Thanemonger: A SciFi Alien Romance (The Ladyships Book 1) Read online

  She felt a pinch in her chest. She never wanted the thane to see her like that ever again. Needy. Weak. Snotty.

  "Right." She huffed. "Hold steady. Hold steady."

  Hold steady for Xander.

  Dropping the blanket, she scrubbed her face clean, but avoided looking in the mirror. She knew how she looked. She was a quintessential product of the American melting pot with her German-Irish father and her African-American mother. Add to that her puffy red eyes, mottled cheeks, and Bride of Frankenstein morning hair, she must be a sight. A bizarre woman without turquoise veins all over her skin or blue flushes to her cheeks. Not to mention her drippy nose. God, she probably disgusted him.

  She tugged on the new clothes, surprised to see it looked like the uniform that Rannik wore. She took a second to marvel at the fabric. It easily beat the best compression athletic gear she'd ever worn. The uniform conformed where needed, supporting her girls—she could never go bra-less—and flattened her tummy, all without feeling like she squeezed herself in shapewear. The boots were comfy shitkickers.

  She was so happy to find a dental wand stored by the sink. Lekar, the doctor, had demonstrated the device to her yesterday.

  Hand poised over the door panel controls, she squeezed her eyes shut.

  She could do this, dammit. She was intelligent, resourceful, and if all else failed, she could be a freaking pit bull. She was getting home. Failure was not an option.

  Feeling like a badass, she punched the door control and strode back into the room.

  The thane stood, at ease, hands clasped before him. The Teras didn't have eyebrow hair, but they still had the brow muscles beneath the skin. His hairless brows were pulled low. He was brooding.

  Seph huffed. "I was only in there for, like, three minutes."

  He sighed, then his eyes went vacant for a split second. "I've updated our departure time."

  "All right." Seph ran through their interaction. Lots of cheek rubbing and nose running, but nothing about a departure. "Departure to where?"

  "Back to Prykimis."

  She recoiled. "Why?"

  "Duty requires my presence on that ship."

  He came to take her back to Prykimis, not to update her about getting her home.

  She mustn't have masked her disappointment, because he said, "My house is now honor bound to restore Prykimis, but I haven't forgotten my promise. We'll see you safe until we see you home. You must be patient."

  Three weeks. Xander should already be with her parents by now. They redecorated her brother's room for him in orange and green with dinosaur bedsheets. She had to picture Xan in that room, safe. Waiting for her.

  "Then I go where you go?" she asked.

  He nodded. Precisely. "Walk with me."

  Chapter Six

  The moment the transport entered Prykimis's hangar, Zver kept his eyes on Seph. Her face had clouded over, and he knew that she had reconnected with Prykimis's systems. As an untrained Athela, she had no shields, whereas he could choose whether or not to stream the data from the derelict ship. Seph appeared to be at the mercy of her technopathy innately seeking Athelasan systems. His gut clenched as he recalled the barrage of alerts and warnings he encountered when he first connected with Prykimis. Unholy Unholde, he had dragged her back to this place.

  He stayed by her side as they walked down the ramp of the transport. She shuddered. He mentally scanned the incoming reports from his repair crews. They had begun disengaging the TTS patches, which was slow, delicate work, like removing an extensive tumor from healthy tissue.

  "Repairs are underway," he said, feeling compelled to reassure her.

  She covered her mouth and nose with her hands as she nodded.

  "The air will improve as well."

  "I understand," she said, letting her hands fall back to her sides. "I just thought I was done with this ship."

  She walked at his side, not complaining about the brisk pace set by the security detail surrounding them. Throughout the corridors, low-level alarms flashed, red flares of light that reflected off the metal hull before plunging them back into pale yellow dimness.

  He tried to read her. "Remember, you're in safe keeping with my house."

  She gestured toward the guard unit that surrounded them. "I see that."

  He wondered if she did see. With each flash of the alarm light, she squinted and her head and shoulders twitched. Zver mentally shot off a message to his systemsmaster, ordering him to disarm the system alarms within the Athel Hall and Chamber.

  They commandeered the deck lift, sending four fleetmen ahead to secure the upper level. As they waited for the lift to return, Therion and Grondin lingered in the intersecting corridor. Seph's guards held formation around her, but they couldn't block the view entirely. The moment her eyes landed on the pair, her entire body tensed. She didn't duck or avert her stare, but crossed her arms and coolly regarded them. It pleased him that she exhibited confidence when surrounded by men from his house.

  The lift arrived, and he placed his hand lightly on her back, careful to not trap her curls under his palm, and ushered her inside.

  When the doors closed, she said, "The smiling one, back there in the hall?"

  Fucking Therion? "What about him?"

  She tilted her head up toward him. "He was with Rannik. On Radost. He dealt with the trader. Purchased me."

  "I am aware."

  "Just thought I'd mention it. He acted familiar with Rannik." She frowned fiercely. "The other crew, when they were around, Rannik hid me. They said some horrible things about Rannik."

  He believed that the crew had been cruel. They probably taunted Rannik for being a xero, an unwanted child. This infuriated him because he wanted Rannik, yet all that mattered in the eyes of the Dominion was that Rannik's mother had turned her back on him. Thus, Seph's defense of Rannik surprised him. A typical Athela would not have concerned herself with Rannik. Seph cared for his son. Perhaps Rannik should not withhold from her his status as Zver's son.

  "But that smiling man, he'd come and talk with Rannik. Just joked around." She shook her head, as if trying to sort it all out. "I think they already knew each other."

  "Yes. Cadet Rannik knows him. Cachemaster Therion was House Borac, but now he's serving in a clade with House Jahat."

  Her brows pulled together. "That sounds complicated."

  No, it was rather simple. "Therion's allegiance is with House Jahat."

  "So he's House Jahat?"

  "No. He's only clade to Jahat."

  "Then he's still with House Borac?"

  "No. Unsworn." See? Simple.

  Seph huffed. "Yep. Sounds complicated."

  "You needn't worry about Therion or Commander Grondin."

  "Grondin's the hair puller?"

  He acknowledged with a grunt that sounded more like a snarl.

  She graced him with a small smile. "You did that to his face?" To illustrate her point, she took her tiny fist and tapped her own chin.

  He liked that it pleased her. He let his lip curl, exposing one of his incisors. He enjoyed taking fists to Grondin, and he'd gladly do so again to see her calm and smiling.

  She leaned over, nudging him with her shoulder. Such a tiny bump. He only knew she did so because he observed it.

  "Thanks, Thane."

  Right then, more than anything, he wanted her to call him Zver.

  The lift doors opened, and he gestured for her to exit before him. He paused for a moment and admired the view.

  Damn, could that woman wear a uniform. His cachemaster deserved a commendation for a job well done. He knew Seph had unbelievable curves. He had felt them. The uniform, though, displayed them all. Firm ass, full breasts, and lush thighs. Unholy Unholde, his cock stiffened, making him a dirty bastard. Cadet standard issue was never meant to be so damned sexy.

  He let the guard unit lead the way to the Athel Hall. Seph's steps faltered as she approached the vestibule, decorated with solid wood pillars baring carvings of ancient thanes. The Hall doors�
��hinged, of all things—stood wide open.

  She flinched, as if startled, and said, "Athel Hall."

  "You accessed the ship schematics?"

  She shook her head and pointed toward the ceiling. "Nope. She just interjects whenever she wants."

  "She?"

  "Prykimis."

  He suspected as much. "The Trine will help you learn control."

  He again placed his hand on her back, guiding her into the Athel Hall. As he took in the state of the space, his anger flared. Faded banners, blazoned with House Jahat's coat of arms, covered the walls. Paintings, depicting formal portraits and heroic battles, hung crooked on the walls. The banquet table tilted on a broken leg. A thick layer of dust, damp and pasty, coated the entire room.

  "Is that necessary?" she asked.

  Zver stood in silence and seethed. The Hall was the heart of the ship, represented the honor of the house, and Thane Jahat let it turn to shit. Gods, if TerTac saw this room, they'd strip House Jahat of their stewardship immediately.

  She called to him.

  He turned to her. She had worked her way around the Hall, and now stood on the opposite side of the banquet table. She crossed her arms under her breasts, her head canted to one side. She had asked him something, hadn't she?

  "Yes, Seph?"

  "Is it necessary? To have me train with the Trine? I mean, this is all temporary, right?"

  Necessary? Temporary? Those words echoed inside him. Another Athela had once used those exact words as she had argued with him about Rannik. Rannik's mother had insisted that Rannik had been necessary, but only meant to be temporary. Not a child she wanted to keep. Just a means to an end. Because of Rannik's mother, he swore never to clutch for another Athela. To never have one reside in the House Borac Athel Hall.

  And then there was Seph. She formed a clutch with Rannik out of necessity, with every intention of it being temporary. Just a means to an end. To return to Earth.

  "As long as you shelter with my house, you'll receive training." His voice sounded thick and gravelly. "The Trine will guide your actions."

  She shifted her stance, and when she spoke, her tone deepened. "My actions? What have I done?"

  He could forgive her for what she'd done to Rannik. He was there in the hangar. She had been terrified and was so relieved to see an ally. He knew she had no idea that her words bound his son to her. But that didn't mean, going forward, that she not be cognizant of her words and actions. Unintended consequences or not, the Great Houses would feud over her—and he still had no intention of letting her join another house.

  "You claimed a first-year cadet for your clutch." He couldn't help his scowl. "Actions like that cannot be allowed to happen again. You need training and guidance."

  "Clutch? I don't know what that means."

  "Yesterday, in the hangar, he swore himself to you, and you accepted."

  Her eyes widened, brilliantly brown. "You really need to explain this clutch thing. Rannik just offered to protect me."

  He shook his head. "It means, for as long as you'll have him, he's yours." And he could see it when his son spoke about Seph, his son cared for her. Took on responsibilities beyond his years to stand by her.

  Because he had seen her flushed red, like an ember, he knew when she paled. Her face turned ashen and her body sagged. "I did something terrible, didn't I?" Then softer, she uttered, "Shit, Rannik."

  She probably thought he didn't hear her speak. He heard her perfectly well. Good, she understood that her actions resulted in consequences, whether she intended harm or not.

  "So what now?" she asked him, hugging herself with her arms.

  Zver gestured to the guards attending her. "These men are your entourage." With a two-finger point, he indicated the armed fleetmen who secured the Hall. "Captain Wies is point. Submedic Feldser is at the ready."

  She raised her hand to the guards. A greeting, perhaps? "Pleased to meet you, gentlemen."

  Zver gave her a stiff nod. "Terms. I will list them. You will follow them."

  "Go ahead," she said hollowly.

  "No growing your clutch while on my ship."

  "Fine." She inhaled, and he prepared for her to argue, but she only said, "Next."

  He charged ahead. "You'll attend Athela training with the Trine."

  "Fine. Next."

  "Guards will be with you, at all times."

  She shifted again, hips swaying as she resettled her feet. "Anything else?"

  No. He believed in keeping things simple. He issued commands. People obeyed. But with Seph, he felt compelled to say, "Not at this time."

  "All right then. Here are my terms," she said.

  He scoffed. Demands. Her position made her a beggar at best.

  "I want free-range of the ship."

  He nodded. Easily done, since, as he stated, the guards would be with her always.

  "Is Cadet Rannik on Prykimis?"

  He hadn't been expecting that question. He answered cautiously, "He can be."

  "Well, I want him here, with me. You said he's mine. I want him here."

  "You're not sharing a bunk with Cadet Rannik."

  "Of course not," Seph shot back, eyes flaring with her temper. "He's just a kid. One room. Two bunks. And some sort of screen or partition would be nice. Maybe a curtain?"

  Zver just stared at her, astonished.

  "I'm sure we could rig up a bed sheet, even," she mumbled.

  He wondered if she figured out Rannik was his son, and perhaps now tried to leverage him somehow. "Why do you want him? As a cadet, he's of very little value." A typical Athela would never have bothered with Rannik, not when she could clutch with thanes or Teras Ero politicians.

  "But I do value him," she said, her tone heated. "I admit, I somehow trapped him, and have no idea what that means for him. It was irresponsible. But I won't cut him loose, not if it would have an impact that I've yet to understand."

  "I see." He marched to a door at the far end of the room, opposite the massive double doors that lead to the corridor. "Follow me."

  He stormed into the Athel Chamber. The cabin was parsed into several designated spaces—lavatory and berth were each their own rooms. The office and parlor shared the open space.

  "You'll sleep in the berth," Zver said to her. "Rannik will sleep in the cabin."

  These rooms, like the Athel Hall outside, were neglected. Very well. Cleaning the rooms would keep Rannik and Seph occupied.

  "Thank you," Seph said stiffly. "This will do."

  Dismissed. What did he expect after that exchange? For her to lean into his touch as he cupped her face? Gods, he was delusional. Yet here he stood, entrusting her with Rannik. Letting them spend more time together. Because so far, she had acted so unlike an Athela—not grasping or conniving. By Direis, she had shown remorse for entrapping Rannik in her clutch.

  As he strode past her, she spoke. "Next time, don't spit terms at me. Arm me with information and I'll cooperate."

  Very well. He would consider her request and told her so with a grunt. It may have sounded more like a growl, but based on her response—sighing deeply and rolling her exotic eyes—he knew they understood one another.

  Chapter Seven

  "So the thane thinks I'm part Athelasan?" Seph asked Rannik as he guided a hovering cart into the Athel Chamber. Another layer of filth awaited them.

  Together, she and Rannik had already cleaned the Athel Hall. She never thought that her alien abduction would include domestic duties. Not just dusting, but back-aching scrubbing to remove what appeared to be years’ worth of filth. Despite the advanced alien cleaning technology, it still took hours to scrub the surfaces: a massive table, high walls, sprawling floor, dozens of chairs, banners that looked larger than bedsheets, and aged paintings.

  Rannik nodded his head in agreement as he poked through the cart's compartments pulling out cleaning supplies. "I can see why. We believe Athelasans were technopathic and passed those abilities along to their mixed Teras offspring."
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br />   He spoke in Terish, at her request, and when she could, she answered in kind.

  "Believe? You mean no one knows? What about records?" Seph asked, mixing her Terish and Tender.

  Rannik shrugged, and he reminded her of Xander. Neither fretted over things out of their control.

  "The Teras encountered Athelasans over a thousand years ago. We weren't as advanced, just isolated communities on Teras Ero. Our records of Awareness are handwritten journals and fading paintings done by people trying to comprehend superior technology. We didn't even know what Athelasans looked like until we discovered schematics for Lassies."

  "Huh." Seph stretched her sore muscles, her back cracking. "But all those Lassies that I saw looked like rubbery Teras women."

  Blue rushed to Rannik's cheeks. "Those were very specialized models."

  Right. Sexbots.

  "You looked like a sefura," he said bashfully. "I thought your name was meant to match your appearance."

  "My full name is Josephine. Seph for short."

  "Short?" His brow crinkled. "You mean a byname?"

  "I think so. Do you have a byname?"

  His face still blushed blue. "My father called me Ran when I was younger."

  "How sweet." Seph smiled. It was sweet, thinking of Rannik as a little boy. "So, what's so sefura about me?"

  Rannik took her hand in his, drawing her attention to the contrast of their skin. "You're golden, not too unlike my skin, but you also glow as if lit from within. And you're warm."

  Seph always thought of her skin as warm caramel, the exact shade between her mother and father, but she doubted Rannik would understand the decadent sauce or the implications of being mixed race. The Teras she'd seen varied in earthy yellows, amber to bronze, but nothing as drastic as standing her pale white father next to her dark-skinned mother.

  "You have very little praal, like a child." Rannik brushed his thumb over her wrist, on the spot where she'd dot perfume, where her bluish veins could be seen. On Rannik, the thin turquoise lines ran strident throughout his skin, like the fine hairline cracks on porcelain. His praal was dainty, unlike the bold markings on the thane and other adult Teras she'd seen. So her instinct regarding Rannik had been right: he wasn't yet fully mature.