Page 31

I come all the way to outer space and I’m still getting shitposting texts…

Rosalie’s message appears on the small glass-like rectangles Dalat, Darax’s science officer (and general dogsbody as far as I can tell), gave us all.

Or rather, like every other Sarkarnii we’ve come across, he scuttled into the female quarters, eyed me with terror, placed the items on a table, barked out what they were, and left even quicker than he arrived.

At least it means we can keep in contact wherever we are. As we have been told we have the run of the ship, my friends are making the most of having freedom, which, for us, is something entirely new.

Currently Rosalie has been sending a running commentary on watching a group of Sarkarnii, as she puts it, working out .

The Sarkarnii are very easy on the eye, I admit. It is very much an endless parade of half-naked males with scaly abs for days and butts, encased in leather pants or not (more often not), which you could bounce a penny off.

It certainly makes for a lively chat group.

I just can’t with these warriors…

You could just not look

Not looking is not an option, as you well know, Scarlett

I like being clean. What else can I say? ;P

Hey, Scarlett, the Sarkarnii called, they’d like their aquium back

I can’t help snorting laughter at the response I get. At the very least, it takes my mind off my situation with Darax.

His rut. The physical change he’s going through which can, apparently, send him mad.

You spoken to your big Sarkarnii yet?

Rosalie has opened a private channel with me.

Not yet, but even if I do, what do I say? Sorry I sent you round the bend?

Darax usually finds me wherever I am with an unerring accuracy. Unless I’m with all of the others, I generally don’t wander around the ship on my own. I’ve already had a chance encounter with another Sarkarnii and I thought Darax was going to rip him to shreds for simply breathing near me.

And yet, he’s supposed to go mad, not already be mad.

I am so far out of my depth, I can’t see the surface anymore.

He’s not toilet cleaner, Kerra. You have to talk with him.

He’s not the easiest to talk to…

You’re going to have to try, if you like him.

I mean, if you like him.

If you don’t, you’re going to have to accept you have an enormous scaly stalker for the rest of your life.

You are NOT helping

I’m helping by making you DO something, not mope about

Not moping

If you’re hanging around outside his quarters, you’re moping.

Damn Rosalie. I look up at Darax’s door.

He’s not in there. I saw him earlier striding towards the area where the ship and all of his empire is controlled.

His tail lashed as a lackey tried to engage him with a larger version of the tech I’m using to send messages.

Darax responded with a now familiar snarl.

My desire to talk evaporated.

Humans are not Sarkarnii. He goes into rut, something completely physical. We fall in love. It’s different.

Or that is what I’m telling myself over and over. After what we did in the aquium, after what he said. After the bomb he decided to drop on me in terms of the differences between Sarkarnii and humans.

Ever since my heart has been beating into the void and my head has been a mess, I’ve done my best to avoid Darax. Tried to throw myself into our new life with the Sarkarnii.

Tried not to think about what Darax’s rut actually means.

“Hello, little morsel,” a wicked voice growls in my ear. “Waiting for me?”

“No…yes…” I trip over my words, knowing I have no explanation for hanging around outside his quarters. “I was just passing,” I say, finally.

Darax curls a huge, clawed hand around my shoulder.

“Do you want to have a better look at my quarters, little mate? I can show you my hoard.”

Oh, good lord.

“Um…” I genuinely don’t know what to say to his offer, other than I know what it might lead to. I move to face him. “We need to talk, Darax.”

He studies my face with his fiery eyes. His clawed hand traces through my hair, lifting a lock of it and allowing it to trail over the obsidian curve.

“Then we can go to the dining hall, for a snack.” Darax licks his lips with his deadly forked tongue.

I am so, so screwed.

All I can think about is a certain part of his anatomy on mine.

“Yes, that might be a good idea.”

I take a step to one side, but he matches me.

“I would like to mate with your mouth first,” he growls. “I like it.”

I can’t deny, kissing Darax is pretty good. But is it a slippery slope? Is it making him worse or better?

Darax takes my silence for agreement, and his lips meet mine in yet another blazing kiss which lifts me onto my tiptoes and sets my body on fire.

So, when he releases me suddenly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, I’m left hanging.

Because I’m clearly an idiot.

A beautiful, beautiful idiot because I let him do this to me. He might have shed his skin, but he got under mine so very easily.

Darax leads me through the ship to the dining hall.

It’s filled with Sarkarnii, like it usually is, the occasional fight breaking out as these dragon men seek to dominate, to eat, to challenge.

Not unsurprisingly, we spend the least amount of time here, mostly opting to use the food dispenser in our quarters.

A low rumbling growl from Darax sends them scattering to the far end, the noise a large group of males usually makes abating.

He signals to one of the warriors charged with what can only ever be crowd control and gestures for me to take a seat next to the large throne he always uses.

Several platters are brought over to us and placed in front of Darax reverentially.

“Ah,” he says, “my favorite…when I’m not eating you.”