The Iriduan’s Mate by Susan Trombley

Fifteen

Second-tier was almost as much of a hole as under-tier. Shulgi didn’t feel much safer in this place than he did on Zaska’s turf. At the same time, the tier leaders for this level likely didn’t belong to Zaska, which meant they wouldn’t necessarily serve his bidding.

It bothered him that Molly would be forced to travel to this tier, though he suspected most of the casual criminals would be put off by the hulking forms of her two bodyguards. No one tangled with Ultimen on a lark. Even the more experienced criminals would seek a better opportunity than one where her guards flanked her, and they’d never find it, because once she was with Shulgi, they wouldn’t be able to touch her.

He wanted to urge her to again consider allowing him to rescue her. It was likely she had a tracker implanted in her body from Zaska in addition to the slave collar that was ubiquitous around her neck, but he knew several medical techs capable of removing even the exploding kind. For someone like Namerian, it would be as simple as skimming the water, but he didn’t dare tell his kin about Molly yet. His strong attraction to her and her connection to Zaska would be a definite concern for the professor.

The inn where she’d told him to meet her looked nicer than he’d anticipated, though still far below the quality and luxury of most of the resting houses within the dreg. Iriduans had a love of luxury that even the lowest citizens felt. Most of the furnishings within this inn were pragmatic and functional, with no eye towards beauty.

Still, it was cleaner than most of the establishments on second-tier, and he didn’t feel like he would end up sticking to the bench when he sat while he waited for Molly’s arrival. He also didn’t feel like the available food would be poisoned or undercooked, though he wouldn’t eat here. An Iriduan didn’t remove his mask outside the dreg unless he was assured there weren’t pheromones that could afflict him.

Time ticked by as he watched customers flow in and out of the inn. Many seemed to be only there for the food, some clearly there to rest, and still others were there for a short stay whose purpose was obvious, based on the people they had with them and their behavior.

It didn’t surprise him that Molly was familiar with this place, but it really bothered him and made him more determined to get her away from Zaska. He only wished he had the ability to give her a home with him.

He looked down at his wrist com, bringing up one of her messages as he had done many times since she’d sent it to him.

I don’t need saving. Just love.

If he were free to love her, he would make sure she never wanted for love again. He would treat her like the queen she was, and worship her the way any Iriduan male worshipped their mate. Not because he was afflicted, but because he genuinely wanted her.

Too many things kept him from even dreaming of such a thing. Too many things that he could not afford to abandon. He also had a bloody past—a terrible past—that few mates could forgive. It was a past he could not forgive. He wasn’t free to love, even though he was cured of his imprinting and Ninhursag was nothing but a despised memory.

He wished his position were different. Wished he could be with her the way she seemed to want. All he could do was help her as much as he could, and free her from her enslavement, the way he’d been freed from his.

The doors to the inn slid open, and the clients in both the lobby and the attached dining room and bar where Shulgi sat waiting in a shadowed corner turned to look at those who entered.

The towering Ultimen were unmistakable and easily recognizable, since they lacked the energy beads and braids typical of the rare Ultiman seen on this tier. The small figure between them wore a hooded cloak that concealed her features, but Shulgi straightened, his wings flicking around the back of the seat with his anticipation.

The green cloak had Zaska’s coiled tentacle markings on it, and at least some of the clients appeared to recognize the threat, and the personage. They backed away from the trio as one of her guards scanned the lobby and dining room, his dark gaze falling upon Shulgi, who rose from his seat and waved them over.

The guard moved towards the dining room, but a slim, purple hand lifted to stop him, settling gently on his forearm in a way that made Shulgi grind his teeth. He felt a sudden surge of jealousy and possessiveness as he wondered about Molly’s relationship to her two seemingly favorite bodyguards.

It was not like an Iriduan male to be jealous. At least, that was what they were taught to believe. Yet every imprinted male he’d ever known had resented the other males he’d been forced to share his mate with and felt jealousy daily. Their cerci had barbs for a reason. They despised the idea that their female had the seed of other males within her and used them to scrape it out before depositing their own—if she was willing to endure that, naturally, since they did nothing she didn’t want. Most Iriduan females enjoyed the experience, taking an odd erotic pleasure in it, from what he’d heard.

He sincerely doubted a human female would appreciate it as much.

He wouldn’t let it bother him. If anything, he should want her to find someone who could give her a home and love, and maybe even some kind of family. Except that the thought of her with anyone else made him angry. He felt like ripping Sha Zaska to shreds, not only because the thida naf was a monster in every sense of the word, but because he dared to put his foul tentacles on Molly.

Mine!

He felt a sudden desire to leap up and race to her to pull her away from her guards, then kill them both and flee this filthy world with her. It hit him so strongly that he moved towards them reflexively before he gained control over himself. Combat stimulants pumped through his blood, sharpening his senses as he scanned the crowd, quickly working out an escape scenario and potential threats that could interfere with it. He felt the rush of excitement at the prospect of a battle, and had to acknowledge that, yes, he was probably addicted.

However, he was feeling an even greater—and far more disturbing—addiction to this one petite human female. An addiction that could jeopardize everything he’d worked for.

Her cowled hood had turned towards him, and though a shadow concealed most of her features, he still saw her lips tilting upwards in a smile of greeting, flashing her even, white teeth. She waited for him to join her, seemingly unconcerned with the crowd of patrons that were now all wisely backing away from her and her guards, giving them space within the lobby.

A proprietor rushed out to greet Molly even as Shulgi drew close enough to overhear his familiar tone as he offered her “the usual suite.”

More jealousy burned through him, sparking his rage. He turned a glare on the proprietor, a finrat, who noted his ire with a nervous squeak, backing away from Molly and her guards as he stared at Shulgi with wide, terrified eyes.

Shulgi’s wings flared behind him, causing nervous mutterings from some of the other patrons. A handful of them slipped out of the inn through the front doors. Others watched from a safe distance, their curious gazes bouncing from him to the proprietor, to Zaska’s people, no doubt anticipating some interesting action.

Molly’s hand fell upon his forearm, and she nodded her head to the finrat. Her voice sounded gentle when she spoke to the creature, even as she shifted closer to Shulgi.

“If the suite is available, I would prefer it, Owngot.” She subtly tightened her grip on his forearm, her message clear.

He was creating a scene that she probably didn’t appreciate. Given the cloak and cowl, she likely didn’t appreciate the focus of the staring crowd either. He was already screwing this up. He wouldn’t be much use to her if he got into a fight with anyone who spoke to her.

The finrat’s round ears remained pinned back against his skull but he clapped his little paws together, shifting his attention from Shulgi to Molly with a relieved exhalation. “Of course, mouthpiece! Naturally, Sha Zaska’s servants are always welcome here, and we reserve the suite for your use!”

“Thank you, Owngot.” Her tone was gracious, her accent elegant as she spoke Ubaid Universal—one of many common Syndicate trade languages.

She had so much class and poise that he couldn’t help but find it admirable. Even here in this filthy place—even as a slave of a foul master—she had the bearing of an empress, with the kindness of the humblest of souls.

It was one thing to see her in her element in the under-tier. It was another altogether to see her away from that place, vulnerable, even with her guards. Yet he already noted the way the crowd looked upon her with the same admiration he was feeling in their expressions. He also noted the gleam in the eyes of many of the crowd as they studied the cloaked figure with far more interest than he liked.

Some of that second group glanced at him, noting his expression and perhaps her hand upon his arm, holding him back with the merest touch, and they wisely left the area, either fleeing the inn altogether, or heading up to their own rooms.

To the proprietor’s credit, the finrat had them seen to their suite very quickly and efficiently, barely glancing at Shulgi again. Also to the finrat’s credit, he explained that the suite’s air was filtered, and it had been disinfected. The fact that he glanced at Shulgi as he said this made it clear that the finrat, at least, had some suspicion about his purpose for wearing a mask.

Many suspected. Some knew for a fact. The empire tried to muddy the waters as much as possible. It didn’t always work. Most people accepted what they were told by those they considered authorities on the subject, but some people had the sense to question everything and do their own research.

Shulgi didn’t really concern himself whether the finrat knew for sure or not. Most of the resting houses had filtered air pumped into their rooms to limit the cross contamination of bacteria and viruses from countless different species. It had become a protocol, and he wasn’t surprised that this inn, even on the lowly second tier, conformed to it.

At the door to the suite, Molly paused as her guards took up positions on either side of it, in the corridor. One of them met Shulgi’s eyes, his expression dour. His upper lip pulled back in a slight snarl, revealing the huge teeth and sharp eyeteeth that the Ultimen still possessed, despite many thousands of years of advanced technology separating them from their primitive past.

Shulgi knew over thirty different ways to gain an advantage on that particular species, and if he had to take on these two, they wouldn’t be the first Ultimen he’d killed. Still, even with combat stimulants rushing through his blood, he didn’t relish a battle with them. They had a long reach and immense physical strength.

He also suspected Molly was fond of them, and though that thought filled him with a jealousy he had no right to feel, it meant he shouldn’t hurt them unless he had no other choice.

Molly made a soft, distressed sound when she looked up at her guard and saw his snarl and its direction. Immediately, the Ultiman turned his face away from Shulgi, switching his glare to the wall on the other side of the corridor as he crossed his huge arms over an equally massive chest. His snarl remained.

A definite warning, and one Shulgi took to heart. They didn’t know whether he would harm her or not, but they had to know by now that he’d already been with her intimately, and no doubt viewed him the same as all the other off-breeds who’d taken advantage of her.

He didn’t blame the guards for disliking him. He turned his attention back to Molly, who hovered by the open door, her cowl shadowing all of her face now as she stood with head submissively bowed, waiting for him to move past her into the suite.

He gestured with one arm towards the door. “Please, enter first, my quee—Molly.”

He was definitely losing his mind around this woman. Forgetting himself. He wondered again if he’d missed something. Perhaps he had been afflicted by her. Yet, this didn’t feel the same as it had when he’d imprinted on Ninhursag.

She nodded slightly and swept into the room, her cloak billowing behind her. He followed on her heels after ensuring that the finrat had completely left the corridor, leaving it empty save for himself and the two guards who avoided looking at him directly.

“Hurt her and die painfully and slowly,” one of them growled to his back as he stepped through the door.

He didn’t doubt the guard was serious as he turned around to face them just before the door slid closed to cut off his view of them.

He felt Molly approach him from behind, his wings flicking reflexively. Her small hand trailed along the edge of one wing so lightly that he barely felt the touch.

“Your wings are so beautiful,” she said softly as he turned to face her.

She smiled as she lifted her hands to remove her hood. Her blond hair was bound in a simple bun, with decorative ornaments dangling from golden clips that adorned it.

He frowned at the sight of them, touching one with the desire of removing it. He didn’t want to see any ornaments in her hair that didn’t come from him. In fact, he didn’t want her hair to be bound like the hair of a mated queen, since he wasn’t the one who’d mated her.

He again felt the surge of possessiveness as his fingers unclasped the clip and gently removed it from her hair. He wasn’t doing it consciously, but he wanted those ornaments—which he could tell now that he held one in his hand were cheap and fake—out of her hair.

Her gaze shifted from the clip he now held in his hand to his face. “Do you not like them? I wouldn’t have worn them if I had known they would displease you.”

He stared down at the clip with its dangling glass beads. It was far too light to be metal, and certainly wasn’t the gold its color implied. “Do they please you, Molly?”

She was silent for a long moment, and he looked up to meet her steady gaze, noting that her beautiful eyes had turned more amber than green.

“Do you like wearing these?” He held up the clip.

“They are… pretty,” she said, her tone uncertain. “They enhance my appearance.”

He frowned and tossed the clip onto a short table beside a chair in the main entry space of the expansive suite. Then he framed her face with his hands, staring down at her features as if he needed to study them, when really, he’d already memorized them.

“You are beautiful without all of these cheap ornaments,” he said, stroking one finger over her thin brows, then tracing the green lines of the markings dyed into her skin.

His own brows drew together as he did so, disliking the reminder of Zaska’s ownership of her. The desire to slaughter that creature grew into an obsession as he looked into Molly’s face, noting the sadness behind her eyes even as she smiled hesitantly. Once the shipment of the weapon sample was safely in their lab, he would hunt the thida naf in his own tunnels. He would find him, and he would leave nothing behind by the time he was done butchering him.

She lifted a hand to stroke a lock of his hair that was draped over his shoulder. “You are the beautiful one,” she said with a sigh. “I am actually quite plain under all of this.” She gestured with her free hand to her face.

Shulgi lowered his hands and stepped back, then lifted one to unhook his mask. For the first time since he’d crawled out of his cocoon after Meta, it mattered to him that his appearance pleased the eye. As long as it pleased her eyes.

“There is nothing plain about you, Molly,” he said after removing his mask and tossing it onto the entry chair beside the table where her clip lay like the discarded trash it was.

She glanced at the mask, then turned to regard him with curiosity lifting her brow. “It doesn’t seem like you need to cover your face. Is it part of your cultural expression to do so?”

She remained Zaska’s minion, which meant that anything he told her could be relayed to her master. It was even possible that the room itself was bugged. He tapped his wrist com, activating a scanning program within his ocular implants, then swept the room with a glance, seeing nothing but the electronic signatures he’d expect for basic climate control functions.

He strode to the next room in the suite, noting the bed with a surge of his blood and the instant stiffening of his shaft as he thought of Molly splayed out on it, her body bare, and her arms held out in invitation towards him.

He struggled to focus his attention on the walls and furnishings, completing his scan without spotting anything of note before he turned back to Molly. She watched him with a curious expression and a slight smile.

“Electronic scanner?” she asked with a rueful tone. “It really lights up your eyes.”

He smirked, returning to stand in front of her. “I’d rather not be recorded… this time.”

Her smile widened into a grin as she lifted a hand to stroke it over his chest, her palm warm even through the fabric of his robe. “Why didn’t you use it before?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight,” he admitted, though he still felt chagrin at that. The sexual stimulant had made him reckless.

Molly nodded slowly, her smile fading as she glanced around. “This room had better be clean of bugs or cameras. Zaska pays well to keep it so.”

His pleasure at having her touching him dimmed at the mention of that creature, but it didn’t fully abate as her hand trailed lower, her gaze sweeping downwards to note the bulge of his erection.

He caught her wrist as she moved to rub her hand over that hard ridge. “You asked me a question, Molly, and I’d like to answer before I get distracted, because it’s part of that explanation I wanted to give you.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his. “Explanation?”

He wondered if she’d already forgotten what she’d said to him. Perhaps her message had simply been part of a script. Something to please him as part of a role she played for Zaska.

He also wondered if he would ever learn to trust a woman again after Ninhursag.