by Susan Hayes
“So you’ve mentioned. Welcome to the universe as I know it. Nothing is ever what you think it’s going to be. Doesn’t mean the situation is any better or worse than before. It’s just different.” She could have said a lot more on the topic, but now wasn’t the right time. Besides, this was his moment of doubt. She’d have her turn later.
“Different. Yes.” His smile returned, warmer than before. “Definitely not worse, though. I know that much already. Will you forgive me?”
She took his hand. “Just promise me no more dives without permission from your passenger.”
He touched his free hand to his chest and then raised it in a gesture like he was offering something up to the sky. “I swear by the breath in my lungs that I will never do that again. May the ancestors witness this vow.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she repeated something she’d heard done by other Vardarians at her bar. “Witnessed,” she said slowly in his language, making sure to get the pronunciation correct.
It must have been the right thing to say because he grinned and nodded. “You know so much about our ways already.”
“Not as much as it seems. That was just something I heard at the bar often enough I asked what it meant. It took me a while to learn it, too. Some words still tie my tongue into knots every time I say them.
A look of dark longing flashed in his eyes and his smile turned into something almost predatory. “Do not injure your mouth, mahaya. I have plans for it later.”
Her brain cells short-circuited and her witty retort died unspoken, replaced with a single breathy word. “Yes.”
“Atarflorinti,” he murmured. His talented tongue clearly had no problem wrapping itself around the word.
“Did you just witness my agreement?”
“Yes I did.”
“And that means you’re marking what I said and will hold me to my word. Right?”
“Exactly.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“No one warned me how tricky you Vardarians are. That really should be in the introductory guide.”
He blinked. “What guide?”
“The one all the human colonists are given. Cultural differences, beliefs, even a historical overview.” She waggled her brows. “Oh, and courtship rituals. Maggie sent me a copy this morning. I haven’t had time to read most of it.” It was even more expansive than the article Saral had sent.”
“Is there one on your species?” he asked immediately.
“Uh. No idea. Saral didn’t mention one.” She hadn’t planned on revealing that Saral was the source of most of her information about the Vardarians.
“You’ve spoken to Saral about us?”
“I may have asked her a few things.” She cast about for a way to redirect the conversation. “Shouldn’t we be going inside? You have a delivery to make. Don’t want to be late.” And she really didn’t want to discuss what she’d learned from Saral and N’tev during last night’s conversation. They were having enough trouble keeping their hands off each other as it was. Admitting she’d had a blunt conversation about the ins and outs of physical intimacy with an alien species would only add rocket fuel to the fire.
“You’re right. We have places to be. Warmer places. Perhaps we should walk back. I wasn’t expecting the wind to be so cold.”
“I didn’t notice. Then again, I was a little distracted. That’s the first time my feet have been off the ground without a vehicle being involved.”
“But not the last.” Tra’var draped a possessive arm across her shoulders and led her toward a pair of massive doors. “Have you been to one of the arenas before?”
“Not yet. I mean, it’s a training and fitness facility. It would be rude to just wander in and gawk at all the pretty males working out. Right? Or is that a human thing?”
“That is definitely a human thing. Females often attend to enjoy the view and select potential partners for uh… short-term enjoyment.”
She barked out a laugh. “Is that what you call it? Because at the bar, we just call it a hookup.”
He stopped walking and then shrugged. It wasn’t quite the same as the human version, but it was close. He lifted one shoulder and dropped the other while his wings mirrored the motion. “I was being circumspect. Given your occupation, I suppose I shouldn’t have worried.”
“Fraxx no. I’m sorry, Tra’v, but the ancestors sent you a mate who curses in multiple languages and has heard things that would make an angel weep and the devil blush.”
He frowned. “What is a devil?”
“I’ll explain demon and angel mythology to you another time.” She inclined her head toward the doors, which were only a few steps away. “Now I’m curious to see what I’ve been missing out on.”
She’d seen some of the practice centers from the outside even though she’d never been inside one before. This was the largest one in the colony, a massive circular structure that took up nearly an entire block of space. The walls were solid at the bottom, but the upper levels had openings and archways large enough for Vardarians to fly through. It had no roof, just an energy shield that encapsulated the entire building, keeping out the elements while still allowing beings to push through with only minimal resistance.
They walked through the barrier and on toward the doors. The moment they were inside the bubble, the winter chill gave way to a more temperate climate. There was no snow on the ground, and her breath no longer turned to vapor when it hit the air.
She hadn’t realized the shield acted as a sound dampener, too. Now that she was on the other side, she could hear the clang of weapons and shouting in at least two languages.
Sand grated beneath her boots, and she glanced down at the tiled floor in confusion. Where was the sand coming from?
The answer came a moment later when several servo-droids appeared from slots in the walls and started to sweep the entranceway, pushing the debris toward a large opening that led to the practice area. The floor was covered in golden sand. It reminded her of old vids about gladiators from human history.
Tra’var touched his hand to a scanner, registering the two of them as spectators.
“Thank you for making it clear that I am not here to get my head handed to me,” she said.
“No one would dare. You may not yet wear our harani, but you are our mate and I would not let them touch you.”
“Harani. Those are the armbands that mark a mated trio. Right?”
“They are.” He gave her a hot-eyed look. “I look forward to the day you agree to wear ours.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “And nothing else.”
Her cheeks burned hot enough to rival a star and a very different kind of heat pooled low in her belly, making her ache with need. “Behave,” she hissed at him.
Tra’var just inhaled deeply and then grinned at her. “Why would I do that when teasing you increases your pheromones? You smell delicious.”
“Because we are in public. And uh… I haven’t agreed to this insanity yet.”
“But you will. Soon. Because that feeling burning inside you right now, I know it well. Damos and I feel it too.”
If they kept talking about this, she was going to do something reckless and hormonal that she would regret later. So she pulled her cloak off over her head, taking longer than usual to free herself, just so she didn’t have to reply or even look at him.
Maturity. Maybe next lifetime she’d develop some. Maybe.
Once the cloak was off, she found Tra’var standing close by with one hand outstretched. He’d managed to strip off his own outerwear and had it neatly draped over his arm.
“I’ll put these in a locker. That way you won’t get overheated from carrying your cloak around with you.”
The smug asshole knew damned well that wasn’t why she was running hot. Not that she was admitting that to anyone. Especially not him.
She handed her things over. “Thanks. It really is quite warm in here.”
“Quite,” he agreed with such droll humor she briefly
considered prodding him with one of the kes’tarvs he carried.
Not that she knew how to use one. Maggie had showed her the one Striker had given her as a gift, but that was the only time she’d really gotten a good look at one. They weren’t a common weapon, so a large delivery like this would mean a group was…ah.
That’s why they were here. The kes’tarvs must be for the newly formed band of rangers Striker had agreed to lead and train. She’d heard the buzz about that last night before her destiny had waltzed through the door of her bar and knocked her ass over afterburner.
If the rangers were here, then so were Maggie and Striker. It was time to face her friends for the first time as a claimed woman. Semi-claimed? Definitely not single but still in denial? Something like that.
“Once we step onto the sand, stay close to me and keep an eye out for falling objects,” Tra’var said calmly as he returned to her side.
“You mean like dropped weapons?”
“And the occasional unconscious body.”
She slid an arm around his waist and leaned into him. His vest had two splits in the back to allow his wings to extend, which meant she was touching more bare skin than fabric. It was going to make the sharhal worse, but better an itch she couldn’t scratch than a Vardarian landing on her head.
“I will not let anything happen to you.” She expected him to put an arm around her shoulders, but he extended a wing instead, curving it around her body in a surprisingly comfortable embrace.
They entered the arena floor, and though several curious glances came her way, everyone around them was too busy sparring to pay much attention. Blades flashed and chimed all around her, even in the air above her head. Warriors dove and spun, battling each other with a variety of weapons—knives, swords, a few kes’tarvs, and even something she thought was called a crossbow.
Tra’var ignored the chaos, guiding her across the sand to a quieter area where a group was assembled.
She recognized some of them immediately. Maggie and Striker. Wreckage and Ruin. There was another cyborg she didn’t recognize and standing beside them was… “Is that a human? A male human? When did we get one of those?” she asked Tra’var, keeping her voice low.
Tra’var scanned the group and then scowled. “That’s Cameron, the only survivor from the mercenary ship that tried to take Maggie and Jade. I guess he’s allowed to leave his quarters now.”
“Wasn’t he some kind of prisoner or something? Nothing to do with the mercs?” Now that Tra’var had identified him, Anya recalled a few details she’d heard in passing. Maggie had mentioned him, but Anya had been more concerned about her friend’s abduction and escape than hearing about some random stranger.
“They won his contract as part of a debt.” Tra’var glanced down at her. “I hadn’t realized slavery was still permitted in this part of space.”
“Technically it isn’t. That doesn’t stop the corporations and plenty of underhanded jerks using indentured service as a workaround. If the being gets paid, it’s not slavery. At least, that’s what they keep insisting.”
“You don’t agree?” he asked.
She didn’t hold back. “I think it’s a vile, barbaric practice that should be outlawed. Every being deserves to be free. I’m one of the lucky ones. My family worked off their corporate debt generations ago. We’ll never go back to a life of servitude. Never.”
Tra’var made a soft sound of approval, but before he could say anything an ear-piercing squeal of delight tore through the air. “Anya! You left and Saral wouldn’t say anything and holy fraxx why are you even out in public? Shouldn’t you be doing the mating fever thing?” Maggie didn’t stop asking questions as she ran straight for Anya, grinning.
“Do you need assistance, or shall I assume this is a friendly charge?” Tra’var murmured.
“Just make sure she doesn’t knock me on my ass. I swear she’s gotten stronger since she took the medi-bot treatment.”
“Of course. It’s part of the process. You’ll experience it for yourself soon enough.”
Maggie’s enthusiastic hug saved Tra’var from a sharp reminder that she hadn’t agreed to that. He still didn’t understand that, for her, choice was important. Even if it was just the illusion, she needed to feel like she had options.
“You okay?” Maggie whispered as she squeezed Anya. She had switched to a Terran trading patois they’d discovered wasn’t included in the Vardarian translation matrix.
“All good. Just trying to adjust to my new reality,” Anya replied in the same dialect.
“Striker says they’re good males and I shouldn’t worry.”
“They are. I think. It’s just… I knew it was possible, but the odds were… and now here I am.”
“Enjoy. And if you need us, we’re just a message away.” Maggie gave her one last squeeze and then released her. The feisty redhead turned her attention to Tra’var, stating in Galactic Standard, “I know you helped save Jade and me, but if you hurt my friend, I will still find a way to make you regret it.”
Tra’var bowed his head. “Witnessed.”
Okay. That was not the response she’d expected. Tra’var had taken Maggie at her word and, if she was grasping the situation correctly, had just acknowledged Maggie’s threat and accepted the consequences. That was comforting in an unsettling sort of way. “But not without my say-so,” Anya added.
Maggie laughed. “Witnessed.”
Tra’var shifted the bag on his shoulder. “Your weapons are here. Shall we proceed?”
“In a hurry?” Maggie asked.
Tra’var was surprisingly blunt. “Yes. The sharhal is intensifying and I would prefer to be alone with my mahaya. Soon.”
“That’s so romantic!” Maggie smiled and then led them over to the others.
Striker made introductions, though she knew most of them by name already. The big silent cyborg was called Axe. He reminded her of Raze, the cyborg who had originally founded the colony. He had the same weathered look—craggy features, long black hair, and a beard that looked like it had been trimmed with a knife instead of scissors.
Four other Vardarians were present. Darz and Vyrn were unmated males she’d seen at the tavern from time to time. The other two were Saral’s son B’ron and his anrik, Kotar. They were young by Vardarian standards, though they looked to be in their mid-twenties to her.
They gave her a polite nod of greeting, but most of their attention was on the only human male most of them had ever seen.
“And this is Cam. He’s expressed an interest in joining us for training,” Striker finished the introductions.
Kotar snorted and said in Vardarian. “No nanotech. No wings. He doesn’t even have a translator implanted yet. How are we supposed to work with him?”
Striker growled, his tone suddenly one of command as he barked in Galactic Standard. “Because I am ordering you to. If you don’t like it, see yourself out. Everyone here is a volunteer.”
Maggie stamped her foot and then pointed at Kotar. “Don’t be a speciesist asshole. You were born in a free society with advanced technology. Cameron and I didn’t have that luxury.”
The young Vardarian blinked. “Uh. Right. Sorry.” He looked at Cameron and switched to Galactic Standard. “Welcome to the colony. We’re uh, looking forward to working with you.”
Cam laughed. “Yeah. I can tell. And I’m not really part of the colony yet. I’m on probation. I even have a pair of babysitters to make sure I behave.” He jerked a thumb toward Wreckage and Ruin.
“We’re not going to sit on you. Who sits on an infant?” Ruin demanded. “Why are humans so strange?”
“It’s in the handbook. And no, we can’t show it to you. If we did, we’d have to burn that one and issue a new one,” Anya stated.
Maggie and Cam laughed. Everyone else stared at her.
“I can’t tell if you are joking or not,” Tra’var said quietly. “It’s disconcerting.”
“Good.” She pointed to the others. “Don’t you have
weapons to deliver?”
“I do. And once we’re done…”
There was no mistaking the passion that roughened his voice or the way his eyes blazed with heat as he looked at her like she was his favorite snack. She swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Tra’var touched her cheek briefly and then left her to hand out the weapons.
She watched him go, taking a moment to appreciate the predatory way he moved. As he walked away, he folded his wings, shifting the fabric with a twitch of his shoulders so it covered his back again.
She didn’t even notice Cameron’s approach until he was barely a meter away. He had a smile on his face and held out a hand in greeting. “Hi. I’m Cam. You’re Anya. Right? I hear you have the best bar on the planet.”
She took his hand and shook it. “I am and I do. You’re welcome any time your nannies decide you’re allowed out in the evenings.”
Cam shot a look over his shoulder at Ruin and Wreckage before looking back at her. “They’re good guys. Offered to give me a place to stay and keep an eye on me while I settle in. I get the paranoia. I mean, if I lived in paradise, I’d be careful who I let in, too.”
“You like it here?”
The younger man grinned like a child set free in a candy store. “What’s not to like? Good food. Free housing. Beautiful women. Better yet, beautiful single women.”
He lowered his voice. “Is it true that the Vardarians are purely interested in short-term hookups until they meet their mates?”
“It’s true. Just treat them with respect and you will have them eating out of your hand. After all, you’re the only pure human male on the planet.”
“Yeah, the rest of the men are cyborgs that could break me in half just by looking at me hard enough. The women, though… You think they’d be interested in taking an unmodified human for a test drive?”
Anya burst out laughing. “I think you should remember that the female cyborgs are just as badass as the males. But if you’re brave enough…” She nodded toward Maggie. “My bartender doesn’t seem to have any complaints.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or blush when the brash boy winked at her. “And what about you? Older women are my catnip.”
