by Maia Tanith
All around me are claw men, claw women, and even small children. The claw women are as tall and strong looking as the men are. I shrink into myself, feeling uncomfortably small and insignificant.
Then I tell myself sternly to sit up straight and be proud of who I am. I have killed a Galgog. I bet none of the other women in the place, and none of the men either, could say the same.
The claw kids are pretty darn cute, actually. The youngest, who look no more than two years old, are like little chubby cherubs with mini claws. They all keep their distance and stare at me, so I glare back at them.
“What, you’ve never seen a human before?” I bark at a young claw man sitting close by me and staring more obviously than most. A bit of food sprays out of my mouth as I talk. So much for them being the animals. Right now it’s my table manners that could be compared to an elephant eating a plate of saucy nachos.
The curious claw man at least has the manners to look down and mutter something that could perhaps be an apology.
“Get used to it,” I mutter. “I’m stuck here.”
“It’s not so bad,” a chirpy voice appears at my shoulder, startling me. A young claw child is standing next to me with a plate of food. She looks to be about ten or so, with golden curly hair and a heart-shaped face that will no doubt break hearts when she’s older. As I watch she plonks her plate on the table and wriggles onto the bench beside me. “I’m stuck here, too, and I didn’t want to come. I have lots of friends now.”
“Good for you, kid,” I say back, and take another bite of food. The food’s not so bad, at least. What I’m eating now tastes kinda like potato mash. Daem has taken the chance to sit far away from me. I don’t know anyone else yet. Typical that it would be a kid who talks to me first.
The little girl takes a bite off her plate, then looks up and waves her arms frantically. “Taark, Taark come sit with us. I’ve found a new friend.”
I’m too surprised that she knows Taark to say anything. I follow the little claw child’s gaze across the room to where Taark stands, with his shoulders hunched and a scowl on his face. He hesitates for only a moment before he strides over and sits on a stool across from me. “Thanks, Seta,” he says. His voice is uncharacteristically soft when he talks to her.
“Wait—you know each other?” I ask. Taark never talked much about his past. I never thought of him having a family. “Are you related?”
“He’s Uncle Taark,” the girl says. “Until Marfin died, I guess.” She takes another bite and chews thoughtfully. “I think I’ll still call him Uncle.”
My eyes widen at this, and I look up at Taark. He’d definitely not mentioned this to me.
He can’t meet my eyes. “I was paired with Marfin,” he says quietly. “She was the—friend—who was killed. This is her sister.”
“Oh.” He’d had a pair, whatever that meant. His wife? A lover? For some reason my chest is starting to feel tight. I take a bite of food and chew it. I chew it for a long time, because suddenly I can’t swallow.
“Do you want that?” The claw child, Seta, points at something on my plate. She’s already cleared her own. I shake my head, and she reaches out and stabs it with her fork and eats it greedily. “Mmm, these are my favorite. Thanks.”
“No worries kid,” I say back. Her joy at eating my leftovers brings me back to reality. Here I am feeling jealous, when this kid has lost her sister and presumably had to walk through the forest to get here. She’s a tough little thing.
She chatters through the rest of the meal while Taark and I sit in silence, for the most part, with him mumbling a “yes” every now and then. Seta doesn’t seem to notice our unease with each other. Once the late bite of food has gone from her plate, then my plate, then Taark’s, she jumps down off the bench. “See you round, Uncle Taark. And you, too-” She breaks off, unsure of what to call me.
“Hannah,” I supply.
She gives me a smile that makes my insides turn over, revealing dimples on her golden cheeks. “Bye, Hannah. I’m glad I have another friend now.”
I watch her as she lopes off, curls shaking as she pounces at shadows, like a kitten. “She’s a charmer, that one.”
Taark grunts and stares down at his plate.
“Is—is she very like her sister was?” It’s like having a sore tooth. I can’t help but probe the wound. I want to know more about her sister, about Taark’s past.
“Does it matter?” His reply is directed down at his plate.
His temper hasn’t improved since earlier in the day. An apology might sweeten his mood, but I’m not one to back down. If anyone’s going to do the groveling to make up from our argument, it’s not gonna be me. “I was just making conversation. Something that you seem to be particularly bad at. Even when you’re no longer locked in a cage.”
“Might as well be,” he grumbles. “It’s not much better, being underground.”
“No Galgogs here,” I say. “That’s gotta count for something.”
He finally breaks into a weak chuckle. “The guards are more pleasant, too. Though just as vigilant.”
“They have been guarding you?” I don’t know why I am surprised. He could be a spy for all they know, intent on escaping and taking information back to the Emperor about the rebel stronghold. Although seeing as they found us both on the brink of passing out and dying, surely they’d be able to tell we aren’t trying to trick them.
He gestures with his head at the pair of claw men standing oh-so-casually at the doorway to the dining hall. “As you see.” Both the guards wear a ragged uniform. They look like they have seen better days.
I haven’t been guarded today, but then they don’t see me as a threat. Except that Daem hasn’t left my side. Maybe I just didn’t notice that I am guarded, too.
Taark stands. “Walk with me? There’s a tunnel to the forest. I can breathe better there.”
If he’d ordered me, I would have refused. His tone is questioning though, and when he finally meets my gaze, I can see uncertainty written on his face.
“Okay.” I push myself to my feet. I follow him through the room as the eyes of all the claw people watch. At the door the two guards stand aside to let us pass, and a few steps further I can hear them following behind us.
We walk in silence for a minute. My shoulder still hurts, and the area around the wound is starting to itch. I rub at it absentmindedly.
Taark grabs my hand and pulls it down. “Don’t scratch. You’ll scar worse.” His voice is gruff, but he is still holding onto my hand. Tentatively, I slide my fingers between his. I can feel his claws close to the surface of his skin. I run my thumb over his knuckles as we walk. I can feel a gap where the claw he’d given me had been ripped from. “Will it ever grow back? The claw you gave to me?”
He shakes his head. “No. I am considered maimed now. A little less than a full man.”
His claw was a more precious gift that I realized. “Thank you, for giving it to me.”
He shrugs.
“Anyway,” I continue. “You are like a supermodel where I come from. A superman. You could have any woman you wanted in your bed tonight if you crooked a finger at them.”
He glares at me. “I don’t want just any female. Only one of them. And she thinks I am an animal. She probably prefers a half-grown kit like Daem, with his pretty manners.”
I blink at him. And then blink again. “Daem? Not likely. I frighten him.”
He flexes his claws as we walk together. “That is supposed to be my job.”
I am still stuck on what he said earlier. “You want me? Really? Even now that you are back with your own kind?” I do not look like the women on his world. They are so much more impressive than I will ever be. They’re taller, athletic looking, with claws of their own and cat-like eyes. Comparing me to them is like comparing an Olympic athlete to someone off the street who went to a gym once, got a terrible stitch in her side jogging, then fell off the treadmill when she couldn’t figure out how to slow it down. And never w
ent back. Which may or may not have actually happened to me.
We have reached the entrance to the caves now. The fresh air is a welcome contrast to the dank air in the cave. In the dark of outside, Taark’s eyes glitter yellow and gold, his pupils long and dark. “Would you prefer to take a mate from your own species? Would you not want me anymore if you were back on Earth?”
I squeeze his hand in the darkness. “There’s no man on earth who could possibly compare with you. You are...beautiful. Strong. Any woman would want you. I am...ordinary.”
“You are brave and loyal. You make me laugh even when I want to growl. What other woman would face down a Galgog and kill it for me?”
I give a modest shrug, although I do feel a little bit proud. Especially since, judging by the reactions of Daem, it’s quite a big deal to kill a Galgog, even for a claw man. “I did it for myself, too. He was going to kill me, too. And the lizard women.”
“They wanted to take you, you know, but they could not carry you. The Galgog women. They would never have made it. That’s why I kept you with me.” He sighs. “I was being selfish. I didn’t want to go with them. I should have done it for you and made sure you got home.”
“I’m glad they got away.” I sigh, and kick at a nasty-looking bush with thick spines. If I were on Earth now, back at home, the air would smell different. The trees would be covered in bark, not the weird scaly growth like they have here, and the ground would not be covered in those nasty prickly bushes.
But I am not at home, and not likely to get there any time soon. I could keep blaming Taark for it, and keep fighting, and keep resenting him. Or, I could make the most of the time I do have with him. Until the rebellion ends. Until I am taken home.
Taark wipes away the tears on my cheek with the pad of his thumb. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “I promised them I would look after you,” he says quietly. “That I would get you home. I mean to keep that promise, even now.”
“It means staying here. Supporting the rebellion, in exchange for safe passage home. The rebellion you said was a suicide mission.”
“This was a cause I believed in once. It was losing Marfin that made me give up any idea of fighting for it any longer. It has taken so much from me already.” His voice cracks on these words. He is speaking up at the trees, as if looking away from me while he spoke made it easier for the words to come out. “Seeing Seta here—well, I remember what it had been like back home. Even when Marfin was alive, we weren’t safe. No one here is really safe. I was angry when you said you were staying here. Losing Marfin nearly broke me. I don’t want to think about losing you too.”
I stay silent at this. I can tell he is trying to figure out how to say what’s coming next. There’s a long silence before he speaks. “I made my choice today. This planet is my home, and I am going to stay, here, in these tunnels, to help fight. To protect those like Seta, who could grow up with a bloodstained warlord ruling them, or a fair ruler who wants peace for his people. And I’m going to stay, because you are here. And I think—I know—that you won’t be here forever. And when the time comes, I’ll help you go home.”
Finally he looks down, and gently cups my face in his hands, his claws extending out to caress my cheeks. “Until that time comes, I want to spend my time with you. As your mate, if you will have me. As your friend, if you will not.”
I stand on my tiptoes and reach up to kiss him. “As my mate,” I whisper. “That is what I choose.” My mate, for this impossible journey we are about to embark on. And after that—well, we can think about the afterwards tomorrow.
I don’t remember how we came to be back in my room. I do recall passing Daem and the two other guards on the way back in through the passages as Taark carried me in his arms and giggling at the startled look on their faces.
He lays me on the bed carefully, so as not to jolt my wounded shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“We have no erotalia to help us along this time,” I say, as I reach out to drag him down beside me. “Do you think you can manage without it?”
“That’s not funny,” he growls, nipping me on the side of my neck. “I thought you were going to be the death of me in the cells. The torment of being close to you. Of smelling your desire for me, and of knowing that your body would welcome my touch even if your mind refused me. It almost killed me.”
“It wasn’t any better for me,” I protest, as I pull his shirt over his head so I can run my hands over his naked chest. It seems wrong for him to be clothed now. I am so used to having him naked all the time.
He tugs my shift open, exposing my breasts. “Payback time,” he murmurs, as he gazes at them. “You are now completely in my hands. And I will have no mercy.”
I lower my gaze to his mouth as he leans close to me. He kisses me as if he wants to steal my breath, as if he wants to steal my soul, as if I am the antidote to all the loneliness and guilt that he has buried deep inside him.
He doesn’t need erotalia to make him want me.
No more than I need it to want him.
He kisses my shoulder where the laser volt has left an ugly scar. “I thought I was going to lose you. I have never been so scared in my life. Not even when fighting for our lives in the arena. Then, I knew we would live or die together. But when it was only your life on the line, and I was faced with the prospect of living on without you...” His voice trails off.
His skin is smooth and silky under my hands, his body hair so fine and soft that it feels like fur. I stroke his chest and he purrs with pleasure. “And I thought the venom from the spikes of that stinking lizard man would be the end of you. I should have known you are far too stubborn to give up that easily.”
His laugh is sweet music to my ears. I will never get tired of hearing it. He kisses down my body, covering every inch of me with his mouth, the stubble on his cheeks rasping against my skin and setting all my nerve endings on fire. When I raise myself up on my good shoulder, he gently presses me down onto the bed again. “You are wounded still. Let me do all the work.”
I am feeling pretty sore and achy still, but the time we have together is too precious to waste. I lie back on the bed and luxuriate in the touch of his hands and his mouth. His lovemaking is gentle but relentless, demanding a response from me and driving my body to a fever pitch.
Only when I am incoherent with begging does he finally enter me. “You are mine now,” he growls, as he braces himself on his elbows and stares into my eyes.
“Yours,” I agree. “And you are mine.” I can barely manage to gasp out the words for the desire that consumes me.
“Mates.”
“Yes, mates.”
Only then does he give in to my pleading and bring to an orgasm that leaves me boneless with exhaustion and utterly satiated.
Erotalia may be the strongest aphrodisiac in the known universe, but it is nothing when compared to love.
Taark
It’s hard to tell what time of the day it is when you are living underground. One of the things I will have to get used to, now that I have pledged to stay with the rebellion.
A faint light is trickling in through the hallway—one of the deep space blue lights—so I figure it must be morning. I should get up, help with breakfast for the base, join the leaders in their planning, but staying here feels so good. I think I’ll stay in bed a few more minutes.
I turn to my side and look at Hannah, lying peacefully beside me. My breath tickles the hair on the side of her neck. She scrunches up her face in her sleep and gives an incoherent murmur.
I don’t know what will come next for us, but right now, I feel the happiness that’s been missing from my life for so long.
My heart is full.
***
Sold to the Alien Pirate
Maia Tanith
Delia
I always follow the rules.
I play well with others. I eat my greens, I don’t run with scissors.
I think firmly inside the box. I let sleeping
dogs lie.
And I never, ever, color outside the lines.
Azr
Dammit, I trusted that woman.
And what did it get me? It got me locked in a cage, filthy, starving and covered in lice.
Condemned to die.
I am done with women now. Done with trust.
From now on, I am on my own.
Chapter 1
Delia
I’m very well aware of the fact that I lead what most people would think is an incredibly boring life.
But boring is relative.
To me, my life is just as it should be: well ordered, well planned, law-abiding and sticking to the rules.
No surprises.
This is how my life has been for all my twenty-five years on this earth. This is how I planned the rest of my life for the next fifty to sixty years to go, too.
But it turns out that no matter how well you plan your life, sometimes the universe has other things in store for you. And on your average Wednesday afternoon in the office of the Brown, Burns and Bullcock Accounting Co., I am about to find this out for myself.
It’s about four in the afternoon and I’m sitting at my computer with a cup of lukewarm tea. This is my weekday afternoon treat: chamomile tea, with half boiling water and half cold water—I don’t like to burn my mouth on tea that is too hot—and one scant teaspoon of sugar.
Greg is heading my way. One of the senior accountants here, he’s a couple of years older than I am and a Chartered Accountant already. He’s the guy I go to about a million times a day to ask questions when I need help with my work. He’s super smart and very patient.