Page 7 of A Delicate Conquest

Pain prickled behind his eyeballs. Weirdly, his entire scalp was sensitive, the roots of his hair tingling uncomfortably. He let out a puff of exasperation and pulled his long hair from its tie, slipping the band around his wrist.

“I’m fucking dying here, Zharek,” he groaned as he leaned back in the treatment chair. “What’s taking you so long?"

There was no answer from the dark chamber beyond the treatment room. Zharek had disappeared into there some time ago to retrieve the medication—the injection that was supposed to make all of thisstop.

Well, he was taking his Kaiin-cursed time about it.

Had Zharek gotten sidetracked by something?

Mavrel knew from experience that this was the most likely explanation. The mercurial medic, inventor, scientist, and son of House al Sirian was controlled by his passions and interests. Perhaps his attention had been stolen by some test finding or anomaly.

Mavrel was about to get up and hunt Zharek down when the demon himself appeared, carrying a strange object.

The medic appeared half-wild as usual: barefoot, horns fully grown, white hair bound in a messy topknot, hiskashkanuntied and flapping around.

“Look at this.” He held out a shiny circular object that was about the size of Mavrel’s outstretched hand.

“What?” Irritated, Mavrel stared at the thing, trying to make sense of it. He took it into his hands. It was light, thin, and slightly organic-looking, shimmering under the soft lights of Zharek’s holoscreens. It looked to have been bisected, revealing a perfectly imperfect pattern inside. Mavrel recognized that pattern. “This was made by a living organism, wasn’t it?”

Zharek nodded, seeming pleased with himself. “What do you think it is?”

Mavrel tapped the edge with his fingernail, his discomfort momentarily replaced with curiosity. “Looks like a calcareous exoskeleton of some sort. Interesting that the pattern is a near-perfect logarithmic spiral.”

“Correct. Can you believe this was made by an ocean-dwelling creature? A primeval thing…”

Impressed, Mavrel’s eyebrows rose. “Well, itisfrom Earth. The biodiversity is insane.”

For a moment, both Mavrel and Zharek forgot about his imminent Mating Fever as they stared at the curio, a simple yet infinitely complex thing made by nature.

“Hmph.” Mavrel shook his head and snorted as the pain in his temples returned. “It’s all very interesting, but will youpleasegive me the medicine already? I have work to do. I don’t have time for distractions.”

Zharek chuckled, the sound grating on Mavrel’s nerves. “Have you ever considered that your impatience right now is notdue to the fact that you have work to do? That, rather, it’s an effect of the Mating Fever itself?”

“I don’t care,” Mavrel growled. “I just want the suppressant.”

“Very well.” Zharek disappeared behind his consoles, carefully depositing the marvelous logarithmic spiral and retrieving an autoinjector vial of suppressant. He tossed it to Mavrel. “Inject this while I monitor you.”

Of course, there were sensors all around, keeping track of his vitals.

Mavrel caught the vial in his hand, pressed it against his thigh, and activated the release button. The needle shot through the thin fabric of his trousers, causing a tiny sting.

The vial ejected.

The suppressant entered his system.

Mavrel closed his eyes and waited for the drug to take effect.

Come on…

“It’s completely and utterly pointless for you to try and fight it, you know,” Zharek said matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you just go and pursue your future mate already?”

“I’ll do so in my own time,” Mavrel muttered tersely. “Right now, I do not feel like getting drawn into some maddening song-and-dance over which I have little to no control.”

Still standing behind his consoles and monitors, Zharek regarded him with a curious stare. The soft blue light from the devices burnished the medic’s elegant features, making him appear strange—as if Mavrel barely knew him.

“Hm.” Zharek frowned. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

“Afraid?” Mavrel scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. I’m just prioritizing.”

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