by Willow Danes
Jenna held up her arm to sniff again. She could detect a very faint flowery scent from one of the samples he’d placed on her arm; it smelled a little like jasmine.
“I like the middle one.” Jenna held her wrist out to the g’hir woman. “What do you think?”
It was the kind of thing she’d do out shopping with a girlfriend but the woman blinked and the warriors with her looked equally surprised. G’hir had different mannerisms, a different culture; hell, they were a different species so maybe she’d just made a social blunder.
Jenna was about to drop her arm and apologize when Si’hala stepped forward and sniffed.
“Very nice.” She met Jenna’s eye. “It suits you, Mata.”
“You can call me Jenna.”
The g’hir female straightened and regarded her for a moment then inclined her head. “Jenna.”
Jenna felt like she was missing something here but she couldn’t ask Ra’kur right now. She looked at the shopkeeper. “I guess I’ll take it then.” Oh, crap, she didn’t have any money. She looked at Ra’kur. “Uh, okay?”
“Purchase whatever you please,” Ra’kur said, his bright eyes warm. “The Erah clan has waited long to welcome a new Mata.”
“Right,” Jenna managed, shifting her weight.
“I believe,” Si’hala put in, “that a yellow silk gown would suit you very well too.” The g’hir woman looked at the shopkeeper. “Bring us—No, never mind.” She caught hold of Jenna’s arm. “We will come inside to look.” She gave an imperious look at the men with her. “Wait here.”
To Jenna’s surprise not only did they not protest, Ra’kur didn’t either.
Probably confident nothing will happen to us inside the shop.
“Bring us that one,” Si’hala said, pointing. “The yellow silk with the ribbon embroidery.” The g’hir female eyed her as the elderly shopkeeper hurried to fetch the dress. “How long have you been on Hir?”
“Only a few days. Actually I was injured before Ra’kur brought me here,” she supplied before Si’hala could ask. “This is my first time out of the hospital.”
The g’hir woman tilted her head. “Where is your world?”
“I don’t know actually,” Jenna admitted. “Ra’kur says it’s very far from Hir, that it takes an enormous amount of power to get here.”
“Then you are the only human here?”
Jenna frowned. She wasn’t sure where Si’hala was going with all these questions. “As far as I know.”
Si’hala looked her over, her green glowing glance measuring. “Are there more of your kind coming, Jenna? Females?”
“Not that I know of,” Jenna said warily. “Would that be a problem?”
Si’hala lifted an eyebrow. “No, the g’hir need more females and certainly new fashions—if your people care about such things. Ours seem to keep coming up with the same things year after year.”
Jenna had a sudden image of Si’hala in the front row for Paris’ fashion week and she smiled. “Oh, well in that case, I think our people would have a lot to offer yours.”
“It is obvious,” Si’hala gave a nod at her clothes, “that your mate chose your dress.”
Jenna looked down at herself. “Something wrong with it?”
“It is a winter color.” The g’hir female sniffed. “No one is wearing it now.” She waved the shopkeeper over and took the yellow gown from him to hold it in front of Jenna. “Shades of yellows and greens are for spring, not purple. And you are not wearing any jewels. We will fix that as well.” Si’hala snapped her fingers at the shopkeeper and jerked her chin toward another dress, a bright lemon yellow. “Bring us that one as well.”
“So you’re giving me a fashion makeover?” Jenna asked, not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed by the g’hir woman’s efforts.
“Makeover.” Si’hala smiled. “Yes, I will makeover until you look good.” The g’hir woman held the lemon-colored gown in front of her and frowned thoughtfully. “This is not terrible. Perhaps once we have done something with your hair so it does not simply hang there it will be flattering.”
“Hey, thanks,” Jenna said, deciding to go with annoyed after all. “You know—since I can only pick between the two or face fashion oblivion—I actually like green better than yellow.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” Si’hala said with an airy wave. “I am wearing green. We can’t both leave the shop wearing the same color.”
“Sorry,” Jenna muttered as the g’hir woman urged her toward the fitting room. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”
An hour, and Jenna didn’t want to think how much g’hir currency, later, Si’hala deemed her outfitted as a Mata should be. The shopkeeper promised to have the other dresses—Si’hala allowed her to purchase a few of the green ones for later wear—sent straight away to the Erah enclosure. In truth, Jenna suspected that the g’hir woman was showing her a real kindness by doing all this. The men seemed to be getting along well outside and Ra’kur’s eyes lit up when he saw her.
She ducked her head shyly at his appreciative look. “I’m sorry we took so long in there.”
He smiled. “I am pleased you have enjoyed your time but we should return to the hospital. My clanbrothers have signaled. They will arrive there shortly.” He looked at Lihr and Si’hala. “Perhaps the Yir clan will consider a visit. My mate is new to this world and the Erah have few females in our number. I am sure she would welcome more of your companionship, Mata.”
Si’hala smiled. “I did enjoy the makeover, Jenna.”
“I did too,” Jenna said. “Thank you.”
“I am very happy to have met you,” Si’hala said warmly. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
“You think she meant that?” Jenna asked, with a final wave at the Si’hala before they turned the corner and vanished from sight.
“I am certain she did.”
“So I made my first alien girlfriend?”
“I would say so, my Jenna. But come.” He caught her hand in his, smiling down at her. “My clanbrothers await us now.”
When Ra’kur and Jenna arrived at the hospital’s windy landing platform she saw that five of his clanbrothers waited near the transport vessel to escort them to Erah territory. Their eyes were sharp and she didn’t miss how their hands hovered over their weapons.
Fortunately not many others besides their party occupied the elevated platform right now. As she and Ra’kur approached the clanbrothers their gazes turned to her with the same surprised looks she’d garnered in the city and she was already feeling overwhelmed. Dressed much as Ra’kur was in dark brown leather, their hair color ran from his black to a light chocolate brown. With their eyes varying brilliant shades of blue these men showed clear resemblance to him, especially one.
“Ke’lar!” Ra’kur said, warmly embracing the man.
The man clapped him on the back, smiling. “It has been too long, brother.”
Ke’lar was a bit shorter than Ra’kur—which still made him pretty darn tall in Jenna’s eyes. His face was full of good humor as he turned to her, his blue eyes as bright as his brother’s. “You did not exaggerate. Your mate is very beautiful.”
Jenna’s face went warmed. “Uh, thanks.”
“And your way of speaking is very soothing to the ear.” Ke’lar tilted his head. “Are there any others like you, Mata?”
“You mean human women?” Jenna asked, surprised. “Of course. Lots of them.”
Ke’lar’s gaze darted to his brother. “Give me the location of this world.” He glanced at the other men who looked just as interested. “We will depart as soon as you are safe within the enclosure.”
“Oh, hold on!” Jenna cried. “You can’t just show up on my planet and start grabbing women! You shouldn’t be in an all-fire rush anyway. You might get mates but Dr. Elaran is certain g’hir and humans can’t have children.”
“But Mata,” Ke’lar began, “if there is even a possibility that there are females to whom we can be lifemated—”
“This is something to be discussed within the security of the enclosure,” Ra’kur interrupted sharply, sending a meaningful glance toward other men nearby, not of their clan, coming and going from their own transports on the landing platform.
“Of course,” Ke’lar murmured, crestfallen, and Jenna felt sorry for him. It wasn’t like she wanted these guys to spend their lives alone but the whole idea of them heading for Earth unnerved her. “The whole clan has come to welcome our new Mata.”
The men parted to allow them entrance to the transport vessel.
“The whole clan?” Jenna asked Ra’kur as they stepped onboard. “How many people are we talking about here?”
He shrugged. “A few hundred.”
“A few hundred?” she echoed as they took their seats. “To meet me? God, why?”
He gave her a surprised look. “You are very important, Jenna. You are the first female to join our clan in years.” His glance went over her face. “You are nervous? You should not be.”
“Oh, heck, no,” she said, fingering the bird charm around her neck as the other clanbrothers stepped aboard and the transport door shut to prepare for liftoff. “Not nervous at all.”
Fourteen
Dismayed, Jenna looked out over the rows and rows of g’hir warriors assembled for her arrival and swallowed hard.
“Come.” Ra’kur took her hand to lead her forward. “They are eager to welcome you home.”
“Home,” she murmured. “Right.”
Standing in front of a crowd or even having to give a speech in class in college rattled her but having Ra’kur’s strong warm hand in hers sure made it easier.
She walked down the ramp of the transport ship that had brought them from Be’lyn City, nervous enough that she was worried about tripping over her own feet. They had actually entered Erah territory an hour ago and Jenna watched wide-eyed as miles upon miles of woodlands blurred by beneath their transport.
And she’d been bragging on her five hundred acres.
The Erah enclosure itself was the size of a town built up around a central square. Ra’kur explained that the fountain here was fed by the same springs that provided water to the residents of the enclosure. The buildings themselves were reddish in color and strongly resembled adobe houses even though the weather here was more like the northeast than the southwest. It was warm today, spring for this region, and the foliage was verdant and lush.
The rows of warriors stood silently as Ra’kur led her forward, Ke’lar following them down the ramp, the g’hirs’ stance inhumanly, unnaturally still as they watched.
An older man, his long hair salt and pepper but his back straight and proud, came forward to meet them. A younger g’hir, moving with the awkward gawkiness of a teenager, came too.
The older man embraced Ra’kur and his growl trembled a little with emotion. “It has been so long since you went from us, my son, that I feared you dead.”
Ra’kur hugged him back. “I am glad to be home, Father.” He drew back to look at Jenna with shining eyes. “And to have brought a mate home with me.” He took her hand in his again. “Jenna, this is my sire, Rotin. Father”—he gave her a warm, proud look—“this is my Jenna.”
In his face were deep creases of pain and grief but Rotin’s electric blue eyes rested on her kindly. “You are most welcome to the Erah clan, Jenna, and to our enclosure.”
“Thank you. It’s beautiful,” Jenna said honestly.
“Jenna has never left her own world. She has never seen a person who is not human.”
“Is that what you are?” the younger man blurted. “Human?”
“Tarsh!” Rotin scolded; the boy’s face reddened and he dropped his gaze, mumbling an apology.
Ra’kur blinked. “This is Tarsh? You have grown so I did not recognize you!”
“You have been gone for six years,” Tarsh said, his growl sulky. “Of course I have grown.”
“Our younger brother, Tarsh,” Ke’lar said to Jenna. “His manners are usually better.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Jenna said. “And yeah, I’m a human.”
Tarsh jerked his chin toward her, his incandescent eyes a paler blue than his brothers’. “Are there a lot of humans?”
She gave a nod. “Yup. Billions.”
“Billions?” Ke’lar exclaimed. “How many are female?”
Jenna could have bitten her tongue and Ra’kur, at least, noticed her discomfiture.
“I think we should complete Jenna’s welcome to the clan,” he said with a warning look at Ke’lar. “Before we badger her with questions about her world.”
“Of course,” Rotin agreed. “We have a celebration prepared in your honor.” He extended his hand to indicate the large central building of the enclosure. “Please, Mata, we are honored to welcome you home.”
She wasn’t sure if it would be more accurate to call the place a mansion or a palace but the house Ra’kur’s family called home was huge.
“Wow,” she murmured, getting her first look at the inside, at the soaring spaces and decorative work, as they followed Ra’kur’s father inside. With his height Ra’kur had to duck through every door in her cabin but he sure wouldn’t have to duck in here. The space was also filled with alien flowers and bright streamers, no doubt done for her benefit.
Ra’kur stayed protectively at her side, her hand tucked into his. His brothers walked behind them and a glance back showed that the rest of the g’hir warriors were following them inside.
“Our clan has resided in this enclosure for centuries,” Ra’kur said with a proud look at the space. “This center hall is nearly a thousand years old.”
“Your family has lived here for a thousand years?” Jenna managed. “It’s beautiful.”
“But ill-matched,” Ra’kur put in with a laugh. “The rest of the buildings—and a great deal of this one—are newer. Every generation builds, remodels, expands the enclosure—”
“But since the Scourge,” Rotin said, a shadow passing over his face, “there has been no need to expand the living quarters, and many of them stand empty.”
“Father,” Ke’lar pleaded. “Not now. Please.”
“You are right, of course.” Rotin gave her a faint smile. “I apologize. My sons will tell you my mood sometimes turns dark on the brightest of days. As today is, Mata.” He nodded toward huge arched doors that had been thrown open to a hall also cheerfully decorated. “The Erah Matas are eager to make your acquaintance.”
Inside the hall waited a handful of female g’hir, their eyes curious on her. Two were elderly, one appeared to be a teenager, and one, accompanied by two little girls, was about her own age.
The children were adorable, with rounded, soft faces and big eyes that stared up at her. The elder girl looked to be about six, her sister a few years younger, and they hung back shyly as they were introduced. Even the girls’ fangs were cute and these little ones were obviously the treasures of the enclosure. Their hair, golden in color like their mother’s, was braided, curled, and beribboned. Their dresses, miniature versions of ladies’ gowns, were in soft greens that emphasized their youth and pink cheeks.
Rotin introduced each of the women in turn. They each offered words of welcome but Yalar, mother of the two girls, was a bit cool and kept her children close at her side.
Jenna’s eyes were drawn to the scores of warriors filling the dining hall.
“Is that all of them?” she asked Ra’kur quietly after introductions were made and the g’hir started moving around the room, making their way to their seats. “All of the women in your clan?”
He glanced at the female with the two young girls as the woman’s mate proudly escorted his family to their seats. “I have not met Yalar before; she came to the enclosure after I left. With her children, and you, we have many more females than before.”
“With me that makes seven,” she murmured.
He gave her a smile. “The All Mother has blessed us.”
Jenna swallowed
hard. Ra’kur was right; their race was dying. If—and it was a big damn if—they managed to survive it would take centuries for them to rebuild their species.
No wonder Ke’lar and the other clanbrothers were ready to take off immediately for Earth. They had about zero chance of ever having a mate here.
Dozens of pairs of alien eyes watched her every move. Some of the males stole glances and some showed open hunger, obvious envy for their clanbrother.
She was seated at the head table between Rotin and Ra’kur and flanked by Rotin’s other sons. Her eyes widened at the feast they set before her. She was no judge of their cuisine, of course, but just the variety and skill of presentation of the dishes placed on the table bespoke of a great deal of care and attention.
“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble,” she demurred as they filled her plate with meats and different side dishes, some featuring very strange-looking vegetables.
“Why not?” Tarsh demanded. “Aren’t you staying?”
“Of course she is staying!” Ke’lar said impatiently. “She is your clansister now. This is her home.”
Jenna tried to hide her dismay but Ra’kur caught her expression and his brow furrowed a little.
“That’s just something people say where I come from,” she explained to Tarsh, lifting her two-pronged fork. The utensil felt a bit too big in her hand and she felt self-conscious trying to spear a piece of meat. “A way of saying thank you for all that you’ve done.”
“It is our joy to welcome you here, Mata,” Rotin said. “As it is to have Ra’kur home.”
“At last,” Ke’lar said with a fond look at his brother, then to Jenna: “He was gone a very long time.”
“I searched far for my Jenna,” Ra’kur said with a warm look at her. “Many star systems, many worlds.”
“You must tell us all about your world, Mata,” Ke’lar said.
It sounded like polite conversation, asking someone about where they’re from, the kind of thing you’d ask a new acquaintance, but Jenna knew that’s not what this was about.
And unless she was prepared to be rude, there wasn’t much way around it.
