Page 17

D arax’s quarters are smaller than I was expecting, given he’s a warlord .

They’re furnished like the one on board the other ship, the one I assumed was his main vessel but I was wrong.

A large depression in the floor is also filled with a tangle of blankets.

Not entirely sure what that means other than perhaps Darax doesn’t sleep well.

It’s filled with the scent of him. Smoky, a hint of rich tobacco, and some spice which is almost intoxicating. There’s no fertility statue this time. Although there are cupboards and drawers I get to have a poke through.

I don’t need clothing now, not since a very rattled group of Sarkarnii brought us all in several trays of food and a small box with buttons on the side.

One of them gave Rosalie a very, very brief demonstration, and we discovered it made clothing.

Shortly thereafter, they all left at a run, with Maggie openly ogling their bottoms.

“Shame they didn’t want to hang around,” she said with a sigh.

“Look! Knickers!” Scarlett exclaimed, holding up a pair of granny pants.

“Good lord, you could use them for camping.” Rosalie snorted, waving hers over her head.

“I prefer comfort,” Scarlett retorted. “Not some string up my crack.”

Lydia laughed out loud and it was a nice sound to hear. She’d been the quietest of our group so far, and I remembered how completely terrified she was when she first saw Darax as a dragon.

“I vote for no string and less nana in my knickers,” Maggie said. “But I really, really want a shower and a set of clean clothes, although not what Lydia is wearing. No offense, Lydia.”

“None taken.” Lydia flapped her sleeves at Maggie, looking like a rubbish ghost. “I’d prefer something which fits too.”

As I’ve some experience of Sarkarnii living arrangements, I managed to find the bathroom for Maggie. Rosalie and Scarlett got to work on the machine and started pumping out various items of clothing, which emerged from a slot in the side like a fax machine.

Once everyone was fed and clothed, I went to find a Sarkarnii to take me to Darax’s quarters.

And here I am, on my own.

“I should have kept you chained up,” Darax growls from across the room.

I drop the blanket I’ve been holding back into the drawer and not-so-subtly close it with my hip.

“Or maybe I should keep my warriors chained up, given you were brought here by one,” he adds.

“Whatever you’re into, I guess.” I lean against the set of drawers, which chooses that particular moment to move back into the wall, causing me to lose my balance.

In a flash of movement, which such a huge creature like Darax shouldn’t be capable of, I find myself once again in his arms before I hit the ground.

“I am into my warriors keeping their eyes to themselves or I will pluck them out for looking in your direction,” he rasps.

“Harsh and impractical.”

Towering above me, Darax inclines his head. “Yes,” he says, “you are right. I will merely remove one eye each. That way, they are still functioning warriors.”

I screw my face up.

“No mass eye removal. Only a few as a warning?” he suggests, eyeing me hopefully.

I lift my hand, holding it flat and tilting it from side to side. “Possibly no body parts missing at all?” I suggest.

“Then how will they ever learn?” Darax rumbles.

I’m not entirely sure if he’s joking or not.

“Perhaps they don’t need to learn. And anyway, I needed help, and you weren’t around.”

My big Sarkarnii snarls under his breath something which could be a swear word. “I need to shed my skin. I was in my aquium.”

“And did you?” I look over his body. Darax has pants on, but like all of the semi- clothed Sarkarnii I’ve seen so far, they sit low on his hips, exposing a considerable amount of glittering scaled skin.

And abs. Can’t possibly miss the abs, especially on Darax who has to be considerably bulkier than all the other Sarkarnii I’ve seen, as well as taller.

“No,” he growls. “I did not.”

Oh dear, I have a grumpy Darax.

“I asked to be brought here because I wanted to tell you the other women agree we don’t need to be presented to the warlords. They want to have some breathing space, to get used to this new reality.”

“And what new reality would that be?” Darax hasn’t let me go, and I’m, strangely, not complaining.

“We were all taken from our planet, and we’ve all ended up being dumped here on…”

“Vorostor.”

“On Vorostor. With a lot of new things to come to terms with.”

Darax furrows his brow. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, like how we can understand alien languages?”

“Nano implants.”

“Or great scaled creatures who turn into even bigger ones.”

“Sarkarnii.” Darax gestures to himself with his free hand.

“Or tech which can produce clothes instantly, or space ships, or, well, any of this.” I wave my hand in the air. “Our planet is backwards compared to literally all your tech. We’re cavemen in comparison.”

“Cave men ?” Darax queries.

“Primitive.”

“I do not consider you primitive, Kerra.” He shifts his grip, and I’m slightly tipped back in his arms, looking directly into those stunning eyes.

“That’s good to know.”

“I want you to mate my mouth again.” The look in his eyes deepens into that of pure hunger.

“ Mate your mouth ?” I query, completely unable to process his expression. “Do you mean kiss?”

“If kiss is mouth mating, then I want to do that,” Darax says in all seriousness. “You are my mate, Kerra. I rut for you. I need to make you mine.”