He rumbles something, their language guttural and full of a strange throaty hissing, and the huge reptilian males behind him exchange glances.
“Right,” I say, trying to gauge what the hell is happening here, and how I’ve misstepped.
We don’t have a lot of information to work with regarding their people, and frankly, Federation top brass seemed beyond surprised that the Suevans even agreed to entertain our negotiations, considering how closed off they are. They intervene in few galactic skirmishes, mostly to defend their territories and settlements in the surrounding moons and small planets, where they mix with other alien species. It’s the only way we found out about their weapons and defense capabilities; the videos of their fighters are some of the most streamed on Earth.
And here those fighters are, in the flesh, a hair’s breadth from us.
Draz says something else, motioning for us to follow. That particular gesture, at least, seems universal. I step forward, and his lip curls, showing a hint of fang. He offers an arm to me, and I straighten my back, trying to radiate a confidence I do not feel in the slightest.
I swallow hard and move to slip my arm into his.
But when I reach for it, I realize I’ve misread his body language. Which of course I did, he’s an alien. The scarred warlord doesn’t let me take his elbow at all; instead, he wraps his arm around my waist. I freeze, staring up at him in shock. His hand is warm and wide, and altogether too comfortable along the curve of my hip.
I should absolutely not like the way his hand feels there.
I squirm. There’s no protocol for this. Maybe they’re a touchy-feely species. Never would I have guessed it, but I’m not the xenobiologist—I’m the captain.
He leans his head down, muttering something that sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m in way, way over my head. But there’s nothing for it now, and I let him pull me along to where more Suevans gather, dancing and feasting.
I chance irritating him and glance back at the rest of my crew, hoping they’re managing.
All seven are likewise being led to the welcoming ceremony, a huge Suevan male wrapped around each. Except Gen, who glares at the one next to her like she’s daring him to try. I briefly squeeze my eyes shut. God, I hope she doesn’t punch him.
Suddenly, I have a really, really bad feeling about this.
CHAPTER TWO
DRAZ
The human females are more than any of us had hoped. Surprise still zings through me as I gaze at her strange green and gold flecked eyes. The first off their primitive ship, the captain defied any and all expectations I had for the small females. Her authority struck a chord with me, as did the way the rest of the females responded to it. This one knows what it is to lead.
She will make a fine mate.
Prince Kanuz even seems pleased with his choice—a sunny-haired human with pleasing, symmetrical features, though she seems ill-tempered to me.
I can hardly breathe as I glance at the woman next to me. Tiny brown dots scatter across her narrow nose and high cheeks, her flesh soft and warm under my hands, so different from my own hard skin. Will she find my tough scaled hide disturbing? If she does, she does not show it.
I want her to find me as pleasing as I find her.
I did not expect to feel so… strongly.
In fact, I expected to do what I have always done for the Suevan people. My duty.
But now, I look at the woman I’ve hand-picked to mate and bed, and I cannot help a surge of reckless anticipation. I squash it down, piling a plate high with the choicest Suevan delicacies. The gilded dish settles heavily on the long, carved table, and a floating light drifts by, illuminating her ethereal, captivating features.
I bow my head towards her, wanting to soak her in, to live in this moment.
The captain leans further away from me. She makes a small, musical noise as she worms out of my grasp.
My translator provides the interpretation of her strange sounds. “I am going to sit over here.”
“Next to me,” I respond. When she stares up at me with those striking eyes, I pat the seat, showing her where I want her to sit.
They cannot implant the translator in her soon enough. I want to be able to converse with this female. The music picks up in tempo, the perzo drum and ceph flutes signifying the beginning of the ritual. All around me, couples are hand feeding each other, older, mated Suevan couples renewing their bonds. There are no new couples. There have not been any new mates in years. There are no females to have them with.
A silver-haired male places a morsel in his mate’s mouth, and she smiles, chewing slowly, his hand brushing her mouth.
Like I soon will to the female human sitting beside me.
My cock grows painfully hard at the thought, the forceful thrust of desire shocking through me. Eager to begin, I pick out a choice cube of quarn and push it at her face. Her green eyes widen, and she jerks away from me.
“Eat,” I tell her. “You will enjoy this. I will enjoy this. Then we will enjoy each other.”
Her strange human nose wrinkles at my speech.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice screeches. A commotion rises behind where I am trying to soothe my new female, and she and I both turn at once. Her expression is thunderous, her mouth a thin line.
The fair-haired pretty one slaps a piece of food from Prince Kanuz’s hands, and the spiced norlamiz goes flying.
“First Officer Durand,” my new mate spits the words, clearly furious at her behavior. “You are to partake in the welcoming ceremony.”
Welcoming ceremony? Perhaps the translator is incorrect. Surely she meant the mating ritual. I make a mental note to have our tech update the human grammar later.
Captain Jacks clears her throat, making a pitiful coughing sound, and I crane my head down, examining her for illness. I do not want my chosen mate to be ill, and unanticipated worry threads through me.
“This is the part where you feed us? To welcome us?” Her eyes narrow meaningfully, and then she fixes me with a hard stare.
A thrill goes through me.
My little human female wants to lead by example.
All of her crew stares at us now, their many-hued eyes wide and curious. Many of the Suevan watch, too, interested in the drama the new members of our society present. Carefully, I put the quarn down, trading it for the tastiest piece of jex meat, roasted and spiced until it’s tender and smokey.
I step closer, my tail flicking madly, the drums beating ever faster. A bead of sweat drips from my female’s neck, dropping into the raised mounds of her ample chest. I lick my lips. What will it be like to feel them? To chase that sweat with my tongue and watch the look of disapproval melt from her face, replaced by her moans of desire?
First, the ritual. I hold the jex out to her, and her delicate, rounded nostrils, so different from mine, flare as the meat approaches her lush mouth. When a smooth pink tongue darts out, a small groan erupts from me, and her eyes dart up, away from the meat. My fingertips brush the curve of her lip as I place the jex in her mouth, careful to keep my talons from shredding her fragile flesh.
The sight of her lips closing over the jex I hunted yesterday in preparation for this ceremony, the sign of her accepting our mating, is more arousing than anything I’ve ever seen in my life.