela’s clanmates winked and flashed approving smiles at their sons. Emperor Bevau made a show of frantically fanning himself, earning a shove from a laughing Jessica. Clajak pretended he was about to faint. Israla, having come all the way from Plasius to attend the ceremony, squealed and applauded like a little girl.
Assured of her guests’ positive response, Michaela took in the temple’s ceremonial room. The decorators had gone above and beyond Michaela’s hopes, especially under Imold’s direction. She would have to tell Korkla to double the donation to the temple. The plush rugs that had been placed within the temple’s celebration room were deep green with white and coral embellishments. Matching coral throws had been draped over the cream-colored cushions and couches. More coral drapes hung from the ceilings and walls, with a tent made of silken curtains at the front of the room. It looked like the seascape outside at sunset.
It was within the tent that Michaela’s clan waited for her. They wore identical gold trimmed white tunics and pants, made much as grooms wore in the Middle East. The one difference was that Raxstad’s shirt was sleeveless. Michaela loved looking at those massively muscled arms too much to have them covered.
The three men stared as she approached them on Imold’s arm. Her ‘dress’ had exactly the effect she’d hoped for. Her clan gaped open-mouthed, their eyes wide and round. Grins began to creep in, and even the knee-length tunics couldn’t hide their aroused appreciation. Michaela had to fight to keep from giggling. It could be that they would go straight from the ceremony to the honeymoon phase of the ceremony.
As she entered the tent, the scent of the men’s arousal walloped her. Mission most definitely accomplished.
Imold took his place before them as Michaela, Korkla, Govi, and Raxstad gathered together. Michaela stood in front of the clan, with her lifemates on either side and behind her. They stood very close, the warmth of their bodies transmitting to her nearly naked flesh. She heard a soft groan from Korkla, who stood directly behind her. There was no back to the halter top and skirt; just the metal collar and a few straps to hold the scanty fronts in place.
Imold looked pleased as he began the ceremony. “We gather to celebrate and officially announce the joining of Matara Michaela Blake, daughter of Anadil Mahaz al-Wadhi and Richard Michael Blake, to Clan Korkla, consisting of Dramok Korkla, Nobek Raxstad, and Imdiko Govi. We are delighted to be a part of the coming together of these people as they begin their life’s journey together.”
“I’ll be delighted to come together right after I rip those tiny scraps of cloth off you,” Raxstad whispered.
“Nobek,” Korkla warned, but he traced a finger up and down Michaela’s spine, making her shiver.
Imold continued on as if he hadn’t heard the exchange, but there was a hint of laughter in his tone. “Matara Michaela, do you affirm yourself to be a member of Clan Korkla?”
“I do,” she said, the first bubble of laughter sneaking out as Govi’s hand cupped one cheek of her exposed ass.
The priest bit his lips together for an instant before continuing. “Again, do you affirm yourself to be a member of Clan Korkla?”
“I do.” Michaela squirmed. Raxstad’s hand rubbed up and down the front of her thigh.
Imold asked the question one more time. Michaela had decided to go with a tradition of her mother’s ancestors’ weddings, during which the betrothed confirmed their vows three times. She once again answered, “I do.”
“You’re killing me with this repetition,” Raxstad muttered. “Why can’t we just say this once and fuck?”
Instead of reprimanding him this time, Korkla snickered. His hand snaked around Michaela’s waist and crept inside her bodice. Govi had turned to face her instead of Imold. His hands were all over her.
Imold began to ask each man three times if he accepted Michaela as his clanmate, starting with Korkla. The priest talked faster and faster, because Michaela’s gown was coming off. She laughed helplessly as the men began mauling her in earnest, none of them caring about the loud mirth of their guests.
By the time Imold got Korkla and Govi to verify their happiness with having Michaela as a lifelong mate, her dress was gone. When Raxstad was asked for his vow, it was impossible to tell exactly what he said around his mouthful of Michaela’s breast.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Imold said, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Can you say it twice more?”
“Mmmrphhoo, mmmrphhoo,” came the garbled reply.
“Wonderful,” choked Imold between laughter. “Then in the presence of these witnesses, I declare Michaela Blake to be Matara to Clan Korkla. May you be blessed with a long, happy life together.”
As her clanmates picked her up and carried her to the nearby cushions, Michaela caught a glimpse of the rest of the hall. Fully half of the guests were also erotically entangled, including the Imperial Clan of Jessica, Clajak, Bevau, and Egilka. The other half were laughing, drinking, and fondling their way into being similarly entertained.
Food stations were being set up on the perimeter, but few were interested in them at the moment. The sensuous celebration was in full swing, and Michaela could not have been happier.
Govi paused in kissing her pussy long enough to say, “My love, only you could turn a clanning into an orgy.”
“Just don’t look over your shoulder, my Imdiko,” Michaela giggled. “Your parents are celebrating too.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll go where I can’t hope to see them.” With that, he resumed mouthing her cunt.
Michaela groaned under the assault that included Korkla sucking and stroking her cock and Raxstad still feasting at her breasts. She glanced over at Imold, who stood at the front of the tent and laughed to see his temple the site of carnal pleasures.
With the last ragged bits of her ability to speak, Michaela called, �
�I told you to invite your clan.”
“I did, and here they are.” Imold grinned at the two big men entering the curtained area. “Hello my Dramok, my Nobek. How did you like the ceremony?”
The pair answered by dragging the priest to the pillows on the opposite side from Michaela’s group and pulling his robes off.
Hearing the moans and cries of elation from everywhere fed Michaela’s ardor. She writhed beneath the men fulfilling her body’s pleas for pleasure.
Among the pooled ends of the curtains and the pillows, Raxstad found a sash meant to tie the draperies back. Instead, he bound Michaela’s wrists. Wrapping the trailing end around one meaty paw, he stretched her arms over her head, making her reddened breasts point brazenly at the ceiling. He looked her over with pride.
“Look at her, my clan,” he said. “So beautiful. So proud.”
Korkla raised his head to look her over. After a moment, Govi did too. Their smiles warmed Michaela from head to toe. They loved her. They really did.
Korkla pulled his handheld out from beneath his tunic. “Now is a good time for this,” he said. “Play the song from the Coming of Age Festival.”
Music emitted from the portable computer. Michaela blinked. It was indeed the tune she and Jessica had danced to for their clans on Plasius. But why was Korkla playing it now?
Her clan drew back, coming to their feet and standing in a circle around her splayed body. They looked down at her nakedness, eagerness on their expressions.
“You’re not the only one with surprises for our clanning ceremony. Rise and dance for us, slave girl,” Korkla said. “Dance for your masters or be punished.”
Michaela drew in a sharp breath. Her Dramok had issued a command with the voice of authority. It was no request. He expected her to obey.
She remembered the dance, how it was supposed to be a struggle against might that she could not win against. Daring the men to exert their will, to take her no matter the obstacles. It had excited her clan on Plasius, overcoming their fears of frightening her away. Was that why they wanted to see her do it again? Now that the inhibitions had ceased to exist, did they want to fully enjoy the dance knowing she was theirs for now and ever?
Michaela Page 39
