Dalox
Deus is, of course, insensible. He leans against the walls of the flyer, talking to himself, his eyes rolled in his head and his tail limp and lifeless beside him.
By his scent, I believe he may have pissed himself.
I’m beginning to think I should have done the same.
At least then I wouldn’t be drawn into this crazy world where I’m expected to service females like some sort of insemination bot.
I need my Gillian. She is the only thing which grounds me, which holds me to the here and now. The guilt I feel at finding the females, at not asking the questions, at not knowing what I should have known, is overwhelming, but it is not as bad as allowing us to be separated.
I cannot be without my mate. That’s what the rut was supposed to teach me as a male.
Mating is not about mere procreation, it is something more.
It is binding you to another and making you better because you are two not one, and you have another outlook, another set of feelings, another way of existing.
All the time I’ve advised my fellow warlords about their mates, I failed to watch what it actually meant to be mated.
It means the universe is the biggest and at the same time, the exact same time, it is the smallest it has ever been. Because it is vested in one creature and one creature alone.
If I can’t get my mate out of this situation, I am no Sarkarnii warlord. I am no Sarkarnii warrior. I am nothing.
“I believe you are a warlord,” Deus slurs from his position on the floor, echoing my thoughts once again. “And you already know how we’re getting out of this situation.”
“Good thing one of us does.” I poke him with the toe of my boot. “Because otherwise you’re going to have to mate all these Sarkarnii females.”
Deus hiccups and belches. “I can’t mate,” he says. “They’ll have to cut my balls off and squeeze out my seed.”
I wince at his graphic description, my pouch aching slightly in sympathy of the description.
“I wouldn’t put it past Dyana,” I mutter. “So, I probably wouldn’t mention it and give her any ideas.”
Deus drops his head back and snores.
“Nevver,” I grumble.
Outside I hear voices, and I go toward the exit before my way is barred by two female warriors and pulsar rifles. I growl at them, but all they do is pre charge the weapons and stare at me, stony faced.
“Look what I have here.” Dyana walks up the ramp into the ship, her hand holding a golden chain.
She gives it a jerk, and Gillian is pulled out from between two warriors, her hands bound together.
“Dalox.” She uses her momentum to barrel into me, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, shoving my face in her cloud of hair and inhaling as if I may never breathe again.
“My little spark.” The words rumble through my chest, along with a stuttering purr which I instantly cut off.
Dyana cannot know about the purr.
I release Gillian reluctantly, holding her at arm’s length as I check her over. Her clothing is dirty, as is her face, but otherwise I cannot smell blood on her, and she seems uninjured.
But then why would I expect any less of my mate? She can look after herself. I merely want to be by her side for an eternity.
“These females have not hurt you?”
“They haven’t,” she replies. “And you’ve got over your envenomation.”
“I have,” I growl, flashing a glance at Dyana who shows me her fangs.
“Good thing you were just bitten.” Gillian gives me a knowing glance which I don’t understand. “And that’s the only way the venom can get into your system.”
She’s looking around behind me for something but then pulls her eyes back to mine. “I know what you have to do.”
“And you will agree, of course, for your mate’s sake,” Dyana interjects. “After all, you both want to stay healthy, don’t you?” She bares her fangs once again.
Gillian pushes her shoulders back.
“I want one last night with my mate before you do anything,” she announces.
I hear a succession of gasps, swiftly quelled as Dyana glares around at her warriors.
Deus snuffles a laugh from the floor.
“After all, you have two males,” Gillian points out. “What’s one night if you have Dalox for the rest of the time it takes?”
Dyana growls under her breath.
“If being with my mate helps my rut, then it works for you too,” I say, straightening up and allowing my spines to shift and rise.
“Will it assist your rut?” Dyana asks.
I look down at my pants.
“It already has.”
She makes a face as if she’s chewing on a bone rather than the tender meat she offered Deus and me.
“One night. Then you get to work.”
I look down at Gillian.
“One night is all we need.”