Her Alien Forgemasters Page 5

  “Computer, reflective surface please.”

  The wall nearest her shimmered and shifted to mirror mode. One look and she knew she’d been right to check. Some of her hair had escaped its braid while she slept and was stuck out from her head at odd angles. She had a crease mark in one cheek from her pillow, and the hours she’d spent tossing and turning showed clearly in the shadows under her eyes. If she really wanted a way out of this relationship, all she had to do was let them see her looking like this.

  She decided to text back instead. She had some time today. She could do any office work before it got busy and N’tev had promised to deal with the snow removal, so she had no reason to decline their invitation.

  She arranged to meet them downstairs in an hour. Then she hurried to her sanitation cubby, her hands already busy unbraiding the rest of her hair.

  Maybe today she’d leave it loose.

  She was waiting on the front porch of the Bar None five minutes before they were due to arrive. Thanks to the winter weather, she was wearing her warmest boots and a heavy cloak with a hood. It wasn’t a fashion she was familiar with, but given how warm and comfortable it was, she suspected she’d be adopting it as her regular outerwear for the rest of the winter. As an added bonus, her unbound hair was tucked beneath the fabric and wouldn’t blow around in the wind.

  To her amusement, her entire kitchen staff had shown up early today. Antas claimed he needed extra time to prep today’s menu. N’tev was busy clearing away the last traces of ice and snow from around the bar. He’d even brought his son and his anrik, B’ron and Kotar. The younger Vardarians had been told to make themselves useful and were currently helping to clear a walkway down the middle of the bridge.

  “Are you going to tell them that the bridge was engineered so that it could clear itself of snow?” she asked Saral. The female wasn’t even trying to look busy. She leaned against the wall and watched Anya try not to fidget as she waited for her dates to arrive.

  “No. The energy of youth is infinite. Better they use it for the good of the community and save the power for other things, like heat.” Saral held out a hand. Her fingers were trembling. “I cannot seem to get warm today.”

  “Then why are you out here? Inside. Go! Make yourself a cup of cocoa or something and supervise Antas instead of me.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Fun has nothing to do with it. If you get sick, who is going to run the bar when this whole sharhal thing kicks into high gear?”

  “So, you’ve accepted that will happen?” Saral looked pleased.

  “Mostly. I am aware that wishful thinking will never win out against science.”

  “Or destiny,” Saral added.

  “I’m not ready to have that conversation. You. Inside. Now.”

  “Bossy. You do realize that Vardarians don’t get sick. We have nanotech that prevents it.”

  “I’m bossy because that’s my job description. As in, I am your boss. Now, shoo! Even if you can’t get sick, there’s no sense in you sitting out here shivering.”

  Saral threw up her hands and laughed. “I’m going. I’m going. You’ll make a good mother someday, my friend. You already have the right tone.”

  Anya ignored the comment. She had enough on her mind without considering the added complication of potential motherhood. It had never been part of her plans. It was probably too late for her anyway, and at some point, she was going to have to tell Tra’v and Damos about that. Their species lived so much longer than humans, she had no idea if they’d even realized it was a potential issue.

  Fraxx. She had no idea how old they were! What if she was robbing the cradle? Anxious thoughts and worries exploded in her mind like a swarm of micro-meteors. They zipped around, colliding and connecting with each other, every contact adding to the mayhem until she was almost overwhelmed with doubt.

  She was saved by their arrival a few minutes later. Her worries vanished in a heartbeat, swept away by a flash flood of desire as the sharhal rekindled.

  She recognized them immediately, despite the fact they were little more than dark figures against the snow. It was something in the way they moved, or maybe a trace of their pheromones on the winter wind. She hadn’t intended to, but she found herself stepping out to meet them.

  They wore the same long jackets as yesterday, but today their hoods were up to keep out the cold. It didn’t matter, though. She could still tell them apart. Tra’var was slightly taller while Damos was broader.

  Once they saw her, they both sped up, their hands raised in greeting.

  Around her, all activity stopped. The bridge and everyone on it watched with blatant curiosity as the three of them reunited. When Tra’var swept her into his arms, they all cheered.

  She blushed and cursed under her breath. “Saral has a big mouth,”

  Then all her attention was on the two males crowded around her. “Hi.”

  Tra’var didn’t say a word. He just crushed his mouth to hers. She’d thought last night’s kisses had been hot, but this was… holy fraxx. She was surprised the surrounding snow didn’t spontaneously melt away. He locked one arm around her waist and hauled her up against him, his other hand buried in her hair. His lips were warm and their breath mingled in a cloud of vapor as she opened her mouth with a soft sound of pleasure she barely recognized as her own.

  Heat and need rushed through her veins like the purest pharma in the galaxy, elevating her senses and filling her with a hunger that nothing would ease—nothing but more of this from both of them.

  She rose on her toes, fingers tangled in both their coats to pull herself higher. Strong hands gripped her hips, and a second later she was off the ground as Tra’var picked her up.

  Damos—at least she thought it was Damos—wrapped an arm under her ass to steady her. “I’ve got you.”

  The cheering got louder. She ignored it.

  Tra’var chuckled, the low sound rising from his throat and rolling through her body at the same time. “It seems we have an audience again.”

  “They can look all they want. Only we may touch,” Damos declared. His words were a whisper against her ear.

  She turned her head to kiss him, one hand still curled in each of their coats. “That goes for all the females, too. Any unauthorized touching and someone gets shot.”

  Damos growled and captured her lips with his. His kiss was pure possession, demanding and forceful. She gasped and he took advantage, his tongue slipping into her mouth to tangle with hers.

  “I think what he’s trying to say is there will be no one else for us. Not ever,” Tra’var said, his voice thick with desire and more than a little laughter.

  “Yes. That.” Damos broke the kiss to stare into her eyes, the amber depths almost glowing with the heat of his passion. “I thought my meaning was clear.”

  “Oh it was,” she assured him. “But maybe you should tell me again just so I’m sure I understood.”

  “With pleasure.” Damos kissed her again, hot and hungry, while Tra’var slid a hand between her body and his to cup her breast in one large hand. Even through her cloak, she could still feel the warmth of his touch.

  “Too many clothes,” he muttered. “Why did we have to find you on the eve of winter?”

  He sounded so frustrated it made her laugh again, the sound captured by Damos’ mouth.

  If this was what it would be like to be mated to this pair, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

  Damos hadn’t slept. His mind was spinning faster than a wind turbine in a maelstrom, and he kept rising from his bed to prowl around the house and yard. Tra’var claimed he hadn’t slept much either, but Damos had heard the snores coming from his anrik’s room and knew he’d gotten at least some rest.

  It concerned him that he was reacting differently to the sharhal. He shouldn’t be. One of the reasons for the blood bonding ritual was to ensure that both males were in sync when it came to choosing a mate. He’d often worried that his flawed genetics would interfere with the sha
rhal, but he’d always assumed Tra’var would have the stronger reaction.

  He never imagined it would be him.

  Her laughter held notes of desire that had him hard and aching. He could feel his scales tightening, though it wasn’t enough to trigger any other changes. He growled her name and nipped her lower lip without thinking. Then he broke the kiss to apologize.

  At least, that was the plan. Anya had something else in mind.

  She moaned and chased his mouth, kissing him again before letting her teeth sink into his lip for one brief moment. It was enough to send most of the blood in his body rushing to his cock. His knees nearly buckled, the urge to drop to the snow and cover her with his body so powerful he almost gave in to it.

  Fortunately Tra’var still had hold of Anya, too, saving her from a chilly encounter with the bridge.

  “That is…” Tra’var paused to swallow hard. “You are the most enticing creature, Anya. But there are things we need to explain. Biting is, uh, potentially risky.”

  Damos wanted to smack his anrik and tell him to shut up. If she bit him and drew blood, it would just speed up the process. Right now, that’s exactly what he wanted.

  Only, it shouldn’t be. He reined in the primal, possessive thoughts and blew out a sharp breath. His gaze met Tra’var’s and the two shared a look that communicated his anrik knew what had almost happened.

  “Biting is bad?” she asked softly.

  Forge and flame. Was that disappointment he heard in her voice? Because if it was… “No. Well, yes. But also no. Biting is good. Very good. But if you draw blood and taste it? That will just accelerate the sharhal.”

  “Ah. So, biting good, but not until we’ve gotten to know each other better.” She nodded. “I thought that only worked one way. You bite me and that’s it, we’re mated.”

  “That too,” Tra’var said. He was grinning like a fool now. A smitten one. “But after that, feel free to bite us anytime you like, mahaya.”

  Now he had control again, Damos was painfully aware of the attention they’d attracted. He hated being noticed. “I think it’s time we left.”

  “Yes,” Anya agreed and then raised her voice. “Because if we stay any longer no one on this bridge is going to get any work done today.”

  With a round of chuckles, most of their onlookers went back to their tasks. He and Tra’var carefully set Anya on her feet and turned back the way they’d come.

  Damos had intended for them to walk back single file, with Anya in the middle so they could protect her. Not that there was anything to protect her from in the middle of the colony, but the instinct was too strong to ignore.

  She changed the plan by reaching out to both of them and taking their hands. “Is your forge fired up? By the time we get there, I suspect I’m going to want to huddle near it for a bit of warmth. I’m used to the nicely regulated air temperature of ships and stations.”

  Tra’var winked at her. “You do not need the forge. If you are chilled, Damos and I are happy to warm you.”

  She was silent for a moment and then laughed. “I’ll let you know, my mahoyen.”

  Tra’var’s voice was in his head a second later. “You see? She already claims us openly. There’s no need to worry, my brother. This is proceeding quickly.”

  “Do not rush her,” Damos sent back. Tra’var was as headstrong as he was, but he was also an optimist. He believed the world could be made better by sheer will. Damos knew better.

  They chatted the whole walk to their home. Inconsequential topics, mostly. The weather, their chosen professions, and eventually they discussed her plans to approach the council. She wanted them to consider developing the bridge into a market district that spanned the river and extended onto the banks on either side.

  “We’re going to need another bridge soon, anyway—one that is wide and strong enough to support vehicles,” she said.

  Tra’var frowned. “Why? There’s not much on that side of the river except the barracks the cyborgs used to live in. Only a few human colonists are living there at the moment, and they’ll be moving to our side of the river once they’re finished the integration training.”

  “That’s why,” Anya said.

  “What is?” Damos asked, confused.

  “Tra’v said our side of the river, which suggests the river divides the colony into two different camps. That goes against the whole concept of Haven. There is just one colony, which is why a group of us deliberately choose to establish businesses in the middle of the bridge. Phaedra helped us sell the idea to the council once. I hope she can do it again now it’s time to expand on the concept.”

  “You want to create a town center, only in the middle of the river.” Damos understood now.

  “Exactly. Next spring more colonists will be coming here from both Earth and the Vardarian Empire. Haven will grow quickly, and the next development needs to happen on the other side of the river.”

  “To keep things balanced.” Tra’var nodded. “With the market in the middle.”

  She smiled mischievously. “And all those hungry, thirsty folks will wander right past my humble establishment.”

  “Smart,” Tra’var said.

  It was an excellent idea, but Damos took something else away from the conversation. She’d referred to Princess Phaedra Kari by her first name. There was clearly a relationship between the two human females, which likely explained how she had come to be one of the first humans allowed to settle in Haven. Their mahaya had connections to what passed for the royal court here on Liberty. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  It was good to hear Anya speak about the colony so inclusively, though. She spoke with conviction and determination instead of merely paying lip service to the idea of acceptance and community. If her heart was as open as her mind, maybe this could work.

  Maybe.

  5

  Anya stepped out of the winter air and into a shop that would have been cozy if the décor hadn’t been entirely made of metal—much of it in sharp and pointed shapes.

  She drew her arms a little closer to her sides and resisted the urge to touch the gleaming blades that filled more than half the room.

  She recognized the layout of the building immediately. It was common in many of the pre-fab homes that housed most of the colony. They were in what should have been the main living area, only in this case the walls had been removed or omitted during construction. Where the kitchen should have been was a small, well-lit workspace full of tools. Many projects were in progress, but she was too far away to make out any details.

  Both males stood behind her, watching silently as she moved through the space. When she got more comfortable, she touched the hilt of a dagger with a gem-encrusted handle and a blade no wider than her pinkie finger. “Form over function?” she asked almost absently and then froze when she realized how insulting that sounded. “I mean. It’s beautiful. Really. But how do you hold it without cutting your hand?”

  “You don’t.” Damos smiled as he picked up the weapon and held it up so she could see it better. “Only the point is sharp, not the edge. It’s meant to decorate a female’s hair.”

  He made a vague gesture around the back of his head with his free hand. “To help pin it up. Originally they were also for defense, but the females at court don’t fear attack, so these became a fashion statement instead of a weapon.”

  “This is a hairpin? Can I try it?”

  “Of course,” they both said at almost the same moment.

  She pulled her hair out from under her cloak and let it fall down her back. She was about to start twisting it into a simple chignon when she realized both males were staring intently. She wasn’t even sure they were breathing. Had she committed some kind of cultural sin that Saral hadn’t remembered to warn her about?

  “Something wrong?”

  “Your hair is beautiful. I didn’t realize it was so long,” Tra’var said.

  “Or that it was the color of asloni vren.” Damos’ amber eyes gle
amed brightly, the dark rims showing up starkly in contrast.

  “Cold steel?” she asked, trying not to feel self-conscious as she struggled to translate Damos’ words.

  “Cooling steel,” he clarified in Galactic Standard.

  “Ah.” She winked and held out a lock of her hair. “I thought you were commenting on the amount of silver in my hair. Another decade or so and it will look like cold steel.”

  Damos shook his head, but Tra’var spoke first. “You will look just as you do now. Your nanotech will see to that.”

  Time for revelation number one. Anya bowed her head so she didn’t have to look at them. She focused on twisting her hair up so she could try the dagger in it. “I don’t have nanotech. I’m just a basic model human. No upgrades.”

  Tra’var made a startled noise and then demanded, “Why not?”

  She had an answer prepared for the question, and she rattled it off without stopping what she was doing. “I have a unique contract. I had no idea if the tavern would be successful, so I made a deal with the council. I stay for three years. If I decide this is where I want to stay, I can take the nanotech treatment. Until then, I have all the rights as an ordinary citizen of Haven.”

  “No,” Tra’var stated flatly.

  Anya took the dagger and slid it into her hair before she looked up. Tra’var’s expression was stormy. “What do you mean, no?”

  “You will not wait three years. You are our mahaya. You will carry our nanotech soon.” He folded his arms across his chest and gave her a look that had her ready to reach for the dagger she’d just slid into her hair.

  She glowered up at him. “No.”

  Tra’var cocked his head in confusion. It would have been adorable if she wasn’t so fraxxing annoyed.

  “No what?” he asked.

  “No to anything you said that started with the words ‘you will.’ I may be your mahaya, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.” She turned to glare at Damos. “Either of you.”

  “But you are our—” Tra’var didn’t get to finish the sentence before Damos cut him off.