Rohn

by Nancey Cummings

  “That’s fine. I don’t need your resume,” she said.

  “I forgot,” he said, jaw clenched. “You gave no indication of requiring special consideration and I forgot. I beg forgiveness.” He flushed then, up to the base of his horns.

  That was pretty sweet, all things considered. Her leg had been working, so it slipped to the background, which was how it was supposed to be.

  “Rohn trusts you. He wouldn’t leave me with just anybody.” She patted Merrek on the shoulder, briefly stunned that the electronics in her leg fried, she fell, possibly flashing her undies at everyone who witnessed her dive, and here she was, consoling him.

  The palm of her hand smarted and she sucked in her breath.

  “Are you injured?”

  “Just a scape, I think.” She rotated her wrist, knowing it would be swollen in the morning.

  “Unacceptable. Rohn will send me out an airlock.” He pressed his lips together in worry.

  The poor kid. How scary was her gray wolf? The man who blushed at the sight of her panties. If she had not witnessed him hit Jaxar or pull a knife on Merrek, she might not believe him capable of violence at all. Okay, maybe Rohn was, in fact, a terrifying badass to everyone but her.

  “I won’t let him,” Nakia said. “It was an honest mistake.”

  Merrek nodded. “Who is Shakespeare?”

  “What?” For a moment, her mind went blank. “Did I spout the kill-all-the-lawyers line?”

  “Yes. Was he a great warrior? That is a good warrior’s name.” He held a hand above his shoulder, as if holding an invisible spear, and shook his hand wildly. “Shake. Spear.”

  “Ha. No.” Imagine. “He’s a famous Earth writer and poet.”

  “A warrior poet?”

  “Not a warrior.”

  “Does Shakespeare sing of glorious battles? Foes pitted against each other in a struggle for power.”

  “Yeah,” she said, not liking the assumptions Merrek drew about one of Earth’s celebrated writers.

  At the shuttle, another woman was already waiting, ready to return to Judgment. “Morning sickness,” she said with a sigh. “I normally get sick in the evenings but the smell from the food stalls hit me all wrong.”

  “Not looking forward to that,” Nakia mumbled. Pregnancy remained a vague, abstract thing. Sure, she wasn’t using birth control and she and Rohn had plenty of sex, but the idea of children still seemed far off. Something that happened to other people. Besides, she needed to get her leg sorted out before she worried about creating little ones.

  The return trip to the Judgment only took a few minutes. The sight of Rohn hopping into the shuttle the moment the door opened, waiting for their arrival, warmed her greedy little heart.

  “I will take you to medical,” he said, unfastening the safety harness and lifting her from the seat.

  On the ramp down, Nakia spied a red-haired human woman, who could only be Carrie, watching from the sidelines. Dirt smudged her pale face and she clutched a tablet to her chest.

  This was the woman everyone loved so much?

  “I can walk,” Nakia said, pushing away his hands, and stood under her own power. The prosthesis was still there, supporting her weight, and she still had the ability to lift her foot and move, albeit without grace. The lack of sensation, though, was like fumbling in the dark, and she had to trust that every step landed correctly. Her pride demanded that she do this, refusing to let flawed tech wound her sense of self. People used the old-fashioned prosthesis without the sensors or implants for centuries and they got along just fine.

  “I can do this. Just give me your arm.” She leaned into her husband, knowing that if she wobbled or took a bad step, he’d catch her. “Now let’s go to engineering.”

  * * *

  Rohn

  * * *

  “We are going to medical,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. His mate had abrasions on her hands and knees. She bled. The metallic scent was enough to drive him into a rage. Merrek caused this.

  The pilot was wise enough to approach with his eyes lowered. “My apologies. A localized EMP disabled—”

  “I was shoved,” Nakia said.

  “He allowed you to be shoved.”

  “Rohn, focus, babe.” She waved a hand to catch his attention. “We’re going to engineering.”

  “Medical. I cannot think when you are injured.” True. His mind kept cataloging the abrasions, discoloration, and the slight swelling at her wrists. Instincts howled that he care for his mate and then inflict those same hurts onto Merrek as compensation.

  “Jaxar said to go to engineering if my leg acted up again.” She leaned into him; her steps uneven.

  He tightened the grip on her arm. He would rather break off his one good horn than take his mate to engineering and let Jaxar comfort her. “Medical. He can join us there,” he said.

  Rohn hated Engineering. Too loud and too crowded, it was the vital to all operations that kept the Judgment running and Jaxar never failed to brag. He kept the biomass engines running efficiently. He kept the all the drives optimal. His labor and his alone kept life support working, so you could thank him for the opportunity to breath fresh, clean air.

  Bah. Pompous bastard.

  Jaxar did little more than keep a nearly indestructible engine running. If it failed, they’d drift in space. Not the ideal situation but it wasn’t like the battlecruiser would fall out of the sky.

  Medical, by contrast, ran with ruthless efficiency that calmed Rohn. Cool and sterile, the medics moved in near silence. The only sounds were hushed conversations and the steady beeps of monitors.

  In the meditative atmosphere, Rohn’s thought turned back toward his rival, the engineer. He had observed that the engineer and his minions kept themselves busy with lots of little projects, bits of machinery to tinker and improve, but their work was not vital to the clan. Anyone could see that. Not like Rohn’s work, which brought him and his crew directly into danger. He believed that Jaxar had never even been in a battle.

  Medic Kalen cleaned Nakia’s abrasions. He examined her and declared no serious damage. He even took a scan to print a temporary prosthesis for use while hers was inoperable. When Jaxar arrived, the noise level increased dramatically.

  Rohn found himself wanting to retreat to a quiet corner but he remained calm. His mate required Jaxar’s assistance—as much as Rohn hated to admit it—and there was an abundance of resentment in his heart. Mostly Rohn hated the way Jaxar smiled at his mate and had readymade schematics for a new prosthesis for her. Why would he have those unless he had been thinking about Nakia? The idea of Jaxar spending brain power over Nakia made Rohn uncomfortable.

  And nervous. Jaxar was younger than Rohn by several decades and in peak physical form. Old injuries did not mar him. The engineer was, Rohn reluctantly admitted, clever, interesting to converse with, and smiled easily. Jaxar was also vain and thought a bit too highly of himself, but he had been Rohn’s friend for years. All this combined to nauseating heights of jealousy that his mate had made a friend in Jaxar.

  Jaxar stood at a workbench, the prosthesis disassembled across the surface. Nakia sat on the nearby stool, transfixed at the engineer's handiwork.

  “I am reviewing the schematics and an EMP should not have damaged your prosthesis,” Jaxar said. “The insulation should have been sufficient.”

  “Why am I not surprised that the manufacturer cut corners?”

  “Inadequate insulation and short bursts of electromagnetic energy may be the root of your difficulty.”

  “Are you telling me that static shock is what’s been fucking with my leg?”

  Rohn tensed. He did not appreciate Nakia discussing copulation, even in passing.

  Jaxar glanced over his shoulder to Rohn, as if gauging the male’s displeasure.

  Good. He should be aware of Rohn’s growing agitation.

  “The internal components work correctly. With the proper housing, you should have no difficulty. I can take this to En
gineering and construct a new case,” Jaxar said.

  “I’m not going to say no.”

  Rohn paced the confines of the small space, aware of Nakia watching him. His mate would not tell Jaxar no. She should tell the overly helpful male to back off, to stop sniffing around another male’s mate.

  “You distract me. Go elsewhere,” Jaxar said.

  “No.” Impossible. He could not leave Jaxar alone with Nakia. The male couldn’t possibly be foolish enough to attempt to woo another male’s mate, but Rohn did not trust him. Not at all. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jaxar attempted to kiss her.

  Nakia swing her head to him, eyes wide. “Are you growling?”

  “I am thinking,” he replied.

  “Think quietly,” Jaxar said. “I need all your lovely mate’s brain power focused on me.”

  Rohn barely contained himself, only hearing the words lovely mate, focused on me. He would never be so forward with another male’s mate. Never. No honorable male would, yet Jaxar flouted the rules of conduct every male followed.

  Or should.

  Yet Nakia did not discourage this shameless behavior. No Mahdfel would ever be unfaithful once they claimed a mate, but he could not say the same of Terrans. Did she not admit that her first mate left for another?

  No. Rohn claimed her. His bite marked her for all to see and his scent covered every inch of her body. Yet she wore a blouse with a high collar, covering her claiming mark, and she bathed in scented soaps, removing his scent, the jealous part of his mind supplied.

  Did she want to be courted by another? Did she regret her choice? Want a younger male? Want Jaxar after all?

  Rohn’s hand clenched into a fist. He wanted more than anything to throw his mate to the ground and claim her again, to fuck her cunt hard and repeatedly until she screamed her throat raw and understood that she belonged to him. He would cover her in his seed, drown her in his essence. Her body would ache, feel where he had been for days. She would not forget him.

  As if sensing his thoughts, her head snapped up. He growled. She licked her bottom lip. He would do it. Here. Now. Demonstrate to her that he was not too old to bring her to the apex of her pleasure and hold her there, torture her with bliss, and make her beg to come.

  Then he would do it again.

  Kalen appeared with the new prosthesis, matte black with an open weave. “This is fascinatingly primitive technology,” he said.

  Jaxar grabbed the device and knelt before Nakia.

  The male went too far. Rohn would tolerate the smiles and the necessary touches, but Nakia was his mate. His. And it was time for Rohn to remind Jaxar of that fact.

  Rohn growled, his hand clamping down on Jaxar’s shoulder. “Do not touch my mate.” He intended the words to be a warning, but they came out as a shout. He pulled Jaxar away, yanking the male to his feet, and shoved him into a cart, sending equipment to the floor.

  With a savage smile, Jaxar sprang to his feet. “About time, old gray wolf.”

  Rohn snarled, rage turning his mind into a blank. Only Nakia got to call him a gray wolf. They surged toward each other, locked in a grapple.

  His mate shouted, not words of encouragement but words of distress. Her stool had been knocked over and she sprawled on the floor. How dare Jaxar upset his mate like that—

  “No fighting in medical. Take it outside.” Kalen tried to wedge himself between the two males, but their grapple could not be broken. “Stop this at once or I will administer the paralytic again.”

  Rohn and Jaxar both turned to the medic, to find him with a syringe and a stormy expression. They broke apart at once.

  He moved to help his mate off the floor. She slapped away his hand. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed.

  “With me? I am demonstrating that I am your mate.” Obviously.

  She accepted Jaxar’s help off the floor. Rage flared in Rohn again. “Do. Not,” Kalen warned, brandishing the syringe at him until Nakia settled back onto the stool.

  “I think I need to have a word with my husband,” Nakia said.

  “Certainly.” Kalen grabbed Jaxar and the males departed.

  Rohn paced the small space, unhappy to be confined, even by the paper-thin partitions. The flimsy barriers only provided visual privacy. Anyone could hear their conversation.

  “What was that?” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “I should ask the same,” he replied. The blood still pounded in his ears. His cock stirred, wanting her and wanting her to have doubt of his devotion.

  “You know what I think? I think a jealous man lost his damn mind for no reason.”

  “No reason? I have all the reasons! You were... were…” He searched for the correct word. “Flirting.”

  “Flirting! No part of that was flirting.” She vibrated with outrage.

  “Jaxar flirted with you and you did not protest.”

  “First, he wasn’t flirting. Second, this attitude of yours can fuck right off.”

  Again, she mentioned copulation, but not in an inviting way.

  “I do not approve of all the time you spend with Jaxar.”

  “Well, I don’t like you ditching me for the wonderful Carrie, but it’s hard times all around, babe.”

  Stripped of affection, the endearment stung. He ran a hand along his shattered horn. “Do you regret your choice?”

  Her eyes narrowed, hard and sharp in a way he had not seen before. If she said yes, he would not be surprised. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jaxar. You got to choose males. Do you want to switch mates? Do you regret choosing me?”

  Someone gasped from the other side of the partition. Jaxar, no doubt.

  “You think I want Jaxar? Is that what’s this is about?”

  “I think Jaxar wants you,” he said.

  “That’s not what I asked. Do you think I want Jaxar?”

  He breathed, aware that his chest rose and fell dramatically, and his body thrummed with adrenaline, prepared for a fight. Jaxar was just on the other side of the partition. It would take no effort at all to reach him, to bring him to his knees, to make him pay for every smile he ever gave Nakia, for every glance. Every thought.

  Nakia was his and Rohn did not want to share.

  “Fine. Don’t answer me.” She leaned down for the prosthesis.

  “I will do that,” Rohn said, kneeling at her feet, readying to attach the device.

  “Don’t touch me,” she snapped. “I’m furious at you.”

  “For defending you from another male?” Unlikely. Any female would be glad to have a mate who demonstrated his devotion in such a manner.

  “For being a hypocrite, Rohn,” she said, voice strained. “For breaking our date and ditching me for Carrie and then having the nerve to be upset that Jaxar helped me.”

  Their breakfast conversation came back to him.

  Ah.

  “My work is important.”

  “So important that no one else can do it? Only you?”

  “Yes. Lives depended on me. If I failed again, I could not bear the weight of it.” He ran a hand over his shattered horn. Admitting his greatest flaw left him vulnerable. How could she see anything but weakness in him? She would be well within her rights to turn away in disgust and ask for a new mate.

  Her hand lifted, as if she were about to reach for him, but it dropped back to her side. “More important than me?”

  “You said you understood,” he said. He did not misremember their conversation.

  “Yeah, well, I thought I did, but that was before my husband had a meltdown about some dude talking to me.”

  “He was flirting and so were you!”

  “And you flirted with Carrie!”

  They stared at each other. Silence fell between them, louder than any words.

  She waved to the prosthesis in his hand. “I don’t want to talk about this here. I hate airing dirty laundry.”

  “Agreed.”

  She attached the prosthesis and stood, testing the devi
ce’s ability to hold her weight before taking a cautious step. “Kalen, is it okay to leave with this?”

  “If it feels acceptable. It was made to conform to your leg,” the medic said from the other side of the partition.

  “Fine. Let’s go home,” she said, moving past his.

  The lack of an endearment stung.

  Chapter 13

  Nakia

  Whatever the hell that was? It was a giant problem. The first time she saw Rohn, he lost his shit and attacked Jaxar. She didn’t think much of it at the time, having a massive headache and still trying to steady herself after teleportation sickness. Mahdfel were territorial and possessive of new mate. The pamphlet said as much.

  But his behavior hadn’t improved. Any male who so much as looked at her got a snarl and a threat. Hell, Rohn pulled a knife on the guy he assigned to escort her that morning. Presumably Merrek had been vetted and Rohn could rely on the male, yet he still got a knife pressed against his throat.

  She hadn’t thought about that first day, either, mainly due to the awesome sex keeping her distracted. They had been together, as husband and wife, for a month. Was that enough time to really get the measure of someone?

  Was Rohn a bad guy? Worry and dread rolled in her stomach, tumbling over each other, like two beasts in battle. Like Rohn grappling with Jaxar.

  Fuck.

  Her gut told her that Rohn would keep her safe, no matter what. Her gut also wanted to empty itself out on the corridor floor.

  They made it back to their quarters without Nakia tossing her cookies. She made for the couch and slammed the game controller in his hand. Sized for a human, it was minuscule in his grip.

  “What is this?”

  “We’re blasting up some murderbots to blow off steam,” she said, plopping down on the sofa. She kept her eyes forward, too upset to even look at him. Princess jumped up between them, demanding petting and attention, and Nakia was more than happy to oblige.

  Princess never made accusations, never accused her of wanting to leave for another cat. If only men were as simple. The cat just wanted food, a warm spot to nap, and Nakia’s undivided adoration.