Thirst

“Evangeline,” she said with greater conviction, stiff in his hold despite the softness of the furs on her skin and the pleasing way every inch of his appendages stroked her.

“Evangeline, my siren. Mother to my spawn.” Those words were given with what might be considered reverence, should a hissing two-tonged alien warrior be capable of such a thing.

And her silent tears dried.

“Glabrx.” Tasting his name, rolling it on her single tongue. Awkward, staring at those stars shifting past, at a nearby ball of burning red fire, she tried. “Great Warrior and father to our spawn.”

“My spawn…” Sharp teeth, gentle yet daring, took her neck in his great maw. Thoughtful, reverent, were his words despite his catch. “You are mother for moments only, the larvae you cannot keep. Yet, I have decided you are worth keeping. Worth wasting Hertlu furs which would fetch me a fine price. You have your soft bed, siren Evangeline. And now that you have claimed the title of mother and called me father, I wonder? Would you waste away if parted from me, social creature? It must be so.”

A deep breath followed by a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’ll waste away now if you forget to feed me.”

“Faster yet should you lack water.” He nudged her head with his, as if to show affection. “Other resources I paid a great deal for through the communication network of this quadrant confirm your claim was true. Eat, drink, and then I shall bathe you.”

Burying her face in soft, white fur, tension eased enough for another full, rib-expanding breath. “Human women love warm baths.”

***

An alien toilet was far different than a human one. Though the utter embarrassment of being shown how to use it, the various functions, the purpose… was.

Baths, even on a space craft, were literal.

Glabrx might have had a toilet, a literal hose that basically suctioned one’s privates to keep waste product down, but he had a full, sunken—almost too hot to tolerate —bath.

A thing earned by a ranked Necrimata soldier, he’d told her. And with that decree, he’d puffed out his chest and made the tentacles at his back… display. All the colors, all very intimidating. Yet oddly appealing in their rainbow.

Easy enough to be impressed with a full belly of exotic things she was wise enough not to question the origin of. Easy enough when her thirst had been slaked. Easy enough when she’d been able to relieve herself.

Then he took her hand, so small in his extra jointed and very alien grip, and led her into the liquid.

This was not an Earth bath.

The gelatinous substance within was nothing like water. Hardly rippled, required a very bizarre cutting through of squish and pressure.

Yet… once Evangeline settled against the rim and seeped into the mass… it was bliss. Comforting all the bits that ached. Working on her.

So much so that she lay her head back, let her swollen breasts leak, and saturated in a moment so comforting she may as well have been on a beautiful beach in Mexico under a bright, yellow sun. “Were there ever females of your kind?”

“Gender is not a variable in my kind.”

Laughing, carefree with a cool cup of water to sip and a bath laced with heaven, Evangeline gave a single laugh. “But sex is all you want.”

The gelatin swished, parted, and made way for the captain of the ship. “A true seeding frenzy is passed in a day, perhaps two—large, violent, intelligent game filled and left trapped so the larva might feed. That is what I sought at the flesh dealer’s when my frenzy came several phases before I reached my favored hunting grounds. Yet my flange still reaches for you. My frenzy will not abate, only grows, wisp-thing. Mayhap I’ll kill you after all. Mayhap knowing my spawn have been removed unbalances my species’ natural impulse. You were meant to give your life for Necrimata young, not be enjoyed.”

It seemed the creature tried to kiss her, acting out the endearment as if having studied the mechanics but never having employed it. It seemed to move like a slithering thing and cover ever part with every wriggling appendage.

It seemed to appreciate.

With easy strength, he parted her thighs, hitched them over broad hips despite the squish of the water. “It’s the wisp in you.”

“Your manual”—The very manual that came so much more clearly to her mind after sleep refreshed her—“states that I am a protected species. You must account for me to several governing bodies. You are not even allowed to sell me unless under very specific circumstances.

Every tentacle clutched, suckered, and left little circular marks where they roamed. “A Great Warrior of my stature grasps the need to serve their species greater good. After careful consideration, I intend to keep you, fill you, ride the frenzy until I no longer breathe. I will give the Necrimata much to remember me for as this siren pulls me under the waves. I will spawn a legion of young. Conquered planets shall be named for the sacrifice I pour between your legs.” He tested a word, as if disliking the concept. “For the babies you season.”

A ginger brow arched. Soaked and sated and suspecting some sort of sedative was in her water, Evangeline said. “And just how long will it take you to die of endless seeding frenzy?”

“If projections are correct, a hundred human years. Maybe two. During all of which I’ll be unable to continue my duties or maintain my station as a ranked warrior.” Flange began to poke about, seeking its place to rest. “Much I will give up to keep you, siren. Status, the glory of a different hunt, yet I will breed with you until I die. This I do for the greater good.”

Laugher, glorious in its hysteria, broke free. “You will give things up? My life was stolen! A life that will not extend as long as two hundred years. Humans die around sixty.”