by T. S. Ryder
To his surprise, she turned to the Trioeil. She punched the alien in the head hard, then grabbed the primitive keys off his belt. She unlocked herself and jumped from the wooden platform. Slipping in the bloody mud, she snatched up a sword and faced him, pointing the weapon at his chest.
"He might be the God," she shouted. "But, as the Goddess, I reject him. I will fight for myself!"
Loud chatter filled his surroundings, but Tom ignored it all. He stared at his Starmate, gripping the weapon as she stared him down, and he thought his heart might burst.
She was perfect.
Chapter Three: Sara
Was he giving her heart eyes?
Sara didn't let her grip on her sword loosen, but she couldn't help but reconsider the wisdom of her actions as she studied her opponent. His smile was clearly one of admiration, and looking at him had her pulse doing crazy things. He had a strong body, with perfect sculpted abs women would be drooling over back on Earth, but for some reason were considered unattractive out here. Everything about T'shav was considered unattractive; the rippling muscles, the devil-red skin, the strong chin and high cheekbones.
She hadn't been able to take her eyes off him during the battle. He was ruthless, cutting down his enemies without mercy. An utter barbarian. And yet she found herself rooting for him. Maybe it was just the situation and adrenaline, but the fact that she was drawn to him was undeniable. If they had met in a bar or something she would have already taken him back to her room. They wouldn't have made it to the bed before she was ripping off his clothes.
As they faced off, circling each other, she wondered if it might be better to throw down the sword and just go with him. Alien women were insane. The man she was staring at was possibly the hottest guy she had ever seen. If he wasn't a barbarian, thinking he could fight a bunch of dudes and win her while she had no say in the matter, she'd bend over backward trying to please him. Literally.
The image came to her of them in bed, or maybe against the wall, or on a table… Hell, anywhere! Heat flooded through her, staining her blue cheeks purple and doing very strange things to her insides. She shook her head, trying to shake the completely inappropriate thoughts from her mind.
"Having second thoughts, Goddess?"
"No. I have no desire to be eaten alive."
A gleam came to the T'shav's eye. "Have you ever been eaten alive before?"
The double entendre left her mouth gaping for a moment. The T'shav winked at her. Sara threw herself forward, swinging her sword at the T'shav's head. He blocked the strike easily. She disengaged, trying to come at him from another angle. This time he fell back a step but still blocked her. The human grit her teeth and gave it everything she had. The vibration of the swords clashing against each other carried up her arms, making her teeth rattle. The sword was heavy, but she kept swinging it, driving the T'shav back until her arms felt like jelly.
"You are tenacious," he laughed. He widened his stance and brought his sword down on her blade. It was wrenched from her hand and she was driven to one knee. And just like that he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like she was a sack of wheat pilfered from some poor village.
"Let me go!" she snarled, kicking, but the T'shav ignored her. His arm was wrapped firmly around her waist. No matter how she writhed and twisted, she couldn't get him to loosen his grip. Even beating on his back did nothing.
What disturbed her most wasn't that this alien stranger she didn't know had just picked her up and was carrying her away like she belonged to him now. Even all the aliens watching and laughing at her weren't so bad. It was the fact that being this close to him sent even more heat swirling in her lower body.
This was insane! She had just watched a very gruesome, bloody fight. More than once she thought she was going to throw up as the alien men killed each other. And yet she was keenly aware of each finger on her waist, his thumb against a little strip of skin that was exposed as her shirt was riding up. She was a Lieutenant of the United Species Corps, not some silly girl who went around wanting to bed every T'shav that she saw. Sara swore loudly and fluently.
Before long, they were in his ship, surrounded by earthy-toned decor. It was fairly large and had several rooms, but she didn't care about that right now. It was clear to her now what he wanted from her, and she wasn't having any of it. Not, now, not ever.
Male T'shav went through a hormone cycle called musth that made them raging, unpredictable, violent sex machines. And they exuded a cocktail of pheromones that made them nigh irresistible to females of almost any species. At least I know why I'm reacting to him like this.
Sara pulled herself away as the T'shav set her down. She swung a fist at him, but he easily caught it. "If you think that I'm going to be happy to be your sex doll so you can keep your musth under control, think again!"
"My musth?"
"Yes, your musth! It's obvious you're in it, and if you think that just because your pheromones are making me horny makes anything you do to me consensual, think again!"
The beast actually smiled. With the black hair, black eyes, and goatee around his mouth, he looked like the devil incarnate. Odd… She didn't actually know that T'shav could grow facial hair. And that mouth looked just so damn kissable… It's only his musth.
"So you're feeling attracted to me, are you?" He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer.
Sara's heart spiked. She gulped, blood rushing to her face as the T'shav spun her around and pinned her to the wall. His body against hers felt so, so good that for a second she forgot that she wasn't attracted to him by her own accord, and there was a reason why she should try to fight him off. The T'shav leaned in until his lips were almost against hers. Sara held her breath.
He moved away. The lieutenant stayed where she was, heart pounding. "My name is Bond," he said.
"As in 007?" she muttered, unable to stop herself. He had the physique to play the British spy. Muscular. Strong features. Tall.
"Who are you?"
"Lieutenant Sara O'Neill." She cleared her throat and straightened. "I am an officer of the USC and if you don't release me right now, you will—"
"Are you on a mission, Lieutenant?"
Sara blinked, surprised by the question. "I'm due to report back after vacation."
"Nothing important then. They won't miss you for a while." Bond's grin widened. Sara mentally kicked herself. She should have said she was on an urgent secret mission or something. The T'shav nodded. "I think I'll keep you with me for the time being."
Was he serious? As much as she would love to find out if the tales she had heard of mind-blowing T'shav sex were true, she wasn't going to stay with him. There was no way she was just going to throw herself at him because her hormones were out of control due to his musth.
"Didn't you hear me? I am a Lieutenant of the Corps. What you are doing –" Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as he began taking off his armor. Her mouth watered at the sight of his tight skin stretched over his sculpted muscles. She sagged against the wall. Lord, have mercy! "If you think that I'm going to fall to my knees for you just because you're in musth—"
"Do you know the signs of musth, Lieutenant?"
"Unpredictable, violent behavior. Raging lust."
"The physical signs, I mean."
The physical signs. T'shav had naturally clawed feet, but during musth, those claws grew to the size of something off a velociraptor. Males in musth never wore shoes. Bond was. There was also often a musky smell about them, bitter but alluring. Bond smelled like sweat, blood and mud. No musk. Heat flooded Sara's cheeks. No… it couldn't be. He had to be in musth!
"I'm not in musth," Bond said, smirking at her. "And even if I was, I wouldn't take you into my bed if you begged me."
Ironically, now Sara felt insulted. Relieved, knowing she wasn't about to become a sex slave, but insulted that he didn't find her attractive. She wisely kept her mouth shut about it.
"My parents taught me that unless a woman consents to helping a man t
hrough musth before the cycle starts, or agrees without being affected by his musth, then it's not consent. I do not rape, Lieutenant O'Neill."
"Good." Sara smoothed her shirt, trying to get over her embarrassment. She found him attractive. So what? She was a woman with needs, and it had been ages since she'd last had sex. Finding herself with this sexy, sexy alien, even if he was a complete barbarian, was bound to have some effect on her… After all, most of the guys she dated were so reserved about sex. She was always having to practically beg them to try something new. It would be nice to have a mind-blowing session without any inhibitions.
"If, however," Bond continued, eyes drifting over her body, "you find yourself wanting me to tear off your clothes and ravish those beautiful curves… I'd be more than happy to oblige."
Someone call the doctor. Sara's heart nearly stopped. She swallowed dryly, not at all certain how to respond to that. The T'shav laughed at her lack of response, and she pushed herself off of the wall, angrily opening her mouth.
Before she could speak, the click of boots sounded. Both Sara and Bond turned. A second T'shav was strolling up the gangplank. It was the one from before in the fighting ring, the one that had walked away. Bigger, broader than Bond, his skin a darker red.
Giant claws were sprouting from his shoeless feet. An acrid scent hit Sara's nose and she drew back, her body instantly telling her to throw herself at this new alien. He was in musth, and the look he was giving her had her mouth going dry. Fear flooded her; it was only then that she realized that she wasn't afraid of Bond, but this new guy was a completely different story.
Bond brought his sword up. "You again?"
"Me."
"What are you doing here?"
"I came for the girl. I know who you are," the older T'shav said. "I wasn't about to risk your father's wrath coming down on my head by killing you in the arena. But from what I've been listening to, the girl doesn't even know she's your supposed Starmate… if such things even exist."
Sara repressed a gasp. She knew only a little about the T'shav notion of Starmates, but it was essentially soulmates with a spacy twist. Was that the reason Bond had fought for her? Because he thought she was his Starmate? That's ridiculous.
"You said you were hired to retrieve her."
Sara's heart nearly stopped. "Hired by who?"
"Nobody, Blue. I lied about why I was fighting for you. The truth is, I need a woman to help me through my musth. You're a woman." The T'shav grinned at her, though he didn't take his eyes off Bond for long. "Don't worry about all this talk of consent. By the time I'm done with you, you won't remember your name, let alone—"
Bond sprang lithely forward. The sword came down, but the other T'shav sidestepped him. The sword sunk into the floor and stuck there. Bond grunted as a fist collided with his ribs. He abandoned the sword, blocking another blow that came at him. They parted and Bond drew two daggers. They flashed in his hands, but the older alien dodged him. He was quick and slammed a closed fist to Bond's shoulder.
Bond stumbled. Sara gasped, looking around wildly for something to help with. The sword Bond had dropped was too heavy for her, even if she could get it free. The T'shav howled as Bond drove one of his daggers into his thigh, but responded with a blow to Bond's stomach that had him backing away, wheezing. She spied a wrench nearby, and as the older T'shav punched Bond in the face while he stabbed his shoulder, she ran for it.
There was no time to think. Bond had twisted his body so that the older T'shav's back was to Sara. Clutching the wrench, she raced forward and brought it down on the beast's skull with all her strength. Bond followed it up with a knife through the alien's ribs. Blood splattered as the second blade swiped across his throat.
Bond let the T'shav drop. He grabbed Sara's hand and pulled her into what appeared to be a training room. "Are you okay?"
Sara stared at her bloody clothes. "I've killed before. I'm a lieutenant in the Corps."
"That's not what I asked."
She straightened herself and nodded. She had seen friends die. The death of some animal that was planning on raping her wasn't going to get to her. "I'm fine."
"We need to leave," Bond said. "He might have friends. I'll get rid of the body once we're in space."
Once we're in space. Sara nodded again. Her old bucket wasn't going anywhere, anyway, and if he was her only way out of this planet full of scumbags… Well, better be with him than stay here.
Chapter Four: Tom
For the first few days after they left the planet behind, Sara didn't leave the bedroom. Tom's ship was a one-person luxury vessel, equipped with bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, training, and entertainment rooms. Yet, with Sara squirreling away in the bedroom and not by his side, the space suddenly felt too big.
Tom wasn't certain what to do about the situation. It wasn't as though he had never been with a woman before, but none of them had been his Starmate. The T'shav believed that souls were born of stars before they were placed into physical bodies, again and again, until the star had learned all it needed to and grew cold. Sometimes there were two souls belonging to one star, or one soul split in two, depending on who you talked to. Those two souls would always find each other, no matter what life they were born into.
Sara wasn't T'shav, though, and she might not understand the concept of being Starmates. She was human. He hadn't told her that he had figured out that she was originally from Earth, although it had been fairly obvious after spending only a little time with her.
Human DNA was universal, meaning that it shared all its elements with the other species. Thus, it was in high demand. Anyone knowing she was human would put her in grave danger. He wanted to tell her that he knew and she was safe with him, but it would be best to wait until there was a little more trust between them. Being killed by his Starmate because she was afraid of what he'd do to her wasn't something Tom wanted to experience.
He was cutting up the tender shoot of a hissu plant, considering how to approach her with this knowledge. The sound of the door opening heralded her approach, and Tom turned, giving her a brief smile. "I hope you're hungry."
"Starving." Sara pulled herself up onto a stool and put her elbows on the counter he was working at. Her brow furrowed. "Doesn't this thing come equipped to deliver ready-made meals?"
"Yes, it does, but I like the sensation of cooking my own food. There's an art and grace to it. Like dancing."
"Maybe to the way you do it," Sara mumbled, focused on his hands as she watched him work. Her cheeks took on a faint purple tinge.
Tom had to smirk at the slightest sweet scent coming from her. When he first noticed how much he turned her on simply by doing menial tasks, he thought for sure that they would be pledging themselves to one another before they reached the next planet in his course. Sara was stubborn, though, and didn't let her deliciously curvy body dictate her actions. He admired that about her, as much as it pained him to wake up in the morning, stiff in more ways than one, frustrated by the lack of her body in his arms.
"There's something I have to ask you," Sara said, then hesitated.
Tom turned to put the hissu in a frying pan. It was a tactic he learned from his father. When a woman wasn't sure she wanted to say what she was going to say, continue about your work so that she didn't feel pressured to speak.
"Hey, can you look at me?" Sara slid off the stool, marching to block his path. "I told you I have something to ask you and you walk away?"
Tom opened his mouth to tell her he was listening but closed it. "Sorry. What did you want to say?"
"Well, first, I never thanked you. For, uh, killing that other T'shav. And fighting for me in the arena, I guess. I mean, you did sort of save me."
"I did," Tom agreed, grinning at how reluctantly she admitted it.
"But why did you? I mean, I could understand not backing down from the T'shav if it was a territorial thing or whatever. And I could understand wanting me for your musth—"
"I told you, I would never—"
"It wouldn't take much to get me to consent pre-musth right now," Sara interrupted, wrinkling her nose. "You're damned sexy. It would be a terrible idea, though, so don't start getting ideas. I don't have any birth control and I've looked through your cupboards. You don't either. But we're getting off track. Do you think I'm your Starmate?"
Tom cleaned off his knife and began sautéing the plant, giving himself time to think. Obviously, he was going to tell her the truth, but how exactly should he go about doing so? "Do you know what Starmates are?"
"Soulmates. Something about stars and belonging together. Pre-determined destiny."
"Something like that. Yes. I think you're my Starmate."
"Crap."
Tom winced, though he tried to cover it. She had only known him a few days, there was no reason to believe that she would just stay with him. There was no logical reason to, and she was a logical person. "I have other reasons for wanting you with me, though."
"Other reasons?"
"I'm on a mission to retrieve a ship filled with humans in stasis." He glanced up; Sara's eyes were huge, her jaw hanging slack. "I need a Corps officer to help me get through security checkpoints."
Sara swallowed. Looking dazed, she nodded. "What do you want the humans for?"
"I have been tasked with bringing them to a planet they can colonize once they're woken from their sleep. A human sanctuary, I guess you could say."
"Humans. How many? Where are they?" She leaned forward, her golden eyes looking into his intensely.
They had the distinct over-shininess of bionics, and his hands clenched. What had happened to make her need the prosthetics? Something natural? An illness, maybe? Perhaps an explosion or a faulty ship entry had damaged them. Or it could be that those who woke her from her own stasis pod took her eyes for the DNA inside of them, to sell to one of the various corporations interesting in human DNA.
"Bond, come on. You need my help, so there's no point in keeping the information from me."
Tom started a little, shaking his head to clear the anger from it. Sara apparently took it as a denial, because she folded her arms across her chest–he longed to see what that would do to her breasts without her baggy clothes in the way–and glared at him. Her nostrils flared.