Page 14 of Her Alien Delegate
"It will heal," I assured her. "Is it enough?" I asked the AI.
"The Earthling is small and requires little. Recovery should be quick. Due to your size, I'll inject the remaining amount directly to the source contact in your hand. It should be sufficient, given the quick application."
My shoulders relaxed at the relief of not having to be mated to the trill even if for a temporary amount of time.
"Excellent," I replied before using my mate's scent to calm myself. Something to focus on besides the ache in my ormete. It was ill-advised to use them so soon after their reattachment, but I'd do it again knowing another was forcefully claiming her.
Then I heard her soft dysregulated breathing catching in her throat, before she seemed to hold her air like her airways were restricted. I paused, my hand reaching out in her direction as I crouched.
"Are you afraid of me?" I questioned, as that was the best outcome of such circumstances, better than the thought that her small body was struggling with the antidote and that fluttering heartbeat would cease. Perhaps the Earthlings were not strongenough to mate with a trill and I had come seconds too late to save her...
Not being able to see her was torture, and I was near ready to tear my own flesh to remove the sap from my eyes when her breath gasped and a soft hand touched mine. A rumbling grew in my chest and she retreated, but her fingertips still touched like she could feel the same pull in her ormete that I did. Earthlings did not have control over their ormete like an unGor, but perhaps that was an unconscious choice in their evolution.
"Why isn't the AI healing your hand?"
"It knows my species does not appreciate losing a memory by healing a scar. Every mark is a map of my life, a life well lived that may be recounted by those who come after me."
She whimpers. "Are you dying?"
I chuckled. A sound I wasn't accustomed to before meeting my brothers Pheyal and Vaquel, and it seemed this small female could be another to see a smile not of diplomacy, but something deeper. She cared for my well-being despite her circumstances.
Then I felt her soft finger jab at my tender wound in my hand as a stifled sob clutched her throat again. It was not the wound that ached the most, though I should have been more concerned about the trill's poison than I was.
"It isn't funny," she mumbled.
"Of course, Little Delegate. My apologies. I will not die from this, it is the way of the unGor clans to appreciate every wound that can remind us of powerful moments in our lives. If there was not a wound, I would wish to create one that could do our meeting justice."
"Some wounds are never seen; do you create one for those?" she asked with a hollowness that stung deep in my gut. It was as if she were not speaking to me at all but of something inside her that could not be seen on the delicate surface of her skin.
"Who has harmed you?" I did my best to steady my tone, but I was uncertain how my voice would be heard by an Earthling with her sound so soft and quiet. My hand wrapped around her small one, holding it as gently as I could.
She sighed, and I wished the sap would fall from my eyes to see her.
She chuckled with a hiccup. "The universe..."
"That is a very large duel you've claimed for yourself," I soften my voice so it doesn't startle her. To battle the universe is the one duel that lasts a lifetime and cannot be done alone. My commissioner, as tender as my mother has ever been to me or my brothers, would say it is foolish to think one unGor can defeat every obstacle without delegating to those they can trust. This is why our mates are called delegates. They share the burden of our hearts and help ease the heaviness of life's trials. "You must choose wisely on who you trust to help you defend against such a vast and ongoing duel."
I wished to include that I could be a wise choice, but that was not how I was taught to be chosen by a delegate. It is proven with action, not words. Words were earned and I have not earned the right to say them to her.
"Am I supposed to trust you?" she whispered so low, I almost missed it.
I smiled. "Only after I've proven myself."
There was a silence between us that was only filled with the way one of her fingers rubbed against my hand holding hers. An electric current seemed to generate from the contact that I felt stir my carnal desires and fill my body with heat.
"How does an unGor prove themselves?"
"We provide trophies of our ability to protect them from dangers; this wound will be my first earned trophy in your honor. One rising, you may choose to add an adornment to myormete braid to accept my offerings. Other offerings may be displays of my skills that may prove useful to you."
I felt the air shift as her breath heated on my chest. I could smell her scent begging me to lean in closer. Another hand reached out to touch my ormete strands and I felt a shiver tremble through them, jolting my cock to life.
"Is that what these are? Your past trophies?"
A rumble vibrated through my chest before I controlled myself to keep still.
"My past accomplishments mean nothing by my mouth; they must be heard by others for them to earn me any respect."
"And do they?" her voice deepened, and I couldn't help the way my ormete heated at her touch; she would likely be seeing the way the strands glow when excited. My ormete was silver, much like the rocks of AsunGor. Would she find it attractive? My brother Brakaun had more desirable black ormete with fine skin the color of the sands on the surface, instead of the grey coloring of the caves. What made me effective at blending in with predators was also a disadvantage, with females looking to be reminded of the beauty beyond the domes.
