Rosalie
I’m baffled on so many levels. Firstly waking up in the med bay. I know Kerra was in one, so was Lydia, but I’ve not seen one myself and certainly wasn’t expecting to end up in one on Dante’s ship…at least so soon.
Secondly, and I don’t want to admit it to Dante, but I feel like a brand new person. Not achy, not injured, but like I could take on the world.
And finally, it would appear Dante is hiding a whole load of trouble behind his chaos. More mutations than he has apparently let on to anyone and also some sort of cargo his computer called precious.
I let him help me out of the pod, the spicy scent of his scales invading my senses and making my head spin a little, which means I fall against him, my hand touching his chest. Dante is surprisingly soft and warm under my fingers.
His hand covers mine, an enormous clawed paw entirely covering where I am touching him.
“Steady, little flame,” he says in his deep, rasping voice. “I don’t want to have to destroy the pod because it hurt you.”
“I would hope you wouldn’t destroy anything for that reason.” I raise my head, and there is a flash of something in his eyes. “Such as your crew.”
“They know when not to challenge me,” Dante rasps. “Although it’s been a long time since they saw a female.”
“And the chances are none of them have any idea what a rut is,” the computer, Dailiah says in a voice rather like Helen Mirren. “Rather like you, Dante.”
Dante gazes down at me. I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on in his head, if anything.
“I rut for this little female,” he says, his tail curling around my waist. “I rut for her,” he adds emphatically.
“You do?” I find my voice is a hoarse whisper.
Kerra and Scarlett have told me a bit about a Sarkarnii rut, having experienced it firsthand. It’s not something I think I’m ready for.
“He is in rut,” the computer answers for Dante. “He is filled with mating mix.” It seems to hesitate. “And it means you should not take anything else, for the mutation, Dante.”
“Nothing?” He lifts his head.
“Nothing.”
Dante looks down at me.
“What happens if you don’t take anything?”
“I bite small human females because they have a scent I cannot resist,” Dante murmurs, stroking one huge digit over my cheek. “Things become a blur. It is difficult to think straight. All I can do, all my crew can do, is act instinctively.”
“Like the Kursarkarnii,” the computer chimes in.
“What are they?”
“They are the Sarkarnii before we were able to control our shift, our ancestors.”
“Feral and dangerous,” Dailiah says.
“It would seem the mutation sent us back to the time before we were Sarkarnii,” Dante adds softly. “And we have to control that side of ourselves with narcotics, or we will not return to being who we are.”
He releases my hand for a moment before curling his around mine as if it was a mistake to let me go. “Now I need to show you my cargo.”
We approach a doorway in the med bay, and it slides open into an airlock. When we step inside, there is a slow hiss of gas, and then the door on the other side opens into a large room filled with light and plants, a bit like the atrium Dante showed me.
Dante releases a series of small gulping yelps, and I stare at him.
“I am calling them. They will have scented you and gone to hide,” he says, as if that explains everything.
“Who? Who are you calling?” I demand, absolutely not in the mood for more Sarkarnii insanity.
“Them,” Dante says, nodding into the undergrowth.
As I follow his gaze, the leaves part, and I see pairs of eyes, all with slit pupils staring at me.
One by one, the slender creatures emerge.
They’re maybe my height at five foot six, some a little taller, some much smaller.
Their scales are paler than Dante and the rest of the Sarkarnii, but they are Sarkarnii.
“Sarkarnlings,” he says.
“Children?” I gasp. “How?”
“We were transporting them in stasis, taking them to their parents in a colony the Sarkarnii had created on a new planet, Orias,” Dante says.
“They survived the wormhole without mutation. I did what I could to keep their stasis pods running, but in the last nova month, they have all ceased to function, and all of them have awoken.”
One by one, the Sarkarnii children emerge. Some are wearing nothing at all, some have rudimentary clothes. They all look nervous.
“Dante?” A male steps forward. He is wearing, for want of a better description, a long waistcoat. “What is this?”
“This is my mate.” Dante grins. “A female.”
I feel something touch my fingers and look down to see a significantly smaller Sarkarnii take hold of my hand. She smiles up at me, two gaps where her fangs should be.
“Er…hi…” I say, using my free hand to wave at them.
Several flinch but then inch forward, their faces full of curiosity.
“They don’t get many visitors,” Dante says. “Rosalie is your friend,” he announces.
“Are you in rut?” the older sarkarnling asks, somewhat aggressively.
“What would you know of the rut, Drak?” Dante responds, his tail lashing behind him.
“We’ve been learning about it, in our lessons you make us do.”
I look at Dante.
“We have an entire suite here dedicated to teaching. It is automated.”
“Is that why they don’t get visitors?”
“My crew…you’ve seen them. I can’t risk things getting out of hand.”
I gaze down at the little Sarkarnii girl who is now velcroed to my side, her tail around my ankle.
“They can’t survive here without company, Dante. Not on their own. They need to be around adults, around other Sarkarnii,” I say.
I find it difficult to imagine any children, Sarkarnii or not, surviving without adults.
“Which is why I’ve been pushing my crew to find and to make a cure for our mutation. Why we have the meltdowns and the alarms. They’re working every nova hour to make us better,” Dante growls. “So I can introduce them to the sarkarnlings, our sarkarnlings, and we can be whole again.”