Enchanted By Fire (Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society Book 3)

by Meg Ripley

  THE END

  SciFi Romance Shorts By Meg Ripley

  Chosen Alien Gene Double Quest

  Alien scientists Bronn and Lenth have a problem: they are both charged with the task of finding a willing female participant for their genetic experiments, however, they’ve both hit a dead end. Without having a subject for their studies in human mating–and, more importantly, female sexuality–they will be forced to return to their home planet empty handed.

  After meeting one night at a bar to discuss their troubles, the two alpha male aliens spot Giselle, one of the bar’s waitresses, and decide that she’s the perfect candidate to approach for their studies. But, what starts out as a work assignment quickly evolves into something much more when Bronn and Lenth find themselves physically attracted to Giselle.

  Giselle, an anthropology buff, finds herself strangely drawn to the two “foreign” men and reluctantly consents to participate in their tests in order to find out more about their culture–without knowing the full extent of what their “tests” will involve.

  Can Bronn and Lenth convince their ideal subject to agree to an arrangement that would satisfy everyone’s curiosity?

  Lenth stepped into the nearly deserted bar, looking around constantly. His gaze flicked from one human to another, sizing up prospects and trying to understand the complex behavior going on around him; he saw a few females—but most of them appeared to be working, walking briskly from one table to another or standing behind the long, ancient-looking bar itself.

  Lenth’s gaze settled on a figure unlike the rest of the patrons; the man was sitting at a booth, glancing around just as interestedly as Lenth had been. Anyone looking at Lenth and the other man—who had arrived fifteen minutes prior—would have assumed that they were brothers, or at the very least cousins; they shared the same skin tone: a shade somewhere between brown and gray—an unusual color, though not entirely out of the realm of human possibility—and a similar build: lean, muscular, and almost too tall to quite be believed. Where Lenth had close-cropped, thick brown hair, the other man’s was a few inches longer, unnatural-looking silver. Both men also had unearthly-looking blue-green eyes.

  Lenth strode through the quiet bar towards the booth, his lips curling in a smile at the sight of his fellow scientist. “Bronn,” he said, sitting down across from the other man. “I apologize for my tardiness.” Bronn mimicked his smile, glancing around the room once more.

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” Bronn responded. He shifted into their native language. “Our superiors are beginning to become anxious.” Lenth nodded.

  “I think your idea is a good one,” Lenth said. They had spoken previously about their mutual troubles; neither of them had had any success in the goal of their mission, the goal that all of the scientists on their mission had.

  “It would be better than being sent back to Khatanar,” Bronn agreed. Lenth smiled, shaking his head. The planet they came from—called Tau Ceti e by the humans—was far enough away that neither scientist was in a hurry to return alone.

  “They wouldn’t send us back, they’d just make our lives miserable.”

  “They’d send us back if we went much longer without any progress,” Bronn countered. “I have no interest in being crammed into a capsule and sent back.”

  “How are we going to approach this?” Lenth asked.

  “I’ve studied human reproduction extensively,” Bronn said, lifting the mug of what Lenth’s own extensive research told him was beer to his lips and taking a long sip. “I have seen several references to human sexuality that seem to suggest that in certain situations, humans mate in groups of three instead of pairs.”

  “I have seen a few of these references,” Lenth agreed. On the months that the voyage to this planet had taken, all of the scientists had reviewed as much as they could, studying the facets of human sexuality. “But it seems to be the exception rather than the rule. Do you believe it’s a fertility issue?”

  “None of the other reports suggest that it is.” Bronn sat back on the bench, sighing. “I believe—from what I have studied—that recreational mating is a common feature for this species.” Lenth considered it; certainly, the wealth of information available publicly about reproduction, including videos, stories, pictures, and guides, implied that the human species did not simply mate for the purposes of reproduction. Early reports from other, more successful Khateen scientists—other members of their crew, colleagues who had already selected and recruited subjects for experimentation—suggested the same.

  “This—pornography that they have,” Lenth said slowly. “It’s difficult to decipher how much of it is for the purposes of education and how much of it is entertainment.”

  “They are in some ways like children,” Bronn said, taking another sip of his beer. “This isn’t bad; when the waitress arrives, you should order it.” Bronn set the heavy glass mug down and continued his thought. “It’s as though their mating is not simply for the purposes of either bonding or reproduction, but a recreational activity in its own right.” Among the Khateen, mating only served two functions; part of the challenge that faced the researchers sent to the planet known as Earth was that mating seemed to be a much more complicated issue.

  “We know much more now than we did when this mission started,” Lenth pointed out. “It seems strange though that something that can result in conception could be used purely as a form of entertainment. I understand that many human women don’t desire this outcome.”

  “The planet is fairly well-populated,” Bronn pointed out. “And we both know that the orgasm response in humans can be addictive.”

  “But an entire planet of addicts? It should be choked with humans—they should have already destroyed themselves.”

  “They have ways of preventing conception, as Hikar discovered.” Hikar, another one of their colleagues, had recruited his human female subject the week before; he had reported to the group about the existence of various methods that humans used to avoid reproduction.

  “All I know,” Lenth said, shaking his head in frustration, “is that if we don’t find a subject to experiment on, we’ll be in trouble.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a human woman; she was short, even by human standards, with brilliant purple-colored hair cut short around a sharp-featured face. Dressed in a pair of shorts that revealed the indelible ink markings Lenth knew were called tattoos—designs that looked similar to human artwork in a floral motif—and a tight, black shirt, she looked to Lenth’s gaze like the human mythological creature called a pixie.

  “Can I get you something?” she said, and Lenth felt a shiver cascade through his nervous system at the pleasing, soft sound of her voice. The woman’s large, dark eyes took him in.

  “I’ll have what my friend is having,” Lenth told her, gesturing to the beer. The woman smiled, nodding quickly.

  “Coming right up!” she scribbled something on the pad of paper and moved away from the table, and Lenth watched her move towards the bar.

  “What do you think?” Bronn asked. Lenth smiled slowly.

  “I think we should approach her,” Lenth replied. “She’s an excellent candidate.”

  Bronn watched the woman that he and Lenth had identified as a potential recruit for their now-combined study, tracking her around the room as she went about her work. “Why do you think she’s an excellent candidate?” Bronn asked his colleague, turning his attention back onto Lenth.

  “She’s obviously fertile,” Lenth said, his glance moving to watch her as well. “I find her interesting.”

  “Interesting?” Bronn asked doubtfully. He had had no success in finding a recruit to study; as of yet he had never found a human woman to be specifically interesting. He had found them intriguing as study participants—but his opinion about human intelligence was fairly dim.

  “Did you hear her voice?” Lenth asked him.

  Bronn raised his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. “She has a very nic
e voice; how does that make her interesting?”

  “She has that—tattooing,” Lenth pointed out, still speaking in their native language.

  “Many human women have that,” Bronn pointed out. When the human woman approached the table once more, Bronn looked at her artwork in more detail. The shorts the woman was wearing made it easy to view the whorls and swirls of ink forming flowers on her upper thighs.

  “Here you are: one mug of Samuel Adams,” the woman said, smiling. Listening to her voice, Bronn had to admit to himself that it was beautiful. The woman hesitated; instead of turning away quickly, the way she had before, she lingered, looking from Bronn to Lenth. “Do you mind if I ask where you gentlemen come from?” she asked quickly. “Jeez! I apologize if that’s offensive.”

  “We’re from far away,” Lenth said, falling back on the explanation that the other Khateen had used—the explanation that both Lenth and Bronn had used in speaking with women previously. Lenth glanced at Bronn, giving him a significant look.

  “May I ask your name?” Bronn asked, falling into the English language with slight difficulty. Even after weeks of speaking the language, it still felt stilted and strange to him.

  “Giselle,” the woman said, her lips curving in a smile. In that moment, Bronn’s confusion at Lenth’s choice—his decision to attempt to recruit the woman—evaporated. Bronn had seen a dozen women smile; but there was something about the way Giselle’s dark eyes lit up when her lips curved that sent a jolt through him.

  “Let us know when you’re on your break, Giselle, and we can tell you all about where we come from,” Lenth suggested.

  “I’m actually off in twenty minutes,” she said, glancing at them both. “I wasn’t planning to hang around, but your language sounds very interesting; I study cultures, I’d love to hear more.”

  Bronn nodded, smiling at the woman. “We’ll be happy to share everything you want to hear about our culture,” Bronn told her. “Let me pay for my friend so that we don’t hold you up.” He offered one of the strange pieces of paper that humans used as currency; Giselle glanced at it and then smiled again, extending it towards him.

  “Actually, this one’s on me; I’ll get you a refill as well. I didn’t catch your names.” She frowned slightly, and there was something about the expression that intrigued Bronn even more than her smile.

  “I’m called Bronn,” he said, before gesturing to his colleague. “My friend is Lenth.” Giselle smiled again.

  “Well, Bronn and Lenth, I’ll be right back.”

  Bronn glanced at his colleague as Giselle walked briskly away. “She is fertile, and she seems interested.” Lenth’s lips tugged upward at the corners in a human-like smile.

  “I believe she’s at the phase of reproductive viability—the part of her monthly cycle called ovulation.” Bronn considered it, thinking of the woman’s body language, the way she had looked at both of them, her dark eyes flashing. He nodded.

  “How much do we tell her?” he asked his fellow researcher, glancing the way that Giselle had come. The slight sway in her hips as she walked towards the bar suggested to him that Giselle was almost certainly fertile at the moment—not just in the general sense, but imminently so.

  “As little as possible,” Lenth suggested. “At least until we can get her to a private location.”

  “Should we convince her to consume alcohol while we talk?” Bronn asked; the Khateen metabolism was unaffected by alcohol—they could consume endless quantities without becoming intoxicated. Other researchers had discovered that drinking alcohol with their subjects loosened the subjects’ inhibitions—though there were ethical considerations in consent taken from a woman who was intoxicated.

  “Yes,” Lenth said, nodding slowly. “But we should allow her to become sober before any experimentation takes place.”

  “Particularly in light of the fact that we will both be experimenting on her,” Bronn agreed. “Yes, that would make sense. We want to be careful not to injure her.” Others of their race had run into problems; even though care had been taken, human women were smaller than Khateen women, particularly their sex organs. More than one researcher had discovered that this could present problems in experiments. Though the Khateen had ample technology for dealing with such injuries, the incidents made the human recruits more reticent, and the empathic response that formed part of the Khateen personality made it difficult to remain objective, knowing that the subject was in pain, even for a short period of time.

  “We’ll be very careful; she seems smaller than many of the human women I have encountered—she’s probably smaller everywhere.” Bronn nodded.

  “She’ll be sober, and we’ll make sure that she’s fully apprised of the risks and the benefits before we persuade her to participate.” Lenth laughed the Khateen way, startling one of the nearby human patrons.

  “We haven’t been able to persuade any human women on our own,” Lenth pointed out. “It will only be more difficult for us to persuade one together.”

  “I don’t believe so,” Bronn said to his colleague as Giselle approached their table once more, armed with another mug of beer.

  ****

  Giselle tugged a chair into place at the edge of the table occupied by the two strange men, Bronn and Lenth. “Okay,” she said, smiling at both, “I’m officially off the clock.”

  Lenth favored her with a toothy smile, raising his glass to her. “What would you like to know about us?” he asked.

  Giselle considered the question. She had been drawn to the two men as soon as the second had sat down; their strange coloring and the sounds of their language had appealed to the researcher in her right away. A student of anthropology, Giselle was in the process of finding a topic for her Ph.D., and the possibility of writing an ethnography on a culture as rare as the one these two men must belong to lit her mind with voracious curiosity.

  “If you’ll forgive me,” she said, glancing from Lenth to Bronn, “I noticed that the two of you are…different.” She felt her cheeks warming with a blush. They had to know that they looked different from any of the other patrons at the bar; she had never seen a person with such strange coloring—let alone two. “Where are you from?”

  “We’re from a place called Khatanar,” Bronn said. “It’s very remote.”

  “How did you find your way here?” Giselle asked.

  “We’re researchers,” Lenth told her. “Our people are scientists, interested in genetics.” Giselle frowned. Two men from a remote, isolated culture; one that apparently studied genetics. And yet the place that they had told her they came from was not one that she’d ever heard of—not on the news, and not in any textbook she had read.

  “Your whole culture is scientists?” Giselle asked, frowning more deeply.

  “Ah—no,” Bronn said. “Those of us who are here are scientists.” Giselle nodded slowly, still trying to understand, but slightly less confused.

  “How many of you are here?” she assumed that she meant the country; it would make sense that if they were studying genetics, they would come to a first-world nation—and yet, if they were scientists who were already studying genetics, wouldn’t their own city or country have adequate facilities?

  “There are…” Bronn’s lips moved as he hesitated, and Giselle recognized the signs of someone translating. “Twenty of us.”

  “Twenty scientists studying genetics here,” Giselle said, nodding slowly. “What do you hope to discover?” she glanced at Lenth.

  “Could we buy you a drink?” Lenth asked her. Giselle smiled.

  “Well, you could—but they’ll give me a couple of drinks on the house, so it would be a waste of money.”

  “The bartender could take the money as a tip,” Bronn pointed out. Giselle smiled again, looking from one man to the other.

  “That she could. Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  “We’ll come with you,” Lenth suggested. “So we can continue talking.”

  ****

  Time seemed to stan
d still as Giselle found herself increasingly absorbed in the information that Lenth and Bronn provided her about their culture. She found herself having a drink—then two, then three—while the two men told her about the research they were interested in, looking into female genetics and sexuality. She knew that she was ovulating; when she’d approached the table, her reaction to the two men had been as much due to some subtlety of their height, build, coloring, and facial features, along with their unusual, brightly colored eyes, as their potential as subjects for her possible ethnography.

  Somehow, over the course of the conversation, she’d found herself divulging more about her life than she’d expected to. Bronn and Lenth asked her about her age, about her studies—they were complimentary about her subject matter. “That is a wonderful thing to study!” Bronn told her brightly when she explained the scope of cultural anthropology. “Humans need to discover as much about themselves as possible if they desire to advance.”

  There was something—Giselle’s increasingly fuzzy mind couldn’t identify it—about the way that the two men referred to the human race. She caught the fact that Bronn and Lenth occasionally said “you” when talking about people instead of “we,” but dismissed it as the kind of error that people who spoke English as a second language would make. But still something stirred in the back of her mind, something that was unsettling and intriguing all at once.