To my surprise, she is already awake and standing before me. She stares up at me with luminous, deep-green eyes. I am so happy that she is well enough to stand, I smile at her as I hold out the caza root in offering.
“Here, my mate,” I tell her as my chest puffs out with pride. “I have retrieved this healing root for your wounds.”
I’m glad she is no longer unconscious so that I can show her what a capable male I am. I was able to gather this for her and now, I will treat her injuries with as much skill as any Healer.
Her features twist into a mask of horror and she screams.
I spin, terrified that perhaps a predator may have snuck up behind me, trying to claim our cave as his. I growl low in warning. Whatever frightens her, I will kill it. I wait a moment for the threat to make its presence known but sense nothing.
Curious, I turn back to her. “What is it? What did you see? Where is the danger? Tell me and I shall end its life. I will protect you, my mate.”
I take a step toward her. Panic coils tightly in my chest when she releases another feral cry of terror. I spin back toward the cave entrance, flaring my wings wide to shield her as I crouch into a defensive position, ready to attack anything that dares to enter our cavern.
Something bumps the back of my spine and her foot steps on the tip of my tail.
I quickly curl it around to my side, out of her way. Oh Gods, something has driven her to panic and stumble into me.
I turn back to reassure her. “Do not fear, my linaya. I will protect you—” I stop abruptly when she rushes toward me.
Surprised and elated that she is already racing into my arms, I spread them wide to receive her. This is excellent. I’ve heard Drakarian females rush into a male’s arms, practically attacking him, when they are ready to mate. Driven mad with the desire of their heat cycle, they go into a mating frenzy, which I’ve heard can last for days.
Drawing in a deep breath, I ready myself to please my mate. I have learned all that I can of the art of pleasuring a female from speaking with the mated Drakarian guards at the castle. I’m hoping she will be particularly aroused when I bind her wrists together with my tail then clamp my teeth around her neck with just enough pressure to hold her still and increase her anticipation as I enter her channel.
My stav begins to lengthen and throb against the inside of my mating pouch, ready to extend as soon as she opens her thighs to receive me.
Lust-driven thoughts of her biting my neck in return fill my mind. Lost in my fantasy, I barely manage to duck in time to avoid her arm swinging at me. I’m so stunned, I don’t move as she swipes at me again. The weak hit bounces off my scales and she draws back her hand, shaking it back and forth as she hisses in pain.
I cock my head to the side in confusion. “Why are you trying to attack me? Is this some sort of mating ritual among your people?” I have heard of this practice among other species. Perhaps hers is the same.
Cautiously, I move closer and she strikes me again. I deflect her blows effortlessly. She pulls back and begins to circle me, baring her teeth.
“If this is a test of strength, I believe I have proven I am strong enough to protect you and our future fledglings. Assuming we are compatible in that way.”
I grin, hoping she will be impressed by my answer. I want her to know I am already thinking of our future. I have heard that females are attracted to males who speak of fledglings early in the mating.
“If you think I’m going down without a fight, you’re wrong, you big, ugly… lizard man!”
My jaw drops as I stare at her, aghast. “Lizard man? What is that?” I look down at my figure. “I am Drakarian.”
“You want to growl at me?” she yells. “I can growl, too!”
And with that, she bares her flat, white teeth again and begins making pitiful growling sounds, reminiscent of adolescent fledglings before their voices drop.
“I am not growling at you,” I protest, incredulous. “I am speaking.”
She growls again and the realization hits me. She must not have a translator chip. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying.
She makes another swipe with her blunt claws.
I grit my teeth in frustration. This will not do. I cannot have my linaya afraid of me when all I want to do is protect her.
Why doesn’t her species have translator chips? From what sort of primitive planet does she hail?
Both these questions and more run through my mind. Sighing heavily, I realize what I must do. It will not be easy. She is already afraid of me and I am loath to worsen her fears, but I have no choice.
I run my hand roughly through my hair then cautiously move toward her. She is my fated mate, so she should be able to hear my thoughts when transmitted through touch. I only hope I can reach out to the mind of a female of a different species.
With her hands balled into fists before her chest, she narrows her eyes, watching me warily as I approach. “Stay back,” she grits through her flat, white teeth. “I mean it.”
I hate that she fears me when I am the one she should trust most. We are fated to be together. Does she not feel the pull of the bond? A glance at her chest heightens my concern. I do not see a glow across her skin in the fated mark pattern. Perhaps she does not recognize our connection, or her species is incapable of sensing the bond.
With each step I take toward
