by Vi Voxley
All that was what she should have theoretically been thinking about.
What her mind actually returned to was the commander. Grothan had done something to her. At least she dearly wished he had, because otherwise she was no better than any other love-struck fool and had fallen for the first alien hunk she met. Alright, the third, but still.
Yet, yet… the way he had looked at her made Isolde desperately long for him, or she could settle for a room with privacy and maybe a poster? A picture, even? A vid would be lovely, thank you.
University life didn’t serve dating possibilities on a platter, after all. And while Isolde knew there were plenty of guys who liked curvier girls like her, she didn’t exactly want to be someone’s fetish. Like, it was okay for a guy to like her, but not in the way of “Oh yeah, I always go for girls like you”. Girls like you. Curvy girls, not to say fatties. So after some real dates and some blind dates gone badly, she had sort of pushed the whole man-issue aside and focused on other things. It didn’t help she knew she had been named after a famous beauty. At least they hadn’t called her Helen.
But now… Grothan had brought back every fantasy she had ever had. All the time spent alone – it almost hurt between her legs as she thought of the commander. She was in space, but all she could think of was what that incredibly low voice would sound like in passion, if it would break when he whispered her name, his big frame heavy and strong and lean against hers and if she could hear his heart beat faster and faster as he sped up…
“Isolde Fenner,” the incredibly low voice said from behind her.
She later found it amusing that the first thought that flew through her head was, Oh gods almighty, don’t be a telepath.
Banishing the delicious images from her head, Isolde turned and found the object of her fantasies standing much closer than she had thought. The other Brion was gone. Er… um.
“Yes?” she said, cursing her voice for shaking a little.
Grothan cocked his head to one side, reminding Isolde of a predator scouting his surroundings.
“I hear fear,” the warrior said, taking a step back. Aww, Isolde’s treacherous libido purred. “You need not fear me, Isolde Fenner. I will not hurt you. None of my warriors will hurt you.”
Oh. That was a load off her mind. The Brions were known for their honor, so she could trust him to keep his word.
“Thank you,” she said. “I really am sorry for all this; I didn’t want to… to make trouble.”
He didn’t try to assure her it was no trouble at all. Instead, his posture stiffened and he seemed to listen again. Only Isolde hadn’t said anything this time.
“Your heart beats fast and your body temperature seems high for a human,” the commander said then, making Isolde’s heart beat even faster. Oh good grief, unfair! Stop listening to my bodily functions! “My experience with humans shows these are signs of illness. Do you require a healer, Isolde Fenner?”
His pronunciation of her name was surprisingly good, but it was getting kind of annoying, even if she did like hearing him say it. She was also infinitely grateful to him for speaking simplified Brionese with her. It would have been a nightmare to be stuck on an alien ship and not understand them.
“You don’t have to keep saying my full name, Commander. Just Isolde is fine. And um… no, I am not sick. I…”
She was aware she was now blushing fiercely. Something, which of course, didn’t go over his alien head. He frowned.
“Now your color is changing. Are you sure you do not want a healer?”
Oh yes. Tell them to find a cure for being attracted to you. Or you know, don’t. Just throw me over that console there and…
“No,” Isolde said more firmly. “It must just be the space and the ship. I have never left Terra before.” A part of that was even true. She quickly added, “But thank you again, Commander Grothan, for your concern.”
Something flashed in his eyes as she said that and before Isolde could think of how she had offended him, Grothan levelled his piercing gaze straight at her and all but growled, “Yes. I am very concerned about you. If you have any troubles, let one of my men know and they will hurry to aid you.”
That was… uncharacteristically kind of him, Isolde thought.
Then something even weirder happened. The alien warlord looked uncertain for a moment, almost hesitant. As quickly as the feeling had appeared, it was gone and his posture became rigid again.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said.
Well. That phrasing was odd, even if it seemed reasonable to Isolde that just like she was interested in her hosts, the commander would wonder about this strange human woman on his ship.
“What would you like to know, General?” she asked, unsure of how to address him. Would he prefer “General” or “Commander”? So far, he didn’t seem to mind either. Perhaps they were equal titles in his mind.
For an answer, he spoke something quickly into a device on his collar. Then he unslung the heavy Brion battle spear, their signature weapon – How much blood must have trickled off that, the thought shot through Isolde’s mind – and placed it against the wall. It was nearly as tall as he was. It also occurred to Isolde that he might have been trying to seem less threatening to her. This was just getting weird. With skepticism she didn’t usually possess, she had to wonder what had made the bloody general suddenly so keen to play nice.
The doors opened for a Brion – without the squares and the spear, much shorter – who delivered two cups and a decanter. He placed the items on the table and left quickly. Grothan didn’t even spare him a look, his gaze fixed on Isolde.
“Drink,” he instructed, taking a seat on a couch. Other than the table and two couches, the cavernous room was empty. Brions valued function. “It is safe for humans.”
Isolde wasn’t all that thirsty, but to refuse would have been foolish. She poured herself a cup, sitting opposite of him, feeling very conscious of the fact she was alone in a room with a man personally responsible for more people killed than she had ever met. She was also painfully aware of how his surprisingly calm, deep eyes seemed to caress her skin, making her bask in his attention.
The squares didn’t seem to glow, either. He seemed… relaxed.
“Tell me about why you were chosen to go to Rhea, and why you are not,” Grothan said as she took a sip. It tasted a bit like lime juice, if she had to compare it to something, but sweeter.
Isolde sighed. “I don’t really know either, Commander,” – OK, he seemed to react better to that – “I was told to go to Rhea and help with the research there. You know, the usual stuff with new planets. Culture, languages, research into their economics and politics and if we could establish an alliance with them. A sort of an observational negotiator, I suppose? We were to introduce our own cultures too. Trying to show an image of the GU. But I missed the ship.”
“The ship was under orders to wait for you. Why did it leave?”
How did you know that? Isolde wondered, but pressing a warlord for information didn’t seem like a good idea. “I don’t know,” she repeated.
Grothan nodded, seemingly in thought.
Her mouth seemed as treacherous as her body, it seemed, because she heard her own voice ask, “What were you doing on Luna Secunda?”
Oh, now you’ve done it. Goodbye, cruel world, it’s been fun.
To her surprise, Grothan didn’t lash out. “I was escorting our ambassador to the station. I offered the Forger to guard your transport ship until she met her flotilla, but found it had already left. I did not plan to pick up you, however.”
“Sorry,” Isolde mumbled.
“Don’t be,” Grothan said, standing. “I am not. Now I must return to my duties. I will speak to you again on the Triumphant. If you need anything, ask your guards.”
Isolde still hadn’t shut her mouth when the door slid shut after him. Was… was the alien warlord flirting with her?
CHAPTER FOUR
Diego
It was not in Dieg
o Grothan’s nature to question the way things were. A Brion warrior wasn’t supposed to constantly wonder about the order of the world. They had elders for that, men and women of all areas of life that had stepped back from their duties and had started to look back on their own actions. To be honest, Diego was slightly concerned about that phase of his life. The Elders said it was a natural state and that the transition would come to him as it came to all others, but the quiet life did not call to him. He was a warrior. His place was at the head of his men.
So when he came down to Luna Secunda to see who had the audacity to summon him in person to settle an argument, his mind had been on ways to enact revenge on the hybrid without making it cost his people too much. He had hoped the hybrid would be reasonable and understand that to provoke a man of his stature was not something he could walk away from.
It was all well in the order of things. But then he had seen the woman, Isolde Fenner.
All right, so there were some things he questioned. For some time now, he had wondered why he didn’t seem to find his mate. He was well within the age when Brion men bind to geshas, their life partners and became their gerions in turn. To be honest, he was growing worried. Other warriors, lesser men than him – brothers, but little brothers, no match for his might – found Brion women and got to experience what all the Elders said was the single best moment of their lives.
In his darkest dreams, Diego wondered if it was possible that he had had the moment but hadn’t recognized it. He had tried to provoke the finding and attended gatherings where there were many unbound women. Some had caught his attention with their looks and some with their personalities. He had met a great many female warriors who he considered worthy to fight beside. Had he missed it? Deliya was a beautiful warrior, fierce and proud; he had felt great pride when she had managed to give him a real workout once or twice. But it was just pride, and occasionally, lust. Aneya was introduced to him by his parents, long thought to provoke the binding at once and she truly was a beauty, with quiet wisdom. He treasured her like a sister, even if he was aware of her tremendous disappointment at not being his fated. Urenya had been his companion since they were young enough not to even remember it. She served now as a healer aboard the Triumphant. Diego spoke to her often and considered her one of only three people in the galaxy he could completely trust. A best friend. Not a gesha.
He had accessed the medical, cultural, religious and even psychological works on the recognizing moment in secret. He read with silent, cold envy of the way his brothers described the moment as a coming together of pieces they hadn’t known they were. A single moment of utter self-awareness, knowing what you were and that the one before you was the one to stand by your side until the darkness.
Nothing marred that. Not even the fighting to follow. Brion women didn’t get that moment, didn’t experience the absolute knowledge. So they ran, or fought, or doubted them, even if they knew fate would bring them together one way or another. In time, the fighting had become customary. Women fought and then they gave in and it was known that they had fought each other, but from that moment they would fight together.
Diego had been close to thinking there was something wrong with him. He was a great general, yet he was without a second half.
The moment he locked eyes with Isolde Fenner, asking him to spare the life of the hybrid that he had already decided would be taken, he’d known.
Warmth filled his heart and, like he had been injected with battle toxins, his every sense suddenly flared to life. He had never heard his heart beating with such intensity, although Brions had very sharp hearing. Diego felt strength rush through every inch of his body and he knew he was mighty. At that moment, he could have broken the hybrid’s neck between his fingers.
But his gesha had asked him not to. What was one life in return of what she had just given him?
Diego had fought a smile then. At last, his and his alone had found him. She was a human – that could be an issue, but it didn’t matter. He knew it was right and that she was his and he would never let anyone hurt her. He would protect her, and hold her, and run his hands over her delicious, smooth body and caress the curves that had caught his gaze even in a moment when he should have been conducting military affairs. She would fit so well into his arms; she would make these noises women made when they were sated when he was finished with her and… but he was getting ahead of himself. He fought his smile away and his arousal as well. Ah, the first time with a gesha was supposed to be the image from which all others would follow. He would make her eyes gleam like the stars.
So now she was finally aboard the Triumphant, and she was perfect. She even spoke his language. It seemed like fate itself had wanted it to happen. Diego was utterly sure of himself. This was how it was meant to be.
Which didn’t mean he couldn’t do it right. After finding out everything he could about humans before the need to be in the same room with her became too great, Diego went to her on the Forger. At first she didn’t hear him enter. A Brion warrior could be very silent if they chose to be, even if they usually announced their presence loudly. He got to enjoy a moment of just watching her looking at space. Yes. That was his gesha. His and his alone. Perfect, made for him, destined for him. And him for her.
They had talked, although he had ached to just take her. He needed to know why she was bound for Rhea, but more so, he felt, he had needed for her not to be petrified of him. On Luna Secunda, he came to inspire fear. That would not do. A gesha shouldn’t fear him. Should know his strength and power, yes, but not fear him. A gesha didn’t have anything to fear from her mate.
In his heart, Diego knew he should give her more time. A human might react differently from a Brion woman. She was bound to, he was sure. But he was also certain she would come to accept it. This was how it was, after all. He was concerned less about other Brions. They would be surprised, of course, but the moment wasn’t something to be argued with. The Elders would find it intriguing, probably.
She would have time to get used to him. First, Diego felt it was fair to make it known to her.
Isolde’s room was in the least populated part of the ship. Not only wouldn’t she have to get used to him and Brions, but they would have to accept her as well.
Diego found her unpacking the few items she had brought with her. She greeted him, it seemed to Diego, with slightly less fear than before. That was good.
“I feel I must inform you of something, Isolde,” he said.
Her eyes went wide with fear. He hurried to continue. “Do you know what a Brion gesha is?” he asked, saying each word slowly and carefully to make sure she understood.
“Yes, I think,” Isolde said carefully. “Gesha means bride, I believe? A Brion’s designated life mate. I am told you mate for life.”
It sounded so barbaric to phrase it like that, as if binding your heart to someone for all your life was just a thing that happened at one point or the other.
“Good,” Diego said, relaxing a bit. “You seem to have at least the general idea. That is good. This saves time it would take for me to explain. You see, I did not intend to have a human aboard my ship. It is not done. I wouldn’t have relented even if you were the ruler of all Terra. Until I recognized you as a gesha.”
She went completely silent for a while. Diego waited, trying to determine her state of mind by the way her eyes seemed to try to pop out of her head. Isolde opened her mouth to ask something, closed it again, opened it and finally managed, “Whose gesha?”
As if there was a question. Diego smiled.
-------------
Oh fuck. He has to be joking. I mean… he…
The man who made her legs shake by merely looking at her closed the distance between them, which did nothing good for Isolde’s self-control. Up close, she could feel the firmness of his muscled chest and smell his scent, which went straight to her lady parts and shut off her brain. With a surprisingly human motion, the most gorgeous man Isolde had ever seen lifted up her chin un
til she was staring into his bottomless blue eyes again and simply said, “Mine.”
It was kind of difficult to follow the rest of the explanation, if it could be called that. As much as Isolde could tell, the commander couldn’t explain the situation either. The problem was that the Brions didn’t mate outside of their species. So far, geshas had always been Brion women, in all of their recorded history. Grothan knew it and Isolde knew it too, because it was one of the most noticeable characteristics the Brions had in the GU. Other species mingled – some more, some less, some were not compatible – but the Brions didn’t participate in that and had refused research into whether it would even be possible. Their bindings were sacred to them, and as such, all other arguments were pointless.
And now Isolde seemed to be the first non-Brion ever to be a Brion’s fated. That didn’t even warrant an imaginary letter. The day had begun with a mishap, then had gone fast down the crazy lane and had now happily settled in the land of ludicrous.
Grothan seemed fairly calm for the fact that he was about to break a tradition the Brions considered a pillar of their society. As much as Isolde gathered, the feeling of seeing your gesha was incomparable to anything else and made everything valid. There was no questioning it. Grothan was sure it would be understood.
For Isolde’s part, she hadn’t said yes to anything. For Grothan’s part, he hadn’t exactly asked. A binding was something a Brion trusted without question. It didn’t warrant a second opinion.
Slowly and carefully, like with a child, Grothan had said at least this much, “I understand this is not a Terran custom. After you came aboard, I asked our ambassador about this. He explained to me you do not believe in such things and prefer to let the future of your species to be determined by your individual choices. And that you… sometimes mated more than once.”
Isolde didn’t need any of her skills to hear the venom in that last statement. The Brions must have thought humans were barbaric, but she had a few words about their ways as well.