Venomous: (Alien Warrior Book 1)

by Penelope Fletcher

  “Good stuff?”

  I gripped his shoulders and stared into his handsome face, pleading. “Where is the sugar at?”

  “We do not have such things.”

  Liar. “Fine. What about those sweet berries? Where can I get more of those?”

  His lips twitched. “Delicacies bought during trade. There will be none available to purchase until the expedition offworld next solar.”

  Silent, I eyed him until he shifted.

  I sensed a conspiracy.

  No is there nothing sweet on the whole damn planet.

  He’d been forewarned I’d approach him.

  Letting him go, I pursed my lips and squinted. “They talked to you about this, didn’t they?”

  He reached to touch my cheek, but snatched his hand back. He sighed. “Rä’Na....”

  “Oh, yeah, they talked.” I stomped my foot. “Clever bastards. I’d hate them if their deviousness didn’t make me hot. They’re challenging me.” I snapped my fingers then dropped a loose fist to my cocked hip. “It’s so on.”

  “Venomous has spoken to me and others of your fondness for such things. Scans from the healer He, who is Widowed, Nāga Shadowed by the Bluest Moons show damage to your body from your Earth diet. It will take solars for you to heal. So many toxins and chemicals are stored within you.” He cocked his head. “We do have confectionary on Rök, but they are to be consumed within moderation. Our species learnt this in its infancy. The population developed health concerns that seemed trivial, but had devastating accumulative effect.”

  “Sooo,” I drawled, “what it sounds like you’re saying, is you’re not going to help this hormonal female feed her sugar addiction.”

  “Yesss.”

  My face crumpled. “But why?”

  He clicked his teeth, exasperated. “They are bad for you, and for the offspring until you heal.”

  Pouting, I grumbled under my breath.

  How did you argue with common sense like that?

  Still, I was a sugar junkie like you wouldn’t believe.

  Shit would get ugly if I didn’t get a little somethin’ somethin’ sweet.

  Drawing nearer, Cobra asked, “Why does this anger you?”

  “Because they’re cramping my style! I can’t be crafty and sly when they’ve warned everybody that I’m being crafty and sly in my hunt for decent food.” I chuckled and shook my head. “They know me better than I realised.”

  “The fare they provide is purchased from the Hunters Caste. I assure you, it is of the highest quality.” Shoulders tense, he looked indignant. “The meat for this festival was hunted by me.” He inched closer to murmur, “My gift to you.”

  “Was it?” I one-arm-hugged him. “Thanks. Not what I meant though.” I tipped my head back and stared at the glister creep. “I need sugar or I’m going to die.”

  “Die,” he whispered rubbing his waist where I’d embraced him.

  “Yes!”

  As I performed a rain dance to the heavens, begging for Snickers to plummet from the sky like manna, Fiercely had a meltdown.

  He grabbed me, scooping me to his chest.

  He bolted through the concert bellowing for my mates.

  The actors were startled, but carried on with their performance, even when half the audience craned their necks to see what happened to the alien female.

  Rushing into one of the meditation pods, he settled me onto a divan with piles of hand stuffed cushions adjacent to a stone pond filled with aquatic creatures.

  The fountaining water feature was lit with diffused blue light.

  It drew the eye to help the supplicant seeking inner peace relax.

  Incense wafted by as purple curls of fragrant, liquorice smoke.

  Shadows hugged the pod corners, and the music from the festival hall was a low hum in the background.

  The quiet, intimate space was a welcome change of pace after being on display.

  Shaking, Cobra pressed his calloused palm to my forehead. “Are you chilled? Your skin feels cool. Your life force dims as I speak.” His voice turned hoarse. “Grandfather’s Hood, I never should have listened to them. I should have given you all you desired.”

  This killed the hasty assurances that I was fine and he was overreacting.

  I blinked.

  Cocking my head, I thought of the possibilities....

  “All I desire?”

  Nominal time later, feet up, nestled into the pillows, I let Cobra feed me what he’d found.

  Clutched in one claw was a pannikin of fruity liquid called amrita.

  It tasted similar to crisp wine.

  The naturally occurring plant nectar slid down my throat like runny honey.

  In another of his hands, a deeper bowl of blue grain with the texture of couscous called kakt’mi.

  Boiled in goodbeast mylk the grain went down like porridge.

  But the flavour!

  Rich chocolate pudding with a hint of salted caramel.

  After the first hesitant spoonful, my mouth watered just thinking about it.

  The look and consistency might be of sludge, but it tasted scrumptious, and I hummed with pleasure as Cobra brought the rim of the drinking bowl to my lips.

  After making sure I was comfortable, Cobra had flown into action like a whirling, howling dervish.

  He’d barked orders at scurrying Sylphs then haltingly explained what happened to Venomous and Fiercely when they thundered into the pod looking for me, wild eyed and hissing with worry.

  Now my mates watched me with exasperation even as they shoved Cobra out of the way and took over my pampering.

  “I need at least one sweet treat a day,” I informed as I lay back. “You know, for my emotional health.”

  Venomous looked suspicious, but was too relieved I wasn’t dying to naysay me.

  Fiercely said, “I will make provisions.”

  As he hustled from the room, no doubt to see to the ordering of more grain, I nibbled my luscious treat as Cobra continued where Fiercely left off.

  Venomous crossed his arms over his chest, lips thinning as he picked up on my not-so-secret smugness. “Truth, dearest?”

  “Really, babe?” I shot back not caring in the least. “Do you think I haven’t figured out unless we’re in the same room at the time of a meal being served, I don’t have to sit in your lap, and have you hand feed me?” I flung out my arm knocking into the spoon headed for my mouth. Delectable gloop went flying. “If you want to fight this, fine, but be prepared to lose.” My voice turned shrill. “I’m a woman on the edge.”

  He eyeballed me harder before deflating. Leaning over, he cupped my jaw and touched his cheek to mine. “Loving you.”

  “More than all your gold?”

  “Much more.”

  I sniffed and tugged on his ear to draw his mouth within kissing range.

  It was a wet, leisurely knot of tongue and press of slanted mouth.

  The kind of kiss where you meet in the middle, breathe the same air and your lips part forever because the clench of your sex, blood rush in your ears and the sensation of free falling has your jaw dropping.

  All you can do is kiss, and kiss, as your heart races, your toes curl, and either he breaks away or you pass the fuck out.

  When we pulled apart, gasping, and grinning sappily at each other, I caught a spasm of envy streaking across Cobra’s face.

  He turned away and clutched the bowl tighter. He made as if to rise. “I shall give you privacy.”

  “There is no need.” Venomous extended a fist in a commanding gesture that he remain. After another press of his mouth to mine, he tore his gaze away to focus on the other male “Stay with her. There are things I must see to before she rejoins the festival.”

  When we were alone, Cobra returned to feeding me.

  This time a trace of agitation slowed his movements. “You care for them?”

  I moved aside the bowl he brought to my lips, forestalling my answer, even as his expression begged I respond. “I
do. Why do you ask?”

  “I was not liked as a youngling. My temperament was changeable and considered unpleasant. I had no gold. Fiercely was my first true friend. He saw my worth, my potential before all others. He is not even of my Caste. My experience with females ... I was worried when I learnt of who he matured for. It is my wish he be happy.”

  Cobra’s tongue flashed past his lips, its lustre more a iridescent purple than blue, as he tried to gauge how I reacted to this revelation.

  “I got the impression life has been harsh on you.” I bit my lip, unsure if what I wanted to say would offend him. “I think in certain ways it still is.”

  His black eyes gleamed and his lips curved. “You do not like my Rä’Na.”

  I blinked at his bluntness, shocked he’d sussed what I thought I’d hidden. “Um....”

  “It is fine, Lumen. Singing Water is skilled at making friends. It is the keeping of them she finds difficult. We both know it is not because she attracts bad people.”

  As he had opened up such a candid line of communication between us, I thought maybe it would be prudent to address the whole ‘staring longingly at me’ situation, and how I thought it might ‘upset’ his life mate, when an eight foot, half naked Verak bounded into the pod then skidded to a halt before me.

  Beowyn threw his arms open and grinned. “Small one!”

  “Hello,” I laughed then my eyes snagged on the up-tilted, angry-looking erection bobbing between his thickset thighs. I slapped a hand over my eyes. “Wyn! Where the hell are your pants?”

  “I cannot recall.” Amused by my refusal to look at him, he grabbed my hands and pulled them off my face. “‘Tis only a cock.”

  “Sit.” I tugged on his arm until he flopped down next to me, chortling. “Are you drunk?”

  He blew a raspberry, rolled onto his stomach then wriggled on the divan knocking the cushions off. “Nay.”

  I eyed his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. “I feel like you’re not being honest with me.”

  Grinning, cheeky, his legs flopped off the divan edge, and tanned bare buttocks dusted in golden hair flexed as his big feet hit the floor.

  I laughed. “And where are your boots?”

  Éorik popped his head into the pod then huffed. “There you are.” He stepped into the room with an unlaced pair of breeches draped over his arm, a pair of boots in his hand. “I am sorry, my Lady. He brought you a bottle of rare Aztekian wine as a gift, but after learning the Rä serve no ale, he drank the whole thing.”

  He made a feeble gesture towards his liege.

  “It’s okay. He can sleep it off in here.” I stroked Beowyn’s mane from his face. He purred and burrowed into my side, rubbing his horns against my thigh. “Are you having a good time?”

  He dropped his head onto my lap and grinned up at me. “Aye.” He brushed his fingerclaws to my jaw. “Are you happy?”

  “More than I can say.”

  The shiny mist receded from his catlike eyes as he focused on my face. “You will always have a place with me.”

  Cobra rumbled a warning, but I held up a palm to shush him. I used the same hand to cup the Verak’s bearded cheek. “I won’t need it, but thank you.” I kissed his hand then held it in my own on his chest. “You and I are going to be friends, Beowyn.”

  “Friends,” he repeated with a slow blink.

  Éorik dropped down on my other side.

  He relieved Cobra of my drinking bowl then took a deep glug. “The Great One does not have friends.” He licked his lips and made a pleased sound. “He has concubines, servants, vassals and allies, but no friends.”

  “He does now.” I snatched the amrita from him with a sniff. Who knew when my mates would let me drink it again? I waved it under his nose. “Mine.”

  Excited voices drifted from the main hall.

  Intrigued, I looked a question at Éorik who’d just come from out there.

  “Oh, nay,” he replied to my unasked query with a shake of his silver mane. “I shall not be the one to ruin the surprise.” He helped me onto my feet, smirking when Cobra glowered at what he considered his duty being usurped. “I will take you to your males.”

  “And I shall escort all of you,” Beowyn declared brandishing an arm.

  He lurched onto his feet, swayed, lunged a step then crashed into the wall, getting tangled in the tapestry.

  He yelled and fought it as if it were alive, calling for his sword, and for his legions to, “Rally to me.”

  “Ignore him,” Éorik muttered. “I do.”

  A hand shot out from under the wall-hanging to point damningly. “I heard that.”

  Heaving a long suffering sigh, the Commander handed me off to Cobra who was happy to scoop me up.

  Freed from the drapery, Beowyn yanked on his breeches.

  He wobbled from one leg to the other, and slapped at Éorik when the male tried to expedite his drunken fumbling.

  The Verak King stomped into his knee-high boots then shouted a triumphant, “Ha,” as he thumbed his nose.

  Using Éorik as a crutch, he hooked a beefy arm around my shoulders to plaster me onto his side.

  He crowed his delight about my charming ceremony, and invited me to an upcoming carnival on Vayhalun as we tottered towards the festival hall struggling to keep him corralled.

  Everything we passed grabbed his attention, and stirred him into raptures.

  Accented drawl shaking the glister creep, Beowyn bellowed a vulgar ditty about a lusty, behorned wench, and dragged our motley foursome along in his rambunctious trail.

  We careened through the hallways and bounced into furniture before stumbling into the celebration; me giggling, Beowyn attempting a partner dance with Éorik who unflinchingly refused to shuffle along, and, finally, a traumatized Cobra, who tried to sneak away, but couldn’t, because I had hold of his belt to keep myself upright.

  I laughed so hard, I crossed my legs to alleviate the need to pee.

  Watching us with a crooked smile, Venomous waited in the middle of the festooned enclosure.

  He motioned me closer then said in a strident voice, “This is a ritual my Rä’Na has on her home world. As we have joined and created new life, I wish to honour her by sharing her traditions.”

  Dumping Beowyn on his Commander, I hurried to my mate then clasped his outstretched hand.

  Face exultant, Fiercely strode through the gathering of kindred clustered around us.

  He held aloft a shiny that caught the light. “I have the rings.”

  He did, indeed, have rings; six of them.

  It hit me what they were doing, and a hand flew up to cover my mouth.

  The engraved gold circles were more like bangles, but I beamed a smile from behind my fingers because it was the thought that counted, and the pieces were exquisite.

  I whispered, “Who is the third set for?”

  I understood why there would be four.

  Two for me, given by each of them, and one for them, given by me.

  “Your lesser mate, of course.” Fiercely held up the two most slender. “They are thinner and less decorative, but he is not your third life mate, only your lesser male, and the story of your union was not needed. Only his name is carved here.”

  I swept a finger over the delicate curves and flicks of the glyphs. “Who wrote the stories?”

  “I did.”

  “You did these?”

  The scales around his spiky ears and sharp cheekbones darkened. “I wanted it to be special.” His tone was defensive. “I am no Artisan, but I did my best.”

  Pressing myself into his side, I tugged his head down to kiss his scowling mouth. “You did good, sweetheart. I love them almost as much as I love you.”

  “You love Venomous One,” he countered as if it were set in stone.

  “I do.” I held his gaze. “I also love Fiercely Comes the Night.”

  Too overcome to speak, he rubbed his cheek to mine, arms holding me tightly as his body trembled.

  Cobra that Strikes
had not moved since it had been revealed he had an armlet too.

  He stared at the rings. “Gold for me?”

  “You are part of us now,” Venomous said, “For good or ill.”

  “Don’t take the for ill part lightly,” I advised.

  Chuckling, Venomous took the largest, most ornate of the rings from Fiercely.

  The hammered, polished ore caught the glister creep glow.

  Engraved with a lyrical account of our meeting, there was a brutal beauty to how it read.

  Fiercely hadn’t glossed over the truth, nor had he downplayed the love that flourished amidst the hurt.

  “I marriage you,” Venomous declared in a clear voice as he pushed the cold metal onto my upper arm.

  “I marriage you too,” Fiercely blurted as if at risk of being left behind.

  He slid his gold onto my other arm.

  His band wasn’t as thick, nor the narrative he’d written as poignant, but there was a compelling purity underlying the account that moved me.

  “I like this custom much,” he announced with a stare that radiated masculine satisfaction.

  “As do I.” Venomous ran a claw down my arm. “It is a softer, but no less powerful claiming.”

  They turned to Cobra who took a step back then took three closer.

  Hands shaking, he gently lifted the arm bearing Fiercely’s gold to add his own below it.

  His gaze met mine and shone with a powerful devotion then he bowed his head. “I do not know the words for the lesser male.”

  I thought about it, not wanting to embarrass him by saying there were none.

  “Neither do I. What a pair we make.” I smiled, happy he was with us, then slid my gold onto his forearm. I turned to Fiercely and curled my finger. “Come here you.”

  His was one of the last two armbands in the form of an adjustable cuff, as no way was a solid circle sliding over his bulging muscles. “I marriage you too, sweetheart.”

  Taking the last cuff from him, a magnificent piece with remarkable attention to detail on the etchings, I faced Venomous.

  At once, my eyes watered and my chin wobbled. “You remembered. You did this.”