The Iriduan’s Mate by Susan Trombley

Eight

Molly wished she could read the Iriduan’s expression. His eyes gave little away, though his body language had implied that he might desire her. She couldn’t deny that she felt aroused by him.

He smelled incredible, and she covertly sucked in deep breaths while standing close to him, when normally she made sure to breathe very shallowly on the docks. The stench of this tier was part of the illusion of a run-down and disreputable trash heap, unworthy of attention from the upper tiers and their tax assessors. Though, to be fair, it had been that way when she and her fellow escaped slaves had taken it over, using the myth of Sha Zaska.

Now, she could be proud of what they’d accomplished, as they’d taken great efforts to improve the docks, the bays, the force fields, the warehouses, and especially, the ships. Some of which had not been obtained in the most legal and aboveboard manner but were now completely the property of Zaska’s Shipping and Docking. Perhaps their previous owners were dead. Perhaps some had met their end in the lava pits in the under-vents. Perhaps those deaths would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life, but the cargo haulers that had once carried slaves to the market now helped them escape their enslavement. She tried to focus on that whenever she saw those ships.

“I did not expect Zaska to have a c’uk lar’cli ku cargo hauler,” Shulgi said in a neutral tone as he scanned the sea-green hull of Jonah’s Whale. He cocked his head, shooting a glance her way that she wished she could interpret. “This model is only a dozen Standard years old. It’s unusual that a cli ku owner would sell it so early in its lifecycle.”

She couldn’t help but be impressed by his command of the difficult and bizarre cli ku language. She’d never been able to pronounce the full name the species used to refer to themselves without sounding like she was choking on something. He made it sound just like the insectoid members of the cli ku species did.

He also clearly knew enough about them to understand that they didn’t often part with their newer technology, though they were still decades behind other space-faring species in their ship designs. They guarded their tech jealously, and after obtaining Jonah’s Whale, she understood why. Her engineers—who believed they served Zaska—had expressed their admiration for the engine design, claiming that given a few more decades of development, it could end up surpassing some of the more advanced species’ ship drives—and it was unique to the cli ku species.

“The owner owed Zaska a great debt and transferred the title to the ship over to him rather than struggle to come up with the credits to pay it.”

Shulgi’s eyes narrowed with obvious suspicion. “Ma’Nah cannot afford to draw too much attention to our shipping concerns. As impressive as this cargo hauler might be, we don’t want questions to arise about its ownership.”

Molly hastened to reassure him. “Jonah’s Whale is legally registered to Zaska Shipping in all corners of Syndicate space. Our crew is primarily cli ku and they serve us loyally, and in return, Zaska pays them very well for their service.” She added that last because she’d already seen he didn’t like the idea of slavery. She felt certain he was on the edge of changing his mind about working with Zaska at any moment, because of his distaste for the practice.

She wished she could be completely honest with him and tell him that helping Zaska would actually mean helping hundreds of slaves find freedom but knew the folly of such a desire. She couldn’t take anyone into her confidence who wasn’t already part of her inner circle. The chance of the truth leaking out to someone like Uthagol was too great. Even those with good intentions might accidentally spill enough of the secret to get Molly and her fellow escaped slaves into big trouble and cast doubt on Zaska’s power in the under-tier.

For a brief moment, she felt a terrible, drowning sense of loneliness and an overwhelming desire for a partner—a true mate—who could help her bear the burden of her mission, and who could hold her close and comfort her when that burden grew too horrible to bear alone. She loved Jenice and the others but could not find the level of intimacy with them that she knew she could have with a life partner. That kind of thing only existed in some human fairy tales, where people lived happily ever after.

He hadn’t responded to her assurance, leaving her stomach knotted with concern that perhaps she should have designated different ships for Ma’Nah’s use, but Jonah’s Whale and their other cli ku vessel, Moby Dick, were the best and newest cargo haulers in Zaska’s fleet, and she’d wanted to impress the Iriduans.

She followed him around the bay as he studied the details of the deceptively ramshackle state of it. The ship itself looked beautiful as it loomed above them, half of it within the forcefield and half jutting out into the lava-streaked darkness of the inhospitable planet beyond.

“Would you like a tour of the hauler?” she asked hesitantly after Shulgi finished his long circuit around the expansive docking bay.

He cast a pensive glance at a pile of detritus lying in one corner by the dormant cargo handlers standing like metallic sentinels against one long wall. “From what I’ve seen, Zaska is a master at hiding his secrets in plain sight.” He scanned the pitted and scarred hull of the ship. “I will take a quick look around the cargo bay of this ship, but I doubt I will be disappointed upon taking a closer look at it.”

His gaze fixed on the painted letters of the ship’s name, then shot to her. “That name is a human one, is it not?”

Molly shrugged, feeling lightheaded at the speculation she feared she spotted in his eyes. She again wished she could see the entirety of his expression, because at the moment, his body language told her as little as his masked face did. Even his wings lay motionless against his back.

“Sha Zaska collects ideas for ship names from all his servants, before choosing the ones that most appeal to him.” She gestured with a shaking arm to the ship. “In the case of these cli ku ships, he liked the idea of them being named after fictional sea beasts from Earth.”

Her answer appeared to satisfy him as he slowly nodded. “I am unfamiliar with the stories behind those names, but the lettering is distinctly human.”

She tried to smile flirtatiously, though worry still gripped her stomach and sent cold fingers along her spine. “Perhaps I can tell them to you sometime.” When his gaze sharpened, fixing intently on her face, she impulsively continued, “over dinner maybe?” She tilted her head, lifting a hand to sweep over her bound hair in a demurely seductive motion, though the trembling of her fingers was certainly not practiced. “We could discuss the details of the contract further in a bit more… privacy.” Her voice grew husky with desire she didn’t have to fake as she thought of getting him alone in the inner sanctum, and then seducing him with the intent to enjoy herself for once by losing herself with a male who genuinely aroused her. “Zaska has an excellent chef.” That much, at least, was true, though she supposed tastes were relative. The ramsuta male was in hiding on Za’Kluth now but had once cooked for kings.

“Careful, Mol,” Grundon murmured from right behind her, covering the words with a low growl as Shulgi shifted his intense green gaze from Molly’s face to her Ultimen protector, his brows drawing together over narrowing eyes.

She understood Grundon’s warning, and it was a perfectly reasonable and sensible one. One didn’t mess with the Iriduans lightly, and conflicting tales and rumors or not, she didn’t doubt they took mating very seriously. There were plenty of other males in Za’Kluth who would gladly allow her a few hours of blissful physical intimacy without any complications, but none of them had ever appealed to her like this one did.

Shulgi stepped closer to her, his heady scent enveloping her and pushing back the reek of the docks. He eyed Grundon, who also stepped a bit closer to her, growling softly in protest when she flicked her fingers behind her back to tell him to move away.

As he took several reluctant steps backwards, giving her and Shulgi space, she tilted her head, looking up into Shulgi’s gorgeous green eyes.

“Do you want to have dinner with me, Molly,” Shulgi said softly, though the speaker on his mask somewhat ruined the effect. She didn’t miss the stress he put on the word “you.” His next words explained it. “Or is it your master ordering you to spend more time with me to close the deal?”

She had to be careful about how she handled this. It was now clear to her that the desire she suspected he might feel for her was tempered by his concern that hers was all an act for Zaska. If she made it clear that she genuinely wanted him and it had nothing to do with the contract, he might get suspicious of why Zaska—the slave-eating monster—allowed his mouthpiece so much freedom to pursue her own desires. Especially since she and the other “dyed flowers” used the rumor that Zaska kept them for his own pleasure to minimize the chances that they’d have to follow through on a full seduction of a client.

She placed a cautious hand on his, recalling how he’d pushed her away the last time she’d been so bold as to touch him, and then impulsively kiss his hand. “It is rare that I enjoy my duties, Shulgi, but in this case, I find that there is nothing I’d like more than to spend time with you.”

Shulgi stared down at her hand on his arm for a long, tense moment, before closing his other hand over hers. When he looked back up to meet her eyes, she felt a moment of elation, because she saw that his resistance had wavered.

“I should not spend any more time with you.”

“We need only discuss business, if that is your wish,” she said hastily, though she made no move to withdraw her hand, and he made no move to release it.

She heard the huff of his short laugh amplified by the mask’s speaker. “My wish?” He slowly shook his head. “My wish does not matter. Only my duty.”

Molly sighed, feeling the strength of his muscular arm beneath her palm and the heat of his hand over hers. “I understand that sentiment completely.”

She caught his wrist as he lowered his hand from hers, moving his arm away at the same time. “Duty doesn’t mean we have to forgo all pleasure!”

She stepped closer to him, until she was near enough that she could feel the brush of his embroidered robe against the inferior silk of her dress. “Especially if that pleasure makes our duty more bearable,” she whispered, running her hand up his wrist to slip inside the fabric of his wide sleeve.

His skin felt warm and smooth beneath her palm, firm over hard ropes of muscle that told her he didn’t live a life of leisure or excess. Vain as they were, the Iriduans didn’t seem to view male musculature with the same admiration as human males did. They didn’t have their own version of Mr. Olympia. From what information she’d been able to find about their culture, they were pragmatic about muscle mass, seeing it as the sign of a certain class of male, with the leisure and privileged class trending towards leaner, slender builds.

His strength made her wonder what type of work Shulgi did, because it seemed odd that he ran a food manufacturing company rather than working in security. Then his quick indrawn breath chased any idle observations from her mind as she slipped her hand further up his arm to brush her fingers over a bulging bicep.

He stepped away from her while he caught her elbow and pulled her hand away from him. “You will make returning to my dreg difficult,” he said in a strained voice.

She caught sight of the unmistakable bulge at his groin and noticed that the fabric of the robe shifted not only in the front, but also at the back, reminding her that the Iriduans had two appendages attached to their spine whose purpose was speculated on in multiple Galactanet forums.

She could guess that a lot of that speculation was accurate, given that he was definitely aroused.

Normally, a successful seduction left Molly feeling hollow and filled with trepidation, knowing that she would have a difficult time avoiding the expected conclusion of her efforts. She did what she had to, in order to further their mission, even when she couldn’t wiggle her way out of following through, but in this case, she felt only a sense of elation. His arousal proved that he desired her the way she desired him.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly. “Send the contract and any further details to my com and I’ll go over them with my team.”

He turned on one foot with a precise military style movement, then strode away without a backward glance, leaving Molly gaping in shock as disappointment and even a hint of despair filled her.