15. AHANE

He would never understand the appeal of 36A’s so-called “braiding” performances.

Even Thalia seemed fascinated by it.

He rounded her up out of the games hall before the staff lurking in the corners could tell them get a table or get lost. Humans had facilities like this—Keiron had taken Chess to one on 25XA. And not because his brother thought unsavory game halls were where one took their new mate.

Keiron had done it to make money, and while he hadn’t said anything, they’d all suspected he’d taken Chess to improve his game. His brother was very skilled at radnorm, so him coming home with profit wasn’t unusual, but what was unusual was Keiron playing for actual currency at all.

They’d all grown up playing radnorm with their parents, and then amongst themselves, and then in the military, where radnorm was popular for killing time or friendly wagers. Taidc had won the Provisional tournament every time he’d entered, and was so notoriously good he’d been preemptively banned from all the game halls in the Lower City. He’d also been preemptively banned from all the tournaments, even though his Provisional tournament wins should have given him a bye and free entry good until he failed to make the semi-finals of a tournament.

Taidc had turned dark green with the insult. They think I want to rebuild House 8 on radnorm. I would never do that. But I would pay for Ohade’s treatment. They know it. And they would rather see our brother suffer and make me an enemy with a very long memory and less and less to lose with each year.

Technically, a psy at the table wasn’t against the rules of any game hall or table. Plenty of species, or even individuals within species, had some trivial to minor psy abilities, or some other superior physical sense that provided an advantage at games of skill. For formal tournaments, the rules were set by the organizers. There were even all-psy tournaments, and there was one in particular that half the Gestalt seemed to watch for the chaos and seemingly arbitrary strategies that resulted.

But bringing a powerful psy to the table intending to leverage her abilities, while no one else knew she was a psy? That’s how you got half your scales ripped off and sold as jewelry.

What had prompted Keiron to do something so questionable? It hadn’t been the previously unknown tax bill. Taidc had suspected that there were well-connected and very petty individuals looking to make sure House 8 never came to anything again.

With Thalia’s face hidden by her breather and the shadows of her hood, her barely existent expressions were totally hidden to him. Her presence was unmistakable. A dense, small, wandering planet that had no star to illuminate it, but warped and bent the fabric of space as it traversed.

The crowds had noticed her too. Most of them didn’t appear to be doing anything but existing in small clusters that periodically exchanged mutters of acknowledgement. A number slumped in corners, napping. Others attempted to engage in commerce. From the gestures and colors and low noise, many were anxious. Perhaps even frantic.

The others, who moved with purpose, stood out from the loiterers.

But Thalia attracted attention as gazes slid over her cloaked form as lights moved over the surface of a dark planet. There were many other individuals dressed similar to her, or even more layered, yet their attention went to her. He was wearing less than almost everyone else, with his scales on display in a place that never saw 25XA, but he was, as always, unnoticed.

Thalia stretched her legs to match his pace, and he obliged by slowing down a degree. His tail snaked towards her to cup her back before he caught himself. Her posture was correct and unassuming, her gait steady.

Her gloved hand shot out from under her cloak and grabbed his waistband. Before he could process his shock, she had ducked around behind him, her glove raking along his scales, she’d ripped off her breather and was hauling him towards the wide, dimly-lit, mostly-empty hallway between the toilets and the shower facilities.

She tugged him to the wall, her back to it, threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down into the shadows of her hood.

Her kiss washed his scales nearly white with shock. Then the color returned in a gushing rush of explosive reds that burned white at the tips.

He instinctively lifted her with one arm, scooping her up and she threw her legs around his hips, managing to keep her cloak around her ankles to not expose anything but her bare feet.

Her tongue was hot, deft, swift, with a delicate texture overlaid on a strong, powerful denseness washed with a pristine salty taste that soaked his brain. Her lips, by contrast, were soft as a precious spun confection served at a high table.

Her hot core pressed against his abdomen, her soft, naked thighs rubbing the sensitive scales on his sides.

His body instantly obeyed, his second heart pumping blood into his cock.

He braced himself on the wall and slipped his hand under her ass, cupping her easily and hefting her a bit higher so that all of her warmth pressed flush with his abdomen. His cock struggled to be free, already dripping with first honey for her.

Had she been overstimulated by the braiding display?

Her gloves felt unnatural. He longed to feel her hands, her skin, against his scales. To rake his talon down her spine and feel the nerves dance and the muscles tense as her back arched, offering herself to him?—

He pulled away. His cock throbbed and made it difficult to think of anything else.

In the shadows of her hood, her gaze seemed to shine. Her lips were swollen, flushed as red as his scales, damp. Her hot core pressed against his belly seared him—was it moist, too? Did she grow damp? What would she taste like?

Her expression provided no explanation. His scales rushed burning sunset red, the tips corona-orange edged with white, while his tail lashed around her ankle and he fought sliding it up the back of her thigh to excite the large nerve running down her leg. Maybe tickle the delicate spaces between her toes before dipping to the cleft between her thighs.

She bit her lower lip, crooking her jaw slightly so that only one of her front teeth bit into the delicate flesh, pinching it just slightly but not piercing it.

His clawtips dug into the abused wall.

“I can’t believe that was my solution.” Her whisper was hoarse, soft, and raked his scales and nerves and made his fangs sharpen in his mouth as his cock engorged further and honey drained from the tip.

“Did what?” He managed to force his growl into words.

Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and over his shoulder. “Grab the guy for a kiss so the bad guys don’t pay attention to them.”

She wasn’t making much sense, but it must have been a Human reference. He did pick up on bad guy through the haze that had his scales ignited with orange-coal lust.

Thank the gods that she’d somehow jumped high enough that her legs were hooked around his upper waist and she was clear of his rebellious cock. She probably had no idea (or politely ignored) how engorged he was. His cock strained upwards, trying to reach the hot core pressed against him, and he lashed his tail around his own ankle so it didn’t do something stupid. It wrapped tight enough his ankle promptly went numb.

He asked, “You saw someone you recognize?”

The tip of her tongue darted between her lips to moisten them. Confusion obfuscated her glow. “There were just two guys I didn’t like the look of. I’m sorry. This was…”

She seemed to take in their very compromising position for the first time.

His voice clawed out of his throat. “Quick thinking is quick thinking.”

Faint color rose to her cheeks. “I’m an idiot.”

Her distress somehow compelled him to shift her slightly, so she understood he did not mind her body against his. “No.”

As if she hadn’t heard him, her color intensified. She whispered a confession very, very softly. “I’m afraid he’s going to come looking for me.”

“He?” Ahane leaned into the shadows of her hood. “It is time you told me who He is.”

She tried to tug away. An almost electric jolt snapped through her, sending his scales tingling. When she looked back at him, her wash of color was gone, and instead she’d gone pale, her eyes bright with terror.

Her lips moved and pressed together, before she finally surrendered. “Him. My handler. My Grey handler.”

“Greys don’t have sexes, genders, or names.”

“Hedid,” she emphasized the pronoun enough to communicate it was a name. “He isn’t a pure Grey. He identified with masculinity. Using pronouns was part of his… research.”

She gulped the last word like it was vomit.

Not a pure Grey.

The Greys denied having Grey/Human hybrids, of course. And no one had ever seen one, and no one knew how advanced their project was, or what they were even doing beyond trying to get themselves out of the genetic corner they’d engineered themselves into.

The Greys not only had a successful hybrid, the hybrid was an adult, and successful enough to participate in high-level research to perpetuate the project.

That’s why she’d been down on that level. That’s why she had so many probe wounds and scars. That’s why she hadn’t been with the others.

Her chin trembled as she fought off her emotions.

This wasn’t the place. He asked, “Are they gone now?”

She glanced furtively over his shoulder. “I think so. I don’t even know now.”

“Everything seems threatening,” he said in a low voice, “when you are a tiny creature.”

She squealed indignantly and kicked her little heels against his back. “You ass! Put me down!”

“No, no, you are too tiny. I shall carry you.” Her little show of rage was so entertaining.

“I don’t need to be carried!”

If he put her down, she would certainly become aware of his still-rigid cock. The hot churning in his balls had improved slightly, but the deep, gnawing hunger and the pleading of his body for her to accept his first honey had not.

He could scarcely remember the last time a partner had accepted his honey, and there had only been one time before that. Misfortune made a junior brother exceptionally unattractive. He had resolved that his life would be celibate. He would not torment himself wanting what was not for him. The order of priority was Keiron securing a Lady-Scion via a high-end trinket, then using the resulting windfall for Ohade’s treatment and securing Taidc his partner.

Whatever providence might have been left would have been divided amongst himself, Erkus, and Ohade. And of course, the Lady-Scion may have had her own family members to provide partners and trinkets for.

Chess had changed many things, but not his choice to remain celibate. Better to decline the meal than to dine on scraps. He and his House would not die from his celibacy.

Thalia was challenging that choice.

“Cook.”