Syrin's Mate

by Michele Mills

  But he was a berserker. A berserker could not breed. His line ended with him.

  This female had been attacked by those idiots in the hallway. Cannibals with claws at her throat, about to kill her.

  Kill the female he’d vowed to protect? Oh hell, no.

  She’d screamed for him, and the sound of her voice had shot like a blaster through bones and sinew, punching through muscles, his body instantly erupting into transformation. He’d shifted into the berserker faster than he’d ever thought possible. Waded in with his larger, bulkier form and crashed into their bodies, snapping limbs, shredding clothing and skin with his razor-sharp claws as he threw males off of her two at a time.

  Normally, his berserker rage was a thing to be feared because he was unpredictable. He could attack honorable warriors as easily as an enemy. The berserker did not distinguish friend from foe. It was true he’d killed hundreds. He’d once turned on his own brother and had to be tranqed before he killed someone he loved.

  This was why berserkers were extinguished within his society, they were untrainable. Berserkers appeared randomly within lines a few times per generation. In ancient times, upon discovery, berserkers were immediately executed, but now they were declared outlaws, living outside of the laws of Xylan society and removed from the Xylan mating database. Not technically banished, but the same outcome.

  And even then, a berserker lived on borrowed time. None of the species in the four sectors had patience for a being who killed indiscriminately.

  Syrin lay stunned. He should have lost his mind and killed not only the Cannibals but the female, too. This is exactly why she’d been placed with him. He’d warned her. The guards were placing bets on how long it would take for him to kill her and they were right. This was why he had no line. A berserker wasn’t a fit mate or father. A berserker could potentially kill even his own family.

  And yet…his berserker had spared her. In fact, he’d protected the female. Pulled her inside the cell. And now the cell door was shut, he was still holding her hand and the berserker within had faded.

  This was wholly unexpected.

  Syrin blinked, disoriented. Normally he had no control over the length of his rage. He always woke up many hours later, remembering everything with sharp clarity. The blood on his hands. The stories. And the shame. The grinding shame of knowing he’d turned into a monster. Again.

  This time, the berserker might me gone, but a different storm had taken its place.

  Mating compatibility.

  Syrin’s two hearts thundered within his chest. His blood flowed through him, a torrent of adrenaline and hormones. His body was on fire. Everywhere his mate pressed against him was a pressure point of intense feeling, a whirlwind of lust and passion and…

  The change was as intense as the berserker rage and as difficult to fight.

  A soft growl rumbled in his chest.

  The human was his mate? He’d found his mate and she was…human?

  And they were in prison. He pressed his nose against her throat and inhaled her scent. He licked her skin, tasting. He wasn’t supposed to test mating compatibility, but he had, accidentally, while in a berserker rage. He couldn’t be faulted for that, he had no control over his berserker.

  His Bride’s blue eyes widened. His shaft had hardened for the first time in his life, pulsing, begging for attention underneath his prison garb.

  “Is that…?”

  “Yes,” he answered grimly, looking at their still-joined hands, “it’s a confirmed mating.”

  She wiggled against him. “Wow, it’s so…big.”

  He grinned. And stared at her lips.

  “But wait. That means I’m your…”

  “My Be’Ih. Yes, you’re my Bride.”

  The beat of his hearts thundered louder and louder. He panted. He had to kiss her. Had to kiss his Bride. His lovely Bride. His claws cupped the back of her head, threading through silky colorless hair and his mouth captured hers. She gasped, and then moaned. He invaded her mouth, rough, drowning in the slide of his lips against hers. He tilted his head, continuing to plunder her lips. The craving he had for her scent was nothing compared to her taste.

  Syrin could sense that his Bride was not, thankfully, in her breeding cycle. She wanted him. He wanted her. But they did not have to mate immediately. When a mated pair tested compatibility and it was a match and the female was in her breeding cycle, the pair was allowed to mate immediately. It was physically impossible to postpone the claiming. Xylan males could not hold back their urges, and the female was in pain, needing the seed of her mate to soothe the heat in her womb.

  Syrin tore his lips from his Bride and exhaled a sigh of relief. He had time left to extract Kroga of Seventy-Five from 149. Then he would immediately bring his Bride to his ship and set up their mating ceremony in the proper manner on the holo deck. This way, their mating would be legal and binding.

  He would never attempt to consummate a mating in their prison cell. His Bride must be treated with honor and respect. It was his duty as a Xylan male to plan and perform a proper claiming for his Bride. Anything less was unacceptable.

  The lights in the hallway cut off. Their cell was dark as ancient night.

  He lifted her and carried her to their bunk. She was boneless in his arms, her head resting against his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered in the dark.

  “Sorry?” he growled. Sorry she was his mate?

  “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want to touch me, because you knew this could possibly happen, right? You didn’t want me as your mate.”

  Her voice sounded rough, as if she was trying to hold back tears.

  Syrin placed his Bride on the sleep support and sat down beside her. He took her small hand in his, relishing the feel of her naked flesh. “I have lived my whole adult life avoiding skin on skin contact with females. But I am not upset that this accident occurred. I am happy you are my mate but, I didn’t want any female tied to me because I am a berserker. You saw what I did, how many I killed. The hallway outside our cell is smeared with their blood and gore. Your mate is now a berserker.”

  She reached her other hand up and cupped his face. “You saved my life. That’s what you did. You’re a hero, Syrin.”

  His brows furrowed. He continued to inhale her scent. “You are mine now.”

  “Oh gods.”

  “Mine,” he growled.

  A fist pounded against the wall from the neighboring cell. “Syrin, don’t do anything stupid,” a muffled voice said.

  He threw his head back and roared.

  Sara whimpered, the need for him overwhelming. Her pussy was drenched. The area between her legs felt inflamed and heavy and…empty. All from that kiss, which affected her like a drug.

  “I will take care of you,” he said. “Wait here.”

  Take care of her?

  Then he turned away and she could hear water splashing as he washed the blood and gore from earlier off his body. This did not extinguish her desire, it inflamed her more.

  A hot, twisting feeling permeated every inch of her body. That kiss of his had definitely left her drugged. Also, hearing him say that she was his Bride, and he was now focusing on her, which was the opposite of his actions this last week, where he’d been close but still a world away. This intensity was intoxicating. It was exactly what she’d always wanted, but never thought she’d have.

  “Take off your clothes,” he ordered.

  She panted, her hand immediately going to the zipper of her suit, the dark cell helping her to lose her inhibitions.

  “Syrin,” the voice next door said. “You don’t want to kill that female.”

  Her new husband raised his voice. “I won’t kill her. Sara of One is my Bride.”

  “Oh…well then, carry on.”

  Oh gods, there was zero privacy here. This had to be the most bizarro situation, ever. And that was saying a lot considering she was accused of killing Cylo Rin. She went ahead and unzipped her jumpsuit a
nd slowly pushed it over her shoulders, down her hips and finally kicked it to the floor. For the first time in her life she was naked before a male. But the cell was pitch black, and this male was Syrin.

  She was nervous and absurdly excited at the same time. He wanted her. His cock was hard for her. It was a Christmas miracle.

  “You need to take off your clothes, too,” she said. “It’s only fair.”

  “No,” he said as he moved on top of her, his knee between her thighs. “I have to keep my suit on. I need to remain in control.”

  She lay back, loving the feel of his giant body, even in his orange jumpsuit, covering her. “You think you’ll go berserker again?”

  He pressed the ridge of his oh-so hard shaft underneath that fabric against her thigh. Her stomach swooped. “No, I want to mate you,” he said.

  “And this is bad because…?”

  His lips were on hers again, stealing her heart and her breath. He paused, nipped at her lower lip and said, “We are in prison and therefore can’t perform the mating ritual per Xylan standards.”

  “Can’t we mate now and do that ceremony later?” she pleaded. Her nipples were stiff and sensitive, rubbing against his rough jumpsuit, driving her mad. The area between her thighs wet and ready. Really, he could take her now. The sooner, the better.

  His lips pressed against her forehead. “No, Be’Ih. Our first joining must be done using proper Xylan ritual. It must be vid recorded and confirmed so that our status is legal and binding. Without the correct ceremony, you will not be legally considered my Bride.”

  “Wait, aren’t you removed from the mating database anyway? Didn’t you tell me you can never have a Bride?”

  “It’s true. But the time for choice is past. You are my Bride. We are mates, for life. Do you understand what that means? You are human, humans can take pleasure mates…”

  Her eyes widened. She did understand what he meant. Syrin would only have sex with her his whole life. He was asking her now, in the dark of this cell, to make that same commitment toward him. He was asking her to make a decision about the rest of her life right that very second. And it didn’t scare her as much as it probably should. From now on things in her life would never be the same as before. Not that this was bad. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer.

  There wasn’t a speck of light in their cell. It was pitch black. The prisoners were still settling down. She could hear voices outside, some near and some far away. Strange, distant pounding noises, the tapping of feet on the hallway outside, rumbling growls and wet sounds she didn’t want to decipher because outside their cell were the remnants of Syrin’s berserker rage. And here she was, reasonably unperturbed by the whole thing, focused on the male over her.

  She couldn’t help the grin forming on her face at the craziness of the whole situation. But then his lips were on hers again and all thought was gone, nothing remained but the intensity of that kiss. Fangs that didn’t hurt her, but felt unbelievably sexy tracking against her tongue. The sweet taste of his soft lips. She moaned into his mouth, unable to remain perfectly quiet.

  He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, taking great gulping breaths. His arms were braced on either side of her shoulders, his hips, his torso, all pressed against her, and that long pipe, but unfortunately covered in scratchy orange jumpsuit.

  “You can never touch another male. I will kill anyone you touch. Do you understand?”

  She did. She really did. Back on New Earth she’d chatted with other women about Kayzon of Twenty-Six, the Bride of Kia, Dago Cho’s eldest daughter. He was the Xylan ambassador to New Earth and lived in Singapore with his Bride. To the women of New Earth, Kayzon was a local celebrity. They all knew the details of Kia’s mating with Kayzon—that as a Xylan, her husband physically couldn’t cheat on her and would only ever have sex with his Bride, until the day he died, his devotion was only for her. It was so fucking romantic. Basically, every woman on New Earth was jealous of Kia Cho.

  But at the same time she understood how this was hard for him because as a human, she could potentially cheat on him. Her body would allow it. If she were Xylan he would know that she physically could not cheat, her body could never become inflamed or flooded with desire for anyone other than her mate. She thought he must be scared, that his body was locked in forever with someone who might not have the same sincerity he had for this mating.

  “I won’t ever cheat on you,” she vowed. “I will only ever touch you with desire. This”—she kissed him— “this is only for you. Forever.”

  “Do not make this vow lightly,” he warned as he lay down next to her.

  She turned her body toward his. They were now face to face. Too bad it was so dark. He couldn’t see the sincerity in her eyes as she talked. “I know you don’t know me that well yet,” she said, “but my word is my bond. It’s pretty much all I’ve ever had. You’ll see.”

  He growled. His hands ran over her skin in the dark, exploring her dips and curves. It was glorious. Rough claws against soft skin. Her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer, loving the feel of his warmth, and his large body, so close. And he continued to kiss her, his demanding lips taking the lead. They kissed for so long, she lost track of time, just losing herself in his touch and that tongue that tangled with hers.

  He cupped her breast with an enormous hand and pinched a nipple with clawed fingers. She gasped as a trigger of sensation ran straight to her core, that spot that was pleading for his attention. Her legs scissored, as the need grew unbearable. “Baby,” she pleaded, pulling away from his lips. “Please, I need you.”

  He placed his forehead against hers again. “The first time a warrior spills his seed,” he said hoarsely, “it must be in his Bride’s welcoming body, during the mating ritual.”

  She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips. “Well, how about using your fingers there instead?” she asked boldly.

  “No, the rule is the same for a female. Once a female is inflamed with the mating lust, the first penetration must be from her mate’s cock. This is law.”

  “Law? Xylan have laws for this?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, we have laws for this. We take mating ceremonies very seriously. They have been reenacted out in the same way in our species for millennia. All Xylan are taught at a young age how to formally follow the rituals.”

  Her lower lip quivered. She seriously thought she might cry.

  “Don’t worry, my Be’Ih.” He lifted her leg and placed it over his hip, exposing her core to his exploring fingers. “I will take care of you. I will relieve your pain with my touch…here.” His giant hand gently cupped the space between her thighs. She let out a sigh of relief.

  “You have hair,” he said, surprised.

  “All humans have hair there, even males. Xylan don’t?”

  “No,” he whispered. “I don’t have hair anywhere except on top of my head.”

  She ran her finger along is smooth, firm, jawline. “You never have to shave?”

  “Shave? What is that?”

  “Human males grow so much hair on their faces that they have to cut it off daily.”

  Syrin snort-laughed.

  And then his clawed finger delved into her folds. Sara gasped at the wonderful sensation, widening her thighs for him to allow easier access. No one had ever touched her there before and it was…exquisite. She’d never even touched herself there. She’d spent her whole life, up until the age of eighteen, sleeping in a tiny garret under the stairs, not exactly an area with privacy or a place that cultivated sexy thoughts. And then she’d shared living quarters with a female coworker for most of her time with her previous crew. Sara knew all about sex, she wasn’t repressed and against it, she just had never had reason to explore it until now. So here she was, twenty years old and never touched.

  He brushed a claw against her nub, that pleasure point she’d always been afraid to touch on her own. “Yes, please, more.”

  “Female,”
he said, his lips against her ear, “am I your first?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, grasping his biceps.

  “I will be your first and your last.”

  He continued to kiss her as his finger rubbed against her clit. So wet and slippery and exactly where she needed him. She whimpered against his lips, her arms reaching up and tightening around his neck again in a death grip.

  “Syrin, something is—”

  “Let me feel it. Come on my fingers.”

  It lurked there, just out of reach, scary in its intensity. She wanted it, and then she was frightened of it. And then—

  “Oh gods.”

  His lips were on hers, smothering her screams as the edge of the orgasm hit her hard. Wave after wave. Her back bowed off the horizontal support.

  Eleven

  Sara woke up the next morning to the daylight of the diurnal cycle, with a sleeping Xylan warrior wrapped around her. She was still naked, but his body covered in the requisite prison garb, kept her warm. His breath brushed the top of her head, and his weight felt wonderful.

  Sara rested her head against his arm and smiled. A large, wide, genuine smile. Because this time his hard, monstrous shaft poked against the leg she had thrown over his pelvis. She let out a sigh of relief.

  Yes, he hadn’t wanted a mate. Yes, she felt monumental guilt for the way this happened because it felt uncomfortably like he’d been tricked into this mating, like it was done against his will. But from what he’d said last night it seemed more like he didn’t want a mate only because he literally wasn’t allowed to have one because he was a berserker. The Xylan high command didn’t want him breeding and creating more little berserkers. And since Syrin was honorable and took the laws of his people seriously, he of course wasn’t going to try mating compatibility with anyone and was resigned to the fact that he’d be alone for the rest of his life.

  Which was a damn shame.

  All she could think of was that last night he’d growled “mine.” And he’d fingered her to orgasm for the first time in her life and he still had an enormous erection pressing against her thigh. She hadn’t been able to see or touch his cock last night because he’d forbidden it, but he’d taken care of her, that was for sure. Wow.