Chapter 13

Rosemary:

Mene set the book down on the nightstand. "I have reached a conclusion."

"Is this something I wanna know?" Rosemary worked the lotion into her arms and shoulders. Fresh out of the shower, her damp hair hung down her back.

"I will read these stories to our future sons."

"Don't go bouncing babies on your knee yet, sugar plum. We aren't exactly making babies over here." She regretted those words immediately because they implied she was ready for some baby-making. They had shared a bed for a week without as much as brushing hands. Now she was acutely aware of sitting on the bed in nothing more than a tank top—his, which was enormous on her—and sleep shorts.

With a heated look, Mene took the lotion from her. He brushed her damp hair to one side and warmed the lotion in his hands before applying it to her neck and shoulders. He placed a light kiss on the nape of her neck. She shivered at the touch. "I admire the warrior ethos of the Terran folklore. You battle giants and monsters, bring justice to the wicked, and reward those with honor."

"Those are just old tales."

"No." He pushed up the hem of the tank top and applied lotion to between her shoulder blades. "You fill your children with tales of valor and good triumphing over evil and send them off to sleep with such thoughts. And the heroes do not win by strength alone. They must be clever and turn their opponents’ strengths against them."

"That's what you got out of that? Maybe some stories but a lot are about being obedient and following the rules." He worked his thumbs into the taut muscles at her neck and shoulder, and she nearly melted into a puddle right then and there. The warmth of his hands eased tension she hadn't realized she carried.

"Fed on such tales, our sons will be formidable warriors," he said.

"Hmm. That's nice," she said absently. His voice had such a deep, pleasing quality; it could lull her to sleep. He continued to murmur, but she stopped paying attention, focused on how the heat of his hands made her spine dissolve.

Cold metal against her skin jarred her into alertness.

"What's this?" Her hands went to the necklace and pendant now around her neck.

"A gift. It’s tradition,” Mene said.

“You’ve been saying that a lot, recently.” And using it to justify everything. She took the necklace off to better inspect it. A delicate gold chain held a simple pendant that caught the light, and the blue stone glowed with an internal fire. “It’s lovely. Gorgeous, really. Nicer than anything I’ve ever owned, but I can’t accept this.”

She held out the pendant, urging him to take it back. Their screwed-up relationship was not at the jewelry-giving stage.

His large hand curled around hers and closed her palm. “It is for you.”

“I can’t.”

She could see the moment his emotions shut down. The light in his eyes dimmed, and the perpetual frown at his mouth was real, not just a side effect of scarring.

He stroked the curve of her cheek before taking the pendant and putting it back around her neck.

"Traditions are curious things," he said. "My son will not look like me. He will be Terran in appearance."

"But he'll be Mahdfel," she said. She knew that bit of trivia. Outward, their hypothetical kid would be human-looking but under-the-hood, so to speak, would be a genetically engineered super soldier.

"It is only random chance I look like my father, but he does not look like his father. I am born to serve this planet, but I am not of it. The Mahdfel remain separate, always, despite our generations." She found herself nodding as he spoke. "Our name is not our own. We were taken from our home planet long out of memory, and our names stripped away. We were changed into tools, into thralls, for the Suhlik and in many ways, we remain their thralls." He paused, fingers stroking her bite mark. "We are born to fight. Even in our liberation, we fight the Suhlik. They define our existence."

She never thought of it that way. He had as little choice in his fate as she did. Less. Rosemary chose to marry Mene and remain on Sangrin. Mene would always be a Mahdfel.

"These traditions are all we have to connect the generations." He placed a gentle kiss on the claiming mark. "What do I give our son except a legacy of blood and slavery?"

She climbed to her knees on the bed and turned to face him. "Thank you for explaining that to me. It's beautiful. I'm touched."

He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "A male presents the pendant to his mate when she has given him a child."

She almost protested that she hadn't given him a child, but said, "Michael."

"Other males in the clan may present you with a bead or charm to be strung on the chain. It is for luck."

"Mine or theirs?"

"Both. We are greedy creatures, after all." His eyes flashed as he spoke. "It pleases me to see you wear my token."

She stroked the pendant, admiring it in the light. "Thank you."

"Which is why I am sorry to leave you."

Mene:

"You are going to leave me?" Rosemary jumped from the bed. She grabbed the nearest item, a hairbrush, and clutched it like a weapon. "All that talk about tradition and being your true mate, and you're leaving!" She threw the brush, which he dodged easily. "I don't know why I thought you were different, but I guess all men are the same. And I liked you. Michael fudging worships the ground you walk on. How could you do that to him?" She threw her pillow, missing him a wide margin. "So why are you leaving, huh? Upset I won't put out? Well now I'm glad I didn't, you... you... you giant purple devil!"

"Are you well?"

"Are you being serious right now? Do I sound like I'm well?"

"You sound distressed."

"Because I'm fudging distressed! What do you mean you're leaving me?"

"On a mission, female! I'm leaving on a mission."

"Oh." The fight left her body, and she slumped to the bed. "Why'd you have to be so dang dramatic about it? And why'd you let me act like a fool?"

"I like the way you bounce when you're upset," he said truthfully.

She raised an eyebrow.

He gestured with his hands to demonstrate the bouncing.

"Lorran's right. You shouldn't talk so much," she said, voice flat.

"Speaking is doing me no favors this evening."

She rolled her eyes and gave a tired laugh as she fell backward onto the bed. "You were doing pretty good until you put your foot in it."

"My foot—"

"It's an idiom. Just roll with it." She flipped to her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. Her feet kicked lazily in the air as she studied him. "I got pretty upset at the idea of you leaving, huh?"

"I registered the distress in your manner."

"Hmm. I guess that means I like my alien husband."

"Your alien husband likes you." He prowled across the mattress until they were nose to nose. With a growl, he took her lips and made them his own. She responded, opening for him; her tongue tangling with his. He wrapped a hand around the pendant and tugged. She moaned ever so softly. His mate liked that. He filed away the bit of information for later.

"Why are you leaving?" she asked, pulling away. "I thought it was supposed to be our honeymoon."

Desire thrummed in his body. Did his mate want her husband to satisfy her desires tonight? He nipped at her jaw.

"Won't it look suspicious if you leave now?"

Of course. He moved away and sat at the edge of the bed. "I am the Council's Enforcer. I move at their will to deliver their will."

"So the boss told you to go?"

He shrugged a shoulder. He knew his mate did not have a good understanding of his position in his clan or with the Council. Loath to explain it to her, it was necessary at this time. "My mission is time-sensitive. There is an issue with a warlord, and it must be resolved."

"A warlord?" Alarm crept into her voice. "Aren't those the guys in charge?"

"Of a clan, yes."

"And the Council oversees the warlords?"

"Yes and no." He sighed. Explaining the structure of the Mahdfel military and political system was not how he planned to spend his last night with his mate. "A warrior gains rank through his deeds and accomplishments. The warlord chooses his officers best suited for the task. If another warrior feels they are better suited for the position, they can challenge."

"Can that happen to you? Someone can challenge you for your job?"

"In theory. It has never happened." No one wanted to be the Enforcer. It was a lonely position, on the fringe of the Clan and Council, always watching. "If a warrior feels they would make a better warlord, they issue a challenge. The victor is the warlord."

"Something tells me they don't play poker in a challenge."

"It is battle." Often to the death. "The very strong may become warlord, if only for a brief time. The very clever may become warlord and maintain their position for longer. Those who influence the warlord without issuing a challenge must also be monitored."

"The power behind the throne."

"That is the idea, but Mahdfel do not have thrones. A warlord is only the leader of a clan. There is no central figure, yet the clans work together." He meshed his fingers to demonstrate.

"Like a swarm."

He nodded. That was a very good analogy. "If one warlord acts against the interest of the swarm, he endangers the whole. The situation must be resolved."

"By executing him?"

"It must be resolved." Execution only happened rarely. Mene prided himself on finding other solutions.

"And that's what you do? Resolve problems?"

"I enforce the Council's will."

Her eyes drifted to his scars. She had never once flinched at them, but she never understood what they meant. "Those aren't from a Suhlik, are they?"

"No."

"Who?"

"Does it matter?" A fellow Mahdfel scarred him, marking him for all to see. He did not carry on with the Mahdfel's one true purpose. He turned against his brothers and removed the problematic ones, plucking them like diseased fruit from the vine lest they spoil the harvest. "It was necessary."

She crawled across the bed and kneeled before him. She cupped his face in her hands and examined his scars carefully, tracing them with a finger. "Is your mission dangerous?"

"I will always return to you." Breathing or delivered in a box, he would return to his mate.

"Can you tell me?"

He shouldn't. She would worry about what she could not control. However, looking into her green-brown eyes, he knew she would worry if she had no information. "A young warlord was foolish and struck a bargain with the Suhlik."

She hissed in disgust. "That's low.”

"Indeed." Beyond low. The warlord's actions were a complete betrayal of everything they believed in. "The Council hesitates to... resolve this problem, but I have my orders."

The Sangrin, non-Mahdfel members were reluctant to remove a young, charismatic warlord. They were soft and too far removed from the devastation the Suhlik brought to this planet. They tolerated the viper in their midst. Indeed, they clutched the viper to their chest. Because the young warlord was charismatic, that was exactly the reason he had to be removed, to prevent his filthy ideas from spreading and infecting other clans.

Mene took his orders directly from Oran and no one else. The young warlord would be removed by any means necessary. Ideally, Mene could maneuver another warlord to strike the actual blow. "It is a complex situation. I do not know how long I will be gone." Weeks, easily.

"So that's it then? You leave in the morning?" Her finger brushed his lower lip.

Mene wrapped his arms around her and surged forward, pressing her back to the bed. She laughed in surprise but did not protest. "You look splendid in my undershirt, mate," he said, hand under the shirt and skimming across her soft skin. "It'd look better on the floor."

She laughed again, warm and rich, and the sound filled him with pleasure. "You really do have a one-track mind."

"This is the track." He cupped her breasts and squeezed gently. "How can I think of anything else when all I think about is the taste of you against my tongue?"

She shivered, her entire body quaking at his words. He growled with satisfaction.

His mate surprised him. She rolled to put him on his back, and she scrambled down the mattress. She knelt at his hips, facing his feet, giving him an unobstructed view of her backside. As she pulled her hair to one side, she exposed the bite mark on her shoulder, and leaned forward, ass in the air. Her panties were soaked and needed to come off her. He reached for her, hand resting on the curve of her ass. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Giving you something to remember on your trip." She opened the front of his briefs and took out his cock, already hard and head dripping with precum. She gripped him firmly at the base, and his hips bucked up at the touch.

“What are you doing?” he repeated, struggling for control. He half didn't want her to answer or change her mind. He wanted her to continue to touch him.

"Something I’ve been thinking about for a while,” she said. “Stars, your dick is so pretty. I bet it tastes fantastic.”

"You're hungry for my cock."

She blushed such a pretty pink. It spread across her face, down her neck, and even onto her chest. He wanted to study it further, but he also wished to find out what she intended. She leaned down, and her lips brushed the head of his cock.

His body jolted with electricity. No one had ever touched him like that before “I have never,” he started to say.

She paused and examined him. Her fingers traced the path up and down his cock, tracing the veins and ridges. “I don't suppose blow jobs are something you get a lot of here, what with the fangs.” She gave an exaggerated grin to display her flat, blunt Terran teeth. “But I guess these grassy teeth are good for something. Let me introduce you to one of the many Terran human wonders.”

He nodded, ready to agree to anything she suggested.

She lowered herself back again to his cock, and this time instead of teasing him, she took him into her mouth. Warmth and wetness surrounded him. Her tongue circled the underside of the head before licking down the underside of his shaft. She took him deeper while her hands worked up and down his shaft. Her free hand cupped his balls, massaging.

He fisted the sheets, desperately trying to maintain some level of control. Her touch, her tongue, her everything lit up his senses. Back bowed to the point where he feared his spine might break, his hands clamped down on her ass, holding her in place as she worked his member.

She hummed, the vibrations sending him over. He erupted into her mouth, and she sucked down every last drop. When he finally emptied, she released him and sat back on her heels. She gave him a satisfied smile and wiped her lips on the back of her hand.

“You are a wonder,” he said.

“I'm glad you liked it.” She stretched her arms above her head and gave a contented sigh. The pendant shone in the half-light of the room, “That’s to remind you to stay away from other chicks.”

He pulled her down to him and laid her on his chest. “Are Terrans so unreliable that they must mark their mates?” How could she not understand him by now? Had he not shown her every day that she was for him? There was no other.

“Do you require something to remind you of your mate?” he ventured cautiously.

“I’m good.” She snuggled in closer. “When you get back, we’ll try a date night.”

“What is date night? Are there blow jobs?”

“Big fan, huh?” She snickered softly. “And I think you might get lucky at the end of our date.”

“That is acceptable.” His arms tightened around his mate, content.