“Oh well,” she thought, “If this is what I have to wear to ride a horse, then I’m not going to complain. I’d wear worse if I had to.”
Horseback riding was far more fun in real life than she had thought it would be, and she had thought it would be very fun. She loved the little mare that Val had picked out for her to ride. A pretty buckskin with a dark chocolate mane and tail, big brown eyes and dainty feet. Garen, Val and Trey all rode huge, black energetic stallions with fiery eyes and flaring nostrils. The guys kept her boxed between them as they rode, holding her mare to a slow, sedate walk. Since she had never ridden a horse she didn’t mind that. It was the big stallions that made her nervous. As the guys explained how to sit correctly, how to control the horse’s speed and direction with the reins and her knees, their horses kept inching closer and closer to her until their riders pulled them back. At first she thought the horses were trying to get close to her so they could bite her. Then she caught an odd buzzing sound, paused for a moment and focused. Suddenly she burst out laughing.
“What is it?” Trey asked.
“I thought those big horses of yours were trying to bite me, the way they keep trying to get close to me. But in fact, they are just trying to get close to this pretty little mare. They are all trying to get her attention, and she is playing hard-to-get.”
Garen laughed. “Well, can you blame them? Any time there is a new lady in town, the men always compete for attention.”
“New lady in town?” Lariah asked. “You mean, this is a new horse?”
“Yes, we bought her especially for you,” Val said, grinning. “Do you like her?”
Lariah was overwhelmed. She wanted to tell them they shouldn’t have spent so much on her, that they didn’t have to buy her things, that they didn’t need to do so much for her all the time, but she knew that wasn’t what they wanted to hear. They had done it to make her happy.
“I love her,” she said, smiling. “She’s perfect. Thank you all, so much.”
The guys all looked pleased, and she knew she had said the right thing. “What is her name?” she asked.
“Nahia,” Val replied. “However, she is yours now, so if you wish to change her name, that is your choice.”
“What does nahia mean?” Lariah asked.
Val smiled. “It means ‘desire’,” he said.
“I think Nahia is a good name,” she said, blushing.
When they returned to the stable Lariah was pleased with herself, but tired. She wanted them to teach her how to take the saddle off of the mare and care for her, but they refused. They turned the horses over to some men in the stables, and promised to teach her more another day.
By the time they got back to the house Lariah was very sleepy. She had slept well the night before, but horseback riding was more exercise than she had thought it would be. After a quick lunch she excused herself and went back to the guest room where all of her things still were. She grabbed a quick shower and climbed into bed, wishing for a moment that she had the energy to walk across the house to the bed she had shared with her men. Before the thought was complete, she was asleep.
Frith Yanger was not a happy man. He had not been happy his entire adult life, but that was not the point. The point was he was not a happy man now and it was all the fault of that uppity red-haired bitch the Dracon brothers were panting after. Because of her, he had lost his home and his easy income, been banished from the planet with little more than the clothes on his back and what he could cram in a carry bag, and the piddly amount of cash he’d been able to strong arm out of his stupid sister’s idiot husband. All because some nosey little bitch decided she didn’t like the way he handled his own property. Who was she to interfere with his business anyway? If those damned Dracon brothers hadn’t been there, he would have taught her a lesson or two along with that useless damn dog on the subject of crossing Frith Yanger.
But they had been there, and those cocky blue-haired assholes that worked for them had come and made sure he followed their damned decree before he had a chance to figure a way out of it. The only good part of the deal was that he had a free ticket to wherever he wanted to go. Problem was, he didn’t really want to go anywhere else. He’d already spent one whole day trying to make up his mind, and he was no closer to a decision now than he’d been from the start.
It wasn’t that Jasan was so great. It was just a stupid shitty planet like a thousand others. But his sister and her husband lived there, and they had that lousy little restaurant in that nowhere little town, and he’d spent a lot of time and effort getting them all squared away the way he wanted. He lived in their house, took their money and told them what to do. He was a bully and he knew it, and he was damn good at it. They worked and he drank. It was the world according to Frith and he liked it just fine.
He had done a lot of wandering around before he finally scraped together enough for a ticket to visit baby sister just ahead of an arrest that would have sent him to some dark prison planet for the rest of his life. For a desperate act, he’d sure hit the jackpot. Now, it was all gone and it was that nosey little bitch’s fault.
Since he didn’t really know what to do next, he decided the best thing would be to use some of that cash he’d gotten from his idiot brother in-law and have himself a drink or two. Relax a little. Maybe if he gave it some thought he’d remember some other long lost relative. In fact, didn’t he have a cousin, some little bitch dumber than his own sister?
Yeah, now he thought about it, he seemed to remember his sister nattering on endlessly that cousin what’s-her-name married some guy with a business of some kind. Liked to drive him crazy till he’d punched her in the mouth and shut her up for a couple of weeks. Now what planet was that? Well, maybe another drink or two would help him to remember.
After her nap, Lariah kept her promise to Garen and took a long hot bath. By the time she stepped into the dining room the guys were just putting dinner on the table. She helped carry in the last dishes and drinks, and they all sat down to eat.
As she lifted her first bite to her mouth a thought suddenly occurred to her and she gasped. She lowered the fork to her plate and looked up, already knowing that all three of the guys would be staring at her intently, awaiting an explanation. She blushed, cleared her throat, and shrugged. “Um, I know I should have thought about this before but…well…what if I get pregnant?”
She felt more than saw the three men relax. “It is not possible for us to impregnate you,” Val said easily as he went back to eating.
“Oh,” Lariah replied in a small voice. She thought about it for a minute, trying to remember everything they had told her about their species. “Why not?” she asked finally.
“Our genetics are not compatible for that,” Garen replied.
“But you told me that many women from Earth had been brought here and that they had male children.” She reminded him. “And I know that many human women come here as contract brides. We discussed that the other day. You told me they could have only male children, but they can have children.”
Garen nodded. “Yes, and that is true, but only after a mating ritual during which their bodies are altered.”
Lariah looked down at her plate. She didn’t want to be pushy, but this was too important to her to let it go. She had to know.
“Do you guys plan to do that ritual with me?” she asked, a knot of fear in her stomach warning her of the answer before she asked the question.
“We can’t,” Garen replied. Lariah’s heart skipped a beat. “Not yet anyway,” he added. Lariah’s head came up.
“Not yet?” she asked. “When?”
The men stilled. “What is it?” she asked.
Garen hesitated, which made her nervous. “Well,” he began slowly, “we really don’t know.”
Lariah frowned. Garen held up a hand, asking her to be patient. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“There is something about your genetic code that is different from other human women,
” he said. “Riata is working with some of our council scientists, trying to figure out what the difference is, and what it means. Until we know more, we don’t want to take any risks. What is safe for other human women may not be safe for you.”
“I don’t understand,” Lariah said.
Garen sighed. “I know you don’t,” he said. “It’s complicated.”
“I can handle complicated,” she said. “I can’t handle being treated like a child.”
“We do not treat you as a child,” Garen said.
“If there is something going on that involves me, and you decide I don’t need to be told about it, then, yes, you are treating me like a child.”
“Very well,” Garen said with another sigh. “What do you want to know?”
“All of it.”
“Do you remember what I told you about our males being born triplets with divided souls, and females each having their own souls?” he asked.
“Yes, I remember all of it.”
“You know that we are dracons, and that there are other animals that our people shift into, that we are divided into what we call clans. There are seven clans among the Jasani. What you do not know is that, while males are always born into the same clan as their parents, females are not. Any female born to any clan has the potential to be the Arima to a male-set from any other clan.”
Lariah thought about that for a minute. “I see,” she said thoughtfully. “Since there are so few females to begin with, it must be nature’s way of mixing the gene pool on a regular basis.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Our females, when born, are physically very much like human women. They do not have magic, their reproductive organs are the same, and they age as human women do. This is because females must always be altered to match their male-set’s clan. ”
“How are they altered?” Lariah asked.
“When a male-set finds their female, their mating fangs descend for the first time.”
Lariah nodded, remembering what he’d told her about that before.
“Once that happens, the mating fangs will remain until they are used twice, then they are shed. “
“Why twice?” Lariah asked.
“Because the mating ritual is a two step process. This is true whether it is the natural process our males once engaged in with our females, or the induced process our males engage in with human females,” Garen replied.
“In our species, the fangs are first used to inject a serum into the female which actually alters the female’s genetic code so that she becomes physically a member of the same clan her male-set belong to. It also provides her with the necessary regeneration ability. Once the first stage is complete, the female will have the ability to shift into the same animal as her mates. If they are dracon, she will become dracon. If they are bearenca, she will become bearenca.
“The second phase of the mating ritual must take place within 24 hours of the first. That is because the female, shortly after being injected the first time, will go into what we call a mating fever. If she is not injected by her male-set the second time during the soul-link triad within that time frame, the fever will become such that she will die.”
“Wow,” Lariah said softly. “That’s brutal”
“That is nature for our species,” Garen said, then he continued. “The second injection completes the final alteration in the female, changing her reproductive organs, and making the changes required for her to perform the soul-link. Once the soul-link triad is complete, the souls of the four are linked. Only when they are soul-linked may they join together to create children.”
“So how do you make any of that work for human women?” Lariah asked.
“A potion was developed that artificially stimulates the mating fangs, and at the same time, alters the serum,” Garen replied. “Once the female is selected, the males simultaneously inject her with the serum which alters her genetic code enough that she no longer ages. They must inject her again within the 24 hour time frame in order for her genetic code to undergo a change that will allow her to bear Jasani children.”
“Will they die if they aren’t injected the second time in 24 hours?” Lariah asked.
“No, human females do not experience the mating fever,” Garen explained. “As I said, their physical bodies are much the same as Jasani women, but their genetic code is not. In human females, if the 24 hour window is missed, then it cannot be regained. The males will shed their mating fangs, and it will not be possible, ever, for the female to be altered to carry our children. Nor will it be possible for the males to try again with another female.
“Not ever?” Lariah asked.
“No, not ever,” Garen said solemnly. “Mature male-sets whose mating fangs are artificially stimulated will feel sexual desire only after their mating fangs descend, and once they inject a human female, their desire will be only for that female. Once the mating fangs are shed, they will not develop another set. So, if their female dies, or is lost to them, or if she is unable to bear children for any reason, there is never a second chance.”
“Even when everything goes right, they can carry only male children?” she asked.
“That is correct. And it is not easy, Lariah, even when everything goes right,” Garen said. “All three males must ejaculate into the female’s womb within only minutes of each other in order for their seed to be viable. If too much time passes, the attempt fails. Also, the altered females ovulate only once a year, unless they become pregnant. After a pregnancy, whether it is a successful one or not, it takes between 10 and 20 years for the female to ovulate again. If she ovulates again. Some females do not ovulate again after a single pregnancy. Some may have two, or even three successful pregnancies, and never ovulate again. Our mother was one of those. There never seems to be much rhyme or reason to it. What happens, happens. And there is no changing it.”
“Procreation seems to be a very complicated process for your people, whether it is with your own females, or human women,” Lariah observed.
“Yes, that is true. We believe it is because we live such long lives. Perhaps it is nature’s way of preventing over-population. Unfortunately, with our race so close to extinction, it backfired on us.”
“Well, I suppose that, considering the alterations that have to be made, and the dire circumstances your species was in, you must count yourselves lucky you were able to find women who could bear children with you at all.”
“Yes, that is exactly right Lariah,” Garen said. “We were lucky, and are lucky, to be able to have children. As many difficulties are involved, at least it works. And it is only because of the human women who have agreed to mate with our male-sets that we are even a species at all. Which is one reason why we treat women as the treasures they are.”
“I understand the difficulties, and the differences between the two processes,” she said. “But I still don’t know why there is a problem with me being altered like any other human woman.”
“Riata is a Healer so, when she Healed you, she was able to get a…I don’t know what to call it…I suppose a ‘mental’ sample of your genetic code. She has been working with council scientists, the most experienced of our kind in genetics. There is something in your genetic make-up that is different from that of other humans, and they have yet to discover what it means.”
Lariah thought about that for a few moments. “Garen, didn’t you tell me that one of the reasons you knew that I was your Arima, was that your mating fangs descended?”
“Yes,” Garen said. “It is the first time such a thing has happened to any male-set in over three thousand years.”
“So, that means that you can’t use the potion that alters the serum, since you already have the mating fangs,” she said softly, talking mostly to herself. Garen, Val and Trey watched silently as she worked through the problem. They’d seen her do this before and found it fascinating.
“Since I am not a Jasani female, injecting me with the natural serum can’t make me dracon, as I have the wro
ng genetic code. So the question becomes, what will it do to me?” Lariah fell silent for awhile, considering, then she looked up at Garen, Val and Trey.
“So, what is the plan then?” she asked, surprising Garen. He had the distinct feeling that Lariah had come to a conclusion or two of her own, which she was evidently not planning to share with them. He thought about pressing her, then decided that it was better to leave it.
“For right now, we wait,” he answered. “We give Riata and the council scientists more time to figure out the meaning of your genetic difference.”
“That makes sense,” she agreed. “Its only been a few days. But you must promise me that when they learn something, you will tell me what it is.”
“Very well,” Garen replied.
“I do have one other question though,” Lariah asked. “You said that your mating fangs descended, but I haven’t seen them. Why not?”
Garen smiled. She was so curious, their Lariah. “Once they are descended, males have the ability to extend and retract the mating fangs whenever they want,” he explained. “This enables males to make a conscious decision as to when the mating fangs are used, rather than be physiologically induced. There are times when a female may be too young, or otherwise unready to be mated. As it is always of paramount importance to all of our males that they place their Arima’s health and welfare above their own at all times, it is important that they be able to use their brains to make such a decision rather than be induced by hormones to act.”
Lariah thought about that for a moment. “Well,” she said finally, “anything that prevents a male from acting without thought is a good thing.”
The Dracons' Woman: Book 1 of the Soul-Linked Saga Page 19