“Worse than been bitten by a massive feral Sarkarnii warlord even the others consider to be the king of mayhem?” Maggie queries.
“Oh, thanks. That’s a great comfort.” I glare at her as she cracks a smile.
“I mean it though. Dante is a loose cannon. If he bit you, that’s on him. You don’t owe him anything.”
Tears prick the back of my eyeballs. I can’t believe I’m getting so emotional about a bite I didn’t want and a rejection from the lord of chaos I should be welcoming.
Fortunately Lydia returns, handing us down cups of fee and then carefully joining us with her own cup.
“What did I miss?”
“Maggie was cheering me up by telling me how feral Dante is,” I grumble.
“But he does have a great bum.” Maggie grins at me. “And he doesn’t bother with pants much, so there’s that.”
“Were you looking at my mate’s bum?” I mock growl.
“Looked and photographed.” Maggie pulls out her comm device. “He’s right up there in my gallery.”
“So, Dante is your mate?” Lydia queries as she sits next to us.
“He wishes.” I shove my concerns back down inside me and take a sip of fee. “If he wants to mate with me, he’s going to have to do a lot better than biting me without permission.”
ROSALIE
Idrum my fingers against the bulkhead. Dalox took a long time, in my mind, to come to a conclusion over what is happening with Dante, and we’ve finally been called back to the clan chamber in the neutral sector. My nails ring out a chime on the bare metal. I’m reminded, looking at them, of the claws on a Sarkarnii, and for a moment my mind wanders to how they manage them when…
“You can go in,” the big Sarkarnii guard says, keeping his eyes about a foot above my head.
All of the Sarkarnii have been very careful to give me the widest berth they can, almost as if being bitten by Dante makes me some sort of outcast.
And I expect it probably does, given the way he behaved before when Dalox tried to take hold of me. I don’t imagine any Sarkarnii wants to be on the receiving end of a Dante in rut.
Whilst I have a vague idea of what a Sarkarnii rut is, given two of my friends have been on the receiving end of such a thing and both have the burgeoning baby bumps to show for it, I still don’t really understand what it is.
How much it should matter is entirely moot. Either I’m going to experience it, or I’m not.
The door in front of me slides open and I enter the huge chamber. A fog, or more like smoke, fills the ceiling up above us and down on the floor of the chamber, Dante is sitting on a bench, his shoulders hunched over as if he’s been punched in those delicious abs of his. It’s difficult to tell with the myriad of colored scales, but I’m sure he has fresh injuries.
He’s also surrounded by guards, all toting huge ray guns.
He looks up the second I enter, but another Sarkarnii beside him, one I don’t recognize, places his hand on Dante’s shoulder. He shrugs it away and forces himself to his feet, swaying slightly.
Obviously I’ve heard what my friends have said about Dante and his crew. Their partying is considered almost legendary among the Sarkarnii. I’ve weighed up what would be worse, him blaming his behavior on an intoxicant or on the more vaguewasn’t himself, and it’s only just come up in favor of the former rather than the latter, but ultimately so close as not to matter much.
Yet, when he smiles up at me, my heart seems to turn over in my chest, severely against the wishes of my brain. I can’t let a fanged smile, no matter how genuine it seems, affect me.
Dante’s eyes don’t leave me, even as the door on the other side of the chamber opens and Dalox strides in, followed by the other warlords. Dante doesn’t move a muscle. He is like a statue, focussed entirely on me.
Dalox throws himself into his throne-like chair, Sarkarnii-spreading in a way only the Sarkarnii can take up space.
“Dante.” He growls the feral warlord’s name which reverberates around the chamber. “You broke the accords. You went against everything we’ve set up here to avoid bloodshed between clans and warlords. You expressed no sorrow at having gone against everything we worked hard to obtain.” He growls again, and then he leans forward. “But Darax says you are in rut.Rutting is not something any of us can control, and from what he says, this is your first rut, is it not?”
Dante says nothing. He’s still staring at me, his beautiful eyes unblinking, his long dark hair, falling like silk around his handsome face.
“It is. I left Kaeh-Leks before I became of age,” Dante says in a voice which is smooth and clear, belying my earlier belief he was, again, intoxicated. “As you are aware, my ship carried fewer female crew than yours, or any of the warlords.”
Dalox looks over at Dexx who nods in agreement. He returns his sharp gaze to Dante and then leans back in his chair, tapping his claws on the arm, each one going deep into the metal with a dull thud.
