Two Weeks Later

Seeran

THE GLOW OF AN ARTIFICIAL dawn woke Seeran. Birdsong gradually replaced the drowsy chirr of insects. The night sky projected on the ceiling turned into the misty grey sky of his parent’s home. He couldn’t explain why he clung to the sights and sounds of his youth. He never considered himself overly sentimental and it was not nostalgia that kept the familiar program running daily. Perhaps he drew comfort from the familiarity of the patterns but he had never been the type to wallow in self-reflection.

A warrior’s life could be long and companions along the journey gave comfort. The recordings made at his parent’s vineyard kept his family close. Lorran remained physically close on the Judgment, but schedules kept them separate. Mene had left the clan many years ago for another. His parents retired to Sangrin and his father took up a position on the Council. Physical distance kept them apart but when he woke each day, in those moments, they were there with him.

Perhaps he was more prone to wallowing in self-reflection than he cared to admit.

He was never alone, even if he were the only person in the room. The ghosts of the lost and false mates always lingered. He’d never spoken to Lova. Never set eyes on her. In truth, he did not know enough of her to notice a lack. He felt her absence, yes, but it was the same absence of any male waiting to find his mate. It was not a burden he enjoyed but not one he resented. 

Hazel rolled to her side, wrapping herself deeper in a cocoon of blankets.

He was not alone, not anymore. His mate slept beside him.

The last week he’d had the most restful sleep he’d experienced in years. Her heartbeat and even breathing lulled him at night and the little growling noises she made while asleep assured him of her wellbeing. The warmth of her, the softness and her scent, kept him in bed longer than normal and he did not mind.

Her breathing changed. She awoke.

The longer they laid next to each other, the more temptation grew to roll over and kiss her. Pinch her nipples between his fingers until they were hard and suck until she begged for relief. Worship at her slit and drink in her sweetness. Sink into her...

Did he think they were alone? No. Beyond the ghost of his lost mate and her false mate—the past was the past, after all—there lingered his dishonor. It hung heavy in the air. He had dishonored his clan.

Hazel was everything. He could not risk her or the life they would forge together if he claimed her before he was worthy. He needed to complete the warlord’s task, find the traitor, and then...

And then...

His thoughts filled with anticipation.

He needed out of the bed. Every moment weakened his resolve. He sprang out, announcing, “Waken, my mate.”

Hazel rolled onto her stomach, head buried under a pillow. “No. Go away.”

“The day is fresh. We have much to do.”

“I’m on vacation.”

“You are not. You are being lazy.”

She muttered something, rude by the tone, into the pillow.

Grinning, Seeran grabbed her ankle and dragged her toward the edge of the bed.

“Watch it!” Her legs thrashed, kicking but making no contact. The fabric of the flimsy night shift rode up, exposing her thighs and the pale blue fabric of her panties.

“I will have morning meal with my female,” Seeran said. Her perfectly round ass rose from the rumpled sheets. His appetite increased but for a wholly different repast. He erroneously believed getting out of bed would remove temptation. It only placed temptation directly in front of him, in pale blue panties.

“This is mine,” he said, one hand caressing her bottom. She was so soft and succulent. A warrior could feast. His other hand settled between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the mattress. She gave an enticing wiggle but did not protest the rough treatment.

He longed to settle between her thighs and sink his length into her. Then he would sink his fangs into the tender flesh of her shoulder and claim her properly.

“Seeran,” she moaned, her ass rising, inviting—

No. He might have lost his control on Earth but not in his home. Their home.

He pulled his hand away.

Still...

A memento wouldn’t hurt. A token for motivation.

He hooked his fingers under the edge of her panties and tugged them down. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

“These are mine.”

The fabric rolled down, uncovering the pale and tender flesh of her ass. He tugged the fabric, the heady aroma of her desire perfumed the air and revealed the dark curls of her pussy. Without thinking, he tugged the hair. Hazel moaned, deep and throaty.

“Your cunt hair is different from your head hair. Explain.” He knelt for closer inspection. His fingers parted her folds, exposing pink flesh slick with desire. She opened for him, arching her back and lifting her hips to give him a better angle.

“I bleached my hair.” 

The knowledge that her mismatched hair was a secret, shared only with him, excited him and went like a bolt straight to his cock.

“This is mine,” he said with a thick voice. He pressed his nose to her cunt, breathing in her scent. It was not for him to taste her, not yet.

“When, Seeran? Because waiting is driving me crazy,” she said, frustration obvious in her voice.

“Soon.”

He slipped off the panties and took them for his own. He neatly folded the damp fabric and placed them in his front trouser pocket.

His mate flipped over in the bed. “Hey, I need those.”

“These are mine. Was I not clear?”

She folded her arms over her chest in a mock sulk. Or a real sulk. He was learning her facial expressions but not quickly enough. “I need those.”

“And I needed them more.”

“You planning on sniffing them all day long or something?”

“Yes, for motivation.” The sooner he found the traitor, the sooner he could claim his mate in good conscious. “Now out of bed.”

She gave him a skeptical look before climbing out, flashing a tantalizing glimpse of the dark thatch of her cunt. On her feet, she tugged down the hem of the night shift. “How do I get... things?” she asked. She motioned to her chest.

His eyes fixed on her heavy breasts. The nipples hardened and poked at the thin fabric. “Eh? I am sure puberty happens to Terrans the same as Mahdfel.”

“No.” Her skin went that remarkable pink again. The night shift exposed enough skin to inform him that, yes, the color did go everywhere. “Clothes? Under things?”

Ah.

“Because someone just took my last pair of panties.”

He patted the pocket of his trousers, harboring no regrets. “You have a budget of tokens and can make the request via the computer interface. Items can be retrieved from the requisition department.” Brides came from every planet and few seldom knew where they were being shipped to: space station, ship, or a planet’s surface. Even fewer brought appropriate garments. Each bride received a budget to outfit themselves properly. To have a female grow ill due to heat or the cold when the correct garment could avoid the situation was unacceptable.

“I tried that but I couldn’t make out the instructions.”

He nodded. “It is not intuitive. We will drink the coffee and I will show you.”

“Drink the coffee. You make it sound so exotic.” Good natured sarcasm warmed her voice. She stretched and yawned and followed him to the food preparation area.

Hazel

HAZEL WAS SWIMMING in sexual desire and frustration and Seeran made no sense. He was more than happy to kiss and stroke her, touch her and tweak all her tingly, sensitive parts but he never did anything more. He wanted her. The hard length that pushed against her back when they snuggled attested to that. Even that morning he was hard enough—and big enough—that he sported a kickstand when he knelt behind her and put his face right in her pussy.

But he didn’t lick her. His tongue never touched her. Only his hot breath caressed her there, and his eyes. Oh, yes, how he liked to look.

Regardless, it had been a long, frustrating week of looking and never doing.

Maybe he waited to give them a chance to know each other better. That was sweet, if it were true. Maybe he worried that she was still hung up on her ex. Please. Sex between her and Scott dried up long before their marriage ended. Her being hung up on Scott was not the problem. Truthfully, she wanted Seeran not from the moment she saw him but from the moment he punched Scott in his pompous face and he fell to the ground like the electric company shut off his lights. It probably said terrible things about her that Seeran beating up her ex really got her engines revved, but it was a truth she couldn’t deny. Seeran could be savage when needed and it turned her on.

That left the ugly worry, the one she couldn’t reason away: he was hung up on his first wife.

Seeran said he’d never met the woman, claimed he never even spoke to her, but Hazel knew how easily lies came to some men. They’d only known each other for a handful of days. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was a liar. Her gut said no but her gut had been wrong about so much.

How could she compete with a dead wife? One who grew more perfect with each passing year? One who remained flawless because Seeran never knew her well enough to discover any flaws. More than that, one who was from the same planet as him and had the same language and culture. She didn’t stand a chance against all that. No one did.

What if he never claimed her?

What if he sent her back?

Every day that passed when he held himself back was another day he might decide that their match was a mistake, decide that he’d acted rashly. Hazel couldn’t think of any examples of that happening in real life but it happened in a storyline on her soap opera, so it might have some basis in fact. Okay, her rational mind knew that taking information from a soap opera was far from ideal but her irrational mind clung onto the possibility. She didn’t want to be a rejected bride like Oshona on Endless Hope and Suffering. 

Hazel threw herself into life on board the ship, to prove that she belonged there and not just as an untouched ornament for Seeran’s bed. In the first days, a human woman introduced herself as the wife of the warlord. Mercy. She was a tiny thing with a big smile and Hazel had a hard time picturing such a peaceful, delicate woman paired with that lurking brute of a warlord. Two grim faced warriors followed Mercy, keen to guard her at all times, so it wasn’t too difficult to imagine an overprotective alien warlord with the woman.

She met another human, Mia, also new to the Judgment. Mia had short black hair with blue highlights at the tips and spoke in the accented tone of a Spanish speaking Angeleno. Mia took one look at Hazel’s hair, declared she had too many split ends and the moment she got a good pair of scissors, she was going to do something about that. Mia was a stylist and it seemed the ship sorely needed someone to cut and style hair. The warriors either shaved their heads or hacked at their own lengths with a blade. Shampoo, deep conditioning, styling, color and highlights was something beyond what they understood. Mercy sighed and admitted that she hadn’t had a haircut in over a year and it was now way too long for her liking.

Mercy gave her and Mia a tour of the ship, seeing all the sights like the mess hall, the meditation garden, the lounge favored by the other wives, and even stopping in at medical for a quick exam before finally getting their security clearances. With a retina scan, they had the power to open doors and place orders with the computer system. Hazel wanted a latte with lots of whipped cream and caramel. Mia wanted a pair of sneakers and bottle of hair dye for her fading blue highlights.

Hazel shared breakfast and a cup of coffee with Seeran. He didn’t say much, eyes focused on his tablet. The warlord had sent him some secret task that took up most of his time. She wouldn’t see him again until their evening meal.

“Big day?” she asked.

“Mmm.”

“You seem preoccupied.”

He drained his cup of coffee and gave her a friendly pat on the head. “All is well.”

“Better be, if you’re walking around with my panties in your pocket. That’d be embarrassing if anyone found out.”

A smile flickered briefly but it was genuine and warm. “Is your concern for me or yourself?”

“Just tell me you’re not going to show them off like a prize.” She’d be mortified if anyone else saw her used blue panties.

“It is a prize but it is my prize only. I do not share.”

Hazel smiled, pleased at his words. Maybe he just moved slow. The lack of sex wasn’t a rejection or a sign of a larger problem, just a symptom of Seeran being patient and methodical.

Their time together was relatively brief but she did pick up on the careful way his mind worked. She enjoyed television and movies. They snuggled together on the sofa to watch a program and Seeran analyzed the risk portrayed on the screen in a dozen ways. No one patrolled the perimeter. No one monitored the exits. No one checked that a room was truly empty before entering. Hazel patiently explained that it was an old program about an aging woman who wrote murder mystery novels and solved mysteries. No one needed to check for explosives.

He scoffed at that, because one person had already been murdered so clearly there was a breach in security.

Yeah. Maybe watching mysteries wasn’t an activity they should share.

Showered and dressed, Hazel poked at the tablet to order a few more clothes. She definitely needed a few more panties and a new pair of shoes. Cute shoes. All she had were the well-worn sneakers from her waitressing days and they were about ready to fall apart.

With that chore completed, she ran out of reasons to avoiding calling home, so Hazel finally contacted her sister. The call had to cost a fortune, just thinking about the cost made her sick, but she had budget of “communication credits” so there was no good reason to avoid calling.

Hazel paced while waiting for the call to connect. Who knew how many light years away separated Earth and the Judgment.  Besides, if Rosemary did what she promised to do, there’d be no answer. Rosemary would have moved onto a new life with a new identity and— hopefully— a new phone number.

Of course Rosemary answered.

“You were supposed to move,” Hazel said without thinking.

“Are you in a hotel?” Rosemary peered into the screen.

Hazel stood to one side to let her sister have a better view. “No, it’s Seeran’s apartment.”

“It looks like someone’s about to deliver room service and give you a massage.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s nice.”

“How’s life with the alien?”

“Good but it doesn’t feel real yet. Right now it’s like I’m on vacation and I’ll be back to my regular life and crummy apartment soon enough. Speaking of, why haven’t you moved?”

Rosemary brushed her hair back from her shoulders. “I used the money to install a security system.”

“Two million credits buys a hell of a security system,” Hazel said, knowing her sister didn’t spend all that money in one place.

“All of Michael’s friends are here. I didn’t want to upset him.”

“But Scott—”

“I know. I know,” Rosemary said, “but he’s never really bothered us before. I don’t think upending our lives for something that might happen is a smart move.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Tough,” Rosemary said in her best mom voice. Then, “There’s plenty left to do what you said. The ID chips, you know. I just— He’s doing well in school and the neighbors look out for him. I didn’t want to take all that away on a maybe.”

“Promise you’ll be safe?”

“What about you?” Rosemary asked, changing the topic. “Alien matrimony all you thought it’d be?”

Hazel didn’t want to lie to her sister but she didn’t want to confess all her ugly thoughts and fears. Not just yet. “It’s great. No complaints. Oh, I think my credits are running out. Love you! Love Michael! Give him a big, sloppy Auntie Hazel kiss for me!” she shouted before the connection terminated.

Hazle slumped down onto the sofa. She lied to her sister. She hadn’t done that since... since Scott, when she used to smile and claim everything was fine. Rosie knew she was lying then and she knew Hazel was lying now.

The situation with Seeran was nothing like her problems with Scott. Nothing. She just... felt alone and vulnerable because everything was new. She’d find her footing soon enough and then she wouldn’t have to lie the next time she’d call her sister.

The door chimed.

Mia arrived with two heavy bags slung over a shoulder. “Didn’t you wear that yesterday?”

Hazel looked down at her grey tunic and grey stretchy pants. “No. It’s clean.”

“Don’t you wear anything with color?” Mia breezed into the apartment. She paused in front of an floral ink wash painting, the colors blue and muted green. “Damn, this place is gorgeous. Your man did this?”

“His mother, actually, and thanks. It’s nice but I’m scared of breaking something.”

“Nah, it’s all zen and stuff. I bet he wouldn’t get upset if you knocked over something.” Mia held up an alabaster figurine that looked a bit like a rabbit but not.

“Let’s not find out,” Hazel said, taking the not-rabbit out of her friend’s hands.

“Spoilsport. Okay, let’s do something about that color.”

Mia offered to dye Hazel’s bottle blonde hair something more natural—or blue—and trim up the split ends.

“What are my choices?”

Mia brought out a small tablet computer and displayed a range of colors. “These are the most natural. Going dark over blonde is easy. Red is always a good choice. I like that one.” She pointed to a vivid color labeled rocket red.

“No thank you. I’m thinking something closer to my natural color.” She pointed to a rich chestnut. Hazel never particularly wanted to be blonde and didn’t think she had the complexion to pull it off. She was far too olive toned for that but changing her hair had a been a layer of defense and she once believed it would make it harder for Scott to track her down.

“Are you sure about the red? Because it’s awesome.”

“Just the chestnut.”

Mia gave a comical pout but quickly lost herself in the mixing of chemicals. She sat Hazel down at the table and draped a black cape over her.

“Did you do any deep conditioning?” Mia asked, applying a cold, dark paste at Hazel’s roots. She methodically took a section of hair, coated it in the paste then wrapped it neatly in silver foil.

“I worked double shifts waitressing. A beauty regimen wasn’t my top priority.”

“A healthy shine to your hair would get more tips.”

“So does having your boobs out in a bikini all day.”

Mia snorted. “You worked at one of those places.”

“It was a family restaurant.”

Another snort.

“On the beach.”

A head tilt and a murmur, acknowledging that the bikini beach restaurant could be real. 

“And alien themed.”

“Now you’re just shitting me.”

They fell into an easy silence as Mia applied the paste. Once all her hair was neatly wrapped and not dripping, Hazel opened a bottle of wine.

“Are you sure we can have that?” Mia ask, holding out an eager glass.

“Seeran opened it last night, so I think so. How long does an open bottle of wine keep?”

Mia shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve never had that problem.”

Hazel poured a modest glass of the light green wine. “He said it’s a dessert wine from his family’s vineyard.”

“A vineyard? Oh-la-la, that’s fancy.”

“Right?” Hazel kept her tone jovial but it worried her. She and Seeran had so little in common beyond raw attraction. He enjoyed fine wines and every evening opened a bottle, explaining the bouquet to her inexperience nose. She had never been a wine person, more a can of beer type of gal. “I think he has a sweet tooth. He’s got a lot of dessert wines.”

Mia sipped and wrinkled her nose. “That is so sweet my teeth hurt. I love it.”

They worked on the bottle while waiting for the color to develop. When the timer went off, Hazel rinsed her hair and used a specialty shampoo to help the color set.  After the shampoo came a conditioner, followed by a deep conditioner. She wasn’t sure that she needed so many bottles of goo but at least they smelled nice. When Mia was satisfied, Hazel had to admit that her hair was softer than it had been since she’d gone blonde. Minutes later she was all trimmed up; no more split ends.

The door chimed again. This time an unfamiliar warrior lurked in the door, his expression grim. His horns seemed overly tall, like they would scrape against the doorway if he were to step inside. He did not come in but his toes were at the threshold. 

“Cen!” Mia flung herself at the male, wrapping her arms around him. “Oh my God, I must have lost track of time. Have you met Hazel? This is Hazel. Hazel, this is my man Cen. Isn’t he the most handsome?”

His eyes, a luminous green, darted quickly, as if taking in the room. “You are alone.”

“No, I’m with Hazel.”

“I told you to remain in our quarters. It is not safe for a female alone.”

“Hazel needed me, Cen, just needed my mad skills.”

Hazel tucked a strand of her now chestnut hair behind an ear. Her hair hadn’t looked that bad.

Cen folded his arms over his chest. “I will not have you disobey me, mate.”

“I was in someone’s quarters all day. Safe. Now stop worrying.” Mia turned back to Hazel and made a funny face, as if confused by her over protective mate.

Cen grabbed her at the elbow and yanked her around. He lowered his face to hers. “It. Is. Not. Safe. I will not have you risk your... person to socialize with this unclaimed female.”

Hazel’s hand drifted to her neck and rubbed at the unblemished skin. “Hey, I’m not unclaimed.”

Cen acted as if he could not hear her and his eyes drifted over her as she were invisible and not standing next to his wife. “She is a rejected female and not worthy of your time. I forbid you to associate with her. Do you heed your mate?”

Mia tried to pull away her arm. “That’s too tight. You’re hurting me.”

He gave her elbow a shake. “Do you heed me?”

“Yes! Fine. Let go.”

Hazel knitted her brows together. Not cool. “You don’t have to go, Mia,” she said. She was not impressed with this Cen character and Mia should know that she didn’t have to stick with him if she didn’t want.

Cen finally focused on Hazel. He released Mia from his grip, seemingly unconcerned as his mate rubbed her elbow to sooth the pain he inflicted.

Hazel didn’t like him. Not one bit.

“I’ll see you soon,” Hazel said as Mia collected her things. “Call me if you need anything. Any time. Anything.”

Mia nodded. “I’m fine. Really. Apparently there was a Suhlik attack not long ago and everyone is a bit on edge.”

Hazel watched Cen carefully as they left. He shifted, nervously, like a man trying to hide something. He wasn’t on edge because of the threat of attack. He was on edge because he didn’t want his secrets discovered.

She really didn’t like him.