by Eve Langlais
“I have no interest in a life-size Ken doll.” The expression didn’t mean anything to Thyos. “The only thing I need is my handy-dandy bob.”
“Bob?” he queried, a spurt of jealousy making it a bark.
Belle had a smirk as she said, “Battery operated boyfriend.”
“I never understand why you play with plastic when you can capture yourself the real thing.” Ishtara hiked her belt.
“Bob doesn’t talk back,” was Belle’s sassy retort.
“Your companion is correct,” he interjected. “Nothing can replace sex in the flesh.” He held Belle’s gaze and noticed color rising in her cheeks before she ducked her head.
“Then have at it, dude. I’ll stick to my little friend.”
“Little being the whole problem,” muttered Ishtara. “But we digress. I am interested in your proposal to aid us in our search.”
“We don’t need help,” Belle grumbled.
“Apparently we do. I do not understand. If he is willing to give us information, why do you not accept?” asked Ishtara.
“Because, in exchange for this info that doesn’t yet exist, I’m supposed to interfere with his engagement.”
“Facilitate,” he corrected.
Her nose wrinkled. “I’d rather not convince some poor woman to marry you. If you’re going to be cruel, then maybe it would be kinder to kill your fiancée rather than subject her to you.”
The insult amused him. “Are you certain being mated to me would be horrifying?”
“I don’t know. I’ve yet to see your face.” She cocked her head and tried to peer in the shadow of his cowl, but he already knew she wouldn’t see a thing. A slight mirage, projected by the tech woven into the fabric of his cloak, made him anonymous.
“Does appearance matter?”
“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate.
“What of character?”
“That’s important, too, but most people don’t want to be hooking up with someone gross.”
“What is this gross?” he asked.
“With her, anything that swings a dick apparently,” Ishtara muttered.
“Don’t you start again,” Belle growled.
“I’ll do whatever I like, little girl.”
“Don’t call me little!”
“Fine. Red. Tide.” Each word was enunciated and meant to rile Belle.
Before they could truly try and murder each other, he said loud enough they would both hear, “Do we have a deal or not?”
“You know, it occurs to me that maybe instead of getting help from you, perhaps I should approach your fiancée. Find out how she feels about getting hitched to you,” Belle sourly stated.
“I can save you the trouble. She’d be appalled.”
“You mean she doesn’t know?”
“Not yet,” he said with a hint of a smirk.
“Then she won’t miss you at all when I slit your throat and dump you in the freezer for dinner.” Belle thumbed the hilt of a knife.
“I am beginning to think your companion is correct when she says you hate males.”
“I don’t hate men,” she huffed.
“Says the female uttering death threats instead of being mature and striking a bargain,” he countered.
“Ha! He just called you a whiny child.” Ishtara snorted.
“This child is about to have an epic meltdown. I don’t want your help.”
“You might not want it, but you need it,” Ishtara declared. “We can’t keep wandering around aimlessly, looking for compatible males.”
“I thought you sought a human settlement,” he said.
Again, the Zonian made a disparaging sound. “She seems fixated on the idea of finding human males, but I say she shouldn’t be so picky and should accept anything with a compatible penis. Even a deft tongue would solve the problem she and the other orphans are suffering.”
“The problem being?” he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to see the explosion.
“Lust. The females are in heat and in need of some sexual relief.”
“Oh, my gawd, I can’t believe you’re telling him this!” Clarabelle squealed.
“How is he supposed to find you compatible stock if you don’t advise him of your requirements?”
No mistaking the heated color in her face. “I am not just looking to hook up with a guy. I want to have a home, a family, a life with people like me.”
Did Clarabelle not see the sad tilt to Ishtara’s features when she threw that statement?
“I know you do, which is why I’m here to help you find it.” Ishtara switched from melancholic to rapier sharp as she zoned in on Thyos. “Can you truly help?”
“I can find her a compatible male,” he insisted. He wasn’t completely lying. After all, he hadn’t specified that male would be human.
“I don’t need you playing matchmaker.” Belle wouldn’t budge.
Ishtara ignored her. “How do we know you are trustworthy?”
“You don’t.” He shrugged. “But I would say me not attacking like those six in the alley would show some measure of respect.”
“Six?” Ishtara swung her yellow gaze onto Clarabelle.
“Seven actually, but the first one was some random dude who thought he could grab my buttocks. He failed the worthiness test.”
“And the other six?”
Clarabelle smirked as she said, “They all failed, too.”
Knowing a bit about the Zonians and their mating rituals, he was aware that they often fought their males to see if they were worthy of their sexual attention. The idea of grappling with her oddly excited.
“How will you ever find acceptable males if you keep killing them?” Ishtara harangued.
“Would you feel better if I said I won’t kill any human men we find?”
“What if they deserve it? Will you spare them simply based on their genetics?” Thyos interrupted.
She turned a green gaze on him. She sneered. “Don’t tempt me to slit your throat.”
“Go ahead and try,” he taunted. Would she?
“Yes, go ahead,” Ishtara exclaimed, clacking her beak in agitation. “Let’s kill all the males we encounter. Picky chit.”
“Don’t blame me for having criteria.”
“I will blame you for reducing our options. We are running out of places to look,” the Zonian warrior grumbled.
“Which is why you need my help,” he reminded.
“I don’t—”
Ishtara slapped the palm of her clawed hand over Clarabelle’s mouth. “We accept.”
Clarabelle glared.
“Most excellent. If you would follow me back to my world, I can make inquiries.”
The human ducked out of her companion’s reach. “Follow you? Ha. As if that’s not a trap.” Her sarcasm dripped thickly.
It was not entirely misplaced. She was astute. He did have a trap of sort planned. “How else will you pay me when I succeed?”
“Are you saying I’d renege on the deal?” She prickled.
“You seem to think I would,” he countered.
Ishtara slapped them both on the backs. “Children, keep in mind that only weaklings and cowards use traps.”
The insult was so nicely given it took a moment. The Zonian had effectively boxed him in. Subterfuge in his actions would be seen as cowardly.
Which was why he stood straight and said, quite seriously, “The real reason I want you to join me on my home planet is so we might conduct the mating rites.” At Belle’s blank look, he kept talking. “There is no fiancée, no other woman. When I said I found my mate, I meant you, Belle. You’re my sykyrah.”
He waited for the anger. Kept an eye for a knife.
He got laughter.
Loud, throaty laughter as the human fell against her companion and gasped, “You are funny.”
“I am simply stating the truth. You are my mate. Karma has decreed it. There is no escaping our fate.”
Wiping at the moisture in her eyes, s
he straightened. “Dude, first off, I am not getting hitched to you. I don’t care how many tea leaves you read or what your horoscope claims. Two, if I ever do decide to get hitched, the guy is gonna be human. Sorry. It’s just something I feel is necessary. And three…” She eyed him. “You are way too big.”
The two insults followed by a large compliment brought a smirk to his lips. “Your wants won’t matter. A sykyrah bond isn’t something that can be broken.”
“The sic what?” She shook her head. “Listen, crazy dude, I am not getting married to you. Or sleeping with you.”
He had to wonder if a resting period together had some meaning to an Earthling. Would it make the bond happen faster for her? Where was the nearest bed?
“Maybe you should give him a try,” Ishtara suddenly said.
“Try what? Marrying the Grim Reaper? I don’t even know if he has a face.”
He lowered his hood finally and let her see him. His skin held a metallic bronze hint, his hair was dark, and his gaze strange, his eyes reptilian in many respects with their vertical slits. They also possessed a faint yellow glow.
She stared, but it was the Zonian who spoke. “He is not hideous.”
Clarabelle glanced at him before shaking her head. “He’s got freaky eyes.”
“Do you think my eyes freaky as well?” Ishtara asked softly, startling the woman.
“Of course not. You’re my sister.” And he could see Belle meant it, though she still did not see how her words hurt.
“You’re not exactly my type either,” Thyos remarked and it wasn’t just that her frame presented smaller than the women of his world. Her skin lacked the glint of bronze and gold and even iridescent green common among his kind. Not to mention her less-than-impressive posterior.
“You wish you could get someone as hot as me,” she pertly retorted, thrusting out her chin and chest.
“Are you feverish?” Her temperature seemed normal, but what did he know of her kind?
“No, but I am sick of this conversation and you. Mate? Ha!”
Thyos found his patience waning. His pride was taking a beating, too. He’d done as told. He’d come looking for his mate. Just his luck, she wanted nothing to do with him.
Worse luck, he was more and more intrigued by her.
What to do?
On the one hand, he could probably arrange an abduction, knock her out via the use of narcotics and bring her to his planet. Given she’d probably wake annoyed, he’d have to hold her prisoner until she finally came to her senses and performed the ritual of bonding with him—sex on a seriously spiritual level.
For some reason, he didn’t see this method succeeding. He did, however, see himself either dying young or acquiring some interesting new scars if he tried.
What other option remained?
She was his mate. The woman he needed to save his clan and the life tree. He tired of her arguing with everything he said, so he decided to put Karma to the test.
“Since you don’t wish to make a bargain, then I’ll take my leave. Best of luck.” Without even a look back, he left.
He couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a fatal mistake.
Five
“About time he buggered off,” Clarabelle muttered, watching the cloak as it swirled around Thyos’s frame as he marched away.
“What is that expression you like to use?” Ishtara mused aloud. “Another one bites the dust?”
That earned her friend a scowl. “He wasn’t even close to being a contender.”
“On account of his eyes. I heard,” Ishtara muttered icily before turning on her hind claw.
In that moment, the insensitivity of her earlier remark hit her. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Ish. I didn’t mean I didn’t like you. You know I adore you.”
“I have yellow eyes.”
She did, big glowing ones; whereas his were beady and mean and… Okay, he had gorgeous eyes and a metallic bronze cast to his skin. And an ego the size of a solar system.
“I’m an insensitive jerk who doesn’t deserve to call herself your friend.” She hugged Ishtara and leaned her head on the chest of the larger woman, baring her neck in a sign of trust.
Ish sighed. “You are irritating.”
“But cute, right?” She grinned up at her friend.
“We should leave before someone takes offense at the bodies you’ve left littering the station,” Ishtara grumbled.
“I’m sure some chef will be happy to recycle them.” In the galaxies, where meat could oft times be limited, nothing was wasted. With the right spices, it tasted delicious.
It didn’t take long to receive a window for departure. Only as they exited the space port did Ishtara ask, “Where to?”
Clarabelle bit her lip. She’d gotten no intelligence on the station, not even a rumor of a place to go. Just one annoying dude in a cloak. Who said he could help.
Yet left.
Obviously, he didn’t mean it when he claimed they were soul mates. The very idea. It was—
“Where to?” Ishtara repeated.
For a moment, Clarabelle almost told her to follow his ship, but sanity affirmed itself, and instead, she said, “The next waystation. Let’s talk to some more folks.”
“Not giving up yet?”
“Never,” she huffed.
Out there existed a home, a place to belong, and she was going to find it.
To Clarabelle’s surprise and delight, they finally got a clue at their next stop. The news came from a purple dude with a dark, brooding appearance. He called himself Makl, the Galactic Avenger.
She’d never heard of him, but he had some interesting stories to tell about his supposed exploits. The one she enjoyed most was the rumor of a human outpost on a planet in an unclaimed star system. Makl even had vague coordinates for it that he sold to her for an astronomical sum.
“If this rumor is a trap, I will hunt you down, strip out your entrails, and feed them to you as you breathe your last,” Clarabelle threatened.
Makl put a hand to his chest. “I can only look forward to the day we match wits and strength.” Then he winked.
What did that mean? While his voice didn’t make her shiver like Thyos’s, she could admit maybe purple wasn’t so bad. But bronze was nicer.
She shook her head and returned to the ship with the news.
“I’ve got a location!” She waved a jagged piece of parchment, expensive and yet still widely used. On Earth, paper was cheap and wasted on a horrendous level. In space, because electronics could be wiped, along with their data, many still chose to put to paper—or leather, or whatever they could write on—important things. Like coordinates. But actual paper could be difficult to find. And she currently held a fragile piece that was the equivalent of a space treasure map.
Ishtara eyed the squiggles and waggled the bony protuberance jutting past her eyes. “You bought this from a pirate?”
“He never claimed to be a pirate but some kind of galactic avenger.”
“Of what?”
She shrugged. “He never said; I didn’t ask.”
“And on the basis of a rumor you spent how much?”
Never show uncertainty. She lifted her chin. “As much as needed to accomplish my task.”
“Good girl.” Ish nodded. “Let’s see what these coordinates lead to.”
Putting data into the computer wasn’t a strong suit of hers. Clarabelle proved handy in other ways. She could weld and run electrical. Fix plumbing and mechanical stuff, but when it came to the actual instructions and numbers, she let the experts handle it.
“Hmm.” Ish clicked her beak a few times.
“What is it?” she asked, leaning in to glance at a screen filled with symbols and lines that meant nothing to her.
“You’re sure of those coordinates?”
“As sure as I can be of third-hand info. Why? What does the computer say?” Because Clarabelle couldn’t understand any of it.
Ish inclined her beak toward the screen. “Nothing
because the system it leads to is closed.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that information about its existence is restricted to inhabitants.”
“People can do that?”
“Some races are more private than others and don’t wish to advertise any weakness.”
“Do you think they’re human?”
“I know nothing.” Ishtara shrugged.
“Meaning they might be.” She smiled. “It would make sense. Why else keep it a secret?”
“There are many reasons to hide. You mustn’t assume.”
“Fine, I won’t assume shit until we see it for ourselves.” But Clarabelle couldn’t help the excitement as they travelled, and she wondered, had they finally found a home?
Her optimism fizzled when faced with reality. The moment they entered the protected star system, they encountered many planets, all of them appearing barren of intelligent life. Not a single projecting satellite or guard ship. Their communication system remained silent. Proof that only the most rustic of outposts existed in this galaxy or the silence before the spring of a trap?
What if it were simply because there wasn’t anything to find?
“I think you were sold some bad information,” Ishtara claimed.
Hard to disagree. Clarabelle watched the screen that provided a live video feed of the world they orbited. The planet indicated on her map.
It appeared barren of civilization. Definitely no visible buildings or even a basic spaceport. The coordinates led to a cleared section on the surface, really nothing more than a thin scar of short, scrubby grass amidst a blanketing green forest. From above, the giant blue lakes—massive enough to be called seas—were bordered by green and brown, trees and dirt, with a single sun in the sky. She couldn’t help but swallow.
“What’s wrong?” Ishtara immediately asked.
“This planet. It reminds me of Earth.”
Her friend cocked her head and squinted. “Not really, unless you mean before the humans razed the forests and paved it over to build their cities. Given the pristine state of this planet, I predict there are no humans in the vicinity.”
“That’s mean.”
“But true. Civilization tends to leave its mark.”