Page 8 of Double Cut

“How do you know that?” Sarus asked the builder, knowing that any meal bereft of meat would leave a warrior such as him hungry.

Urek jutted his chin at Jallisk, a healer. “He told me. His cousin was matched to a human female last year and told him everything.”

Sarus looked at his friend. “Tell me.”

Urek grinned in friendly, Ahn'hudi fashion without the showing of teeth. “Oh, no, it’s going to be too much fun to watch you blunder.”

Sarus’ spiked crest bristled. “I’ve got sufficient rank to–”

His threat went unfinished as the door at the opposite end of the room swung open. All twelve males stood at attention, green and yellow reptilian eyes focused on the women who walked through. Each male raised his head and drew in a long breath, their mouths opening slightly so the air wafted over the special olfactory glands in their throats. Forked tongues flickered as they tasted the scents carried on the air. Their predatory brains quickly sorted and discarded the familiar scents of Ambassador Coquillen, their Ahn'hudi rivals, and the pretty-but-tasteless food waiting to be sampled.

The four brides huddled together, resembling a bouquet of flowers in their colorful gowns. Their eyes widened at their first sight of the males waiting for them.

“You have got to be kidding me,” the human female in the blue dress muttered under her breath. “There is no way …”

The female in purple whispered, “Oh, my God, they’re lizards!”

The female in pale green remarked under her breath, “They look like those naga aliens–”

“Louella, you’ve got to stop reading those alien romance novels. They’ve given you some really weird ideas,” the woman in red hissed under her breath.

None of the brides realized the males could clearly hear and understand every word of their commentary.

“Come along, ladies,” the ambassador ordered with a steely smile as the door behind them closed and latched.

The female wearing red caught Sarus’ attention at first, so he approached her at a slow, predatory pace. A crowd of other males rushed forward and reached her first.

The bride in red attracted half of the suitors who crowded around her, separating her from the other brides. He glanced around and veered away from the female in red to observe the others more closely. He noticed another male—another warrior—doing the same. Their eyes met, a brief acknowledgement.

Sarus inhaled again and tasted the acrid tang of chemicals on the back of his tongue. He realized that the human females were painted, the paint accentuating or emphasizing certain features. He wondered if they knew such subterfuge was not necessary among the Ahn’hudi.

As he mulled over the strange artifice of human courtship, the dark-hued one with black hair, pale green dress, and lips painted an improbable red attracted three more, leaving three suitors to hunt the other two. As his slow perambulation around the room’s perimeter neared the red-garbed female, Sarus took another deep sniff. The woman’s scent came to him, clear and distinct. It was dry, acrid, not unpleasant, but not something in which he wanted to wallow, either. No, he thought, this female was not his mate.

He stalked toward the next, the yellow-haired female in purple. She was taller than the other females and looked sinewy and strong. As he neared her, he again inhaled deeply. Her natural scent came to him, a little sour and astringent. He glanced at his rivals and wondered why none of them were using the resources naturally endowed to them.

He heard the approach of another suitor and turned to face him, coiled and ready to fight. The suitor tapped his closed right fist against the center of his chest in respectful greeting, one officer to another.

“I am Colonel Horas mek Ul’Sinha, formerly of the Golssiar 81st Regiment,” the male said in introduction. “I now serve in the imperial guard.”

Sarus thumped his chest in polite response and said, “Greetings, Colonel Horas. I am Sarus mek Orsai’To, commander of the Moriya Squadron.”

Horas gave him a friendly grin without teeth and said in a low voice, “We’re the only two warriors here, the only ones who retain our natural endowments. The healer is little better than a human. You’ll have noticed how he’s blunted his claws.”

Sarus hadn’t noticed and was appalled. “Blunted his claws? Why would he do such a thing?”

“He has sworn to heal, not harm. His claws are weapons and he would not have them accidentally harm a patient.”

Sarus eyed the human females and noticed their soft, delicate skin. Such thin hides would be easily punctured by a warrior’s sharpened claws. Perhaps he should … no.

“The moredomesticatedcertain bloodlines become, the weaker their senses and endowments,” Horas murmured. “But perhaps you have not had the opportunity to notice.”

“I have been stationed in Quadrant 22 for the last two centuries,” Sarus admitted, knowing that Horas would understand he’d been surrounded by fellow warriors during that time. There were no females, Ahn’hudi or otherwise, stationed on off-planet military outposts. “This is the first time I’ve been planetside since being assigned to Quadrant 22.”

Horas looked surprised. “Does not the emperor allow his warriors relief?”

“Every ten solar orbits,” Sarus said. “But I’ve taken my leave on other planets, as was convenient. There is no wormhole between Ahn’hudin and Quadrant 22.”

What he didn’t say was that he’d been ordered by his commanding officer to present himself planetside for the bridal games, despite his intention not to take a mate until he was well into his dotage and ready to settle down with a female and young.Like Horascame the uncharitable thought.

---