Shalia's Diary Book 12 by Tracy St. John (4)

 

Seot?

 

My com!

 

I shrieked with joy. “Mother of All, thank you!” I scrabbled to grab the com off my belt, staggering towards the rear of the cabin as I did so. I didn’t so much sit down as fall into a seat.

 

“Seot! It’s me! I’m alive!”

 

“Shalia! Shalia! Are you all right?”

 

“More or less.” My head was thudding to beat the band, but it wasn’t important at that moment. “Nang’s badly hurt, but I’m not sure where he is. Have you locked onto my tracker?”

 

“We’re no more than a couple of minutes away. Enforcement is en route as well, probably another minute behind us.”

 

My glad cry froze on my lips as the hatch beeped.

 

The lock clicked, releasing.

 

“Hurry, Seot. Nang’s here.” I dropped the com. As I picked up the blaster, the hatch slid open.

 

I didn’t have the blaster settled well in my hands when Nang’s bloody form erupted into sight. He shrieked at me, fangs distended. I shrieked back and fired. My aim was nowhere near sighted on him. I missed him by a mile and widened the passage between the cockpit and cabin by a foot, vaporizing quite a bit of the control panel in the process.

 

Nang didn’t slow. Though his voice was garbled between growls and fangs, I distinctly heard him say, “You won’t kill me. You don’t want to. You love me.” He shoved the debris I’d blocked the entrance with out of the way and leapt into the shuttle.

 

I gripped the blaster. I pointed. As he started towards me, that tiny twitch that warned he was about to come at me full speed, I shot.

 

He’d already started moving, and that was what saved him. Instead of killing him, I blasted his arm off. He reeled backward, barely keeping his feet from the force of the hit.

 

For an instant, we both stared at the shredded bits below his shoulder where his arm had once been. I was as much in disbelief as he was.

 

However, the well-trained fighter’s mind that so many had honed at my request shouted so loud in my skull that I was almost certain it echoed through the shuttle. Kill him! Finish it while you can!

 

The blaster came up again. As I started to aim, Nang’s wide eyes lifted to gaze into my face. Whatever he saw there, it got through to the warped mind that had convinced him of so many delusions.

 

At last he understood that I did not love him. That I would kill him.

 

He jumped through the hatch as I fired. Fuck, even beaten to a bloody pulp and missing an arm, he was fast. I missed.

 

It was then that both cold-blooded Shalia and normal Shalia disappeared from sight. A third Shalia took over. She was raging and bloodthirsty, cursing the fact that she hadn’t murdered her ex-lover, that he remained alive. A Shalia who carried such a pure hatred that she only wanted to bathe in oceans of her enemy’s blood.

 

With an animal’s howl, I raced through the cabin, flinging myself outside to hunt down my prey. He’d been moving fast enough that his blood hadn’t left a trail right away, but the first gory splash was in sight. Two more splashes past the tail of the shuttle kept me on track until the splashes became a crimson line, arrowing through the hardpacked dirt with Nang staggering at its end.

 

He was trying to escape me. Still running, a slow, drunken weaving that I had no problem gaining on.

 

He heard me coming. He turned, though he kept retreating, my quarry run to ground. “Don’t, Shalia. Don’t. I love you.”

 

His expression was filled with fear. Remorse, maybe. I can hardly believe he’d found that kind of lucidity, however. I was so far past caring or feeling anything but the need to destroy, it left no impression on me whatsoever.

 

No, every fiber of my being was dedicated to a single purpose: ending the nightmare, once and for all.

 

The dark shadow that passed over us elicited little more than momentary hesitation on my part. Nang lifted his gaze to the arriving shuttle, an older model not quite as decrepit as Clan Denkar’s had been. “Help me! Help me!” he screamed as it banked to land a few yards distant.

 

I sighted. I shot.

 

Nang must have been a favorite of the gods, whomever they are. I swear, that man got more than his fair share of lucky breaks that day. Or maybe not. I guess that all depends on the point of view.

 

He was gesturing wildly as I pulled the trigger, his wobbling legs jerking haphazardly as he attempted to run to the arriving shuttle. He fell as I shot. Blood sprayed and he went down, but his shriek confirmed it hadn’t been a lethal hit.

 

More sounds of arriving vessels, these behind me. Some voice on high called, “This is Lobam Security Force. All persons on the ground, drop your weapons!”

 

“Fuck you,” I snarled. I trotted, attempting to catch up to Nang, who was still trying to reach the first shuttle. He’d climb to his feet, stagger it a couple of steps, and then fall.

 

I would not miss again. I was determined to get pointblank close to him.

 

A jolt of pain ran up my arms, and the blaster went flying. The next thing I knew, Hatzeg had his arms wrapped around me, lifting me off my feet and yanking me to face the other direction.

 

There was a lot of yelling, angry voices raised, including mine. The noise of shuttles arriving and landing. More shouts, orders being yelled over the voices screaming for Nang’s life.

 

“Let me go! I’m going to kill him! We’ll never be safe until he’s dead!” I shrieked, kicking Hatzeg with all my strength. When that didn’t work, I slammed the back of my skull into his face.

 

Some part of me rejoiced to hear his nose give way. His forehead was pretty solid stuff though, and my aching skull doubled its complaints as we clunked like a couple of coconuts.

 

“Fuck!” he yelled, and his grip loosened. I swept his ankle, and he went down.

 

I turned, attempting to figure out where the blaster had gone. My attention was diverted by the circle of law enforcement officers fending off my clan and clan-in-law. When I saw Gilsa trying to shove through, my initial concern was where she’d stashed Anrel. However, Imdiko Iramas wasn’t among the furious. He’d stayed on board the shuttle with the baby.

 

Thinking about Anrel didn’t end the urge to kill Nang, but it did dissipate the mindless rage. I was lucid enough to grasp that the fight was lost. The cordon of enforcers was too thick for us to shove through, and more of them were arriving every second.

 

Nang lived. I had lost. That’s how it felt. My only hopeful thought was, he could still die.

 

I glanced down at Hatzeg. He stared up at me, sitting on his ass, awe covering his ugly, but somehow wonderful features. The son of a bitch had stopped me, but I couldn’t hate him for it. He was doing his job. I offered him a hand up.

 

“Come on, big guy. Let’s calm the rest of our people down before Lobam’s finest decides they have to resort to drastic measures.”

 

He didn’t take my hand…he had to salvage a little of that Nobek pride after I’d knocked him down…but the gaze of respect kept me from taking offense. With him on his feet again, I directed my attention to my family.

 

“Hey. Hey! Back off and let these party poopers do their job. Come on, guys. HEY! YOUR MATARA IS TALKING TO YOU! CLAN SEOT, FALL IN!”

 

My strident shriek, which any fishwife would have been proud to bellow, claimed not just my clan’s attention, but everyone else’s. Fanged faces turned my way, over which a constellation of purple eyes hovered.

 

“Leave him,” I said tiredly. “Maybe he’ll do us all a favor and die anyway.”

 

In an instant, Seot and Cifa were in front of me, their arms surrounding me. My Imdiko went from livid maniac to sobbing mess as he gently kissed the swollen places where Nang had hit me. “My Matara. My poor Matara, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to stop him.”

 

Over his shaking shoulder, I watched Larten approach with slow measured steps. He looked murderous as fuck, but he gazed at me with fierce pride. “Poor Matara? Not at all. My strong, brave, warrior Matara,” he said when he drew close. “You had him, my love. You had him, but fate kept him from your justice.”

 

“I’m grateful fate or whatever let you live,” Seot breathed. “My Shalia, I’m too overwhelmed with anger and joy and regret and terror to say anything of sense. All I can say at this moment is that I love you, and I’ve never been so relieved than to have you here with me.”

 

Clan Denkar came close, as did Nobek Tiron. They greeted the incoming paramedics with hateful snarls, but they didn’t stop them from gathering around Nang. They also didn’t intrude on my reunion with my clan until Cifa stopped weeping over my injuries and Seot was able to put a quarter-inch between us. He’d been clutching me so close that we should have turned into one person.

 

My Dramok and Nobek fathers-in-law cupped my cheek…the unslapped and unpunched side…in a demonstration reserved for fathers and daughters. Gilsa folded me to her breast and didn’t let me go for almost a minute. I’ve since learned that’s the traditional mother-to-daughter embrace, except it doesn’t usually last so long.

 

There was no talking for a while. We stood and watched the knot of medics and cops who surrounded Nang and watched us for any further violence. I was the recipient of the most intense of those stares. I didn’t flinch from any of them. I’d meant to kill Nang, and I stood by that decision. As far as I was concerned, I had no other choice.

 

We watched until they took him away on a hover gurney. Larten and Barun exchanged a smirk at the bloody mess I’d made of Nang. I had not just taken his arm off. My second shot demolished his other hand and a portion of his thigh. As they raced with his now-unconscious body to the ambulance shuttle, a medic shouted for them to get a stasis chamber online.

 

I didn’t smirk. I felt no joy, no glory, no victory. I felt no guilt, even with a sudden memory of my first encounter with Nang.

 

He’d stood outside the doorway of my quarters at the rescue site on Earth, so big he’d had to duck to come in. He’d overwhelmed me with his size and presence, scared me with his aura of unstoppable strength. Then he’d smiled, and I’d glimpsed something beyond the fearsome exterior. His outrage at what Earther women had suffered at the hands of my planet’s government and belief system had drawn me closer.

 

Without guilt, I’d done my best to kill him, because all that he’d been—all that he could have been—had been destroyed before he showed up on Lobam in pursuit of a relationship that didn’t exist. No doubt the seed of Nang’s demise had been planted before our first encounter a year and a half ago. Though I’d hastened its growth by becoming the object of Nang’s obsessions, I believe he would have ultimately self-destructed anyway. At least he hadn’t done so over a woman who wasn’t as prepared for as I was.

 

I watched them take him away, with a full complement of officers to guard him despite the fact he would be in full stasis. Or maybe they wanted to guard him from me.

 

A medic gave me a preliminary check, voiced his opinion that I needed to have a full workup done at the hospital, and tried to bundle me off into a second ambulance shuttle.

 

“I’m leaving with my clan,” I informed him…and the enforcement officers watching and waiting to subject me to endless rounds of questioning once the doctors were done. “They’ll take me to the hospital.”

 

“Matara, perhaps that would not be wise.” It was a cop who said this, his tone warning. I had a few things to answer for, I assumed. Nang’s condition was pretty horrific, and I’d been spotted hunting him down with the clear intent to kill.

 

I wasn’t cowed in the least. After what I’d been through? And not just with Nang. I’d encountered a plenteous helping of hell in the last couple of years, and I was still standing. Legal issues? Fuck ‘em.

 

I pointed to Imdiko Iramas, who was bringing Anrel to me, with Dramok Utel from the restaurant peeking out of the hatch at us—I guess the shuttle belonged to him. Anrel shrieked a happy welcome to me, though I was a lumpy, swollen version of her mother. “Do you see that child? That’s who I fought to protect.” I hesitated, hating to tell my clan this way, but it would impress the frowning officers. “As well as the child I carry. Right now, I want to be with my baby and the fathers of my unborn.”

 

A chorus of sharply inhaled breaths all around me. My clan moved closer to me, touching me and glaring at the police, ready to challenge any attempts to take me into custody.

 

It wasn’t the males the enforcers needed to worry about however, and I reminded them of that. “I have decided to go to the hospital in the company of my child and clan. We will meet you there, and I will answer your questions at my earliest convenience. Thank you, officers.”

 

I didn’t miss Gilsa’s approving grin as I cuddled my baby close and marched for the shuttle. My clan followed after me. No one, not the medic nor the officers, called me back. After all, this was the Besyu District of Lobam, and the law knows its place there.

 

I had not mentioned my pregnancy to gain the sympathy of the police. I’d revealed it as a warning—when it came to me defending my children and my need to be with them in a crisis, I was a force to reckon with. It was meant as a reinforcement of what I’d done to Nang. Fortunately for them, they received the message loud and clear.

 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that sane Kalquorian men know better than to fuck with a mother. They’re smart that way.

 

And for those too far gone to get that? They pay the price, with no allowance given for mercy. If Nang ever escapes and comes after me and mine again, that lesson will be his last.

 

 

June 15

 

Another month, another party.

 

Okay, so it wasn’t just any old party. My clanning ceremony…the first of two, for heaven’s sake…is not a trivial event. I don’t mean to sound as if it was. Coming on the heels of late April’s ‘we’re having a baby’ party (thrown once the pregnancy was confirmed) and mine and Anrel’s birthday celebrations last month…I’m reaching festive overload. Especially if I add in the rather somber dinner we held when Nang was remanded to a colony for the criminally insane at the edge of Empire space.

 

So—Nang. Since I haven’t updated my journal in some time, I suppose I should note down all that happened on that front before I move on to the happier stuff.

 

I wasn’t charged with any wrongdoing despite law enforcement witnessing my determined attempt to kill Nang. In fact, Officer Breft has told me I’ve become a legend to Lobam Security Force. “They said if you ever need a job, it’s yours,” he laughed. “The commanding officer was begged to let you finish Nang off instead of stepping in to save him. His only reason for not doing so was the extra paperwork involved.”

 

Ah, those bloodthirsty, administrative-duty-hating Nobeks. And protective, too. It turns out the only reason they wanted to stick so close to me was to be certain I wasn’t hurt, not because they wanted to charge me.

 

As for Nang himself: well, obviously, he survived. Barely, but he lives. Now that several weeks have gone by, I’m not sure how to feel about that. Because he did the whole stalker thing against a woman and child, he’s not been allowed prosthetics to replace his arm, hand, and the leg that I rendered useless. I suppose he’s as harmless as someone can be on this side of the grave.

 

Along with that, he is under tight security, on a moon that no inmate has ever escaped from. Two guards to every prisoner, every second of the day, in a dorm that also has guards in an attached sealed room. If trouble breaks out in the bloc, they send in a shockwave to knock everyone out. More security stations orbit the moon, with instructions to destroy any ship leaving without the proper credentials and codes. The Empire keeps the sickest, most violent element under strict control.

 

I guess since it’s a psychiatric facility they’ve locked Nang up in, there is some hope he’ll recover his sanity. When I voiced concerns about him pretending to pull himself together in order to come for me and those I love, Breft reassured me in confidentiality.

 

“Some people, especially those who threaten women and children, are never released no matter how they’ve seemed to recover. It may not be right or fair to do so, but we don’t want to take chances. If the system’s flawed, we prefer it not to be at the cost of innocent lives.”

 

For all intents and purposes, Nang is buttoned up for keeps. I hope so. But just in case, I’ll continue to train. If that means I’m dancing around in a workout room with Larten with practice knives when I’m 100 years old, so be it.

 

So anyway, the clanning ceremony, part one. There will be another celebration when my dads return to Kalquor in a couple of months. Honestly, we could have waited and had one. But after Nang tried to cart me off, Cifa needed a concrete acknowledgment that I was with the clan, safe and sound, forever.

 

Okay. It helped me feel better too. It had that effect on all of us.

 

One thing about having a ceremony now was that I could do so without the baby bump. And thank heavens that the erotic stink I put out when I’m expecting is almost gone too. The timing couldn’t have been better.

 

We absconded with one of Cifiler’s midsized ships for the celebration. More amenities, but less charm than the little yacht we’d sailed on when my clan pled their case to be the men in my life…but still, very, very amazing.

 

Cifa had asked for details on an Earther-style wedding and fell in love with the whole pomp and circumstance of a full-on celebrity event. Our second will not be nearly so extravagant, but I have to say, I did enjoy the fuss. I’d initially resisted because I’d heard such affairs were more work than joy for a bride, but with Cifa shouldering almost all of the tasks, I got to have most of the fun.

 

The stateroom where I and my bridesmaids readied for the ceremony was a riot of fancy dresses, vanities with cosmetics piled high, giggles and carefully measured glasses of shel so we didn’t end up drunk before the rite. Candy, Katrina, and Hina should not have been a cohesive looking group, what with their different body shapes and coloring, yet the stylist Cifa had hired to dress them made it work. The dresses were different colors to flatter my girls, but all in jewel tones that worked beautifully together. The styles were similar, but cut right for each figure. Katrina and Candy wore insanely high heels and Hina wore flats so they were closer to the same size. My Earther pals practiced for two weeks on their ‘stilts’ so they wouldn’t fall flat on their faces. I felt bad that they went through all that for the over-the-top pageantry, but nobody appeared to mind.

 

“It’s how I imagined a royal wedding would be,” Candy gushed, delighted with the whole affair. “When Kalquor recognizes the validity of nontraditional clannings, I’m having Cifa plan my ceremony to Stidmun.”

 

Helping to keep us on task were the ringmaster trio of Joelle, Elwa, and…cue the gasps…my mother, Eve. Joelle and Elwa did most of the corralling, going hands-on with assisting the dressing, makeup, and hair. Mom sat in a hoverchair near the middle of the room, looking very Queen Bee with a new hairstyle and a sparkling silver dress that was more frou-frou than anything I’d ever seen her wear before. She’s doing well considering all she’s been through, but she’s fragile enough that we wouldn’t let her do too much. She’s weak on one side from the stroke she suffered on Earth, a condition she probably won’t fully recover from. She can yell like a dockhand though.

 

“Shalia, stop gabbing and sit down so someone can fix your hair. Candy, are you planning to pose in front of the mirror all day, or get a move on? Hina and Katrina, stop whispering about sex positions to use during pregnancy. Elwa, find a rope and tie all of these twits down, or they’ll never be ready within the year, much less this afternoon.”

 

I had to hand it to Mom…the profanity was at a bare minimum. Maybe because Anrel was trotting around the room, picking up all she could grab so she could present it to her mimi to gush over. Which Mom did, whether the item was a hairbrush, a shoe, or a discarded bra. My heart could have burst to watch those two beaming at each other.

 

Though I wasn’t enthralled with the extravagance, I had to hand it to Cifa when it came to the gown he’d chosen for me. I don’t claim to possess great beauty, but when it was all said and done, I looked like a model on a photo shoot. Or at least, that’s how I felt I looked. Not overdone, not unrecognizable, still Shalia, but the best physical version of Shalia I could have dreamed of being.

 

My hair was arranged unfussily, but it sparkled with a lace headpiece that draped over my crown. It sparkled with diamonds, believe it or not. Diamonds of all sizes, glittering when I turned my head.

 

My snow-white dress was no less incredible, sleekly clinging to my torso and flowing behind me in a long train. The bodice was covered in a floral design, outlined by more diamonds. The train had yet another astounding design at its hem, with a sparser scattering of diamonds on the skirt.

 

Yeah, it was a lot. Way too much. I wore a ridiculous fortune on my body, and I’d been embarrassed over it before I saw myself wearing it. I was still a tad ashamed that Cifa had gone so far, but a lot of that was washed away on the thrill of looking the part of a fairytale princess. I’ll admit it…my inner little girl swooned with delight to look how I did.

 

I was speechless in front of the full-length mirror, while everyone but Mom and Anrel oohed and aahed. Anrel was busy handing Candy’s earrings to her mimi, who for once wasn’t riveted on her granddaughter. Mom looked at me, her eyes shining with tears.

 

“You look beautiful,” she said in a quiet voice.

 

A second later, everyone was rushing me with hankies, ensuring I didn’t ruin my makeup with emotion.

 

At last, we were ready. The moms left the bridal party to be seated on the vast deck where the ceremony was to take place. That was the wedding coordinator’s cue to swoop in to the room. Imdiko Rusonid works for Cifiler, often running events such as clannings. It was awesome to have someone who knew what the hell they were doing.

 

“All right, Mataras, let’s get you all in place,” he said, beaming at us as if it was the biggest day of his life. The man knows how to do enthusiasm, though I’ve no doubt Cifa drove him crazy in the weeks leading up to that moment. “Hina, then Katrina, and Candy with Anrel…and the lady of the hour last. Don’t forget to pick up your bouquets on the way out!”

 

Rusonid followed behind me, helping me collect the spray of white and purple flowers and keeping my train from dragging and catching on stuff. What a fuss, but we made it in one piece to the stairwell that took us from below to the main deck along the bow. Classical Earther music drifted through the hatch.

 

“They sound good,” Candy said over her shoulder to me. “But I’m no musician, so maybe they’re not.”

 

I laughed. “The fact Cifa was able to find people who could play our instruments or were willing to try works for me. But it does sound as if they know what they’re doing.”

 

As soon as we were lined up at the foot of the stairs, Rusonid spoke on his com. “We are assembled and standing by,” he reported to whomever was on the other end of the frequency.

 

“All guests are seated. I will signal the band at the end of this piece.”

 

A few seconds later, the song ended. Another struck up, and my stomach knotted as Canon in D began to play. Silly. I was already clanned, after all. Yet this was big, like I was getting hitched for real instead of pretend. It gave me a hint of why Cifa had been in such a lather for the ceremony. The ritual of announcing to the world that a man and woman…or three men and a woman…were joining for life does mark a turning point. I had the notion it would make my bond more important somehow…though I loved my clan with all my heart.

 

Funny how something as functional as an age-old rite, performed after the fact of clanning, can become bigger than simply reciting a few words.

 

“The men of the clan are assembled before the priest.”

 

“Right on schedule,” Rusonid said to me. He spoke into the com. “Sending in the bridesmaids.”

 

At his nod, Hina stepped on a hover platform that lifted her to the deck. She stepped off gracefully. As soon as the platform returned, Katrina followed her. Then went Candy with Anrel at her side, holding her hand. As soon as they reached the top, Anrel toddled to the deck, with Candy guiding her carefully.

 

I grinned at the collective, “Aww,” that rose above the music. My little girl was adorable in a knee-length pink version of my dress, complete with pink diamonds and a tiara. Yeah, another eyeroll for the extravagance, but she was cute beyond belief. Cifa was probably bawling his eyes out.

 

Nobody would look at me with my cutie pie stealing the show. That was fine by me.

 

“All right, Matara Shalia,” Rusonid said. “Into position, please.”

 

I hiked up my skirt and climbed onto the hover platform. Rusonid fussed with my skirt and train, so that it would be picture-perfect when I lifted into view. He positioned my hands holding the bouquet for optimum bridal beauty, and I had an urge to smack him. It was too much. I should have stopped Cifa from this nonsense when he got that hectic gleam in his eyes.

 

The music ended. The Bridal Chorus started, and I lifted into the sky. Ta-da.

 

That was my thought until I looked down the aisle at those waiting for me before the Temple of Life priest. All at once, my discomfort and the vague humiliation over the lavish ceremony vanished.

 

I barely heard the impressed intakes of breath as I rose into view. I didn’t notice the people on either side of the aisle, except for Mom in her hoverchair at the front. Her tear-streaked face stood out, filled with love.

 

There was Hina, glowing with health, both physical and emotional. Carrying the child that I’d help make possible. Katrina, her unabashed and slightly naughty grin, the woman who had helped me embrace love and sex with no shame. Candy, my sister and best friend, the woman I could count on for whatever came our way.

 

In the depths of my heart, I held those who hadn’t been able to attend but were always with me in some way: my dads Nayun, Bitev, and Rak. And of course the men who’d given me the best they had in every way, Betra and Oses.

 

The twinge of sadness over their physical absences was chased away by the sight of my Anrel, staring with confused delight at all the people until she saw me sparkling in white. She clapped, squealing with delight. My heart damned near exploded.

 

Finally, the three men who watched with emotion as I began to walk towards them, along with the life and the love they’d offered. The three most handsome males in the universe. Even Cifa, who was flushed and crying around his beaming smile.

 

My hearts. My loves. My forever. I floated down the aisle to them, as if I’d never stepped off that hover lift. I swear, my feet didn’t touch the ground.

 

The rest of the ceremony was a kind of hazy dream. I can recall it in bits and pieces rather than a whole. The sky was a perfect blue, I remember that. Candy handed Anrel over to me, and the pressure of her tiny fingers was precious against my palm. Cifa took her other hand while Seot stood behind us and Larten at my side. The priest, an ethereal Imdiko in gold, purple, and white robes, spoke words. At different points, we repeated them to each other, promising to care, to protect, to guide, to support. And most importantly, to love.

 

I remember best the men I adore. Seot—so magnificent with his perfectly chiseled features, his gaze on me direct but warm, as if he’d couldn’t look anywhere else. I don’t think he did during the entire ceremony.

 

Cifa—his sweet, boyish face which should have been at odds with his muscular body but somehow wasn’t. Smiling through tears, radiating happiness that I hardly believed I could inspire. He did glance away from time to time, but when he did, it was to beam down at Anrel.

 

Larten—so proud and noble a Nobek, his expression promising me I was the center of his world. He stood so close during the whole ceremony that we remained in contact.

 

The family and friends who meant everything to us were gathered nearby, but for those minutes during the exchanging of vows, it was only six people—our little family, the center of my universe. My loves, my child, my soon-to-be child—we were all that existed for me.

 

Then the thunderous shout “Vofrek!” woke me from my dreamlike state. The answer to the priest’s call to the gathered to acknowledge the Matara of Clan Seot. Always.

 

The dream continues, even if I’m restored to reality. Hopefully, until the end of my days.

 

The party that followed was something else. Leshella flowed. The massive ballroom inside the ship’s main cabin became a dance club where the women shook their assets to the delight of the men. People ate and laughed and shared our joy. I toured the ship with my clan, greeting guests and accepting congratulations.

 

It was an amazing affair, for the most part. Things got a tad awkward when I discovered Megan had brought Clan Aslada as her escorts. However, they were pleasant and gave no indication to my clan that we had ever been more than good friends. Clan Aslada kept it classy, gathering around Mom to share a laugh at her wisecracks and continued insistence on calling them Al, Mikey, and Jay. I’ll be petty and admit that when I saw the gown Megan wore, almost as sumptuous as mine and no doubt provided by Clan Aslada, I was glad Cifa had gone out of his way to make me outrageously elegant.

 

Hey, a woman shouldn’t be upstaged at her own clanning ceremony.

 

Sweeter yet, Imdiko Snoy was there too. I’d invited him since he’d been so devoted to Anrel when we’d stayed with Clan Aslada. He was crazy-delighted to hold her again, and she was as excited to see his elderly face.

 

I gave in to necessity and sentiment. “We should hire him,” I whispered to Seot. “With my work at the cruise line and foundation, plus a baby on the way…it makes sense. If I can keep him from hogging her all the time.”

 

He chuckled. “I bow to your wishes in the matter, my Matara. I had thought we could use the extra help with another child coming.”

 

Anrel was thrilled to resume her acquaintance with Prince Wayne as well. He’s an exuberant boy, but he was careful with Anrel, taking her hand as she toddled about, making certain she didn’t fall. Yep, I had the royals at my clanning ceremony. I counted Emperor Egilka as a major ally, so I invited him and his clan, not believing they’d actually show up.

 

It was great to see Clan Rajhir. I’d not met their Dramok before. He’s on the Royal Council, and well-versed in what my foundation is trying to accomplish. He came with Amelia, who’d donated eggs to the foundation, as well as Flencik, who sits on the board. And there was Nobek Breft, who acted somewhat embarrassed in my presence. I guess he felt bad that Nang had gotten to me after all. I didn’t blame him though. Nang was a level of unpredictability that nobody could have foreseen.

 

The sea of faces included most of the women I’d befriended on the Pussy ‘Porter. A quarter of them had clanned already, as I had. We caught up and remembered our trip. We looked at each other as if to say, did all that really happen? It wasn’t so long ago, but it was a different life in some respects. One thing is definite…we weren’t the same women who boarded that transport to leave behind our shattered planet.

 

It was a great party. It showed no signs of winding down when my clan and I slipped off. I left Anrel in Katrina’s very capable hands.

 

The stateroom Cifa led us to was as ornate as my gown. “Whoo, you’ve spared no expense on this ship,” I said, twirling about to view our quarters. A stunning mural of an undersea landscape stretched across the ceiling, the creatures depicted so realistically that I couldn’t believe they didn’t swim. Window vids along the walls showed the real thing, as if we were in a submarine below the waves.

 

I stepped out of my shoes, sighing to sink my feet into the plush carpeting that gave softly beneath my aching feet. The sleeping mat was massive, with billowing gold coverings that looked as soft as a dream. Not that there was sleep in my immediate future. Thank goodness…I was looking forward to the private celebration now that the public one was done.

 

The whirlpool at the opposite side of the room was going to get some use. I was determined on that score. I loved the idea of relaxing in its warm, churning expanse. The bar was winning its attention, as Seot went there and poured the leshella waiting for us. Though there had been plenty to go around at the reception, we’d held off. We’d had Anrel and our guests to attend to. We’d sipped carefully at the single glass we’d each had following the toast to our clan, made by Seot’s Dramok father.

 

There were a couple of doors besides the one we’d come in through. My thought was bathroom and closet. I was interested in neither. That whirlpool called to me.

 

I moved in that direction, unpinning the diamond headdress from my hair as I went. Cifa trailed behind me, lugging the already discarded heels and holding his hand out for pins and hairpiece.

 

“Sweetie, you don’t have to clean up behind me,” I insisted, though I had pretty much decided stuff could indeed fall wherever I chose to drop it. I was not in the mood to be fussy after being photogenic all day and half the night.

 

“I don’t mind. I see we’re headed to the whirlpool.”

 

“That’s exactly right.”

 

“Sounds great.” Larten was pulling his nice black-and-red outfit off and letting it fall to the floor, the way I would if Cifa hadn’t been meticulously keeping me honest. Then again, Larten wasn’t dripping in diamonds and delicate embroidery, either.

 

“What should we do with all this?” I asked my Imdiko as I stopped by a bench close to the whirlpool. “Unless I can stay in shape to wear this at a renewal of our vows ceremony at some future date, it’s kind of stuck in a closet forever.”

 

“I was reading that some Earther women have a tradition of wearing their mothers’ gowns to their own ceremonies,” he said. “Maybe Anrel or another daughter would want to have it.”

 

I gave him a kiss for being the sentimental wonder he was. “You are brilliant.”

 

I let him help me remove my magical fairytale princess gown. I was a lot less careful with my underthings, eager to sink into the warm water that smelled so good. Larten, the lucky slug, was already in the pool, relaxing and smiling at me as I shed my clothing.

 

“Don’t jump on me right away,” I warned him as I finally was naked and stepping down into the deliciously heated water. “I insist on at least half an hour to relax before we go crazy. What a day!”

 

“You did enjoy it, didn’t you?” With me sinking into the swirling water with a sigh, Cifa had his chance to disrobe. He gave me a worried glance. “I wanted it to be something that you would never forget, that you’d be able to look back on with the best possible memories.”

 

“It was magical,” I reassured him. I gazed up at him, loving him for being my darling Imdiko, wanting me happy. “No woman could have had a better clanning day. Not even the empress.”

 

A bright smile spread over his face. He wriggled all over, a happy puppy. Such a cutie.

 

Seot brought us glasses of leshella on a tray before pulling his nice outfit off too. “I must thank you as well, my Imdiko. Considering Shalia’s former beaus were in attendance, I am glad we showed off.”

 

Ha! It wasn’t only me who didn’t want to be upstaged.

 

I had to reassure him anyway. “I’d have been happy telling you I will love, honor, and respect you for the rest of our lives, even in front of Clan Denkar’s scrap piles with a pack of thamom in attendance. Diamonds are nice, but it truly is the thought that counts.”

 

The guys chuckled over the idea of having a clanning ceremony in the backyard of Larten’s parents’ home. No doubt, Anrel would have spent the whole affair chasing pilchok.

 

We toasted each other and sipped our leshella with great satisfaction. We toasted with the next round too. And the next. After that, I was ready to celebrate my union with my clan in truth.

 

“Who wants to play wet ‘n wild with me?” I said, sliding my foot up Seot’s thigh, while my hands trailed similar paths on the men on either side of me.

 

“If you want to play tame, we could,” Cifa smirked. “However, this is the most expensive stateroom on the ship for a reason.”

 

“Oh? Are you going to tell me, or am I supposed to guess?”

 

Larten slid close. “We should show her. But first—”

 

He kissed me hard, my Nobek as fierce as ever as he took my mouth with demand. I opened to him, letting myself be plundered. His tongue invaded and swept coherent thought aside. He gripped my breast, his grasp not gentle but exciting.

 

Larten kissed me until my lips were swollen and hot. He left me gasping while he licked a path down my chin, nipped down my throat, and moved down the hill of the breast he clutched. His head reared, and I caught a glimpse of his fangs before his face flashed down. He bit into my soft flesh.

 

I jerked as sharp pain shot through me. I was helpless to escape—as if that were an intention—with Larten holding me in place as his venom entered me. Hurt ebbed and euphoria rose to take its place. I was lost in glowing pleasure before a few seconds passed.

 

I didn’t notice Seot and Cifa leaving the whirlpool. Dazed and already writhing with arousal, I didn’t notice anything until Larten released the bite, scooped me in his arms, and carried me across the room where they waited, on either side of the door that I had assumed led to a massive closet.

 

“Door, open,” Cifa commanded. It did so, and I goggled in disbelief. My rapid blinking had nothing to do with my inebriated state.

 

It wasn’t a closet, though a lot of items hung from the walls and lined the shelves. Those were what I stared at. I wasn’t about to say it in front of the guys, but it reminded me an awful lot of the playroom I’d visited with Betra and Oses in the Pussy ‘Porter’s pleasure club.

 

Wow. Dildos of every size. Butt plugs. Restraints. Blindfolds. Gags. Clamps. Collars. Whips. Floggers. Paddles. Switches. And stuff I couldn’t begin to guess at. The only thing missing was the table to lie on, which could change its configuration depending on what the participants wanted.

 

Instead of that ‘bed’ or the fuck chair that had been on the smaller ship we’d cruised on, there was a kind of round platform in the middle of the space. It reminded me of the stand I’d used for my clanning gown’s final fitting. An identical version of it was on the ceiling.

 

I had no clue what it was, but it seemed obvious it had something to do with wild sex. And since that would involve my clan, I had no trepidation as I asked, “Since I doubt you’re going to have me stand and pose for a commissioned statue, how about a clue for your adored Matara?”

 

Seot grinned. “It’s a suspension field. Once activated, you can only move into the positions we put you in.”

 

“Uh huh.” A slideshow of bawdy postures ran through my brain, making me wet and ready to step up and play model. “So, this romping room comes standard on the midsized ships?”

 

“It does.” Cifa’s grin was so naughty, I expected him to start rubbing his hands together and cackle like the evil villain of a spy movie. “It’s why this room costs twice that of any other quarters on board.”

 

“No wonder Cifiler is so successful. You put the sexy into cruises.” I imperiously pointed to the podium and told Larten, “Put me there. Make me do bad things. And do bad things to me.”

 

The guys bellowed laughter at my demands, fueled by leshella, the bite, and my general delight in fucking my clan.

 

“Here you go, my Matara,” Larten chuckled, setting me on my feet on the raised area. “I am overjoyed at your enthusiasm for this adventure.”

 

“Less talky, more freezy and fucky.” I twisted about, glancing up and down at the two ends of what I was convinced would become my happiness haven. “Where are the switches? Throw ‘em.”

 

Seot stepped in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. “Field, scan and enable on Earther only. No effect on Kalquorians.”

A robotic voice issued from the platform. “Confirmed. Containment effective for Earther only.”

I was having another look at the toys in our wonderland when I suddenly couldn’t move a muscle. The air grew dense around me. “Hey. Whoa. Okay. I can still talk,” I said.

“Yes, you can. But otherwise, no movement?” Seot ran his hand over my buttocks. I would have wriggled with the jolt of reaction his touch provoked, but I couldn’t.

“Roger that,” I confirmed. My pussy was wet, reacting to the vulnerable state I was in, enhanced by the men taking advantage by putting their hands all over me. And I mean, ALL over me.

My clanmates explored me, as if they hadn’t memorized my body already. As they did so, they arranged me to make sure they didn’t miss a single inch. Minutely examined, caressed, stroked, squeezed, and occasionally pinched, I had no choice but to surrender to them. With Larten’s venom making me sensitive to it all, arousal pulsed through me, making my whole being an erogenous zone. I moaned and panted within seconds of it starting.

“So responsive,” Seot said, and I glowed in the approving tone he used. “Though you can’t give a physical reaction, your expression says it all. My Shalia wants to be handled by her clan.”

“Whether we’re gentle or rough,” Larten agreed. He punctuated that statement by smacking my ass.

The surge of heat from his strike barreled right into my lady bits, and I cried out. “More,” I begged.

“We’ll get to that, my love. In our time.”

“But first, you must be kissed,” Cifa said, his purple eyes alight. “Tasted.”

Oh sweet ancestors. They fell on me like ravenous wolves, hot wet mouths everywhere, as their hands had been. With the exception of my scalp, my flesh was mouthed, kissed, licked, nipped, sucked—no, they missed nothing that wasn’t covered by the hair on my head.

Each touch, whether a stinging bite or the tenderest kiss, made me feverish with need. When long tongues lapped my cream-coated inner thighs, I begged them to take me then. Nobody had to touch my cunt or my clit to make me desperate to come. When they did touch my slit, when a rough, wet tongue traced that path, I screamed. Violent, burning desire blasted through me, turning my insides into an inferno.

 

They took turns lapping the constant wetness sliding from my core, tormenting me with ecstasy. I strained to move, crazed to do anything to entice orgasm. I couldn’t, and my clanmates refused to be rushed from their enjoyment. The long, sensuous strokes on my pussy went on and on, as if they would never end. I fell to moaning, a constant sobbing drone drifting on the air. An occasional flick against my clit brought sharp cries.

 

At last, at some signal unseen by me, they stepped away. I didn’t know whether to be relieved that the teasing had ceased or anguished that they’d stopped and I hadn’t come yet. I whimpered pleading noises.

 

“My Nobek?” Seot offered a courtly bow to our clan protector. He and Cifa pulled the bench near and settled in to watch as Larten found a blindfold. The last thing I saw before he tied it over my eyes was my Dramok and Imdiko relaxing and stroking themselves in anticipation of the show.

 

The soft, dark cloth over my eyes cut off the sense I used most often, forcing me to concentrate on others. With Larten’s venom working through me, those senses were heightened. I could feel the blindfold’s knot at the back of my head, the eddies of air as my Nobek moved. Soft shuffling sounds of him testing the tools at his disposal made me imagine him weighing each for its possibilities for use on me. His spicy scent overlaid a more animal aroma that thrilled me. It mixed with my own smell of excitement.

 

I hung in midair as I waited to discover what Larten had in store for me.

 

The rough pads of calloused fingertips came out of nowhere, stroking over my breasts. He cupped each in turn, as if testing their weight. Caressing. Squeezing gently. Pinching my nipples to send shocks of delight through me, darts of passion that went straight to my clit.

 

He stroked down, feather touches along my stomach, moving lower. Larten didn’t tease when he got down to my pussy. He cupped my mound, rubbing his fingers against the soaked flesh, sliding them over the slit so that I tried with all my might to kick in passion. Yet I couldn’t do anything but feel and cry out, even when two fingers invaded my core.

 

Once more, I desperately chased climax as Larten pumped in and out of me, finding that next of nerves within with unerring skill. He rubbed the heel of his hand against my clit from time to time, making my hair stand up as electric excitement blasted through me. It wasn’t enough to make me come. It was torture, again taking me to aching nearness without letting me succumb.

 

Through it all, he said not a single word. He fingerfucked me in silence, giving me no hint of how he gauged my reactions or what plans he might have for me beyond the moment. In the silence, broken only by the wet sounds of him taking me, the thunder of my heart, and my desperate gasps, I heard the soft occasional movements of Seot and Cifa. They didn’t speak either, but I was aware of them watching me as I hung helpless under Larten’s care. Viewing captive entertainment, my naked body theirs to examine, my reactions bare for their consideration as our Nobek commanded me.

 

I had no warning when a hard, flat surface collided with my ass. My sharp, inhaled breath had a tiny shriek to it as violent heat bloomed across my rump. The pain was just ebbing when another whack burned my flesh. And another. And another.

 

I fought to jerk away, the instinctive need to flee taking over for the first few seconds. Yet I hung there helpless as hurt splashed across my buttocks over and over. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t flinch. I had no choice but to take the paddling Larten had decided to mete out.

 

My quirky, kinky brain, buzzing with the intoxicant in my system, kicked into overdrive. Its wiring, connected to exult in safe powerlessness and heady pain, delivered me from torment. It concentrated on the spreading warmth of my spanked bottom, on my inability to escape, on Larten’s fingers fucking my pussy and his hand rubbing my clit.

 

I shouted in ecstasy, given over to sensation too great to think through. I lit in carnal delight as my silent Nobek punished my ass and pleasured my pussy. My cunt seized on his fingers, spasming around them as he drove me into a frenzy.

 

It went on and on. I couldn’t say how long he tortured me with exquisite rapture, holding me on the cusp of orgasm that way. I was subject to his whims, with no way to end the incredible discipline and reward. A part of me thought he would keep at it forever, with me having no hope of escape.

 

But it did end after some time, and abruptly. Larten’s fingers pulled free, and the paddling ceased. His warmth disappeared. My pussy throbbed and so did my ass. I sobbed with loss, but couldn’t speak a word. Not even ‘please’. I was left aching and bereft.

 

Heat before me. My hopes lifted in an instant as a masculine presence moved against me.

 

Hands grasped my shoulders, pushing. Then they gripped my knees, spreading them wide. I lounged in mid-air, open to him. I continued to weep, wordlessly begging him to fuck me as I so desperately needed to be fucked.

 

Something hummed. The vibrator kicked to life an instant before Larten pressed it against my clit.

 

Elation blasted through me, rending from within. Climax barreled through me, huge and brutal. As my pussy gave a violent spasm, Larten shoved in, his cocks pushing past all resistance in a demanding thrust.

 

Another earthshattering blast walloped me. I would have screamed, but I couldn’t draw breath. Holy fuck, I came with brutal force.

 

Wave after wave of sensation pounded me as Larten stroked, taking me with his usual demand. Meanwhile, the vibrator pressed to my clit, not giving me a moment of sanity. I swore I was turning inside out from the force of the unrelenting surges. And I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even twitch to escape.

 

“That’s right,” my Nobek said. “Keep coming for me. I want that pussy pulling on my cock. That’s it. Just like that.”

 

Like the paddling, he went at me forever, fucking me and playing that vibrator over my clit. I kept thinking I had to go numb or something, but Larten moved the toy around, finding a new spot to stimulate so that I got no relief from the vicious, biting pleasure.

 

I thought I would go insane. With each renewed blast that shot through me, I begged for mercy. Time and again, Larten would answer, “This is my pussy. If I want it to come for me all night, then that’s what it will do.”

 

He might have made good on that promise, except things started feeling too delicious for him to resist his own hungers. He grunted as his groin pounded against mine, as he fed my convulsing body his thick cock to the accompaniment of whip-cracks of flesh meeting flesh. His rhythm fell off. His breath came more harshly than ever. A hand slapped against my ass, bringing the paddled skin to stinging life as he thrust with faltering tempo.

 

“My—my Mah-mah-tara!” he cried out.

 

His cocks jerked within me, filling me with his passion. The vibrator fell away, thumped to the ground as he ground in deep, both hands gripping my hips. He poured until his seed dripped out.

 

The sounds of the room swam in and out. I remained motionless in the field, too wasted to move even if I could have. That man devastated me in the most spectacular fashion imaginable.

 

He kissed me before slipping out. I couldn’t summon the strength to whimper when the gentler grip of Cifa tugged me vertical once more. He tugged my blindfold off so I could gaze into his eager, smiling face.

 

“You’re conscious? I’m impressed,” he grinned. “Open your mouth for this stim tab.”

 

I obeyed, certain that wouldn’t bring me to life. All hail Kalquorian pharmaceuticals. Less than a minute later, I was awake once more.

 

I didn’t tell Cifa, but I worried Larten might have sapped me of all the amorous inclinations I’d had to give. I’d come fucking forever for my Nobek. Surely even my admittedly ridiculous libido would pack it in for the evening.

 

Ah, but I have a resourceful Imdiko. Perhaps he intuited my situation, because the first thing he took from the shelves was a jar of sensitizing gel. “Let’s keep you feeling excited,” he said, scooping a generous dollop onto his fingers and smearing it on my pussy.

 

For heaven’s sake, his touch alone sent happy thrills through me, even before the gel sank in. I am a nymphomaniac, at least where my clanmates are concerned.

 

Cifa rubbed some on my breasts as well, paying extra attention to my nipples. “There we go. Such pretty breasts and clit deserve to look their best. I have just the things.”

 

Another trip to the shelves rewarded him with weighted nipple clamps and a clit clip. I gazed at the jeweled adornments with valid concern.

 

Cifa squeezed one clamp open, settling it to circle my nipple. Before he tightened its grip, I was moaning. The gel had begun its work, making me vulnerable to the slightest pressure. Hurt stabbed into me as he set the tension, the weight of the sparkling multicolored stones hanging from the clamp adding a ferocious ache to the torment.

 

“So pretty,” my Imdiko sighed, tapping the dangling length of gems to make them swing. “You enjoy looking beautiful for me, don’t you, my Matara?”

 

It was his way of asking if I would submit to his wants. If I would allow him to push my surrender. Of course I would. Forever and ever.

 

“I’m yours,” I whimpered, despite the tiny shards of pain that continued to jab my breast. “What my Imdiko wants from me, he has.”

 

Cifa smiled and rewarded me with a kiss that warmed me to my toes. Then he placed a matching clamp on my other breast and watched with love shining in his eyes as I struggled with the pain without complaint.

 

More kisses, sweet and gentle but hot enough to have curled my toes if I could have moved them. Those kisses alone made me glad to give him anything he wanted. As did his whispered approval and vows of love.

 

He knelt before me, and pushed my legs apart to gaze at my vulnerable pussy. His thumb stroked over the clitoris clip, also weighted by dangling jewels. “So swollen from coming for our Nobek,” Cifa sighed, his gaze filled with pleasure. “This is going to be tight on you. Are you ready?”

 

I probably wasn’t, but I wanted to be. So I said, “Yes.”

 

The clip resembled a huge bobby pin without the ridges. Cifa pried the metal blades apart and slid the clip around my clit. It was tight all right, almost snug enough to hurt. When he put it on me, the first of the jewels dangling from the rounded end tapped against my clit. That got my attention.

 

Maybe Larten hadn’t taken everything after all.

 

“How lovely,” Cifa complimented. “So beautiful. You deserve a kiss.”

 

A kiss he delivered to my clit as he held the jewels out of the way. A kiss that involved sucking and rubbing my engorged flesh with his tongue. He didn’t relent until I was crying out with need, my poor pussy throbbing with want. It was as if Larten hadn’t already satisfied me to near unconsciousness.

 

Giving my slit and nice, slow lick to gather up the honey that coated it, Cifa left off the decadent attention. “Did you enjoy that? I believe I want something similar too.”

 

He stood and worked to rearrange my pose to his liking. His liking turned out to be my face on level with his groin, my body laid out horizontally so that the weighted jewels on my nipples and clit hung straight down towards the floor…a painful position made more so when he set the jewels to swinging.

 

Cifa sighed happily as he combed his fingers through my hair, gripping the sides of my head, holding me in place for his glistening primary. “Open, my Matara. Open that pretty mouth for my cock.”

 

Trembling with equal parts anticipation and hurt, I obeyed. Hot, slick flesh tasting of sweet cinnamon slid over my tongue, traveling all the way back, reaching into my throat. I swallowed, surrendering to my Imdiko’s desires.

 

He gazed down at me, his eyes glazing at the sight of himself buried to the groin, his secondary pressed hard beneath my jaw. His cock twitched as he paused, soaking in the moment. “Yes. The most beautiful mouth that has ever existed.”

 

His approval discouraged me from useless struggles as my lungs begged for air, as it wanted to gag against the choking pressure. I relaxed and accepted, my spirit singing at Cifa’s delight in me.

 

He drew out to the tip, allowing me to pull in a desperately needed breath. I forgot about the painful weights hanging from me until Cifa reached down to set them swinging once again. I whimpered small, hurt noises as his hips thrust shallowly, fucking my mouth.

 

Despite the darts of brilliant pain filling my breasts and the ache from my pussy, I delighted in the pulse of the vein against my tongue, in the enthralled expression Cifa wore as he pleasured himself with me. Besides, the clip on the shaft of my clit made it throb in tandem with my heartbeat, offering as much joy as pain. Things were confused, with the torment and bliss swirling so close together that their boundaries blurred.

 

Cifa pushed in deep once more, making me take his full length. Again, he held still, enjoying the feel of being utterly enclosed in wet warmth. Seconds spun out. My throat spasmed, trying to expel the invader. My eyes watered and streamed as instinct tried to make me struggle, though the field kept me from doing so.

 

“Good girl,” Cifa grunted, drawing out so I could breathe again. His cock spurted a taste of passion on my tongue, rewarding me for my efforts.

 

As Larten had, my Imdiko took his time with me, drawing out his bliss and my anticipation. I had no idea whether he would climax in my mouth, feeding me the entirety of his desire, or if he would fulfill himself in some other fashion. My existence became a glorious eternity of him setting the clamps’ weights swaying to provide exacting hurt that somehow enthralled as well. An eternity of his delicious shaft stroking against my tongue, filling my throat, granting me sweetish-salty drops of his lust.

 

I would have been content with that. My lips pursed around the tip of him when he at last drew out, trying my best to retain some claim on him. He chuckled and bent down to kiss me gently on my lips, swollen from his extended use.

 

“That’s my good girl. A little more testing and a nice fuck for you. All right?”

 

I whimpered a sound that was half-plea, half-hopefully. Yes and please. Yes, yes, yes, and please, please, please.

 

Leaving me hanging facedown, Cifa patted my head and stepped around, ending up between my legs.

 

I shivered with excitement to feel his primary nestle against my ass. It burrowed against me, seeking tight shelter. I moaned as the tapered tip nudged the taut ring open, pushing inside until its smaller twin began to find its own home inside my pussy.

 

Cifa paused then, leaning over me, blanketing me with his warmth. The tension in my muscles eased as his body heat sank into me. The moment of ease evaporated when he tugged on a jeweled clamp, sending a slice of riveting pain through my breast.

 

I yelped. At once, Cifa brushed my distended clit with a finger, setting off flashes of rapture. My cry twisted into eagerness.

 

Cifa tugged on the other clamp, setting off another ripple of torment as he pushed iron into my ass and pussy. I fought the field holding me then, the tangled sensations of desire and pain too poignant to stay still against. However, the stasis was uncompromising, reminding me yet again that I had no escape.

 

A stroke to my clit, a rush of exaltation. An additional inch of invasion, incredible pleasure. A tug on a nipple, burning, biting agony. Stroke. Thrust. Tug. Ecstasy. Penetration. Pain.

 

It began measured, one thing at a time. I swung from torment to delight, my arousal on a pendulum, unable to discern which way I would go. However, Cifa increased the pace, crowding the actions close, twining the sensations together, until at the end, he was playing all the notes at once.

 

Ecstasy. Infiltration. Throbbing. Coiling, the lines between each blurring, melding them into one. Three separate sensations, becoming a single, incredible feeling filling my sex, my stomach. Heavy, billowing, massive pleasure with spikes of pure bliss. The strikes of brightness came with more frequency as Cifa fucked me with a steady, delicious rhythm, playing with the weights and my clit. I got that incredible tickly feeling that lit me within.

 

“My Matara.” Cifa’s worshipful groan told me he felt what I did. Not just physically, but the joining of so much more, the parts of us that truly mattered. Hearts and souls, we were one. That was what mattered. The incredible sex was icing on the cake.

 

But such delectable icing it was.

 

We chased gratification, Cifa making every effort to bring me along with him on that sublime path. Our gasps rose in concert, our moans growing in length and volume with each thrust. The occasional “I love you,” bound us closer yet.

 

“Take me with you,” I sobbed as he closed on the end, the sounds of his moans higher in pitch as they always became when he was on the brink.

 

“Yes. Yes, come with me, my Shalia. Almost…almost there.”

 

The telltale burst of hottest excitement flared in my clit. “Just…just a little more. Just…another second…”

 

“Oh! Come, Shalia! Come now!”

 

White-noise roar in my ears. Whiter flash of light before my eyes. And blinding brilliance blasting me from within, a detonation that consumed us both in a roiling, heaving cataclysm. Then delectable, delightful waves of shared release, our voices mingling in a joyous chorus of love.

 

And afterward, Cifa proved my assessment of how our joining was more than mere sex, holding me, kissing me, caressing me in the afterglow, whispering his everlasting devotion and adoration.

 

I have to applaud Seot for his patience. Somehow, he intuited the emotional wave that had swamped us and allowed his sensitive Imdiko and weeping Matara to process the moment. He said nothing to hurry us along, to demand his equal time with his female mate. He is all a Dramok should be.

 

At last, Cifa remembered it wasn’t just he and I. He removed all the pretty decorations he’d placed on me and stepped away, though it was clear he hadn’t yet come down from all the sentiments filling his big heart. When he sat next to Larten, appearing overwhelmed, our Nobek held him, stroking his hair while Cifa got himself under control.

 

Meanwhile, Seot saw to settling me down, acting as if his engorged cocks weren’t bothering him in the least. He gave me some water and then juice, and wiped my tearstreaked face with a cool, damp cloth. Whew, it’s amazing what feelings can be released during sex sometimes. I’d been swept up after the day. Ha, after the last year and a half.

 

Little by little, I felt less of the overpowering impact of being a part of my clan, and more of the magical specialness of it. I smiled at Seot, grateful to him for being the man he was: strong, understanding, always putting his clanmates first.

 

“Better?” he asked.

 

“Until I get hit again by the full force of how lucky I am.”

 

He chuckled. “You and me, both. We have the best clanmates.”

 

“And your clanmates have the best Dramok.”

 

He kissed me for that. The kiss kept going, his body strong against mine, until my libido stirred yet again. But how could it not? I can’t imagine a day when Seot won’t make me eager.

 

As he kissed me, my Dramok stroked down to my buttocks, which stung in reminder of Larten’s discipline. That was no deterrent to the delight warming me once more. Seot rubbed me, his exciting hands fondling with slow sweeps up and down. In no hurry, he kissed me once, twice, a few more times, pausing between each to whisper how much he loved me, how wonderful I was, how beautiful I was…oh, all a woman wants to hear from the man she adores as he gazes into her eyes. His cocks curled hard between our bellies, but he rushed none of it. He made me feel as if I were the most cherished woman in the universe.

 

He ignored whatever call of lust he felt even when his attentions moved in that direction. He set me floating in the field on my back, raising me high so that my pussy was on level with his face. Seot continued his slow, sweet seduction by bestowing those gentle kisses on my womanhood. More romantic than carnal, he brought me to a simmer and held me there. Only when my sighs turned to whimpers did he go further, treating my pussy to drawn-out laps of his tongue.

 

Ah, that tongue, so rough and exciting despite the care he used. It rasped against me, bringing the inviting warmth inside to a blaze that left me trembling. Each exquisite nuance of that magnificent tongue lingered over each fold as it explored every crease. More incredible was when it dove into me, tasting me as deeply as it could go.

 

Seot settled his thumb on my clit and rubbed, sending new spikes of need through me. But it wasn’t just that…he’d slipped a vibrating sleeve over his thumb. It shivered to life, a gentle thrumming sensation to awaken all the cells of my being. I gasped his name.

 

Seot said nothing in return, continuing to fuck me with his tongue as he drew circles around my most responsive flesh. My hips fought to move, to put that vibrating sleeve where I needed it to be, to grind my pussy against my Dramok’s mouth. I thought that he would torment me forever, as Larten had.

 

But no…that was not Seot’s plan. Instead, as my cries grew louder and more desperate, he settled the pad against my swollen nub, letting it play against the most sensitive spot. Ecstasy swept in, and tender convulsions moved through me. A quiet, lazy orgasm, one I could ride with lucid enjoyment rather than being blasted out of my skull.

 

When the spasms began to quiet, Seot returned to drawing circles around my clit, still pumping his tongue in and out of me. He gave me a few minutes to recover and regain heightened desire once more before setting off another pleasant climax.

 

It was lovely to indulge in such serene satisfaction. Which do I prefer—full steam ahead, gonzo obliteration? Or this calm, quiet bliss that let me remain in the moment as waves of rapture ebbed and flowed?

 

I like both equally. They are perfect for different reasons.

 

Seot finally ended his feast. He lowered me and brought me to a sitting position in mid-air.

 

“I do love it when your eyes have that unfocused glaze,” Seot teased me. “It makes me feel as if I’ve done something right.”

 

“You have yet to do anything wrong,’ I sighed.

 

He kissed my lips again, chuckling as he did so. I tasted myself on him, and found the proof of what he’d done exhilarating. As we kissed, he positioned me, setting my entrance against his primary. He pulled me down.

 

But only a little, just enough that I’d captured the tip of him. What followed was a slow taking, as Cifa had done, except I was tugged onto Seot rather than him pushing into me.

 

Without clamps and weights to distract me, I was as aware of my Dramok’s cocks as I had been of his tongue when he’d used that on me. I felt the heat of him against the rim of my ass, the lips of my sex. His slickness mingled with mine, making it impossible to know which of the two of us was the wetter. The slow nudging of his cocks as their tapered ends gave way to more girth forced me to yield inch by inch. When he was more deeply within, I could feel the throb of his pulse inside me. Our slow joining was profound in its simplicity, in the fact that he did nothing else but squeeze my breasts and kiss my lips. It made me aware of every sensation, every breath, every tremor.

 

Bit by bit, inch by inch, I sank down, joining us. When he wasn’t kissing me, we gazed in each other’s eyes, and I felt on the most profound level our union. Have I mentioned how I love that man? As I write this, I am swamped with the emotion all over again. I love him, all of them, so much.

 

At last, we were fused, man and woman, on all possible levels. I almost wept again at the perfection. How was it I’d been so lucky, had survived all I had, to make it here? Surely someone or something, whether it was the ancestors, God, whatever, had to have ordained it to happen.

 

With us so fully entwined, Seot stared into my eyes yet again. “Field, off,” he whispered.

 

Gravity drew on me, putting my full weight on Seot. Not that he seemed to notice. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, holding on, delighting in being able to cling so tightly.

 

We didn’t speak. When we moved, we went slow, reveling in our connection, making each shift, each undulation, each thrust mindful. Meaningful. Paying intent attention to how we slid against each other. We saw each twitch of a jaw muscle, intake of breath, flutter of eyelids. We moved and gauged the other’s responses, a slow, careful exploration of what caused reaction.

 

Desire rose slow and sure, a gradual increase in heat and excitement. We did not rush anything. We gloried in each passing moment, in perfection of our togetherness. When more profound surges of elation fired inside me, I didn’t hurry the pace. Seot’s soft moans rather than eager thrusting told me of his increased excitement. We didn’t go at each other with the usual desperate reach for culmination, chasing that lightning strike of completion. We coaxed it in with soft kisses, gentle friction, and love in our gazes.

 

Even with that careful ride that I believe neither of us wanted to end, desire mounted higher. My pussy tightened on Seot’s jerking cock with increasing frequency, warning we couldn’t go on forever. I was glowing from within, surges of the purest pleasure drawing me taut. Deliberate slides of our bodies brought fresh waves of luscious electricity, crackling my senses.

 

Seot clutched my ass, indicating his approaching dissolution. “I’m coming,” he gasped. “My Matara, I’m coming.”

 

The tension of oncoming release drew his brows tight. At last he broke eye contact, his head falling back, mouth opening as he tensed. Seeing him succumb was all I needed to break: rapture swept through me too, as if his jolting primary poured his release inside, to be expended by me.

 

Our cries rang through the room as we writhed against each other, holding on tightly, moving to coax each mote of pleasure from the other, not going still until the final sweet pulse of exhilaration bled away.

 

Keeping us joined, Seot carried me to the bed where the other two awaited us. I was placed in the center of the clan, my men’s warm bodies curled against mine, our limbs twined in a knot as if to tie us all together forever.

 

It had been a long, sometimes horrific journey to this point. From Earth with its repressive government, post-Armageddon starvation, and violent adherents to the old ways; to space with enemies at every turn waiting to spring on my transport; to Kalquor and the confrontations with my mother, Nang, and myself…yet somehow, I’d won through. I was here, a mother to a beautiful baby girl with another on the way. And clanned to men who uplifted me in all ways loving mates could elevate a woman.

 

Life is going to be fine from now on. I’m going to be okay. No, not okay…amazing.

 

 

A Daughter’s Letter

 

To: Professor Elibsa

Historical Preservation Campus

Archives of the Empire

Imperial University of Kalquor

 

From: Matara Anrel, Doctor of Fertility Sciences, retired

House Anrel

Hetlad Territory, Capital District

 

My dearest Elibsa,

 

First of all, forgive me for sending along a text in response to your kind message, rather than a live vid. At my advanced age and declining condition, it is necessary for me to dictate correspondence in short sessions. I trust you will excuse a very old woman for taking so long to answer, especially in a communication as lengthy as this will be.

 

I am delighted you received the journal of my mother, Matara Shalia of Clan Seot. I agree it will add greatly to the archives, detailing the early experiences of Earther women immigrating to the Kalquorian Empire in the wake of their planet’s demise. I was shocked when you told me that so few kept diaries of that period—but with all the upheavals of the era, perhaps it’s not so surprising, after all. That my mother noted down what she did, and in such detail, is a credit to her. However, I doubt she expected it to be enshrined for posterity. Indeed, had she guessed it would become a ‘treasured artifact’ as you describe it, she might have written a good deal less about the more personal details.

 

I will do my best to answer the questions you posed, clearing up the matters and detailing the history her earliest journals don’t answer. I can only answer from my own viewpoint, limited as it is. Also, the passage of years and my subjective opinion of my mother may have dimmed a few of my memories. The woman I knew as Matara Shalia bears little resemblance to the Shalia Monroe who began her journal as a desperate survivor in the wake of Armageddon. For me, Mom was confident, in control of her destiny, unafraid to face anything or anyone. Well, maybe with the exception of her own mother. Reading her thoughts has been a revelation.

 

That’s one thing that opening those old journal files did for me, for which I will be forever grateful: understanding Mom better than I could have hoped for.

 

In answer to your first question: as far as I’m aware, Mom never did see Clan Dusa again. She didn’t speak of them to me. For many years, I knew nothing of their existence. If she continued to wonder as to their fate and lives after she left them, I suppose I will never know. However, if you will forgive me for saying so, perhaps there is another question behind what you asked. Am I accurate in supposing you wonder if my biological sire was pinpointed?

 

I understand the reluctance to come right out and ask such. We do not question parentage in our society. As it should be; Clan Seot was my parent clan, in every way. My fathers gave me no reason to be concerned that I was the sole child of their clan not blood-related to them. They treated me with the same love and care as they did my siblings. In fact, I believe I was doted on more than the rest, by virtue of being the firstborn.

 

I wouldn’t have thought twice about the matter myself, had a message not once gotten through to me from Dramok Nang, held in a criminal psychiatric ward off the planet. Somehow, though it shouldn’t have happened, he managed to send a vid to me when I was twelve years old. In it, he affirmed he was my father, that he still loved my mother, that we would all someday be together as a family. Naturally, I wasn’t sure of what to make of the message from this white-haired, bent, scarred, and wasted creature. After my parents’ excitement died down, it was explained to me that Mom had known this man before she’d met my fathers, and yes, there was a slight chance he could be my biological sire. Being the mischievous and outspoken pre-teen I was, my initial reaction was to tell my mother that I was glad her taste in men had improved since Nang. I believe my exact words were: “Were you blind or did you feel sorry for the ugly old thing?” Her response was, “He didn’t always look sickly. And he wasn’t always confused about reality.”

 

Except for some tension in the following weeks, that was all that was said about the matter. Dramok Nang never sent out any further messages. He didn’t leave that penal colony until his death a few years later, when his clanmates claimed his body and put him to rest. And yes, my mother did continue to train like a Nobek, even after his supposed threat died with him. I hope it was due to her enjoyment of being strong, rather than living in some sort of post-traumatic fear for the rest of her days.

 

But returning to the issue of Clan Dusa. I didn’t discuss them with my mother, nor would I have gone out of my way to meet them. However, I do have an interesting tale to relate.

 

I believe I was fourteen when my grandmother, Eve Monroe, came for a surprise visit. It never failed that Mimi would show up unannounced when Mom had a gazillion things going on and was at her most frantic. I don’t know if that was done on purpose. Mom swore it was. Mimi had a habit of being contrary, as well as outrageous, for the sake of her own amusement. Maybe it was her means of driving Mom crazy. (I’ll discuss your question about their relationship post-surgery in a bit.)

 

Anyway, Mom couldn’t take off from her crazy schedule for an impromptu invasion from Mimi. I was more than happy when my grandmother suggested to me that us ‘women’ go off for a shopping jaunt. My oldest sister was ten, and I thought myself far too grown up for the likes of her. I had such an attitude until I reached my twenties! Maybe later than that. I’d been the only daughter for far too long and didn’t want to share the limelight at that precarious age.

 

Anyway, I went to the market with Mimi for shopping and lunch, just us two grand ladies having a ball. I always had the best time with her, and having her to myself was a real treat. We were walking along as she whispered her usual shocking observations of the people we passed by. No, those I will not repeat. Mimi’s mouth was unfailingly profane when she knew it would spur a reaction, and I typically reacted with wild giggles and unconvincing pleas for her to stop talking that way. She was offensive to the point of absurdity, and I got such a kick out of it. I adored Mimi with all my heart and wish I could have had longer with her than I did.

 

So, there we were, her murmuring scandalous suppositions about the men we walked past, when she suddenly stopped and gazed at a man walking in our direction. Her brows drew together fiercely, the expression of someone trying hard to remember something.

 

I peered at the man too, who was unaware that he was being stared at with such unwavering interest. He was handsome to be sure, almost adorable in fact, and sweet-faced as most Imdikos are. His straight, casually-styled hair hung to his shoulders, and he moved along, smiling at everything and everyone…not because they pleased him, but as if it was the natural expression his features fell into when he wasn’t reacting to anything in particular.

 

Maybe nothing would have happened if he hadn’t glanced in our direction and caught sight of Mimi. She’d stopped to watch him with that quizzical expression. I was about to ask her if she was okay when the man said in a deep and gentle voice, “Hello, Matara Eve. It’s been a long time.”

 

“I thought you looked familiar,” Mimi said, gazing up at him, her expression relaxing. “Where do I know you from?”

 

“Earth.” He smiled at her, delighted. “I used to take care of you at the rescue site. You knitted me a cap. I’m—”

 

It was at then that he glanced at me. He froze, his words cutting off and his eyes rounding.

 

“My granddaughter,” Mimi said. She frowned at him. “Well, don’t stare at her like that. She’s only fourteen, bub.”

 

“My apologies, Mataras,” the man said, still staring at me. “I—I mistook the young lady for someone else for a moment. Forgive me. I won’t hold you up. It was good to see you again, Matara Eve.”

 

As he hurried from us, he kept glancing at me over his shoulder, a weird mix of fear and longing on his expression.

 

“Freak,” Mimi muttered, taking my arm and leading me onward. “The older you get, the stupider they’ll act. I’m glad you listen to your mom about self-defense training. You’ll be fending them off sooner rather than later.”

 

It was a bizarre encounter, but I forgot about it soon enough. I didn’t remember it until I opened Mom’s journal files and began to read them after she’d passed.

 

I was eager to watch the clanning ceremony vid she’d recorded for Clan Dusa. After the loss of the woman who’d been there my whole life, I was damned near desperate to catch a glimpse or two of Mom. I also wanted to see her younger and at the start of the journey that would ultimately bring her to Kalquor. The added bonus was catching peeks of Aunt Candy and my grandfathers Nayun, Bitev, and Rak.

 

Right away, I recognized the man who Mimi and I had run into at the market so many years before. As I’m sure you have already guessed, it was Imdiko Weln. Younger than the day I’d seen him, but it was the same open friendliness, the same easy smile. It was Weln who Mimi and I encountered, no doubt about it.

 

It made me consider his reaction to me. I might have assumed he saw a resemblance to my mother, but the truth is, she and I looked almost nothing alike. I’ve inherited her nose shape, and that’s it—I appear to be a full-blooded Kalquorian in all respects. So, what was it that gave Weln such pause when he saw me? Was it the fact I was with Mimi? Before she told him, did he guess I was her granddaughter and thus the daughter of Shalia Monroe, with whom he’d once had a relationship?

 

Somehow, that didn’t click. It might have made sense after Mimi told him those things, but his response beforehand had been too extreme. Curious, I went digging, checking into Imdiko Weln of Clan Dusa, trying to find out more about him.

 

He wasn’t hard to trace, as it turned out. Working with the information Mom had put in her diary, I was able to find out quite a bit about his background…and his family. Imagine how startled I was when I came upon an old still of him and his parent clan, and found my own face staring at me!

 

It was no wonder Imdiko Weln was so shocked to meet me. I’m his mother’s doppelganger. Except for the shape of my nose, she and I are otherwise identical. I will send you an attachment of her picture as well as one of me at the age of my encounter with Weln, and you can see how strong the similarities were.

 

I suppose that puts the question of my biology to rest. I often wonder what Imdiko Weln thought after our surprise meeting. Yet it is no shock to me that he didn’t seek me out again. The Kalquorian code of parent clans ensured that. My fathers were Seot, Cifa, and Larten. They raised and loved me, and that’s all that needs to be said about that. Mom seemed to have put that matter at rest, since she never spoke of it.

 

Since I’ve mentioned a little about the relationship between my mother and her mother, I’ll skip to your question on that next. It did improve after Mimi finished recuperating at the rehab center, run within Galactic Council space. She ended up moving to a colony near there. I had no doubt whatsoever how much she and Mom loved each other. Yet there was a sort of distance too, one they would have given anything to get past. Their continued issues might have been attributed to Mimi’s biting humor, her insistence on showing up when it was least convenient. Mom had a tendency to walk on eggshells around her, as if waiting for a blowup that never came…no doubt a habit from their history before Mimi’s surgery. Then, when Mom was finally pushed too hard by Mimi’s ill-timed criticisms or crude jokes in the hearing of the kids, she’d snap and there would be an argument. Sooner or later, they’d calm down, apologize, and so it went until the next time. I honestly think they couldn’t figure out any other way to be with each other.

 

I doubt that’s why there was that sense of them gazing with longing at each other from a gulf too large for them to cross. I caught Mom crying one day after Mimi had gone home, though they’d parted on good terms. Guessing she was missing her mother’s presence, I gave her a hug. “She’ll be back before you know it,” I said.

 

Mom whispered, more to herself than me, “She’s never coming back. I sent her away with that procedure.”

 

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “You two were okay when she left.”

 

Tears spilled down Mom’s cheeks. “I’m not talking about today. I meant when I signed for her to have the surgery, against her wishes. I had no right, though she seems happier now. Even if she doesn’t get so mad anymore, it wasn’t my call.”

 

At that time, I knew enough of the history to believe I had a glimmer of understanding. “She seems fine to me. She laughs all the time. How could the surgery have been a bad thing if her life is better?”

 

Mom stared off, her gaze shadowed. “Because sometimes, she looks lost. Like she feels something is missing, a piece of herself that she can’t find. I took it from her.”

 

The guilt was mutual, it turns out. Mimi sometimes told me, when we had our serious discussions, that she’d made mistakes with Mom, mistakes that haunted her to that very day. Their shared remorse was what kept them from being as close as they wanted to be. To me, it’s an indication of the huge amount of love they had for each other, so much that they couldn’t excuse themselves for the hurts they’d exchanged. Can you love someone to the point that it drives a wedge between you? Mom and Mimi seemed to bear that idea out.

 

Hopefully, I’ve answered your question on that to your satisfaction.

 

Moving on, you asked if I believed the number of Clan Seot’s children was linked to Mom’s personal egg donations. Her second baby, my brother Nayun, was not the last to be conceived at about the same time she helped someone close to her achieve a successful pregnancy. It became a kind of running joke when Aunt Hina, Ila, or Bazi started talking about adding a child to their families. No sooner would their clans make some mention that they were thinking of another baby, then my father Seot would call to Imdiko Snoy, “Start preparing the nursery!” Not for my aunts and uncles’ new child, but for the one Mom would suddenly crave for herself.

 

Poor Mom. She couldn’t get past the idea she was somehow handing over a baby of her own when she gifted someone close to her the eggs they needed. Only by giving birth within a few weeks herself could she seem to distract herself from that notion. My fathers were perfectly willing to accommodate that urge. Dr. Cafir railed against them for being enablers.

 

A side note: Dr. Cafir did not take Mom up on her offer of a direct donation. However, she and her clan did end up with two children, courtesy of the Family Fertility Foundation.

 

Fortunately, each of my aunts’ clans stopped at three children each. With me and my nine siblings, the home was always in a state of happy chaos. But hardly was it only us ten kids dashing about. Often, some or all of those nine cousins and Aunt Candy’s two (also counted as our cousins), were there as well. Mom called it controlled bedlam, but I don’t recall anyone complaining. Certainly not Imdiko Snoy, who lived for the announcement that a new baby was on the way. He lived with Clan Seot until old age took him from us…one of the saddest days of my life, though I had grown up and moved out before then.

 

That leaves us down to your questions about the rest of those who had been important to Mom and where their lives took them.

 

Mom’s friend Megan did become the Matara of Clan Aslada. They and my parents ended up good friends, and we saw them about twice a year. Their kids were pretentious snots, but they learned to act decent in the company of me and my siblings. We didn’t put up with that nonsense, and a few bruises proved our point when debates did not.

 

Clan Wotref’s transport, dubbed by Grammy Katrina as the Pussy ‘Porter, went to Earth and came back with none of the adventures that had plagued it when Mom was on board. Imdikos Tep and Feru, so central to Mom’s welfare (and mine!), often visited once they returned with Mataras they’d wooed into their clans. I was particularly close to Tep, the reason I lived when the ‘It’ invaded my mother while she was carrying me. He opened a practice on Kalquor and became an important part of the fertility foundation.

 

Grammy Katrina herself lived to be fully reconciled with her son, enjoying her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, who often visited her and her clanmates on Kalquor. They seemed happy with each other, so I assume that Matthew got over his beliefs that put distance between him and Grammy. He treated my grampies with great respect, at least in my presence. As for Grammy, she remained as unapologetically bawdy as she’d been from the moment Mom met her. All my relations adored her, especially Mimi. When Mimi, Grammy, and Aunt Hina got together, everyone else often made themselves scarce and took the children away, because those women would get outlandishly crude in a hurry. Mom said their language could peel the paint off walls. I can still hear their laughter in my memories as they tried to outdo each other with lewd comments. What a gang they were.

 

Clan Resan was in and out of our world as their duties to the fleet allowed. They did their best to come to many celebrations throughout my life. Yes, Uncle Resan showed up, and yes, he and Mom were polite to each other, if strained. I understood they did not like each other long before anyone confirmed that to me. However, Uncle Resan was kind, and willing to offer any help I needed. I have to give him and Mom credit, especially after reading the diary…despite their enmity towards each other, they never said a word of disparagement in my presence. At least, not when I was old enough to understand what was being said.

 

I was closer to Uncle Betra and Uncle Oses. I talked to them more often via com than in person, unfortunately, but short of settling down on Kalquor, they did all they could to be a major part of my life. I counted the days until their visits, and the parties Grandmother Elwa threw when they were home were legendary. Better still were the jaunts they took me and my siblings on, from hunting near Uncle Resan’s ancestral home, to riding kestarsh in the mountains. Uncle Betra knew all the best places in the Empire to explore.

 

Grandmother Elwa had called it when she said Uncle Betra would never stay in one place for very long. Even after Uncle Oses’ death, years after they’d clanned, Uncle Betra’s wanderlust kept him and Uncle Resan constantly moving, always seeking new places to discover. Things must have stayed good between them, despite Uncle Betra being heterosexual. They always appeared content with each other, and they never clanned another Nobek. When Uncle Betra died of age-related complications, Uncle Resan was inconsolable. It was probably why he died less than a month after his Imdiko.

 

As you know, Aunt Candy and Uncle Stidmun’s union was the first recognized ‘nontraditional clanning’, when the laws changed. Sure, the civil war started by the Basma was the final impetus to allowing unions between two people, or however many wanted to be together. Still, I’m glad you and other prominent historians agree that Aunt Candy started the ball rolling with her early campaign to have legal recognition for those who did not wish to go the four-breed clan route. I credit Aunt Candy for being the reason there is a House Anrel instead of me belonging to a clan headed by a Dramok. Not that any of the Dramoks I’ve been fortunate to love haven’t been worthy to lead our household (or Imdikos, Nobeks, or Merges for that matter). But as I invited my mates to be a part of my life, it’s only fair I’m named mistress of my home.

 

I believe that answers all your questions, though you are welcome to ask if you have any others. Reflecting on all those who have passed on is bittersweet—I’ve laughed and cried in equal measure as I’ve revisited these memories—but I’m proud to have been guided in some way by each and every one of the people who appeared in the diary. Especially my mother, whom I hope looks on me with pride from the realm of the ancestors. Matara Shalia of Clan Seot was not only my mother, but my role model. I only wish I could speak with her once again and tell her so. But as my old, tired body sees fit to remind me often these days, I’ll soon be able to.

 

Be well, my friend. I thank you for keeping my mother’s words safe for those who would read her story and take what lessons they will from it.

 

Kindest regards,

 

Anrel

 

 

The End

 

 

Author’s Note

 

And there you have it. Our journey with Shalia has come to an end. I’d like to thank all the faithful readers who came along for the ride. It has been a privilege writing this adventure for you, and I’m eternally grateful that you joined me and Shalia, whether through the books or on the blog where it all began.

 

I’m sure the question will come up whether we’ll ever see Shalia or any of her friends again. The answer is, I don’t know. If a story worthy of these characters occurs, of course we’ll revisit. To me, Shalia and the gang are a very special moment in my writing history, and all I can do is hope lightning might someday strike twice.

 

For now, we will leave them to their happily-ever-after, assured that Shalia found the life she’d hoped for. Thanks again for cheering her on.

 

Much love,

 

Tracy

 

 

Other books by Tracy St. John available at Amazon:

 

 

 

THE CLANS OF KALQUOR SERIES:

 

 

 

CLAN BEGINNINGS

 

 

 

OTHER CLANS OF KALQUOR BOOKS

 

 

 

THE NETHERWORLD SERIES:

 

 

 

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