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

by Bex McLynn

  He sagged his shoulders as he rinsed the cleanser from his face and hair.

  The silence persisted and he knew that Prykimis wanted him to sing to her again. He wasn’t a technopath, but he knew her soul and her bones like he knew his own. He’d spent ages mending all her ailments. He’d known which systems could limp along a bit longer, which ones desperately needed repairs, and which parts could be scavenged and re-purposed for another, failing system. He’d become a fucking genius at slapping together stopgap solutions using nothing but a torque spanner and his fervent cursing of Direis and Unholde both.

  Aye. He knew the ship. He knew what she wanted. It was so easy to give it to her, too.

  As Therion stepped from the stall, he sang to Prykimis again. “…a drifter, no roots in the loam…”

  He snagged a towel and sang while he scrub-dried his short hair. Trimming his hair and putting on his uniform had given him a means to alter his appearance. For all the good it did. The uniform could only cover so much. His clade tattoos, exposed on his neck, still overlapped his sickly, too-bright praal.

  Prykimis pinged at him. Ah, he had stopped singing. Tapping the wall console, he saw that he’d time to spare before the reception that Seph had organized. Just a few more minutes before he had to leave the privacy of his quarters and become Fucking Therion once more. And what Prykimis wanted, well, he’d found it very easy to oblige her.

  He sang while he tugged on his uniform and continued to sing as he strode down the corridor. Some crewmates that he passed picked up the song. Others simply saluted with blank faces. No matter. He was used to both reactions.

  As he neared the Athel Hall and Chamber, voices—the pleasant chatter of a gathering—greeted him. Maude was only a few steps away, and he hadn’t seen her in days. Days filled with stonewalling TerTac, running off cavalier marauder ships who breached the coordinates of Prykimis’s defensive perimeter, and obsessively tracking Maude’s whereabouts by grossly abusing his security privileges.

  He’d even tried to pull rank with Medicmaster Lekar, but the bastard had shut him down. Therion knew Maude had gone to sickbay. Her security entourage had logged the visit.

  When Therion had demanded the report, Lekar had sighed. “There is a Fleet regulation called Patient Privacy, Commander.”

  Therion had waved his hand dismissively. “She’d want me to know.”

  “Then she would tell you or would’ve asked you to attend her exam. And I don’t recall seeing you at the exam.”

  Well, Lekar had won that round. Thank the gods it hadn’t been a decisive defeat to Therion’s stealthy surveillance efforts. After all, if he couldn’t use his command to spy on someone aboard his ship, then what reason was there to wear the ill-fitting uniform and sign-off on critical orders?

  Still, it nagged at him that she’d excluded him from her medical exam.

  Therion entered the Athel Hall and ran his eyes over the small gathering. Seph had wanted to introduce Maude to more of her clade on the ship, those crew members who she’d befriended during her time with the Teras. As Therion examined the officers gathered there, he noted the virile, healthy specimens that wore the House Borac uniforms.

  Although he was dressed and groomed to Fleet regulations, he looked nothing like a model officer. His officer’s tunic sagged on his bony frame, and puffing his chest didn’t fill the gapping fabric. He’d issued orders to his cachemaster for new attire, hoping the man could wield a miracle and get him outfitted within hours. It hadn’t happened.

  Well, fuck. This would be the first time Maude would see him in something other than the patchwork garb of a marauder, and he looked like shit.

  “Therion.”

  He jolted at the sound of his name, turning to see that, during his fretting, Maude had managed to sidle up to him.

  He drank up the sight of her. She wore a House Borac uniform tailored perfectly for her. Where on a Teras man the lines of the uniform were crisp and rigid, on Maude the fabric flowed, skimming her curves and accentuating her luscious shape.

  Well, now he knew why his own uniform request was downgraded. The Athela always came first, and seeing the results, Therion didn’t mind it one fucking bit.

  “Aye, Maude,” he managed to squeak out.

  Her brow furrowed. “Did I startle you? I’m sor—”

  He cut her off. “Ech, no sorries from you, Maude.”

  Color rose on her cheeks, flooding them with heat that he wanted to cup with his palms.

  She darted her eyes away, and then gazed back up at him. “You shaved your hair. I like it. Can I?”

  She reached her hand up, but stopped.

  Therion dipped his head, practically thrusting his noggin at her. “Hell, of course, you can touch me, Maude.”

  By Unholde, she could touch him as much and as often as she wished.

  Her palm, soft and pulsing with muscle-soothing heat, swept over his hair, sending a ripple of pleasure over his scalp and down his spine. Despite her raised body temperature, Therion repressed his shiver.

  “It’s still so shiny,” she whispered, and thank the gods for his Teras hearing, or he would have missed her appreciative moan.

  He swallowed, forcing his voice to sound even. “Not as much as it used to be.”

  “What do you mean?” She swept her balmy palm over his head again, and like a right bastard, he thought of how her hands would feel elsewhere on his body. Had a visceral taste of her heated cunt against his mouth.

  His cock, the eager throbbing mongrel that it was, perked its head.

  Reluctantly, he straightened back up, but made sure to give Maude a bright smile. “Well, it won’t be like that for long. See, here, around my ears? Teras hair dulls as we age.”

  Her sparkling green eyes focused where he pointed. “Ah. You look distinguished, then.”

  He laughed. “Maude, there’s nothing distinguished about me.”

  “I disagree.” She studied him with eyes that lacked any gold striation, which should have unnerved him, only they’d ceased to look alien to him. “How old are you?”

  An odd question. Not knowing what to make of it, he directed Maude toward the buffet lining one of the walls of the Athel Hall.

  “I’m twenty-four,” she said. “In Human years.”

  He didn’t know what a ‘year’ was, but if that was equivalent to standard planetary revolutions, he was older, but thankfully, not significantly so.

  “I’m thirty-one standard revs.” He did his best to gauge her reaction as he passed her a plate.

  “Oh.”

  But he couldn’t read that response, either. She simply nodded her head politely and let him guide her through the food spread.

  Therion began spooning weina aspic onto his tray before pausing and offering the serving to Maude instead.

  She tilted her tray toward her chest, holding it like a shield. “Is that fish?”

  “Aye.” It was an officer’s ration made of salt-cured fish.

  “Oh,” her brow furrowed in dismay. She looked at the food platters. “Is there anything that isn’t fish?”

  “Do you not like fish?”

  “I love fish. I go fishing with my father all the time.”

  Confused, Therion glanced from the food back to Maude. “Well, from what I can tell with Seph, our proteins aren’t any different than your planet. Fish here resemble the fish on dozens of Tendex worlds. There’s got to be, easily, five different planets’ tuck laid out here.”

  But his reassurances didn’t ease her, and she eyed the food warily. “Does the fish have mercury?”

  “What’s mercury?” He cringed, knowing he butchered his pronunciation of the Human word.

  Maude frowned. “Shit, I said that in English, didn’t I? Give me a second.”

  She inhaled, an action Therion knew well. It pleased him to see how readily she turned to her technopathy. To see that she accepted this new aspect of her life. Surely, that indicated that she could, in time, accept the permanence of being here. T
hat eventually she would move forward and create a life for herself amongst the Teras.

  Gods, he hoped so.

  Maude rattled off three words, from three languages, all meaning ‘fish.’

  “I’ve found the Gwyr, Tender, and Terish terms for fish, but nothing for mercury.” She shook her head. “It must be something specific to Earth. It’s an element that can seep into fish. Too much isn’t good for the baby.”

  Therion stood there a moment, shocked. Good gods! The food could harm her and the baby?

  He gawked at the spoon teetering in his limp hand. A serving spoon loaded with weina aspic. Horrified, he tossed the spoon onto the table as he frantically scanned the hall.

  Maude flinched. “Ther—”

  “Lekar!” he shouted as he snagged the passing medicmaster. “Did you screen these dishes for poison?”

  Lekar struggled against his hold. “Don’t be ridiculous, Therion. There hasn’t been a case of mutiny by poisoning since—”

  “For Maude, Lekar.” Therion shook him. “Mercury in fish would hurt the baby.”

  Lekar stilled as confusion furrowed his brow. “What is mercury?” He turned to Maude. “You didn’t bring this up during the exam.”

  Therion shook him again. “It’s fucking poison, Lekar. Weren’t you listening?”

  “Humans season their food with poison?”

  “No. It’s in the environment and seeps into the food.”

  Lekar shrugged off Therion’s hold. “It naturally occurs in their environment and they haven’t evolved a resistance to it? That’s biological negligence.” He turned to Maude. “You’re the dominant species on your homeworld?”

  Maude stood there, hugging her empty food tray to her chest, as her eyes darted between him and Lekar. “Are there any foods that Teras women avoid when pregnant?”

  Lekar canted his head. “Why would they avoid nutritious intake? In your exam, I specifically covered—”

  Therion growled. “Are you deliberately fucking with us?” When Lekar gave him a befuddled look, Therion waved him off. “You know what, why are you even on Prykimis? You should be on Deleo.”

  “Who should be on Deleo?” Seph asked as she walked up and gave Maude a hug. “Hey, Maudie. Aren’t you going to eat something?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Gods, no!” Therion snapped at Seph. “It’s all poisonous to her.”

  Lekar arched a brow. “It’s not poisonous.”

  “What? You’re basing this on your examination of one Human.” Therion jabbed his finger at the medicmaster to drive home his point. “One.”

  “Two, actually” Lekar said.

  “Ech.” Therion point to Seph. “Seph doesn’t count. She barely tolerates being exammed.”

  Seph barked out a laugh and slapped Lekar’s shoulder. “Yeah, right. No probing, Doc.”

  “It’s ‘examined’ not ‘exammed,’” Lekar said to Therion. Then, he turned to Seph. “And I’ve told you, our medical technology far surpasses what Humans have developed.”

  Seph waved her hand dismissively, then grimaced at the buffet. “Why are we standing over here? Something smells off.”

  Therion glared at the food. “Poison. I knew it.”

  Lekar groaned. “It’s not—”

  “Wies!” Therion called to his nemesis who stood by Athel Hall’s wooden doors. “Get over here and eat something. I wanna see if you puke it back up.”

  But Wies, that difficult bastard, glared at him.

  Therion nudged Seph with his elbow. “Order him, Seph. He’ll listen to you.”

  Seph shoved his arm away. “I’m not going to order Wies to be your royal food taster.”

  “None of this has been poisoned,” Lekar said insistently. “And it’s not my job to know that. I’m just deducing, based on the dozen people who’ve already eaten, that there is nothing—”

  Seph made a face. “Bleh. I’m staying on ration bars and canteen porridge.”

  Therion perked up. “Ration bars! You’re brilliant, Seph.”

  She nodded. “Of course, I am.”

  Therion held his hand out for Maude’s tray. Her Human eyebrows—delicate arches of fine hair, just like a Teras woman would have—rose over her green eyes as she passed him the tray. It pleased him to see that she gazed at him with curiosity rather than skepticism or wariness.

  “Come on, Maude.” He gently took her small, praal-free hand. “Ration bars are fucking tamperproof. I should know.”

  “Why would you—”

  “Because they taste like ass and nothing done to them improves the flavor, but they definitely won’t kill you. I got a stash in my cabin.”

  He gave her a slight tug, and she followed him. “You’re taking me back to your cabin for ration bars?”

  Therion paused at the wooden doors to the Athel Hall and turned to her. “Well, aye. Unless you want to risk the buffet?”

  His heart battered against his chest as he held her hand. He’d thought that once he sheltered her within his house’s aegis, that his endless concern for her would abate. That he could pass her off to a thane. Instead, in the days without her, a fierce vigilance grew within him. His desire to protect her—to keep her near—had him obsessively scouring planetary databases because he knew it to be pointless. Because when she asked him, he could honestly say that he’d tried and failed to find Earth. Because deep down, he wanted.

  He desperately wanted.

  Gazing at her, he held his breath and waited.

  She’d yet to look away. Rather, her gaze tumbled into unfocused green depths. “I’ll go with you.”

  Maude walked down the corridor, but she might as well have been floating on a cloud.

  Therion had invited her to his cabin.

  Alone.

  They hadn’t been alone since boarding Prykimis days ago. She missed the comfort of his presence. He buffered everything around her, muting her fear with his towering height and endless talking. She would say that he chattered, but his voice pitched into depths that made that word inadequate. He didn’t drone on, either, because everything he said resonated with her.

  Ah. That’s what his voice did. It resonated within her, shaking loose her wound up nerves.

  As he led her through the ship, he talked the entire way, extolling on the many virtues of horrendous-tasting rations guaranteed to be safe for the baby.

  The corridors narrowed as they neared the berthing section. A hatch, several cabins down, popped open.

  Therion grumbled. “Cheeky move, Kimis.”

  Maude went to ask him what he had meant by that comment but when he swung the hatch open, she gaped in astonishment.

  She ran her eyes over the small space. “Why are there so many uniforms out?”

  Strewn all over the deck and tossed onto his bunk were the military-style uniforms that the Teras wore. Easily a dozen of them covered the deck.

  Therion rushed inside and began scooping up the uniforms. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” With tunics and pants spilling over his arms, he started kicking the remainders into a narrow closet. “Absolutely nothing.”

  She stepped over the threshold. “So, this is the commander’s cabin?”

  Therion continued to shove uniform bits into the narrow closet. “Oh. No. Gave my cabin to Gummy and Gappa. Seph’s in the Athel Hall. You’re in the Thane Hall. So I booted some junior officer.”

  She nodded along to his explanation. The small cabin was utilitarian with its space, exactly like the cabin on the freighter. A bunk with overhead storage lined one wall. A small desk and chair were bolted to the deck before her. To the right were two narrow doors—the closet and most likely a lavatory.

  “Well, that’s very sweet of you.” She gave him a softly chiding smile. “Not the booting part, but giving your grandparents your cabin.”

  Therion gave her a horrified look. “I’m gonna have to toss the bunk in the incinerator once I get my cabin back. Possibly all the horizontal surfaces too.” He shook his head as his body shud
dered.

  Warmth bloomed in her chest. “You know, love expressed between couples of any age is beautiful. I admire your grandparents’ passion for one another.”

  He grimaced. “Their passion will stain the sheets. And there’ll be this funky smell—”

  “Therion,” she scolded him kindly, “I am a bit hungry.”

  He pointed both of his index fingers at her. “Hungry. Right.”

  He turned and dove back into the closet where he’d stashed the uniforms. Although he wasn’t bulky, like his cousin, Dius, she watched him turn his shoulders sideways to fit into the narrow space. He bumped about a bit, moaning and groaning, until he shimmied back out with his arms around a gray crate. “Here.”

  Maude peeked into the crate. “There’s a lot to choose from.”

  “Aye, I’ve been doubling my nutrient intake.”

  She selected two foil-wrapped ration bars, each with slightly different writing. “Why?”

  Therion leaned back and dipped his chin, gesturing to himself. “I’m scrawny as fuck, Maude. I had to reissue myself a new uniform. This one’s hanging off my damn shoulders, practically flapping like a flag.”

  She drank him in, from his head, all the way down his impossibly tall frame, to his boots. Her heart might have tumbled a bit during her journey from top to bottom. Despite the change in clothing, he was still the same man underneath, radiating that ease-of-presence that had her listing toward him.

  The Hall had been filled with dozens of Teras in uniforms, but he’d caught her eye the moment he’d arrived.

  She sighed as she gazed up at him. “You look fine to me. You look stunning, actually.”

  He stared at her a moment, and she couldn’t quite read him. His expression teetered between doubtful and offended. Perhaps a tiny bit wounded.

  “You do,” she assured him.

  He straightened up. “How do my shoulders look?”

  She smiled at him. “Broad.”

  He twisted, displaying his arms as he jostled the crate. “Are my biceps like blaster cannons? Don’t fucking lie to me, now.”

  “You look…” She laughed, but then sobered. He deserved to hear this without doubting her sincerity. “You look so good, Therion.”