Prime Obsession(36)
“Bath-sex. Bath. Then food. I promise on my honor as a Prime warrior.” Wulf held out a hand and led her to the tub.
* * * *
It was amazing what buoyancy did for the sex act, Mel thought. Freefall sex might be fun, too, although they’d probably need some equipment to keep their bodies together.
“We can try that in one of the simulation rooms in my father’s home on Cejuru Prime, if you’d like,” Wulf offered. “It is similar to making love in water, but drier.” He winked. “And yes, an elastic band is a requirement.” Mel stuck her tongue out at him. “Funny man.”
In front of the full-length mirror mounted in the closet, she turned this way and that in an attempt to see how the uniform Wulf had made for her fit. It seemed too tight to her.
“Does this make my butt look big?”
An exasperated masculine growl was her only answer.
“Wulf, I’m serious—and hungry. So don’t mess with me. Is this uniform too tight over my rear? I don’t want our crew distracted looking at my ass—or breasts—while we’re chasing down Antarean raiders or pirates.”
“First off, the Prime males on this ship and any others under our command in the Gold Squadron will not stare at your feminine attributes or they will have to deal with me personally. If I sense any man here or in the Gold Squadron as a whole making what I would call sexual remarks or overtures to you, they will end up on the deck hurting very badly.” Wulf glared at her. “So, the answer to your question is: The uniform fits perfectly. It is exactly as I ordered it. Your ass is perfect as are your breasts—and they are all mine.”
“O-o-kay, then,” she said, figuring she’d never solicit his opinion on clothing again.
It made him grouchy. Or, maybe he was just hungry. Like her. “Feed me, Wulf.” Her still-ruffled mate took her elbow and led her from their quarters.
“Where do we eat?” she asked as they walked to the elevator at the end of the officer quarters corridor.
“As in your military, we have one large dining area that is open around the clock. If you and I wish privacy, we can have food delivered to our quarters.”
“I’m fine eating with the men,” Mel said, happy to hear that the Prime’s military protocols weren’t all that different from the Alliance’s.
“Good, after you.” He waved her into the open elevator.
Mel nodded at the two Prime standing to the back of the lift. They wore what she had come to recognize as engineering patches on their sleeves. The two men saluted. Their auras were respectful—and envious. She imagined she’d sense a lot of envy on board.
Too many Prime males would never see their true gemates. But with any luck they might find a mate and some happiness among the other humanoid species in the galaxy. She wondered about the biological issues in having children with someone outside of their particular hominid branch.
“Maren has already asked the Galactic Alliance Council to advertise for the best and brightest biologists, genetic specialists and doctors in the galaxy to join our researchers on this exact topic.”
“Bet that went over well with the Prime fundamentalists.”
“As you might expect, it created a furor. I read the communique on the issue while you finished your bath.” Wulf’s hand caressed her lower back gently, slipping down to massage her ass. The movement blocked from the other men’s view by his body. “Are you okay? Was I too rough?”
“I loved it. With our minds this open, you know how I feel.”
“You’re so small. I’m afraid of hurting you.”
She had never considered herself small, but could see how he would think that considering his much larger body.
“I’ve fought huge Antarean, Erian, Terran, Volusian, and Prime males—you can’t hurt me by loving me.”
The door opened onto the dining level. The noisy room quieted as the men saw who entered the room. Wulf gently urged her forward, his hand once again at her waist. The light kiss he brushed on the top of her head had her blushing, but gave her the courage to face what had to be at least thirty large Prime males. They could be very intimidating en masse.
“Wulf, no kissing in front of the crew,” she hissed as she nodded and smiled to the men they passed on their way to a table.
“The devil with the crew,” he whispered against her ear. “They’ll get used to it.” She glared at him. He grinned at her.
“That is so not military protocol.” She stalked to an empty booth at the side of the large room and scooted into the banquette. “You need to save the love-stuff for our quarters and in private, gemat. ” Her words were clipped as she glared at him.
Wulf sat next to her. “And you, my little battle-mate, need to lighten up. Sex between bonded mates is not a dirty secret in Prime society. Terrans are too puritanical.”
“You didn’t think so when I had your cock in my mouth,” she retorted.
“But you aren’t Terran, just raised as one.”
The room once so quiet now buzzed. The word “battle-mate” was passed from to another Prime just like an antiquated Terran game of telephone. The room rumbled with the word and emotions it conjured. Every male eye in the room was on their table.
“Wulf?” She sought his reassurance. Not normally shy, being the center of awe and adulation was disconcerting. “They act like we are gods or something.”
“To them, battle-mates are the stuff of legends,” he explained. “The last battle-mate came from the Maren line before the Berean Wars.”
“Yeah, the traitor, Ullyn, told me that back when we first met. How long ago were the Berean Wars? I should know, but have forgotten.” She picked up the menu for the day. It was written in Prime. She could read it easily, but things would have to change once they started merging the crews. Maybe they could have it in Standard Galactic and Prime; she would mention that to the Admiral.
“Several centuries,” Wulf answered her question as he signaled the steward. “The Antarean attacks and sieges plus other environmental factors had already cut into our birth rates. The Elders of the time determined that women, already in short supply, needed to be kept out of battle situations for the future of our race. Plus, not all Prime women had the genes to become a battle-mate. Those inborn abilities only ran in certain lines.”
“Such as my and Maren’s family line?”
Wulf nodded and smiled. “Such as yours.” Despite her warning of no public displays of affection, he pulled her closer against his side and kissed her lips, stroking a finger down her cheek. The air around them grew warmer. The man put off heat like a fire. “I am so very fortunate. And, this ship is blessed with good fortune to have you. The Gold Squadron will set the standard in the Alliance Military for excellence with our battle symbiosis.”
Embarrassed by his high praise and uncomfortable with all the baggage that came with being a battle-mate, Mel looked away from the fires blazing in his golden eyes. The waiter stood at the side of the table, a grin on his face, waiting patiently for Wulf and her attention.
“Wulf,” she placed a finger on his lips as he leaned in to kiss her again, “order. The poor man is waiting.”
Wulf grinned and mouthed the word “later.”
“My apologies, Darog.”
“No problem, Captain.” The steward bowed to Mel. “Welcome, Captain Dmitros-Caradoc. What would you like to order?”
She looked at the menu again and ordered in Prime what she knew to be the traditional Prime morning meal—a sort of hot grained cereal with a side of fresh fruit and a sticky sweet topping that was very much like honey and a cup of a coffee-like drink.
Darog beamed at her, then thanked her in his language. “Captain Wulf?” Wulf ordered what she had plus a smoked meat, then dismissed the man. After the man had left, he turned toward her. “I informed my crew once I knew that I’d be bringing you home with me that I should be called Captain Wulf and you, Captain Caradoc. Does that bother you?”
“Yes, it does.”
Wulf frowned. She waved off anything he might say, then stood. In both Prime and then English she asked the men in the room to please call her Captain Melina and to spread the word to the others.
Sitting back down to cheers, she smiled at her warrior. “If they can call you Captain Wulf, then Captain Melina is just fine with me.”
“I love you, Captain Melina.”
“Back at you, Captain Wulf.”
* * * *
Mel wasn’t sure what to expect when she and Wulf entered Huw’s quarters to question the two rebels. She sure didn’t expect to see them still trussed up like game birds about to be roasted on a spit. The only difference from when she’d tied them up to now was the blindfolds; from somewhere, Huw or Iolyn had obtained black leather ones like she’d seen in some of the shops on Tooh 2 that catered to certain more risque sexual acts.
The men’s emotional auras had also remained unchanged; both still were defiant and tinged with a killing hate. Their base emotions filled the atmosphere immediately around them with an oily, black and bitter-tasting sheen. It nauseated her, making her wish she’d avoided the overly sweet Prime topping on her breakfast fruit.