by Vi Voxley
“I intend to,” he said.
The device on the collar of Grothan’s discarded uniform chose that moment to start beeping. When the commander shut his eyes and his mouth drew into a line, Isolde became very concerned for someone’s life. The one making the call would be dearly wishing for a quick death, she was sure. She wondered if he would hit “ignore” and carry on like any other normal man just about to fuck their fated mate, but Grothan was not a normal man, so he got up, retrieved his jacket and grunted a very vicious, “Yes?”
He stood silently for a few seconds, and then barked something so fast and low Isolde couldn’t make out the words and turned to her, eyes now alight with fury.
“Isolde,” he said, “I need to go. It is very important that you do not leave this room before I return. Let no one in.”
Um… what? Isolde started to protest, but Grothan marched out of the room without looking back and the door slid shut after him, locking immediately.
Isolde sat down on her bed, flustered. She didn’t think it was even possible for a single day in her life to get weirder than it already was. What was there to say? She fell back on the sheets she dearly wanted to share with a certain alien and began:
Dear professor Nagasuke,
I hope you’re well and busy. I really should take a moment to find an opportunity to actually write to you. I’m living quite the life. Since I last wrote, I nearly had sex with an alien – don’t worry, no tentacles – and now I think there is some trouble brewing. Oh, and everyone who was supposed to go to Rhea is dead but me. So there’s that.
Your faithful student,
Isolde.
Only then, after carefully and dutifully overanalyzing everything that had happened to her, did sleep take her.
CHAPTER NINE
Diego
Diego marched through the corridors of his ship. He could count on a single hand the times he had been disturbed by a com link when he had given express instructions to be left alone until he returned. So either someone was making a very poor joke of the situation and would be dead very, very soon. Or it was a considerably less funny eventuality, this was no joke and it would be him that was dead.
His crystal squares shined so brightly they even hurt his eyes. His brothers and sisters cleared out of his way quietly, seeing he was in no mood to bother with any of them.
The transport compartment to the bridge wasn’t, luckily, very far. Diego preferred it this way. He would find out who was to die sooner rather than later.
The call to him came from Briolina. Senator Eren preferred to deal with the generals over a safe distance, Diego had often noted to his warriors’ amusement.
He wanted to be surprised, he really did. The true answer was that he was simply disappointed at how unsubtle the senator was. He listened patiently, as he had been taught. Stiff at attention, barely moving a muscle as the holographic image explained the situation with equal composure. They might as well have been discussing a routine shipment of cargo for all it looked like, but Diego Grothan’s life slowly came apart with every word the senator said.
Hands behind his back, feet set apart, the commander of the Triumphant calmly waited for the high senator to finish. Then he lifted his eyes, and said, “No.”
Senator Eren didn’t seem to understand. A Brion general refusing his orders was not something that happened in the world he lived in. He continued for several seconds before it caught up to his ears, and then his gaze turned cold.
“Commander Grothan,” he said. In Brionese, Diego’s name had taken on a shade of “unpredictable”. “I was not asking for your opinion on the matter. You are to terminate the last researcher bound for Rhea.”
“I will not,” Diego said.
Senator Eren did not get mad. It was not his way of doing things. Down in his very core, Diego hated men like him. A warrior would get mad, express his feelings of betrayal honestly and demand a reprimand. A senator, however, would show little to no emotion and would find subtle ways to hurt him, cunning ways. Coward’s ways. Eren knew as well as he did that were they face to face, he would not utter the same words he did now, protected by the distance between them. Calmly eyeing the senator’s unmarred neck, Diego waited.
“Not that I need to ask this, Commander,” Eren said – Diego’s rank now had the sound of “treachery” – “but explain to me why you choose to ignore a direct order?”
“The human woman in question is my gesha.”
That was a part of the reason, at least. Not an outright lie. He chose not to express that the suspicions he’d had for a time now were all proving to be true. Eren’s true motives started to become clear to him. And they would not go unpunished.
He would rather be seen as fiercely protective of his gesha. It was believable enough. He wouldn’t hurt Isolde either way.
The senator wasn’t the only one whose mouth dropped open. Diego had to admit to himself that he found it satisfying to see him break his usually stoic visage much more than he liked seeing his bridge staff stare at him in surprise.
“Your gesha? That is…”
“Considered impossible so far, yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Diego didn’t deem that worthy of a response.
Senator Eren pursed his lips, pretending to think this over. Diego knew he had decided on his course of action almost instantly and this was a mere show for – whose sake? He couldn’t say. For a moment, the senator disappeared from the broadcast platform, returning after a few seconds. An interference? Diego tensed up.
“It is… unfortunate,” the holographic image said. “But it does not change anything.”
“It does, actually,” he said. “I do not see how my refusal could be misunderstood.”
A hard stare met his. “Yes,” the senator said, his voice pure ice. “I do not see it either. Which is why I have already sent the order to someone who also does not misunderstand.”
Cold fear gripped Diego’s heart then. That two-faced snake had a communications channel open to someone else on his ship. His ship. He broke off in a run, abandoning the senator and his holo image, bellowing orders to Ensha and all other warriors near Isolde to maintain a defensive perimeter until he arrived. There were affirmative responses at once, making his heart soar – they listened to him over the scheming senator. It was rightful. He was their commander. He would make sure their loyalty did not go unrewarded.
The lift had never felt as slow as in the moments Diego had to stand still and simply wait. It was unbearable. He nearly ripped the doors off their frames when they finally stopped at the right floor and then he was sprinting down the corridor to find…
Blood. Blood on the floor in front of Isolde’s door. The warriors snapped to attention as he slowed his steps to hide the fear closing up his throat. Luckily, his presence was enough to make the nearest warrior report immediately, “We managed to stop him, Commander.”
Blood rushing in his ears, Diego stepped over the puddle into the room he had left less than half an hour ago. Isolde was sitting on her bed, a blanket around her shoulders and shaking like a leaf. Before her feet, Ensha’s thrice-stabbed body lay, pinned to the floor by the blades of the spears. It should not have surprised him, nor caught him off guard, but it still did. Diego had trusted him. Had trusted Ensha with his gesha. He wished they would have left the bastard alive for him to have the traitor beg for death from Isolde – it was a slight against him most of all and his to avenge – but he understood his warrior’s need to dispose of the assailant in the surest way. After all, he had the one who had given the order to deal with. His death would not be painless. Absentmindedly, he memorized the faces he had seen behind the door.
Isolde was staring up at him, eyes brimming with tears.
“I was sleeping,” she began, the sound of that beautiful voice shaking making Diego’s blood boil. “I woke up and there he was. I didn’t even have time to scream, but then there was this guy who came flying out of nowhere, and he knocked him off of
me and…”
She pointed to the floor. Diego found no words. He himself had given Ensha access to her room, in case of an emergency, so he wouldn’t have to wait for her to open the door. So he could help her. The gods must have been kind to him, for Ensha to leave the door open behind him, or Isolde would have been trapped.
Unable to find the words to assure her she was safe – mostly because he didn’t believe she was – he simply walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. Isolde flung her arms around him, her warm tears falling on his skin. He had never felt such a need to keep someone safe. This was what a gesha was. Something to fight for. His and his alone, and he would protect her from anything the galaxy could throw at them.
That something made itself known, as he had thought it would. The device, seemingly intent to ruin his life on that particular day, beeped again. It was the bridge, reporting with complete calm, “Commander, the Unbroken and the Fearless are en route to us. Most likely with orders to kill the human and take you into custody. If possible.”
Diego smiled. His fellow generals had named their ships in response to the Triumphant. They would soon have those boasts crammed down their throats, if they thought to challenge him.
With Isolde in his arms, he patiently waited to hear death come knocking. And then he would slam the door in its face. It was the Brion way.
CHAPTER TEN
Isolde
Isolde Fenner – Terran by birth, researcher by choice, the first human gesha by some great galactic joke she didn’t get – sat on her bed on an alien spaceship and pondered her life choices.
Sanity had packed its bags and left her alone some time ago, and now she was battling rationality and reason, coaxing them to stick around. Saying that her life had taken some bizarre turns in the last 24 hours would be the understatement of the century. Frankly, she was not amused.
At least they had cleared away the corpse at the foot of her bed and cleaned up. That had really improved her mood, although of course she would have preferred not to have a spear-wielding maniac try to kill her for no reason she could fathom in the first place. Apparently not every Brion was OK with a human gesha. In that sense, she was almost grateful for the absurdity of it all – buried in the overall mess of her life right now, Isolde felt she could better deal with the fact someone had just gotten killed before her very eyes.
Still. The unease refused to go away and she didn’t want to be alone. Funny how Grothan became less and less threatening to her as the number of her enemies seemed to grow. Enemies. Isolde would have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t been so terrified. Why did she have enemies? With self-deprecating humor she didn’t know she had, she thought they’d chosen the least interesting person in the galaxy to attack.
Well, not really. Isolde Fenner was now a rarity, and the moment this got out, she would be something of an intergalactic celebrity – the first human gesha. The first non-Brion gesha, in fact.
Something, which had become – impossibly, it seemed to her – more complicated than it had been to begin with. Her mind still kept saying no and giving her lectures about good girls not running off with weird and very hot aliens, and pointing to the fact that the courting period had been somewhat short. Her body, however, along with her mouth had said yes very loudly, and Isolde honestly felt a bit at a disadvantage.
The point was she needed sleep, but her last wake-up call having been of the unpleasant sort, she didn’t dare to. The general had his hands full with the incoming threats, so guarding her was out of the question – oh yes, sleep was bound to come easy, it wasn’t like she was about to find herself in the middle of a space battle, and she felt so weary she could barely keep her eyes open. Trust was running a bit low aboard the Triumphant, and Isolde watched with a sinking feeling in her gut as the general’s mouth drew into a hard line when she pointed out her last guards hadn’t exactly been up to their task, so to speak.
She wondered how he felt about that. Brions… they didn’t fight too much in-between themselves? At least she thought so. In her research, everything pointed to it being sort of complicated. She would have to ask at a more convenient time. Right now, what mattered to her most was that when she looked into his eyes, she saw the truth of his unshakeable need to protect her. It calmed her somewhat, but not completely.
“Can’t you, um, lock the door so no one will get in?” Isolde offered. But you, she added in her mind. For some alone time, added her body. Her mind filled with pleasant images, quickly driven away by not-so-pleasant ones about unseen assassins in her room.
Grothan shook his head. “I will, but it is not enough. A skilled warrior would have no problem disabling the system or accessing the room in some other way.”
He spoke with such pride Isolde thought better of telling him that while it was sort of cute how proud he was, it meant the ship was packed with possible murderers.
Not telling him didn’t seem to do much good, since he took her in his arms again – Mmm… she could get used to being there, stupid Terran modesty could go and hang… – and spoke with such certainty she was left with no choice but to believe him.
“Isolde,” the general said, “I understand this must be scary to you. But trust me, you will never again be in such danger. Ensha was perfectly capable, which is why I picked him. But he was also a traitor – to me and to all Brions. I will not entrust you with someone like that again. The warriors who guard you now will be ones I would trust to hold a blade to my own throat. They will let no one past them. I swear it.”
Isolde could only nod, her breath caught in her throat. The general was so close, holding her with surprising gentleness against his broad chest. The valor squares gleamed in response to his blood being up, but even they couldn’t match the brightness of his eyes.
She could admit it. She was completely, hopelessly lost in those eyes that made her hang on his every word and trust him with her life. Brions did not give oaths easily, thinking them too important to simply blurt out. And she had already received several from him. No, this was real. For all the good and bad it might bring, Grothan held nothing back with her. His and his alone, Isolde thought. It felt absurdly good to feel so treasured. She nodded again, to make sure he understood she trusted him.
Grothan kissed her in response, strong and fierce, hands in her hair, pulling her even closer. It felt amazing, and for once no part of Isolde wanted to pull away, her fists clenching the front of his jacket, a moan escaping her lips…
To be interrupted by her door beeping. Why did everything on that bloody ship keep beeping? Her grunt of irritation must have been audible, since Grothan rounded on the door so quickly she nearly lost her balance as he released her from his grip. She was about to call out to save the life of whoever came ringing at the wrong time, again – sigh – when the general relaxed visibly, all anger drained from him, and authorized the entrance.
Isolde came face to face with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
Oh gods almighty, don’t let this be the Ex…
That first reaction passed through her mind like a flash of lightning, nearly making it to her lips, but this time common sense and not a small amount of womanly pride won out. Then her studies started to come back as well – the Brions didn’t do exes. They had good companions and what could only be described as fuck-buddies, not that Isolde would ever be heard voicing that, but not exes as such. The Brions didn’t form emotional commitments between sexes in that sense with anyone else but their fated mates. Still. The ice cold flash of jealousy refused to go away as Isolde sized up her new guard.
Years and years of bad dates came rushing back. She wasn’t comparable to the new woman at all. Where Isolde was all curves and fluffiness, the warrior woman before her was lean and slim. Her eyes were blue like Grothan’s, although a softer, lighter shade. That was also the only thing soft about her. Immediately after entering, she saluted fist over her heart to Grothan and stood to stiff attention. She hadn’t moved since, despite the lingering silenc
e and the enormous Brion battle spear on her back that Isolde couldn’t have lifted to save her life. Out of the corner of her eye, Isolde was sure she saw the most guarded smirk on Grothan’s lips.
You evil bastard, you…
“Isolde,” Grothan said – with a yet unidentified sense even alien men apparently had, which gave them a microsecond to save their butts – “these are your guards.”
Oh, yes. There was another Brion in the room, but Isolde had barely registered his presence, what with the spear-wielding Playmate of the Year and all.
“This is Deliya,” Grothan went on, prompting the female warrior to give Isolde a curt, but polite nod of the head – one woman to another, if only Isolde hadn’t felt they were on the opposite ends of every scale imaginable. “She is one of my best warriors, my lifelong companion, who I would trust with my own life.”
There was no mistaking the way the warrior woman held her head up higher with every word out of Grothan’s mouth. His sexy, devilish mouth that should only kiss my lips.
So caught up in her jealous streak, Isolde barely noticed the general suddenly standing very close to her. His valor squares beamed as he spoke, every word bouncing off the walls as his tone dropped low. “More importantly, I would trust her with yours.”
More importantly. The words kept resonating in Isolde’s mind as it took her several attempts to rip her eyes from Grothan’s and sneak a glance at the warriors. The woman didn’t look upset in any way. If possible, she looked even prouder than before. Perhaps Isolde was overreacting.
Perhaps, a part of her still intent not to become the alien bride thought, you shouldn’t get so damn possessive of a Brion warlord and focus more on getting out of this mess.
Isolde wasn’t sure if that part of her fully grasped how deeply she was in this mess, wondering when it would catch up to the fact she had given in a while ago and was now in the due process of trying to justify that to the only person who at that point still objected – herself.