That’s a lot, he said as he closed the distance between us with two soft kicks of his emerald tail. When he reached out to take my hand I let him.
Aristos brought it up to rest against his cheek, his course stubble grazing against my fingers. I would have never thought long hair on a guy would be a turn on, but somehow his intricately woven braids made him look ever more masculine, like a Viking from centuries ago. Before I could over think things and ruin the moment, I leaned forward and kissed him.
His emerald lips were a slightly more muted shade than his tail and gill covers—which I’d learned, always matched—but they were just as glossy as my own. Whatever the secretions were that coated our lips to protect them from the harsh seawater caused them to shine. It kind of felt like we were both wearing an industrial amount of lip gloss. Then he parted my lips and put an end to my ability to contemplate such things. A mild current flowed from his tongue into mine as they danced around each other, giving me an erotic jolt with each caress. When he ran the electrified tip of his tongue along my lips at the end of our kiss it made me quiver in anticipation. My nipples were hard enough to hang a shirt from. But what really caught my attention was that the dozens of jellyfish-like tentacles attached to my clitoris had elongated to almost four feet in length—down to the bottom of my tail—and were glowing bright red.
Is that… normal? I motioned with my eyes toward the strange glowing appendages, hoping to say as little as possible. They appeared to be sentient, as a few of the strands were reaching out for him on their own accord. Yeah, I definitely wasn’t human anymore.
Aristos backed away just enough to safely keep them from making contact with his flesh while trying not to look like he was rejecting me. I assure you, that is perfectly normal, Camithia. Whenever you feel aroused or threatened, your soulcras will become active. I will leave it to your handmaiden to explain how they are used—my limited knowledge on the topic is focused more on the receiving end—but they are capable of bringing indescribable pleasure to both of us, or of killing your adversaries in a multitude of ways. Like your needing, they are controlled by your soul, without any conscious interaction with your mind. That is why our gods form the cornerstone of our race. Only through devoting yourself to Neptune and Poseidon—becoming their faithful servant like a nun might on earth, but without the celibacy part—will you learn to communicate with your soul.
Pulchra often spent entire days in the temple in such a deep trance that not even Johnna could wake her. And like all Syreni women of breeding age, she was purified each year. Our high priest would shave her head then coat it in a diluted form of talcium paste to ensure no hair grew back for at least a month. While she silently prayed, he would broaden the symbolic tattoos of our seven gods and goddesses—which stretched from her hairline to the base of her neck—by outlining them in whatever color was chosen for that season. Once the ceremony was complete, she would go without any substance for a week while she cared for the sick and the elderly, all while wearing a thick black headscarf and robes to ensure she received no credit for her work.
Our gods claimed you as their daughter and made you our queen, but until you have that kind of religious awakening, you will not have control over your soulcras. It would be very dangerous for me to touch them before then. Please do not take offense. That was a truly amazing kiss.
That sounds… wow. I didn’t realize you took things to that level. I’d accepted Johnna’s offer to have him educate me in the Syreni faith, and I intended to honor that pledge, but there was quite a gap between converting to a new religion—or any religion, in my case—and taking on a monk-like zeal for it. I hope our gods—baby steps, right?—don’t take offense to this, but if faith needs to be the driving force in a Syreni female’s life, why did they choose me? I could count on one hand the times I’ve been inside a church. The thought of starving myself for a week while I do community service—something else I don’t exactly have a stellar track record at—makes me want to bail almost as badly as knowing we are going to be forced to have a baby soon. At least Naome and Serienne believed in some kind of god before we came here. Why didn’t they choose one of them? I don’t get it.
My soulcras had receded back inside my body, leaving just the tips showing again. Aristos took advantage of my disarmament and moved closer, cupping my face between his strong hands as he kissed me on the forehead. The first time the king forced Pulchra to have her head shaved and tattooed she was only fourteen, a full three years before it is required of Syreni females, and five years before she would be eligible to participate in the fasting ceremony. She refused to leave her parent’s home or even speak to her father for days. All of her friends at school still had the hair they’d been growing since birth. I assure you, kids aren’t any less cruel to each other at that age on our planet than they are on your own. After being relentlessly teased for weeks, she made an ill-fated attempt to leave home, which ended with one of the largest mobilizations of our army in history. We spent almost a week conducting a worldwide manhunt for our little princess. I barely knew her then—I was a young soldier fresh out of training who hadn’t even faced the trials yet—but I can totally picture what she must have been like as a kid. She used to drive Celandor crazy even as an adult.
Aristos paused and grabbed for my hand, urgently placing it flat against his cheek in an almost ritualistic fashion, as if my touch somehow eased his pain. I’m sorry I keep talking about her so much. I don’t want you to feel like you are living with a ghost. That isn’t fair to you.
Its fine, I said with a wide smile I hoped would convince him my words were sincere. Actually, I’d like to hear a lot more about the life you guys shared together. It will help me get to know you. I’m sure its cathartic for you to remember her, too.
Only if you do the same. The way he ran his fingertips along my jaw line compelled me to draw closer, until my breasts were pressed up against the smooth skin of his well-defined chest. His fingers continued their slow journey south as he began to speak again, tracing the sensitive tissue along the edge of my chastity belt. It was the most intimate moment we’d shared. You have told me precious little about your parents or your sister, not to mention your childhood. I will try to be open to hearing about Austin as well—for the same reasons you articulated—but I must confess, Syreni males are extremely territorial. We have not even bonded yet, and it is already difficult for me to think of you being with someone else, even someone from your past when you were still human. Bless the gods; they restored your purity when you were reborn as a Syreni female. If they hadn’t, I might have been tempted to kill him for defiling our queen. Not that I don’t know how insane that sounds.
That it does. A series of high pitched chirps bubbled from my mouth in response to my thoughts about laughing. Hearing me laugh for the first time led to an impromptu, well-hello-there hug. He left his arms wrapped securely around my waist when he pulled back, pausing only for a moment before bending down to kiss me again. He’d clearly held back the first time, probably to let me get used to the strange electrical pulses that were emitted from his tongue. The training wheels were off now.
What felt like a hundred volts surged into my flesh wherever his tongue roamed in its relentless quest to consume my mouth, accompanied by a flickering sensation that approached hummingbird speed, driving me wild. Just as my lips began to tremble, wondering how far he might take our embrace, and at what point I’d make any effort to stop him, Aristos beat a hasty retreat, barely escaping the reach of my soulcras. I was grateful for the interruption—things had already gone too far between us—but having a built-in chaperone, set at a 6th grade dance intimacy level, no less, was really starting to piss me off. Can’t I just have them cut off?
That would certainly expedite things, he replied with a devilish, bad-boy smirk that made me want to pick up right where we’d left off. But I will settle for kissing. At least for now. I hope you find your way to see Johnna today. Not that I am eager to see you lose your gorgeous
burgundy locks, or to be without your company for a week. Maybe you can talk Naome and Serienne into going through the ceremony once they’ve recovered. As humans, it is their choice, of course—they will never be capable of communicating with their souls, nor do their bodies require them to—but they have been adopted by our gods. It would help them deepen their faith.
So I was going to have my head shaved and tattooed today, after which I’d be starved for a week while I did manual labor, all while being dressed like I’d converted to Islam. Kind of made me sorry I ever agreed to let him in. But I did need to embrace my new faith. And at this point, I was beyond caring how they decorated my body; almost every square inch of real-estate was one bold color or another, already. Not having any hair would suck, though. Hopefully Syreni hair grew faster than what I was used to. Otherwise, I’d barely get it grown out into a medium length pixie cut before it was time to shave it off again. I guess I’d find out soon enough. I will ask Johnna to complete my purification ceremony today. Armiele can attest that I haven’t eaten for two days already. Maybe he’ll let me count that as part of my fasting. I’m not trying to cheat the system or anything… I’ll do a full week of community service, regardless. As queen—assuming I have the authority—I would like to require Naome and Serienne to participate in the purification ceremony as well. They were adopted by Neptune and Poseidon, so they are just as much their servants as I am. And our king did them a great honor by mandating that they be treated like affirmed Syreni females. I’m not going to undermine his edict by treating them differently myself.
He slowly ran his fingers through my long layers—which hung loose today, and were still somewhat curly as a result of Armiele’s intricate braiding for my crowning ceremony—as if he was trying to memorize the feel of the seaweed-like strands. It was the last time he’d see me with long hair until I was past breeding age—whenever that was—or with anything more than a militaristic buzz cut for the next few months. A very well-reasoned ruling, my queen. I second your motion, which, given the administrative nature of the rule in question, is all that is required for it to pass. I will have Chancellor Venerack scribe the ruling into law and distribute a copy to each of the regions immediately. Once Naome and Serienne recover from their surgeries, they will be required to go through the purification ceremony before being allowed to begin their studies or bear our young. Starting next year, the three of you will be able to complete the ceremony together, which will provide you with a convenient opportunity to visit with them even after they’ve moved away.
On an impulse, I separated out a section of my hair from the back and held it out toward him as an offering. His eyes lit up like Austin’s did when I bought him the latest combat video game. He quickly braided it—his fingers far more adept at the task than my own ever had been—and cut it away using the dagger he kept sheathed at his waist. His shoulder brushed against the small of my back as he slipped through the small space behind me into the bathroom to retrieve a couple of hair bands from the vanity, securing both ends of the burgundy rope. I just nodded when he thanked me. I saw through my visions that Naome and Serienne are awake and are having a hard time adjusting. I’d like to go see them first if I could.
Of course. I will summon your guard immediately, and will personally escort you to our clinic. I am long past due for a visit with them as well. In an effort to demonstrate just how committed he was to fulfilling my requests, I’m sure, Aristos darted out of the room faster than I’d ever seen him swim, his long red robes trailing behind him in his wake. I had barely taken two strokes toward the door before he returned with Commander Sennika and the rest of my security detail in tow.
I thought about asking him to remember this moment—how attentive he was to my every desire—so I could remind him of it years from now, when it would likely take me a Throne of Nine vote to get him to make even a token effort at helping me clean this place. But I wasn’t quite ready to think that far ahead yet, even if we had gotten off to a promising start.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rejoining the world
* * *
Unfortunately, heading out for the invigorating swim my body was in desperate need of after being cooped up for days involved far more than just taking my place behind the guards Aristos had summoned and following them out into the open sea. Armiele attempted to expedite things, but putting my hair up in the elaborate weave of braids that was required for me to be deemed presentable was a meticulous task even for her deft hands. After what must have been at least an hour, she had my diamond and ruby crown secured back into place atop her masterful creation. On earth, my standard spruce up routine had consisted of little more than brushing my teeth and throwing my hair in a ponytail. I might have been dreading my pending date with the hair clippers, but at least it would make me more mobile for a few months. Having to be wedding-ready every time I stepped out the door was going to drive me insane.
The diamond rope earrings she placed back in my ears hung down just far enough to brush against my highest gill covers when I breathed. I’d forgotten how that had annoyed the hell out of me. And why the fuck did they have to make the arm bracelets out of solid gold when you could barely even see the metal behind the layered jewels? With four of them on each arm, they made it exhausting to swim. Not that my hands were worth a damn anyway, with the oversized rings stretching my fingers apart like some kind of Chinese torture device. I couldn’t even make a fist. The only thing that saved me was that my muscular tail with its oversized flukes was like having twin-engines built-in. It could easily propel me through the water without the need for me to paddle.
Aristos’s home—which I guess was our home now—was shaped like an elongated stone igloo, with only the entrance of the ample-sized living quarters raised above the seabed floor. There were mesh grates of wrought iron bars lining both sides of the stone entrance, the openings small enough to keep out all but the tiniest of creatures while allowing oxygenated water to freely circulate so we could breathe. The entrance itself was protected by a six-inch thick solid iron door. A no-nonsense, practical design far more concerned with function and security than style. I could appreciate that. The only aesthetic detail that differentiated it from the dozens of others in our living cluster was a granite statue of a Syreni warrior in full battle armor—sword raised above his head—positioned protectively in front of his stunningly beautiful compar. Aristos and Pulchra. The sculptor had paid close attention to even the most minute details. A picture wouldn’t have been any more lifelike.
I will have Pulchra’s statue taken down before you return, Aristos promised as he placed a hand on my shoulder.
I hadn’t realized how long I’d been staring at her, evaluating each of her features to see how I measured up, even if I wouldn’t consciously admit that’s what I was doing. Aristos’s offer was sincere—I could sense that—but his reluctance to tear down such a cherished keepsake of his dead lover came through as clearly in his thoughts as the words he’d formed. Even though I was beyond jealous—coming up on the short end of my internal scorecard didn’t help—I could never be so heartless. That didn’t mean I was willing to demean myself by living in a shrine to his former mate, though. Hopefully he’d agree to my counter proposal. Don’t you dare. She deserves to be remembered. Why don’t we add a statue of me fighting alongside you, so people don’t wonder why I’m left out?
His muscular arm looped around my waist and pulled me up tight against his chest. I shivered when I felt his lips brush across my ear. You have a gift for politics, my young queen, and a compassionate heart. I think that is a splendid compromise. You will look stunning captured in your queen’s armor. I must admit, I look forward to seeing you pose for the mold.
Our bodies were nestled close enough together for me to tell just how much he was looking forward to it. It felt like a spear was jabbing me in the kidneys. The fact that picturing me in full battle armor turned him on far more than seeing me wearing the queen’s jewels made me smile. Maybe we were k
indred spirits after all.
I knew from my crowning ceremony that the medical clinic—or infirmary, as it was formally known—was located in the center of the city inside the three-story granite structure that housed the High Court. From where the housing clusters were located, it was at least a five mile swim. Thirty-foot stone watch towers lined the outskirts of the residential area, each of them containing a lighthouse-sized phosphorous lamp that shined like a blue beacon in the sea, along with a lethal looking harpoon gun and a small contingent of Syreni warriors, all under Aristos’s command.
Once Aristos and I separated, my royal guard emerged from the shadows to join us. I’d almost forgotten we had an audience. Aristos took point with Commander Sennika swimming next to me, decked out like the other members of the queen’s Guard in his heavily engraved royal armor. Engravings which, I noticed, now included a true-to-life image of my crowned head in the center of their breast plates, just above my name. Kilas, Fryliwan and Vanimure—I hoped I had their names right from our lone introduction while I’d still been drugged—took positions on our flanks and behind me. Of the three, Kilas was the easiest to recognize, as he had the same burgundy fish-aspect coloring as my own, only with solid red flukes rather than the pink and red ombre look I sported. Not that any preconceived notions of masculine and feminine colors held true here. Case in point, the one I was pretty sure was Fryliwan had a pastel pink tail and glossy, bubble-gum colored lips. If it wasn’t for his broad chest and horse-sized male genitals—it was hard not to notice when everything just hung out for the world to see—with his smooth, youthful face and waist-length, fiery-red ponytails, he could have easily passed for a female. Especially since he’d had his eyes lined almost as heavily as my own, and his eyelids tattooed in various shades of pink all the way up to his naturally cherry brows.
Kerrigan's Race (The Syreni Book 1) Page 12
