Chapter 21

The hallway outside his quarters was mayhem. The main structure of the capital colony was organic. Scientists assumed it was the remains of vast creatures who had lived below the waves when Zanthar had been completely covered by ocean. The halls and chambers had been carved over the centuries, the inhabitants discovering that they were strong, lasted for eons, and were relatively soundproof.

They walked out to be greeted by an angry mob that had gathered outside his quarters.

"Exile the Earthling!"

"Give the Human the Heave-Ho!"

"Zanthar for Zantharians!"

His "loyal subjects”, as Dr. Cohen had once called them, were shouting, their fists shaking in the air. Men and women, and a few younglings even, were pressed together in the hallway, protesting his policy.

Protesting his guest. Protesting the woman he wanted as his lover.

Although Zanthar was a large planet, similar in size to Earth, the planet's population was limited. His race had crawled out of the ocean onto dry land a millennia ago, and there had been little enough of that land to go around. Even once his people had moved into their current colonies under water, their reproduction was slow.

Zantharians tended to live to 150 cycles, but each female could usually only have one child. His people were driven to mate at the prime of their lives, the males going into what was quaintly called a "mating frenzy" until they placed their seed inside a female.

Each female had only one egg, which they carefully guarded inside a special organ until the right mate came along. Zantharian females could choose which male would inseminate their sole egg. A single child would be born, and cherished. Only once had a woman had two. Xivthar couldn’t help but think of his brother Drake.

Because his planet had such a small population comparatively, each Zantharian was able to be hands-on in the political process. Meaning that if a Zantharian disagreed with an elected official's policies, he or she could tell that official to his face with very little effort.

"You're making a mistake," a woman said, her color a bright yellow. "You're being blinded by the Earthling while our planet is defenseless!"

"Yeah, Supreme High and Mighty One!" a young male behind her shouted.

Xivthar held his face expressionless. He made sure his color remained light green to show that he was unaffected by the ruckus.

"You two," he said, pointing to the guards flanking his chamber door. "You're with us. Make a hole."

The older guard, the one who likely agreed with every angry shout of the crowd, started shoving his way through the mob, clearing a space for them to walk.

"Traitor!" someone shouted.

Xivthar wasn't sure if they were talking about him or Dr. Cohen. Neither made sense. But then, shouting, "Go mate a squid!" didn't make much sense either.

"The Earthling whore is a plant!" a male behind him yelled. It took everything inside him not to flash yellow on the bastard.

The high-pitched scream of terror tore him from his internal bantering, and he lost the ability to control his emotions.

"Let her go!" he yelled at the two Zantharian males who had taken hold of Dr. Cohen. They were dragging her backwards, one pulling on her arm, the other having taken hold of her hair.

"We're taking care of the problem," the larger one said, yanking her back until she let out an angry yelp.

Xivthar went a yellow so bright, he was surprised his target wasn't blinded. "If you don't release her, you'll have a problem that I'll take care of."

The big one laughed, elbowing his friend. "He's going to take care of us. You and what army, Supreme Shithead?"

"Just me," Xivthar said, sweeping out a leg to catch the bastard behind his knees. He fell, and his friend lost his grip on Dr. Cohen's arm. The regent threw a fist at the second man, too fast for the man to dodge. He went down, too.

The big one had taken the opportunity to put his arm around the Earthling's neck. He was squeezing, and the female’s face shaded red.

"Let her go. This is your last warning."

The bastard was no longer laughing, but he still managed a smile. "Make me."

"Please," the female said, her face moving from red to purple. "I can't breathe."

Rage broke through his anger, the power of it all-consuming. Time was running out. There was only one thing to do, something this asshole had probably intended from the beginning.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the little professor, but her eyes had closed.

The energy charged up quickly and he aimed it at the Zantharian and released. The bolt flew into the man, causing his entire body to shake, his head hitting the hallway floor. With the asshole’s hold on Sylvie, she got a large dose of lightning as well.

She screamed, and something contracted painfully in the regent's chest.

Xivthar watched for the man's arm muscles to relax, then grabbed the Earthling from his grip. Without a pause he kicked the Zantharian in the face before he could stand.

The crowd around them had fallen silent. Without hesitation, Xivthar lifted the female into his arms and carried her down the hallway, away from the mob before it could regain its vigor.

She hadn’t opened her eyes yet and her breathing was labored at best.

"Dr. Cohen," he said, wincing at the anxiety that coated his voice. The need to protect her rolled over him in large waves. He was frantic to keep her safe and worry rose up inside of him that she might hate him for having shocked her again.

She didn't open her eyes, but her tiny voice said, "Sylvie."

"What?"

"Call me Sylvie," she said, a strange smile curving her lips.

She's out of it, he thought, then pulled her tighter to his chest. The sound of her voice left him calming fast. She was alive and still talking to him. A warmth flooded his being, something he'd never felt before. Something constricted in his gut, a curious sensation. It only made him want to hold her tighter.

"Are you hurt?" When she still didn't respond, he shook her gently.

She stirred, a grimace painting her beautiful face.

"I'm sorry," he said when she opened her eyes. "I had to get you out of there."

"So you shocked me again?"

Xivthar felt like a seahorse's ass. "It was the only thing I could think of."

Her gaze was full of fire. "Put me down."

"You could be injured," he said, knowing she wasn't but not wanting to put her down yet. She felt too good in his arms.

She fixed him with a disbelieving glare. "I'm not. So put. Me. Down."

He set her down, letting out a soft sigh. He enjoyed it better when she was dizzy and full of friendly smiles. The sensation in his gut wound even tighter as he moved back from her. He'd never felt anything like that before. It was like nervousness, but a thousand times worse. A deep anxiety coupled with something else... something that didn't want to let Sylvie out of his arms.

The regent took a deep breath, attempting to banish the feeling.

"In fact, I think I'm starting to like the shocks." She shrugged and reached up, attempting to settle down her blond curls. They had become severely disarranged after being yanked on by the Zantharian. Not to mention the bolt of electricity, which had caused her hair to stand on end. "You could say they are electrifying."

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" He lifted a brow at her. Her tone of voice was out of the ordinary.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked. "I've been in a crash, on a dissection table, and mauled by shape-changing aliens. Not to mention everyone on your planet hates me. Oh, and the whole being nearly electrocuted. Twice. The only good thing that’s happened was… well… you."

"Not everyone hates you." He reached out and touched her cheek, the pretty pink coloring it due to her mentioning their sex perhaps. He licked his lips, unable to help himself. She was delicious and he would be lying if having more of her wasn’t on his mind, right behind the need to protect her.

She stopped, staring at him. "Are you blind? Did you fail to see the 'Earthlings are the Enemy' signs being waved around by the crowd?"

"I don't hate you."

Far from it. I want to work toward inter-species mating and keep you forever...

The pretty woman let out a long, frustrated breath, which caused the locks on her forehead to fly into the air and stay there. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged down the hallway again toward the Ministry of Science.

Xivthar turned to follow her, wishing like hell that she was back in his arms. He longed to provide some kind of comfort for her. Having an entire planet of aliens you hadn't known existed crying out for your blood could be a bit overwhelming, but she was strong.

It didn't take long for her confidence to return, even as they approached the place where she'd been held prisoner and tormented.

"You know," she said, not bothering to turn to face him as she walked, "I don't understand why you want to talk to this scientist again. What can he know that he didn't already blurt out when you were threatening to feed him to the... what did you call them again... gwarsharks?"

"Gnarsharks."

A memory of Sylvie strapped to the metal table, the scientist cutting off her clothing while giggling to himself, flashed through his mind and he fought to remain calm. If I'm going to get anything out of Jark'Khal, I'll have to be methodical. No going yellow, and no violence.

Even if not punching the man would be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

The tautness in his guts grew stronger. The thought of another man's hands on his female, it almost made his insides ache. He had to work extremely hard to push his ire away and answer her.

"I expect to determine whether he had any involvement with the Hareema. He was awfully eager to cut you up. Maybe you were the distraction the Hareema used to sneak into our ranks, or maybe he was charged with getting you out of the way. Maybe the dissection would tie up the loose end."

"That's an awful lot of maybes." She glanced over her shoulder at him.

He nodded, again making note of her intelligence. She didn't miss much and even saw things that he overlooked. It was stimulating, being in her presence. In many more ways than was appropriate.

Sylvie's expression tightened. "I think he had another reason to want to cut me up."

She shivered, and Xivthar wanted to embrace her. Any reason to have his hands on her seemed like a good reason, though it was more than the physical attraction. His stomach fluttered with the beating of butterfly wings and he moved himself from the dastardly hope that something might become of them.

Her remark brought up the memory of that bastard Jark'Khal going purple, and the regent struggled to keep his cool. Punching's too good for the eel-skinned pervert.

He glanced at the female beside him. The look on her face was pensive, the memory obviously playing through her mind as well. Her green eyes were narrow, her features tough as if she had forced herself to be tougher for the upcoming encounter.

Maybe I'll let her have him. She looks meaner than the gnarsharks.