by Tasha Black
He touched his wrist communicator. “I need back-up in the ballroom, please.”
Anna would come through for him - she was organized and on top of things. But that wasn’t the point. For all he knew, one of these fake smiles in bespoke suits that Serena was meeting with had counted on the moments needed to bring in back-up, and was planning to attack before they could arrive.
Oz couldn’t risk it.
He moved to her elbow, took hold of it.
Serena turned to him, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Will you do me the honor?” he growled. “Until back-up arrives, I can’t let you out of my sight.”
“How delightful,” she said with a pretend laugh, loud enough for the others to hear. “I’ve never heard of dancing as a guarding technique.”
A sudden flash startled Serena, but she smiled and turned gamely to the cameras.
“Desperate times,” he replied with a half-smile.
“How can I argue with that?” she asked the group.
He whisked her away, spinning them into the crowd.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded.
“I was thinking that I’m among my colleagues,” she spat. “And I don’t want to get swept off my feet like a blushing mail order bride.”
“And I was thinking that luring you out here without back-up would have been a brilliant plan for one of your ‘colleagues’ to take a shot at you,” he retorted.
The music pounded, and he found it hard to concentrate on awareness of threats around them when she was pressed against him so intimately.
Her breasts seemed larger now, as if they had taken on a life of their own, nearly spilling out of the gown, nipples stiff against his chest.
“I’m so hungry,” she murmured, as if their argument were forgotten.
Cravings.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asked gently.
“I- I don’t know,” she half-moaned. “Something sweet, but salty, without too much texture.”
Salted Maltaffian jam.
Thank the gods he had some in his case.
“I have something like that, back in our rooms,” he told her. “Do you need to say good-bye to your colleagues?”
She shook her head, looking up at him gratefully.
“Cancel that back-up,” he said into his wrist communicator.
“Copy that,” Anna replied.
Serena made no protest when he wrapped an arm around her and ushered her swiftly through one of the doors that were hidden around the ballroom, and along a private corridor that led back to her rooms.
10
Serena
Serena surveyed her room with relief in spite of the hunger pangs that threatened to split her body in half.
“Get into something more comfortable,” Oz suggested. “I’ll get your snack.”
She headed to the mirrored wardrobe to grab her case. Comfortable clothing was a great idea. She hadn’t remembered this dress being so snug when she bought it.
Her reflection caught her eye and she did a double-take.
She looked just as she had before they left, except for a small but obvious rounding of her belly.
She turned to the side, running one palm over the curve of it.
It was real. This was very real.
Emotions tugged at her heart - fear and shock, but mostly love.
“Serena?” Oz said quietly.
She turned to him, her eyes hazy with unshed tears. “It’s real.”
He nodded, his eyes luminous.
He was holding a large tray of fragrant hunks of bread, with a bowl of something honey-colored at the center.
“Mm,” she hummed appreciatively.
He grinned and placed the tray on the bedside table. “Let’s get you out of that,” he suggested.
She froze in place, a wave of lust weakening her knees as he strode toward her. Her emotions were like an out of control thruster pod, bouncing from one extreme to the other. She didn’t know where it would land next.
He slid a hand down her back, and she felt the stays on the dress give way. He helped her out of it, and then removed her undergarments as well.
She was shivering by the time he was finished.
“What do you need?” he asked.
She blinked at him, awash in her primal instincts. She wanted his hands and mouth on her, but she also needed desperately to eat. She wondered if there might be some way she could do both at once.
“Let’s get some food in you first,” he suggested.
That was probably a good idea.
She followed him mutely to the bed.
He helped her seat herself at the headboard, then sat opposite her, placing the tray of bread between them.
“This is Maltaffian salted jam,” he told her. “You take a hunk of the bread and dip it in the jam. I think it will satisfy your craving, though once that happens you may experience another craving.”
Serena was already dragging a warm hunk of bread through the jam.
She placed it in her mouth and closed her eyes against the pleasure of it.
“Oh my God,” she said with her mouth full.
Oz chuckled and she didn’t even mind.
She grabbed another piece of bread and noticed peripherally that Oz hadn’t taken any for himself yet.
Smart.
She wasn’t sure what she might have done if he’d gotten even a little bit in between her and the heavenly food he’d set before her. He was liable to lose a finger.
After a few minutes of gorging herself, Serena finally felt sated.
“Oh, that’s so much better,” she sighed. “Thank you.”
“Should I take it away?” he asked.
She felt a roar of protest build up in her chest, but managed to squelch it just in time. “Err, maybe you’d better leave it for a little while.”
He nodded, smiling at her.
She looked down at herself. “Good grief, I’m stark naked, eating in bed,” she noticed out loud.
“Would you feel better if I were naked too?” he asked.
Another wave began to rise in her, blotting out all thoughts of food. He hadn’t been wrong about which craving would come after she ate.
She nodded, unable to speak.
He moved off the bed and stripped.
Serena watched the movement of muscle under golden flesh.
His big body was so beautiful, so graceful, in spite of his size.
Mate… She tried out the word in her mind and found that she liked it. Both a noun and a verb, mate encompassed all the raw emotion she felt under his eyes.
His gaze became heated.
She held out her arms, but first he moved the tray of bread to the table beside her.
“Oz,” she whimpered, needing him so much it almost frightened her.
“I’m here,” he crooned, climbing back into bed, caging her head between his arms as his hips pinned hers.
She wiggled beneath him, desperate for more contact.
He leaned down to kiss her so gently that it took her breath away. She managed to relax and focus on his touch as he kissed his way down her jawline to her neck.
He growled appreciatively as he licked one of her nipples into his mouth.
Serena moaned helplessly.
His touch awakened even more desire in her now than before. Her breasts were so sensitive that the pleasure was almost like pain.
He nuzzled her belly, rubbing his rough cheek against the little bump where their baby grew.
Our baby…
When he pressed his hands on her thighs, she let them fall apart for him.
He fell on her as if he were starving, and she was a tray of bread and salted jam.
The thought made her stifle a giggle.
But the feeling of his mouth on her sex was so exquisite, that it blocked out all other thoughts. Serena lost track of her own sounds as he flicked his clever tongue against her, pushing her over the edge so quickly it didn’t seem possible.
Serena’s world shattered into shimmering starlight as the pleasure threatened to obliterate her entirely.
11
Ozmarck
Oz reeled with need.
Serena was still pulsating with her climax, her hands reaching for him.
He crawled up to her, kissed her eyelids, her forehead.
“Please,” she whimpered hotly.
He pressed his raging cock against her warm opening and Serena lifted her hips to encourage him.
Losing all resolve, he plunged into her.
The pleasure was so acute that he howled like a gryntax and thrust into her again.
Beneath him, Serena jogged her hips up, her whole body tensing.
He let go in a storm of rapid thrusts.
Her nails sank into his upper arms and he felt her whole body milking him as she climaxed again with shuddering cries.
His own climax took him instantly, and he cried out helplessly as he jetted inside her, the pleasure turning him inside out.
When the last throes of rapture subsided, he collapsed on the bed beside her, pulling her close into his arms.
She melted against him like honey.
His hand found her belly and he cradled it in his palm, his heart throbbing with love for his beautiful mate and for the life inside her.
He had no idea how they would manage a life together. Protecting her even on this cruise was already a nearly insurmountable challenge, and he could sense her determination to continue her work in spite of the fact that they were about to have a tiny baby to care for, in the midst of some very dangerous political turmoil.
But as Serena drifted to sleep in his arms, he felt the sweet weight of her trust.
She trusted him.
He had to trust her, too.
She would not let her family down, even if they were brand new to her, and she hadn’t exactly asked for them.
He felt his heart rate slow to match hers as he buried his face in her fragrant hair and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
12
Serena
Serena awoke in the protective circle of Oz’s arms.
Her stomach screamed with hunger.
She slid out of Oz’s embrace. He moaned, but didn’t wake.
She hopped out of bed and landed a little hard. She was probably just a little off from all the sex, her muscles loose and languid.
The tray from last night was still on the bedside table.
She took a piece of bread and slid it half-heartedly through the jam.
But the bread was cold and dry now, and the jam a little too sticky.
What she really wanted was a mug of honeyed tea and a plate of fresh fruit.
She moved to the wardrobe, wondering if it was wrong to just get dressed and go find food instead of bathing and waking Oz to accompany her.
Her reflection caught her eye again and her mouth dropped open in shock.
Instead of just a little bump, her belly was broad and prominent. She was full out pregnant. Based on her experience with friends back at home, she would have guessed she was maybe six months along.
Her breasts were larger and fuller than she had ever seen them.
A dark line ran from her belly button downward.
She stepped back instinctively, hands on her belly.
The skin was taut, the roundness beneath it firm. But Oz had been right. There was no pain.
“Amazing,” she murmured.
There was a flutter of movement under her hands, like the beginnings of a stomach cramp that didn’t hurt.
“Baby,” she whispered.
Her imagination traveled lightyears and back in an instant.
What would the baby be like?
Was it a boy or a girl?
Would it have horns?
She remembered suddenly that she had refused a doctor’s appointment last night, and she felt like slapping herself.
She tiptoed to the communicator and pressed the button.
“How may I serve you?” a polite voice asked.
“I’d like a visit from the ship’s physician, as soon as possible, please,” she said.
“Is this a medical emergency?”
“No, no, I need a check-up,” she replied. “Urgently.”
“I see,” the man said.
Clearly, he did not see. But she didn’t care.
“Also, do you have sweets for breakfast?” she asked. “I’d like room service.”
“We have early Old Earth panned cakes with maple sap,” he said. “Or delicate Vaynleeish pastries, or if you prefer, a fruit tray from Sector-12A.”
“Oh, the fruit tray, please,” Serena said. “And a pot of honeyed tea.”
She glanced over at Oz’s sleeping form.
“Better make it two,” she told the communicator.
“Very good, madam. It won’t be long.”
She signed off and dashed to the washroom. All she had to do was freshen up and maybe take a speedy dunk in the bath and she would be ready for the doctor.
The new distribution of weight made her a little clumsier than usual, but she managed to bathe and dress just before the door chime sounded.
The bed creaked as Oz woke at the sound of the door.
“I’ll get it,” she called to him, heading across the room.
She had just placed her palm against the sensor when several things happened at once.
She heard Oz’s heavy footsteps charging her.
The door slid open to reveal a man wearing a terrible expression, holding a bucket of something in his hands.
She felt Oz’s hands on her shoulders.
“Fuck you, bitch,” the man at the door shouted, lifting the bucket.
Then she was flying out of the way as a wave of bright blue splashed from the bucket toward her.
As she landed, just outside the line of fire, Oz slammed his palm against the door sensor and it flew shut in the man’s furious face.
For a terrible moment, she stood in stunned silence.
“Good morning,” Oz said lightly.
“Wh-what was that?” Serena asked, finally able to take a breath.
“That, my love, was the beginning of a change in your security protocol,” he told her as he typed something into his wrist band.
“What is that?” she asked, examining the blue on the floor. “It looks like… paint.”
“Very blue paint,” Oz said. “My guess is that someone was trying to make some kind of clumsy point about Cerulean soldiers. But I’ll collect a sample for testing before we allow housekeeping to clean it up.”
She watched as he strode over to his case and pulled out a vial.
“You’re not freaked out by this?” she asked as he knelt over the puddle on the floor and pulled a sample.
“Of course I’m freaked out,” he said, looking up at her in surprise. “Someone has just threatened my mate, the mother of my child.”
His significant look at her enlarged belly made blood rush to her cheeks.
“But this is why people hire a Maltaffian guard,” he said. “I know what to do. I will protect you.”
“What have I done?” she sighed, leaning against the wall.
He got a strange look on his face, and then straightened, heading back to his case with the sample.
“Let’s make sure this isn’t toxic,” he said to himself.
She watched as he removed a kit from his case and bent over it, sliding a plastic sheath over a digital wand and dipping it into the vial.
“Just paint,” he said after a moment.
She nodded.
The door chimed again, and she turned on instinct to answer it.
“No,” Oz roared.
She shrank back and couldn’t help noticing the hurt expression in his eyes.
He strode to the door.
“Identify yourself,” he said.
“Dr. Phalania Bryx,” a female voice said. “The front desk sent me.”
“I called for room service a
nd the doctor twenty minutes ago,” Serena whispered to him.
“What’s the cure for Maltaffian diabetes?” Oz asked.
“There’s no such thing. Maltaffian heart blood processes sugar without insulin,” the voice replied indignantly. “Is this some sort of prank? This is a big ship. I have other patients to see.”
But Oz already had his palm to the sensor.
“Sorry about that doc,” he said. “Can’t be too careful these days.”
“Humph,” she said, stepping in.
Serena was a little surprised to see that the doctor was about two feet tall and covered in brilliant auburn fur. She wore dark spectacles and carried a black case.
“This is my mate, Serena,” Oz said. “She needs a pregnancy checkup.”
“Hello,” Serena said.
“Yes, yes,” Dr. Bryx replied. “Have a seat.”
Serena allowed herself to be examined. The doctor checked her ears, eyes and throat, then used an auto-drone to check her blood pressure and temperature.
“You might feel a pinch,” the doctor said in a bored voice.
The drone pricked the pad of her left index finger and took a drop of blood, then slid a bandage over it, all before she had a chance to prepare herself.
“Pregnancy appears to be progressing normally,” the doctor said, reviewing the screen in her hand that must have instantly processed the sample. “When did this happen?”
She looked up, sweeping a handful of fur from her face to reveal a dark, lovely eye.
“Um two days ago,” Serena said.
“Not long, not long at all,” the doctor nodded, looking pleased. “The bond must be strong.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Serena asked.
Oz turned away, but she saw the smile he was trying to hide from her.
“In a Maltaffian pregnancy, the mate bond is crucial to prenatal development,” the doctor explained. “Maltaffia is a naturally harsh environment. Few females achieve pregnancy and even fewer complete gestation. Two adults to protect and provide for a baby are absolutely necessary for the newborn’s survival. We believe that this is the reason the mate bond goes hand in hand with prenatal health.”
