With that, the procession started moving again. Two of the Marine guards broke ranks to place themselves between Evan and the new prisoners, then shuffled back into line around him.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, and Pira met them at the forward hatch.
Mac took a packet of papers from the captain’s hand. “Make a transfer packet for Petty Officer Deacon. Captain Seaver will be glad to have him.”
Pira nodded grimly.
And Pira will regret losing both of us this way.
It took a moment for the significance of sending Deacon to Seaver’s ship to sink in. That was where Aleeks was stationed. Gratitude that Mac was taking care of Deacon welled up in his chest, and Evan closed his eyes and thanked him silently.
“What do you suggest I do with the two below decks?” Pira asked, seemingly weighing his words carefully.
Evan opened his eyes, watching the interaction for signs that it was all going south again.
Mac handed the captured weapon over. “Assault and two counts of assault with. That will land one in the brig for a week or so and the other in Leavenworth for at least six months, by my estimation. I’d tack a drop in rank on the second... or a dishonorable. Your choice. Oh, and I highly recommend race relations training. Your command is full of bigoted idiots. You know that, don’t you?”
“Just that?” His surprise was impossible to miss. “You’re not going to press for the limits?”
Mac offered a cold smile. “Tell them the scaly-lovers suggested it.”
With that, he led the way to two nine-man vans guarded by two Xxanian Marines each.
Chapter Thirteen
The trip to Daahn’s nest didn’t take long. In less than an hour, the vans had dropped Deacon off at his apartment and Mac, Evan, and Zondra off at a rambling ranch-style house. Evan glanced at his truck, already parked in front of the home, seemingly packed with everything he’d left at the house he’d been sharing.
Everything left after Reynolds’s attack. He hoped Zondra had a decent amount of belongings here. Evan resolved to replace what he could... and erase what he could of the attack from her memories.
Mac cleared his throat. “I couldn’t be sure how much would survive the mob.” He didn’t apologize for the invasion of privacy.
“Thanks, Mac.”
The Marines took their leave. Several tipped a head to Evan and wished him well. One uttered a Xxanian phrase that held the reverence of a prayer and turned away with a deep bow.
“What did he say?” Evan asked.
Mac clapped a hand on his shoulder. “May you have many daughters.”
His brow furrowed. “Dau —” Evan snapped a look at the retreating vans. The son of a bitch was wishing himself a prospective mate. “That bastard.”
“Cut them some slack, Evan. Human women don’t agree to become mates often. Other Xxanian females are more likely to. But look at Zondra. If she chose a human, others might.”
Mac turned toward the house, bringing Evan’s scrutiny to it again. It looked deceptively normal and human. He wouldn’t have guessed that the highest-ranking Xxanian elder on Earth lived here if he’d been shown a picture of it.
The code pad flashed a welcoming green, and Mac opened the door, waving Evan and Zondra in ahead of him. The room was akin to a locker room: there were two long benches and hooks, some of which had brightly-colored cloth hung from them.
He expected to move on, but Mac started stripping off his armor and storing it beneath the farthest hooks on the right.
“Mac?” What in the world was he doing? Was it against some Xxanian household rule to enter Daahn’s nest in armor?
“Toe off your shoes.”
“What?” What were the rules? And what would Daahn do if Evan violated them?
Mac pulled off his shirt and hung it on an empty hook. He brought the blue cloth from the neighboring hook back in his empty hand. The cloth looped over one shoulder, leaving most of his chest bare, and covered him from hips to knees.
“Shoes,” he repeated. “Even if you refuse to wear the S’suumea, you cannot enter the nest in shoes.”
Evan toed off the grippers, reasoning that it was good form to do so in any household. “The... thing you’re wearing is called a S’suumea?”
“Yes. This is the formal S’suumea; Daahn insists on the formal version. It’s the traditional dress of a Xxanian male.” Mac stripped off his boots and socks, then his trousers and underwear, leaving himself nude beneath the S’suumea.
“Insists for whom?”
“His descendants. He’ll likely try to talk you into it. Hell, he’ll demand it if I know the old buck, and I do.” Mac shot him a sly grin. “Remember you cursing me out?”
Evan nodded.
“May be the time to pull that out on Daahn.”
“Check. I’ll keep that in mind, but if he pisses me off before that, all bets are off.” He meant it to be a joke, but the recitation was as dry as his throat.
Mac smoothed his S’suumea. “Don’t back down. If you say something and back down, Daahn will see it as a weakness.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Zondra is Daahn’s gran-vvaash — his granddaughter — but she is your mate. You are the head of your own nest. This is his nest, and he will try to order you.”
“Can he?” Evan asked nervously.
Mac chuckled darkly. “That is up to you. As Zondra’s mate, Daahn finds himself — for the first time in her life — not in complete control of the particulars of her life. Do you intend to give him that control willingly?”
Evan fisted his hands beneath Zondra’s sleeping body. “No fucking way.”
“Right answer.”
The discussion temporarily ended, Mac opened the door at the far side of the room. Behind it was an indoor garden. The air was hot and moist, and the smells of green, growing things and spice were pungent.
There were few walls separating the inside of the huge structure, and the roof was farther overhead than seemed right. He wondered if the changing room had been built on a gradual slope, but there was no way to be sure without using a level.
Evan could see through the first few doorways and wondered if there were blast doors installed to drop during invasion, compartmentalizing the structure. It was likely. He’d heard Xxanian warriors believed in defensible homes.
Here and there, columns emerged from thick stands of bushes or trees and reached for the heights. The structure was deeper than it had looked from the front. Evan had assumed it was no more than four rooms deep, but it seemed he’d underestimated it.
By far.
Evan bit back a moan of pleasure at the moss beneath his feet. It was softer than carpet, lush, and soothing. For a man who’d spent the better part of twelve years sucking oil and scrubbed air and walking on deck plates, it was a slice of paradise.
Daahn knows how to live.
Dripping water and insect noises put him instantly at ease. If there were fans, he couldn’t hear them. He understood now why Zondra had brought the fountain with her onto the ship. The sound of machinery must have been intolerable for her.
The floor sloped down at a twenty-degree or so angle. In the space of three large room lengths, they were a full story underground and still descending. Evan hadn’t been able to see the far reaches of the building, but he suspected the tunnels might extend past the outer walls. There was no way to be sure. The tunnels twisted and turned, winding through more garden caves. A set of rock stairs led up, and Evan peered into the darkness. If he had to guess how deep they’d come, his best estimate would be about three stories below ground.
“The sleeping chambers,” Mac informed him. “Though family members can choose to sleep in the center nest, sometimes a little privacy and human comforts go a long way.”
Evan filed that information away for later use. “Do you have a sleeping chamber?”
He smiled. “I am family. I’ll probably sleep here tonight.”
The next cavern was at
least ten meters high and twice that width, with what appeared to be a natural pool in the center. The water wall at the far side certainly wasn’t natural. Evan suspected much of the cavern had been built and not discovered as it was.
Movement caught his eye, and Evan looked around. Aleeks closed from one direction, and a hairless man that was probably Zondra’s seir from the other. Both wore the formal S’suumea.
Where is Daahn? The hair on the back of his neck rose, and Evan whirled around to face the Grea Elder.
The fucker was huge, easily half a meter taller than Evan was. He was wider, too. Evan’s best estimate was that the elder weighed in at no less than two hundred and twenty kilos of green-black scales, with eight-centimeter-long talons on the tips of his digits.
Rumbles and hisses left Daahn’s mouth, and Mac answered them. A different set emerged from the elder.
Aleeks appeared at Evan’s shoulder. “He has welcomed you to the nest. Thank him.”
“Thank you for offering us a safe place.” He meant it.
Daahn’s ridge plates extended, and his frill spikes fanned out around his head and shoulders. Evan could fully understand why the first troops who had faced Xxanian warriors in battle pissed themselves.
Forcing himself not to retreat was difficult, but Evan managed it. He stood his ground, staring up at Daahn, weighing how strong he wanted the elder to think he was. With Zondra in his arms, he suddenly felt like he was using her as a shield. “Mac, you may want to take Zondra.”
The Grea Elder’s frills wavered and then straightened.
Mac leaned toward Evan. “You’re insulting him by saying he’d attack you with his gran-vvaash in your arms.”
That kicked Evan’s anger into high gear. “On the contrary, if he intends to fight me, I plan on having both hands free to give it my best shot. Having Zondra out of the line of fire goes without saying.”
“Ballsy, boy,” Mac breathed, but he didn’t take Zondra.
Evan glared at him. “Aleeks, would you please —”
Daahn’s frills folded against his skin, and his ridge plates retracted. He put his hands out for Zondra.
Evan took a step back, shooting a questioning look at Mac.
“Do it. There are... It is a Xxanian custom to honor a woman by bathing.” He hesitated and looked up at Daahn. “All of us will enter the pool with Zondra and bathe her with clove oil.”
His gut reaction was to tell them to shove it. Instead he forced his answer from between clenched teeth. “Zondra expects this?”
Aleeks answered that time. “Only from relatives. If we had another sister with a mate, her mate wouldn’t be allowed to touch Zondra.”
“And doing this doesn’t” — Evan stared up at Daahn. It was clear the elder understood English, even if he didn’t speak it — “obligate us to anything?”
The Xxanian’s eye slits narrowed, but the elder didn’t respond.
“What are you saying, Evan?” Mac inquired. “Be specific.”
“If Daahn thinks this gives him some hold over us or rights to tell me how to live my life, he can screw that. Zondra is my mate, and I’ll dig a fucking cave to shelter us before I —”
It took a moment for Evan to identify the seal-bark sound as laughter. Daahn’s hand thumped down on his shoulder, sending shards of agony Evan tried not to show down his arm.
The wide mouth full of serrated hunting teeth opened, and Daahn spoke slowly... and in muddled English. “I greet the brother warrior. Welcome to the nest.”
“Again... thank you.” Hopefully this time it wouldn’t offend Daahn.
Time for a show of trust. Evan offered Zondra to him.
The elder took her solemnly and tucked Zondra beneath his chin. A series of trills and coos left his lips, odd sounds for so fierce a creature to make.
“The soothing sound the Xxan make for their young,” Aleeks imparted. “Gran-seir has held every child of his line like that and welcomed them to the nest.”
Evan made a mental note to have Zondra teach him that to use with their children. For that matter, he needed to learn Xxan. The constant translations — or lack of them — was likely to drive him insane.
The cooing turned to a hummed note, and the other men joined the chorus. Evan tried to match the pitch, and Mac offered a nod of encouragement.
It was a slow procession down to the pool. At the edge, everyone except Daahn started removing the S’suumea. Evan hesitated, then stripped his pants away and dropped them to the rock edge.
Daahn settled Zondra in Evan’s arms and motioned them down the slope and into the pool. The other men followed. When the water reached halfway up his thighs, Aleeks told him to stop and kneel. The water covered his lowest ribs, and Zondra’s dark hair floated along on the surface.
Ripples slapped his back, a sure sign that Daahn had entered the water. Evan didn’t look his way, unsure of Xxanian mores on nudity and propriety.
Zondra’s gran-seir went to his knees near her feet. The scent of clove was nearly eye watering in its intensity. Daahn passed a small bottle to Mac, then lifted one of Zondra’s feet and massaged the clove oil into it.
Mac took a handful and passed the bottle along to Aleeks. Mac worked the oil into her lower leg through the silk. Aleeks started at her hand and his seir at her shoulder.
Aleeks spoke without looking up. “When her legs are done, lower Zondra into the water. Cradle her head to your chest, so we can —”
He stopped short at Daahn’s roar. Evan skittered to the side, running aground on Zondra’s seir.
The older man steadied him. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
Daahn roared again, and Evan stared at him, swallowing a lump of fear. The ridge plates and frills were out and the latter shaking in warning. The hisses escaping his mouth left no question that he was furious and intent on harming someone.
“Tell him,” Zondra’s seir urged him.
“Tell him what? I don’t speak Xxan, remember?” Shit. Please tell me he doesn’t want me dead. It wasn’t dying that scared him; it never had. But what his death would do to Zondra was enough to curdle his stomach.
“You killed the one who scarred Zondra? If you did, tell him now,” he ordered.
“Yes, I killed him. I pummeled him into a puddle on the floor... literally. He was dead within minutes of me reaching him.”
Daahn’s roaring became a growling... then subsided. His frills came down slowly, but his ridge plates remained extended.
Evan loosened his hold on Zondra, trying to force his ragged breathing smoother.
The elder’s attention to Zondra’s injured foot was even more out of place than the cooing sound had been. He brushed his mouth over it, nuzzled the liquid stitches, then made a sound that Evan might have called a sob if he wanted to chance Daahn killing him. In the next moment, he was spreading clove oil over that foot gently, not massaging as he had the other.
The sounds he made were stilted. The ones Mac made in response had a soothing note to them. Daahn jerked his head up and stared at Evan for a moment. His nod was slow and precise.
“Is something wrong?” Evan asked, his pulse jumping.
Mac smiled. “Just a sign of respect.”
He preempted Evan’s move to ask more questions by telling him it was time to shift Zondra. Evan complied, and the men moved into a tight ring around her, shuffling to place Daahn at her back. He tensed at the move. Mac warned him down, and Evan nodded in response. He didn’t know the meaning of Daahn’s placement, but he suspected he was about to learn it.
“Remove the S’suuhhea,” Mac instructed. “The female always removes her clothing in the water, where the other males cannot see her.”
Evan peeled the silk up. It clung to her body and came away in a slide that was far too sensual for his piece of mind, considering the other men surrounding her. When the garment was in Evan’s hand, Aleeks took it and tossed it out of the pool.
Daahn made a rumbling little sound, and Evan stared at him over Zondra’s
shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The elder didn’t speak again. He raised one taloned hand, palm up. His son poured the clove oil in it. Aleeks raised her hair and held it away from her shoulders and back.
At the first stroke of Daahn’s hand against the back of her neck, Mac started talking. “Daahn will bathe Zondra’s back. After that, he will hold her for you while you bathe her chest and... intimately. While you do that, Aleeks and I will leave the pool. Andy will stay to translate.”
Andy. Her seir. Evan hadn’t known his name. “I understand.”
“Typically we would all leave, but with Zondra unconscious, this is going to go a little differently than usual.”
“In what way?” Based on Mac’s tone, he could guess it was something he wouldn’t like.
“Andy will leave the water before you and have a drying cloth ready for Zondra outside the pool.”
His jaw tightened down, and Evan forced it loose. “Okay. So he’s going to help me get Zondra dried and dressed since she can’t do it for herself.”
“Sort of. He’ll hold her while you dress in the S’suumea, then —”
“I’m not dressing in it.”
Daahn stopped moving and raised his head to glare at Evan.
He didn’t back down. Mac had told him not to. “I realize this is your nest, but I am not one of your descendants. Maybe someday, I might wear it... for holidays or ceremonies. But I am human, and I will dress as I always have.”
There was a moment of silence. Daahn offered a single grunt and went back to work bathing Zondra.
“What did he say?”
Mac smiled. “You don’t really want to know that.”
“I’m not wearing it,” Evan repeated.
“He doesn’t expect you to.”
“I take it that grunt was some sort of insult then?” The hair on the back of his neck bristled in response.
Daahn’s nostrils flared, and Evan wondered if he was gauging his enemy’s state of mind by the move. The Xxan were very scent oriented, he knew.
“You could say that.”
“Good enough. I’m sure I’ll offer a few of my own before we’re done.”
Daahn Rising Page 12