Chapter 11

Rikash walked between the hanging dead, back to the building which contained his den and mate. On the level below his den, he entered one of the empty domiciles where he was keeping the supplies for the courting practices. His men had piled the supplies upon the furniture, the seating, the tables, like the hoard of a successful Hunter, he thought with amusement as he made his selections. He took them to his domicile, and opened the door, finding his mate standing almost in the same spot as he had left her, as if she had spent the day waiting for him. He paused, angling his head, and considered her. She met his eyes calmly enough, but his instincts told him that despite appearances, she had spent her time exploring the domicile. That was fine, he decided. It was her domicile, too. He had wanted her to take ownership of their den and mating platform, but if she wished to extend her interests to the rest of the domicile, he would allow it. There was nothing for her to find. He had stripped the remnants of previous occupants from the storage units in order to ensure there was nothing his mate could use as a weapon against him, or on herself. "Come," he told her, keeping his tone mild, not wanting to give her the impression that she was not permitted to explore. He led her into the den and placed his offerings down on the mating platform. He stepped back and began to remove his armour, letting her approach the gifts in her own time. She was hesitant, not entirely sure what it was that he was offering. He crooned encouragingly as he put his armour into the storage unit. She unfolded the dress, and he saw her surprise and delight cross her face before she glanced at him uncertainly. "For you," he told her in his tongue, and hummed soothingly, scenting her reaction. She pulled the dress on over her head and smoothed it over her body with her hands. Her smile was bright as she pulled her hair free of the neckline. "Beautiful," he approved, as she unfolded the other two similar gowns. She brought them over to the storage unit as he had hoped she would, and he stepped back to allow her to put them amongst his own clothing. Yes, he assessed the placement, her clothing would carry his scent on it, and having something of her own in the space would encourage her to claim the den as her own, and thus him along with it. The Bond was improving, making him feel hopeful that he had indeed stumbled upon the resolution to the problem. It was far from what his instincts told him was a complete Bond, but it was there, and growing more present in his mind every day. He could sense more of her emotions now, some of them bright enough that they felt like his own. Fear and pain were most common and were appropriate – she needed to experience both in order to respect him as her dominant. She had to know that he was someone to respect, and someone who could cause her harm but chose not to, in order for him to command her obedience. Now that was established, he needed to win her trust and affection. Having removed his armour, he held out his hand. "Come." She knew the word now, and what it meant and stepped up to him, holding out her arm. He normally rung her fragile wrist with his fingers, but this time, he took the palm of her hand against his, and folded his fingers around hers. A different hold to communicate a different mood, he thought, watching her face as she assessed the difference cautiously. Yes, she was clever his mate, he thought, and the distinction was not lost on her. He led her into the living area and to the doors that opened to the balcony outside. The weather was warm, he would spend some time in the sunlight with her. There were couches on the balcony, and he drew her over to one, so that they lay upon them, with her partially over him. He closed his eyes against the glare of the sun and stroked his fingers through her hair, humming his mating croon in the back of his throat. He felt her gradually relax against him, lulled by his fingers in her hair, the sun on her skin and his heartbeat beneath her cheek. His croon changed tone, setting into a rhythm that he could feel vibrate his chest. He was still learning his croons and the changing sounds and rhythms. Mating croons were instinctual and had fallen out of common use in the last two hundred years, as mating practices had changed. As women had changed, he corrected mentally. They were uncertain why, but since the Ivarid Doxen virus more women were born dominant than submissive, and dominants simply did not mate with dominants – or, at least, not happily. Dominant females would rut with dominant males, with enough persuasion, but would never permit a Bond, and only reluctantly accept their seed. If he had tried crooning to Verika, or let himself spill or lock within her, she would have given him a new dishonor scar and never returned to his den. The scarcity of submissive females had resulted in the majority of dominant males offspring being produced through combining compatible genetic donations and growing the embryos in artificial wombs, and whilst that satisfied the dominants driving need for offspring, it did not meet their other needs. Dominant males whose needs were not being met became antisocial, aggressive, and sometimes outright dangerous. As Arken, it was Rikash s role to resolve the problems of his people, and this was one he shared with them. When one of his historians had come to him with a map of lost colony worlds of the ancients that had seeded the galaxy, he had not hesitated in leading his armies back into space to seek a compatible species with submissive females. There had been successes and failures along the way – they had established themselves on a number of worlds with rich resources and technologies that added to the power of his realm, but they had found that the genetic cousins on these worlds were too altered by their environments to be compatible in the ways that they sought. Until they had come to this planet, with the physically delicate, soft skinned humans. Like most dominants, Rikash was not satisfied with anything less than perfection, and whilst the humans were attractive, sexually compatible, and able to bear them young without alteration, and their size and fragility made them more submissive, he wanted to give his men the ability to Bond, too. He wanted it sufficiently to take a mate himself and invest his valuable time in attempting to forge a Bond with her. It was not an unpleasant occupation, he added as he shifted her under him and changed his croon again as he nuzzled under her chin to run his tongue over the pressure point beneath her ear, where her pulse flickered. She did not protest when he pushed her skirts up her thighs, baring her to his touch. He explored the textures of her with his fingers, concentrating on the nerve cluster, until the flush of her skin, the pant of her breath, and the scent of her pheromones told him that she was on the edge of orgasm. He released himself from his trousers and positioned himself between her knees. "Look at me," he told her firmly, and waited until her eyes met his before pushing into her. "Hmm," he hummed his satisfaction as he rocked his hips against hers. Her hands stroked up his chest and down his arms, the grip of her fingers and the press of her nails into his skin pleasant. He was pleased that she was touching him of her own accord. "Yes, you feel good, little mate. Smell good too," he pressed his nose against her throat before tracing the scent up her cheek and into her hairline. She gave a little sob of air, arching up as her body reached for release. "Yes," he murmured. "And who is making you feel good? Your mate. Look at me." She understood the last, forcing her eyes open obediently, though they lost focus immediately and he chuckled his croon. There was a surge through the Bond as she came, and he moaned as it struck him, sharing her pleasure, dragged into his own orgasm with an intensity that stunned him. "Oh, f-k," he murmured as he sank over her, appreciating fully for the first time what the Bond was. "F-k." His heart raced in his chest, and he was so surprised that he simply lay over her until his gland relaxed. Understanding in theory, and experiencing it first-hand, even muted as it was, were very different things. He could imagine how much better it would be with a complete Bond. Yes, that could quickly become addictive, he thought as he fixed his trousers and returned her skirt to its proper place, before settling her back against him on the couch, stroking his fingers up and down her back. She fell asleep swiftly against him, her people needing more sleep than he was allowing her. He had been deliberately disrupting her circadian rhythm, seeking to re-orientate her around him, forcing her to see him as a priority above all else. He was the source of all her comforts and needs – he controlled food and water, her sleep, he bathed her, and he gave her pleasure and pain depending on whether she pleased or displeased him. It was inevitable, he thought, that she would become dependent, and through the dependency, attached. From attachment it would be a small step into affection and trust. Each stage would wedge the Bond open a little more. And he would receive an unexpected reward, he acknowledged with amusement, a little hit of dopamine with every achievement. It would certainly add to his motivation.