Lisril walked with an arm wrapped around Alex, leading him through the palace halls, and protecting him from the chill night air. She’d meant to get him alone earlier, but it had been predictably tricky and trickier still with the unexpected addition of Rosslln.

“I’m glad you’re adjusting,” she said.

He kissed her cheek. “I’m trying.”

She sucked her lip, doubt assailing her; had she misread him? It was possible; he laughed when he meant to cry. She didn’t show it; she’d thrown him into a new environment, demanded a lot of him; he needed her to be strong and to see through his veil of strength.

“You love them,” she said.

“I know!” he snapped. “I know; you think I don’t know? You think I’m not in here?” He tapped his forehead. “Addicted to their attention?”

He heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s nice,” he murmured. “It’s wonderful.”

She pulled him close. “Alex, I know I should have-”

“Shut up,” he said. “Listen. I’m not angry with you. But listen.”

She fell silent, nodding. If Alex was willing to share, she certainly wouldn’t stand in his way.

He took a deep breath and then let it go, shaking his head. She squeezed his hand, waiting. She’d wait for him forever if he asked.

Finally, he nodded and said. “Until relatively recently, most men, well under half, never got the chance to breed. There are various ways we’ve come to that conclusion, but the point is, forty percent, forty percent of men in humanity’s misty past have managed to leave heirs. And that probably sounds completely foreign to you.”

It did, and her face scrunched up in confusion. How could that be?” It seemed- so wasteful; how could they persist?

“Think about it,” he said. “On Nyx, you only have one man for every twenty women, and you get along fine. On Earth, left to our own devices, we have just about as many men as we do women; you just don’t need that many.”

Her brow knit tightly together; she supposed it made sense, but still.

“But that’s not really the point; the point is, this leads to certain realities. Men do the fighting; men struggle and strive; we’re unnecessary, women valuable. So, our species has developed a certain- a certain indifference to the suffering of men. A calculated coldness.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t like it all.

“It’s just easier,” he went on. “After all, if we’re going to be marching off to war to die in droves, well, I imagine you’ve probably experienced something similar.”

She thought back on her life, on her dissatisfaction, and the feeling that men were interested in nothing more than her wealth and status. Her heart bled. The very idea of him going through that same isolation and lonesomeness was almost too much to bear. She said nothing, and he continued.

“But,” he said. “That’s only after we grow up. As children, the situation is different; we need protecting and nurturing. We spend our childhood showered in attention and care, only for it to evaporate when we become men. Then, we spend the rest of our lives looking for a surrogate for that affection, a surrogate that doesn’t exist.”

“And then we met,” she said. “And you found peace.” It wasn’t a difficult leap; after all, she’d found her peace with him, too.

He shook his head. “You’re impossible, Lisril, the Dyrantisa. If God came down and said to men, ‘name your heart’s desire, and I will make it for you.’ We’d want you. You’re the platonic ideal of love and companionship given flesh.”

He rested his head on her shoulder. “Lisril,” he said. “You’re all I need. You don’t have to share; I don’t need you to find me other women.”

She licked his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s very kind. But I don’t think it’s true. You would miss them terribly if you lost them now.”

“I’d live with it,” he insisted.

“Perhaps you would, but you shouldn’t have to, and I won’t ask you to,” she said.

They were silent for a long while, then, and when it became too much, she said. “What do you intend for Rosslln?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’d only intended to get her off the street, give her a chance to turn things around, but-”

“But then,” she said. “Rosslln was Dyrantisa, and thus heroic and loving, in a manner to which you are unaccustomed.”

He was quiet. “I don’t know what I should be doing, Kitten.”

He wanted her encouragement, comfort, and permission to find his happiness, and she was more than happy to provide it all. “You should let your women love you and give them that same easy happiness you find with us.”

He smiled. “Lisril, are you sure? You don’t have to share me.”

She closed her eyes; he wanted it to be her choice. She could have him all to herself; all she had to do was say the word.

Between that and seeing him surrounded by the women who loved him, the choice was easy. “Of course, I’m sure, don’t make me repeat myself.”

They came to their room, shouldering in past the guard stationed at their door, a fire already burning in the hearth on the wall to their right; Rosslln sat before it, dutifully tending the flame as she waited for their return.

She looked up as they entered and smiled, patting the fur rug next to her.

They joined her, Alex wrapping an arm around each of them. Rosslln immediately burrowed into his side, purple skin flushing even darker.

Lisirl leaned against him, her tongue flicking over his ear. “She needs you,” Lisril whispered.

He swallowed. “Lisril.”

“Alex,” she hissed. “You have to give her what she needs or release her. Leaving it like this is cruel.”

It was true but also an excellent way to help him past his doubts. Hadn’t he just said that Dyrantoro men did the caring for?

He looked at her, then down at the needy woman enjoying his closeness.

He hooked his finger under Rosslln’s chin and pulled her into a long kiss. The young woman’s eyes closed, and she pressed closer to him. He framed her face in his hands, easing her down onto the rug.

Her hands came up to his chest, pressing back against him.

He stopped and pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

Her hands curled in the fabric of his shirt. Her mouth worked silently for a moment, and she shook her head. “No,” she said at last. “Nothing’s wrong; I want that, too, just-”

She looked away, and Lisril laid down on her side, flanking the lovers. “You have to tell him what you want, or he’ll never know.”

Rosslln swallowed. “Can I have a little more time?”

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His forehead came down to rest against hers. “Of course,” he said. “As much as you need.”

She nodded, looking up at him in wonder. “I never thought I’d have anything like this.

He kissed her. “Let’s get to bed,” he said. “we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

----------------------------------------

Rosslln couldn’t sleep.

Alex wanted her, wanted- well, could she be surprised? She hadn’t been the most reserved, and he hadn’t rebuffed her advances, not a one.

Her stomach twisted, but she’d panicked and rebuffed him. He hadn’t seemed disappointed. But was that a good thing? Surely she’d want him disappointed?

On the other hand, what if he was? What if she’d injured him with her rejection? He was a man; he couldn’t be accustomed to it. But he hid things. After all, he hadn’t been a magnificent warrior, a hunter who put women to flight through sheer ferocity, until he had been.

And then, when the danger had passed, he went straight back to wanting nothing more but a quiet moment in the arms of his women.

Which was the real Alex? Her man’s true face? The warrior, or her little man? It had troubled her for a time. Then, wrapped up in his arms and absolved of her failures, she found it didn’t matter.

He could be either, or both, when and as he pleased, and she’d still love him the more with every moment.

She needed to sleep; he was right; tomorrow, they would meet the Matriarch, the voice of the divine on Nyx. Goddess willing, she wouldn’t be called upon to speak. What a disaster that would be.

A street rat like her mouthing off in front of the holiest woman alive.

She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come.

But sleep didn’t come, and something caught her ears. It sounded like something falling outside their door.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Alex, who had an arm looped around each of them, and crept around its frame and toward the door to see. She had almost reached the door when it slowly began to crack open.

She should have cried out, warned Alex and Lisril, but instinct took her, the long training of survival on the streets. She scrambled for the shadows in the leeward side of the door and tucked herself away, breath held, watching.

A woman, covered head to foot, slipped through the door. She looked around, and Rosslln froze, thankful for her dark skin, which wasn’t so luminous as Liril, or especially Eli’s; still, if the intruder turned her head just a little further….

The woman turned her attention back to the bed, creeping toward Rosslln’s sleeping family.

She tensed, legs bunching up beneath her in readiness to pounce. Rosslln shifted from one leg to the other, inching forward as the stranger came to stand over the bed.

There were perhaps twenty feet between them when she saw the glint of the fire reflected in a knife blade. She launched herself through the air, easily crossing that distance in a single bound.

Screaming in rage, falling upon the intruder’s back, arms wrapped tight around her neck, kicking first one leg then the other, her long claws tearing fabric and flesh and biting bone.

Hot blood and the woman’s gastric juices spilled over her legs. The knife bit into her arms; she heard someone yell but couldn’t be sure who it was.

She was bleeding but clung tightly to the woman and kicked again, tearing the wounds wider.

The woman fell, but Rosslln kept kicking, shredding the assassin’s legs and torso.

Someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she rolled onto her back, tucking her legs tight against her chest in readiness to kick out again.

“Sweetheart!” Alex lept away, eyeing her warily.

Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she collapsed, head back and legs unfurling. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Hey,” he murmured, kneeling down next to her, taking her hand. “Hey, Sweetheart, it’s ok, I know. What happened?”

She swallowed and explained what she had seen and done. When she reached the part where she’d ducked behind the door, Lisril piped in.

“You hid?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you stop them then? Or raise the alarm, rouse us then and there?”

Then, Alex was there, hands on hips, staring his wife down. “She saved my life,” he said. “And did it without the benefit of years of military training.”

Lisril’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry, Rosslln. You behaved exceptionally gallantly, and I was not wary enough to protect him myself. Thank you.”

There was a commotion outside the door, and it burst open, two women rushing into the room, saber in hand.

Rosslln sprung to her feet, unarmed but crouching in readiness to defend her man. Lisril joined her, a strange angular object clutched in both hands, her arms outstretched toward the intruders.

A tense moment crept by, and Lisril sighed and lowered the- whatever it was. “You should have announced yourselves,” she said to the women, who Rosslln now realized wore the uniform of the palace guard. “I nearly killed the both of you.”

“What’s going on?” one of the guards asked. “Your sentry is dead.”

“This meat,” Lisril said, kicking the body at her feet. “Tried to murder my husband in his sleep.”

Alex peered past the guards. “Was there any sign of a struggle?”

The women ignored him and gathered around the corpse, so he ignored them right back, kneeling next to Rosslln and taking her hand. “You ok, Sweetheart? You’re bleeding.”

She sat and looked down at the backs of her arms, covered in deep cuts and stab wounds. Luckily, her big arteries had been protected by the bone. It still hurt, though. “Do you still have that spray?

He nodded, “I think so.”

He went to his effects and returned with the small metal cylinder from the other day.

“We’re sort of running low,” he said. “But, there should be enough for you; show me your arms.”

He helped her out of her nightgown, and he gave a sympathetic hiss. He looked around and then just stripped off his own shirt, using that to mop up the blood and sprayed her wounds.

It stung, but only for a moment, and she was ready for the pain this time. Her wound from before was gone, she didn’t know how, but it hadn’t even left a scar.

Soon, his poultice was gone, and so was her pain; the bleeding stopped. “Thank you,” she said.

He kissed her. “I just wish I could do more.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, getting a little blood on him. If he cared, he didn’t show it. She didn’t know how long they held each other like that. But eventually, they were roused by the sound of a clearing throat.

She looked up; the body was gone, dragged away by the guards, and Lisril was standing over them. “I’m going to go speak with Iiandere,” she said. “Stay here, and find some way to bar the door, don’t open it for anyone but myself.”

Alex nodded. “Yes, Kitten.”

Lisril nodded and turned to Rosslln. “Take care of him.”

“Of course,” Rosslln said solemnly.

Lisril nodded and turned on her heel, marching out the door.

Alex pushed an armoire in front of the door and then guided her to the bed, and went about using the remains of his ruined shirt to clean her legs as best he could.

He threw the ruined garment away and joined her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I said I was.” She nuzzled against his neck, her heart thundering in her ears.

She licked his cheek, a hand coming up to his bare chest. Her blood rising. “Alex.” She pushed him down and threw her leg over his, straddling his waist.

“Rosslln!” he cried. “You’re-”

She sealed his lips with hers, smothering his objection. “I want you,” she growled.

He peered at her contemplatively for a long time, then his hand tangled itself in her hair, pulling her down into a deep, passionate kiss. “Let me,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Alex-” He pressed a finger to her lips.

“You’re hurt,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

She leaned into him, licking his lips. “I love you, Alex.”

His face softened with gratitude, and gently he reversed their positions, holding himself above her. “Sweetheart-”

She shook her head, “hush.”

She reached up, fanning her fingers over the hard muscle of his chest, and craned forward to press her lips to his creamy skin.

Her hands slipped down, tugging at the waist of his slacks. He helped her strip him of pants and underwear, leaving him crouched over her in all his resplendence.

He kissed her, his hands slowly exploring her stomach and breasts, sending shivers running down her spine.

She reached up, tangling her fingers in his glittering hair, as he traced slow, ever-widening circles over the smooth skin on her stomach, slowly making his way to the juncture of her legs.

He caressed down one thigh, then up the other, before his fingers met her womanhood, slowly tracing her outer lips and sinking the first one, then two fingers into her clenching folds.

She gasped, bucking her hips as he gently stretched her inner channel.

She pulled him down to her, licking his lips. He opened his mouth, and their tongues met, kissing as Dyrantoro did.

He pulled away, smiling, withdrew his fingers, coated in her feminine essence, from her lower lips, and lined himself up at her entrance. “Are you ready? Sweetheart?”

She swallowed her nerves and nodded.

He eased in at first until she felt him against her maidenhead.

He paused, then, and with a forward jerk, pushed past the last vestige of her girlhood and inaugurated her into womanhood.

She clung to him, riding through the pain without complaint.

He held still, and as the pain slowly receded, she looked up at him through happy tears. “I’m a woman,” she whispered. “Your woman.”

He gently caressed her face, trailing soft kisses down the line of her neck and chin.

His fingers slid down her shoulders, gently stroking the rough fur on the backs of her arms.

She wiggled her hips, hesitantly at first, accustoming herself to the way she stretched and strained against the intrusion, then more boldly, encouraging him to continue.

Together they settled into a languid pace, he slowly working half of himself in and out as his hands found her breasts, dexterous fingers toying with their sensitive caps.

His pace picked up, and the hot breath that tickled her ear grew more ragged. Her hips rose to meet him, a bubbling tension building in her core.

Her ankles coiled around his legs, clawed toes curling.

She moaned his name and took a handful of his bottom in each hand, pulling him in, urging him on faster.

Her core clenched, and the bubble that had built in her stomach rocked her body with a euphoric explosion.

Alex lost all rhythm, burying himself inside her, his rod twitching and jerking, flooding her with his warmth and prolonging that ecstatic high.

Finally, he toppled into the bed next to her, a contented sigh bursting from his chest.

She rolled onto her side, gently tracing circles on his chest. He smiled at her, taking her hands in his. “Love you, Sweetheart.”

She beamed at him, licking his cheek and bringing her cheek to rest on his chest.