202. Angeer Da Blass
202
Angeer Da Blass
A ’Dar
I’ve been in the military my entire adult life. The melee I’m about to engage in does not fill me with dread. I’ve fearlessly entered dangerous battles many times. I’ve borne pain and injury without complaint.
I’ve never had a mate before, though. That I will have to protect her? That I might lose her? It makes my guts contract in sheer terror. I will safeguard her at any cost.
The door closes quietly as the others slip out and make their way to their rooms. It’s silent, tense, with just Maya and me in the room.
With no females born into my generation, it wasn’t often I even allowed myself to dream of a female, much less a mate. When I did permit my mind to create an alternate life in which I was gifted with a mate, I often played and re-played what would happen on our mating night.
There would be a celebration presided over by clergy and blessed by two sets of parents. My new mate’s female friends and siblings would have strewn the room with abatta petals, as is the custom. Because of machta , we would be left alone for two weeks, only interrupted twice a day when someone would knock and leave a tray of high-protein food outside our door.
That our mating has been rushed is not lost on me. Since the biological imperative is so compelling, I’m uncertain Maya has any tender feelings toward me or if it’s simply pheromones and chemistry. Truth be told, I’m not sure of my emotions either. Is this simply a factor of proximity and desire?
Then I gaze at her and see a strong female. Not only has her world been pulled out from under her, but her own body has betrayed her, changing eye color, growing in height, sprouting fangs, and foisting on her a desire to drink my blood.
“I admire you,” the praise falls easily from my lips. “You are strong, Maya. Strong and smart and worthy of the best male Earth or indeed any planet has to offer. I wish things were different. I would take a ceremonial bath and remove your finest clothing with the utmost care.”
It’s clear my visage scares her, but I try to let my appreciative gaze tell her things in ways my words cannot. I want her to see my affection and pride.
“If I had my way, our mating wouldn’t be rushed or forced. Machta would have occurred after we developed feelings for each other.”
I tuck one of her braids behind her ear. It bears my bead. I want her to bear other marks, indelible proclamations that she is mine and mine alone. My gaze flicks to the red puncture wounds on her throat. Perhaps it should make me feel guilt, but it doesn’t. Pride surges in my breast. Mine.
“Even though things happened in the wrong order, if I searched the galaxy, I would never find a mate as beautiful or as worthy as you.”
Fahk . She’s crying. I wish I had better words. I didn’t mean to mess everything up.
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, A’Dar.”
When she smiles at me, relief washes through me. Despite our circumstances, everything seems right in the universe.
“Although no member of the clergy has blessed our union, and the room isn’t strewn with abatta petals, can we mate in the custom of my people?” I ask. “May I supply you my seed? On your tongue and inside your sacred feminine channel? May I take your vein and give you mine?”
She doesn’t say yes too quickly. I like that she considers it with as much solemnity as if the circumstances weren’t insane. My heart bursts with warmth when she nods her head.
“Come, little Maya. You may have grown taller, but you will always be little Maya to me.”
She reaches her small hand to me, looks me straight in the eye, her expression warm enough to hint at her affection, and says, “Come, mate. Angeer da blass. Show me the angels.”