Bane: A SciFi Alien Romance (The Ladyships Book 2)

by Bex McLynn

He didn’t press after her, but his expression clouded with wounded confusion.

  She shook off her guilt, because she’d rather bruise his feelings than physically injure him again. “The spider. It’s never let anyone touch me before. We need to get Chieftain Lider. He needs to see—”

  He bolted forward. “Maude, think about this. Why would it let me touch you but not them?”

  “But that’s—”

  “It’s because I mean no harm,” he said in a rush, his bound hands held out before him.

  She flicked her gaze from his hands to his stricken face. “It darted you.”

  “Ah, but I’m the only one who’s woken up without a splitting headache and the shits.”

  Maude shook her head. “What does that have to do with—”

  Therion took a step back and stood straighter, as if presenting himself. “It marked me as clade, Maude.”

  “Clade?” The term meant nothing to her.

  “Clade means we’re allies.” He dipped his chin and his voice deepened. “Means I’m gonna rescue the shit outta you.”

  Therion snapped his eyes from Maude to the Athelasan tech stirring on her arm. The nacre tendrils that at first resembled metallic praal across her pale skin slithered like a tangled nest of vipers.

  Did that horrify him? No. By Direis, he didn’t want to drag his eyes from Maude.

  Her entire appearance arrested him. She was wonderfully otherworldly. Her unusual green eyes lacked shots of gold, yet struck at the core of him. A lack of gold? Hell, her hair shimmered with endless shades of gold, ranging from a shiny alabaster to heated bronze. Her pale, unmarred skin flared an enticing shade of pink. Gods, had he caused her to blush? He hoped so, because the teasing crackle of satisfaction coursing through him was fucking fantastic. He’d give her a thousand reasons to blush if her reaction to him made his entire body surge.

  The arse in him had assumed that exposure to Seph had prepared him for meeting other Humans.

  Never did he imagine—

  The Athelasan tech stirred again. The metal cords had started shifting, flowing like liquid merkur, becoming tiny armor plates.

  His sensitive hearing picked up rapid footfalls on the stone steps.

  He smiled. Ah, fucking brilliant, this tech, to rattle out in warning.

  Therion had been dealing with Athelasan salvage for ages. He’d repaired Prykimis—an Athelasan spirenought—with House Jahat being none-the-wiser. He’d become so familiar with the components that he could spot original Athelasan tech out of a heap of garbage. The nacre surface of this thing—‘spider,’ she had called it in Gwyr—had the form of Athelasan tech. He’d bet his anthers on it.

  Another thing that he would wager the health and welfare of his anthers on was that this spider had moya, the Athelasan word for ‘soul.’ It had to have it. The damned thing protected Maude the way Prykimis protected Seph—being a dart-happy ass kicking bodyguard.

  Two Gwyretti guards entered Maude’s cell, followed by Lider. Therion shifted to shelter Maude. His chains clanked as he widened his stance and the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed. Lider’s responsive timing rattled him. The guard—Kesken—never left his post at the end of the corridor. Therion would have heard him walking away. Also, Kesken hadn’t spoken a word, which meant he hadn’t raised anyone on comms. Therefore, despite the compound being tech-dead, Lider had a way to monitor Maude in her cell.

  Her godsdamned cell. This angered Therion as well. Seph had explained that Humans ran hotter than the Teras. It made sense to provided Maude with cooler accommodations, but a cell was still a fucking cell. The Gwyretti only tossed in a better cot and hung up a curtain around the lav.

  Lider hissed low tones intended to soothe. “Maude, I wanted to see how you were faring.”

  Therion caught the smug flash in Lider’s eyes. The confident bastard stifled his pleasure, masking his monitoring as an innocent social call.

  “She’s fucking fantastic,” Therion growled.

  But then Maude busted his badassery when she eased herself away from him and scurried over to Lider. She’d slumped her shoulders in a sign of relief.

  The spider drew her up short, though. Her entire posture went rigid as the spider flared, clattering its plates. Lider flinched as well, and his guards pulled him back.

  Therion let his lips curl into a toothy smile. He liked this spider.

  “Sorry, Chieftain Lider,” Maude said in a rush, her face coloring that alien shade of deep pink—making Therion oddly jealous. “Kesken. Eremit. I am so sorry.”

  Her apology wiped the smile from his face. Did she not see that those scaly bastards glared at her, pulsing like a teetering mob just waiting for someone to throw the first stone and ignite the riot?

  But Unholde take him, she managed to baffle him further as she backed up, counting under her breath with each deliberate step. She’d calculated the exact number of steps needed between herself and Gwyretti, yet she didn’t think that she needed to be rescued?

  Maude took a deep breath and gave her guards a closed-lip smile. “Is everyone all right?”

  Stunned, Therion slouched to get a good look at her. By Unholde and Direis both, she radiated with embarrassment and concern and contriteness, of all things.

  It hit him like a bullpulse blast.

  Maude was nice.

  The sum of Therion’s Human experience involved one short and surly ass kicker who marked her territory by shedding copious amounts of long, curly hair. Seph defied all definitions of logic—yet hit the mark on the clinical diagnosis of insanity—by adoring both his nephew and his brother in equal measure. She suspected everything and everyone, yet exhibited fierce loyalty to her inner clade. Hell, ‘suspect loyalists’ and ‘loyal suspects’ described over half of the shifty bastards in House Borac. For all of Seph’s alienness, Therion could deal with her.

  Maude, though, was something else entirely. During their short interaction, she’d proven herself to be trusting, sympathetic, patient, and courteous. Either Maude deviated from the Human norm—her universal niceness not a standard Human characteristic, but a personal flaw—or Seph’s prep speech about Humans was shit.

  She turned to look at him. It stopped his heart to see such hope shining in her startling green eyes. She beamed at him with pride and his chest clenched.

  “The spider,” she told Lider, “it retreated when Therion touched me.”

  And she saw that as a good thing?

  For all the fucks. This settled it for him. He needed to flush the lav of Seph’s shitty advice and start all over.

  Therion snapped his gaze to Lider to see tiny quakes of pleasure trembled his open frill.

  “That’s an amazing breakthrough,” Lider said. “Could you do it again for us?”

  Maude nodded and extended her arm toward Therion. It made him a right bastard when he pulled back from her. He saw the flash of hurt in her eyes. Already he’d witnessed countless instances of Maude reaching out to someone, only to have them pull back. Now he’d be lumped in with those insensitive bastards.

  He groaned, a soft sound that he hoped conveyed his regret. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at the moment.”

  She kept her eyes on him, but blinked repeatedly, as confusion angled her brow. “What? Why not?”

  “Because it’ll impede the rescue?” He’d shrugged his shoulders, rattling his chains, not entirely sure why he sounded uncertain. Keeping the spider on her kept her defended and aided the rescue immensely.

  The spider could be a great ally if Therion read the intention of the tech correctly. That the spider’s darts marked Therion as clade and the Gwyretti as foes.

  Unbelievably, her confusion gave way to understanding as she smiled. That was a look his suggestions had rarely received.

  “Ah.” She pivoted toward Lider. “There appears to be a misunderstanding, Chieftain Lider. See, Therion thought I was being held prisoner—”

  “Well, you are,” Therion said.

  “But I’
m not,” she said to him in a gentle tone, which sounded nothing like someone who thought she addressed an idiot. Her tone held infinite patience.

  Patience with him.

  She smiled up at him as she stepped toward him, placing her hand on his forearm. Then she patted him, soothing him like a whining ratka pup.

  Awed, Therion stared at her. He swallowed reflexively, driving back down to his gullet something light and airy that wanted to lodge in his chest.

  With her palm pumping warmth into his skin, she turned back to Lider. “You see, he snuck in here thinking he had to rescue me. But he doesn’t have to rescue me. I’ve told him that. But he can still help, right? Now that we’ve cleared everything up, he can stay. Be a guest like me and help me.” Then she jolted and her whole face lit up. “And spaceships! The Teras have spaceships!”

  Silence descended.

  Therion raised his eyes to Lider to confirm his suspicion. The Gwyretti stared at Maude’s tiny hand, right where she covered Therion’s praal. The spider had pulled back from her fingers and palm, but still covered the top of her hand like a demigauntlet.

  Lider narrowed his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t extend the same courtesies to him, Maude. He’s a marauder. Dangerous.”

  Therion nudged her, brushing against her with his elbow and faux-whispered, “And he locked you in here with me, all alone.”

  It had to be said, but he hated the results. She sought out Lider with a bruised expression.

  Lider hissed again, trying to soothe her. “We couldn’t pass up the opportunity. The spider would’ve protected you if you were in any danger.”

  “Except he did touch me.” Her voice, already soft and airy, sounded like nothing but a puff. “The spider let him.”

  Therion wondered if her perspective of the situation had started to realign. It would be for the best that she let go of her fool notion. The Gwyretti were her enemy.

  Lider nodded and hissed, an edge of temperance in the sound. “Which intrigues me as well, Maude. Makes it prudent that we try to recreate this event.”

  Oh, like hell that would happen.

  “I’m not touching her,” Therion said firmly.

  Maude’s featherlight touch turned into a placating hold. “Please. This might help me.”

  “Maude.” He drew her name out, hoping she heard the regret in his voice.

  Her brow furrowed, and it killed him to see her wounded. “But you came here to help me.”

  Lider gave her a pitying hiss. “He came here to help himself.”

  “By Unholde, I did,” Therion snapped to Lider.

  “He’s here to abscond with you,” Lider said to Maude. “Nothing more.”

  Therion laughed. “That’s bullshit, Maude. Aye, I’m here for you. Seph, the other Human? We’ve sworn to see her safely home. What has he promised you?”

  “The same,” Lider said.

  Therion glance at Maude, disheartened to see her nodding in agreement. Gods, she was such a decent, nice person. Didn’t she know when someone fucked with her?

  Maude positioned herself in his direct line of sight and placed her other hand on his forearm. The spider again retreated from her palm, and she pressed her skin to his.

  “Therion,” she said beseechingly. “I’ve been here for weeks covered in this thing. The Gwyretti want to help me. They truly do. But they can’t do much. The spider won’t let them close.” She tightened her grip, her knuckles whitening under the pressure. Then, she gasped—a tender, apologetic sound—and lightened her hold. Her small hands hadn’t hurt him, but she was such a good person that she considered his wellbeing while simultaneously requesting something on her own behalf. It must be tearing at her, to do such a thing. “If you can get it to retreat, maybe you can get it off me entirely.”

  He heard it, her fear. For weeks now, she’d been without explanations, and Unholde drag him down, she turned to him for answers.

  He had only one recourse. The one thing he always did—give people what they wanted.

  Therion kept his eyes on Maude and sighed. “Sorry to do this to you, Kesken. But we’re going to have to reschedule the rescue. We’ll try again in a few days.”

  Kesken scoffed. Well, fuck ‘em. Right now, Maude’s charming green gazed stole his breath and lit him afire.

  “Thank you, Therion,” she said to him with tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  By the gods, he’d better change her mind about the rescue soon, before he crumbled into adoring ashes.

  Chapter Four

  Maude sat on her cot and snuck glances at Therion.

  The man sat on the ground, his back to the wall with chains about his wrists. He seemed content to wait. What he was waiting for? She hadn’t the slightest idea. She couldn’t figure him out. Her confidence—about her read on his character—had evaporated when he refused to help her. Once again, she found herself off balance around him.

  After Lider left them alone, Therion had lowered himself to the floor and had started humming a song. He’d repeated it enough that she picked up a melody. It had sounded wistful, thrumming with longing that echoed off the mud bricks of her room. That mournful song had the weight of her worries bowing her spine and hunching her shoulders. When he’d first entered her room, he set her at ease. He’d raised her hopes that finally—

  No. That wasn’t fair, to pin her hopes on someone she’d just met.

  It hadn’t been all that long ago that Therion entered her cell. Temperature changes had become her means to measure time. The slight chill in her room meant that it was the middle of the night on this planet. Exactly how long the night lasted on Radost? She didn’t know. It felt longer than on Earth, probably because she’d taken to sleeping during the heat of the day and spent her nights awake, mostly alone, with nothing but her terror-filled worries and hollow sadness.

  “Are humans nocturnal?” Therion’s voice thrummed through the room like a subwoofer.

  She glanced up at him and found herself locked in his gaze. Maude shivered—truly, in response to the chilliness—and pulled her cloak around her. He gazed at her with a mixture of intensity and open curiosity. All benign.

  But she could be wrong. She’d been wrong about him wanting to help her, hadn’t she?

  She scanned his face, baffled as to where she’d gone wrong. Yes, he was an alien, but his face held familiar features. His brilliant eyes were shot through with bold streaks of green and gold that never melded, but still swirled. His brow lacked eyebrows, yet had enough musculature to convey expressions. A high nasal bridge bisected his face, ending in a broad nose and flared nostrils. His full lips, that had parted slightly whenever he’d smiled, had given her a peek at pearly fangs. The teeth had been nothing overly large but were much more than the pointed canines on a human.

  All of these features presented a distinct, alien appearance, that remained relatable.

  She’d hoped.

  Hell, she still hoped.

  “Ah, no. We’re not nocturnal.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just too hot during the day. I spend most of my time sleeping when the suns are up. I usually walk about the compound at night.”

  “I see.”

  She took in his features again. His slumped shoulders. The deepening shadows pooling under his eyes. Just like a human, he showed his fatigue.

  No. Just like a person. A tired person who sat on the packed dirt floor of her room, while she lounged on her cot and had no intention of sleeping.

  Maude scurried off her cot, gesturing to it as she stood. “You can lie down if you want. I’m not tired.”

  He smiled at her. It was a subdued version of the smile that he bombarded her with earlier that evening.

  “I’m good.” He waved her off, his chains rattling.

  It bothered her, like a draft across her skin, that Chieftain Lider hadn’t removed Therion’s chains. How did this garner any goodwill? Therion had agreed to help, but he’d conceded. She hadn’t convinced him that the Gwyretti meant n
o harm. How could she change his mind if they continued to treat him like an invading marauder?

  “I wish I knew how to pick a lock,” she told him.

  He shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling, scraping along the mud bricks behind him. “Not worried. I’ll figure it out before I take over the compound.”

  His words could have been biting—accusatory—but he said them without any heat. That he didn’t hold it against her for dismantling his plan to rescue her. But that last part—taking over the compound—worried her. She didn’t want him doing anything foolish that would get himself or others hurt.

  “So, what was your plan?”

  “Thrash some things. Stomp on the corpses of my enemies. You know, typical riot stuff.”

  She gaped at him. “That’s not a plan.”

  “Close enough.”

  She shook her head, but then she remembered his mission. “Why did you come for me? Well, why did you come here looking for a human?”

  He shrugged. “This is where I found Seph.”

  Part of her was relieved that there was another human out there, but then guilt stabbed at her. What kind of person was glad that someone else had been abducted as well?

  Therion shifted, drawing her attention. He pinned her with a hard stare that had her stomach tumbling.

  “I’m gonna be upfront here, Maude,” he said seriously. “I bought Seph thinking she was a sexbot.”

  Right, he had mentioned that. Hearing it a second time, she still couldn’t conjure any terrible images of Therion using what he believed to be an animatronic sex toy.

  He flicked his eyes over her, and she must have conveyed something in her expression that he was seeking, because he nodded his head once and continued. “I bought her for my nephew, a good kid who only wanted to study her logic gates. You understand?”

  Not entirely, but she had the important parts. “You didn’t use her for sex.”

  Therion reared back, his mouth twisted in disgust. “Gods, no. But the important thing here is that Rannik, my nephew, is way smarter than I am. He figured things out pretty quickly.” His voice changed as he spoke with pride. “He protected Seph from the degenerates on Prykimis. Smuggled her out to my brother.”