Naya actually asked for his permission to go see the elves and get things prepared. He definitely hadn’t adjusted to her far more conservative culture, and as he stared at his closet trying to pick something to wear, he’d mostly just waved a hand until he realized she hadn’t moved.

“You don’t need my permission,” he said, which just resulted in a confused stare.

“You are my husband,” she said. “Of course I will not leave your house alone without permission.”

It wasn’t like it bothered him, exactly. There was even something oddly…attractive about it, especially to his Cerebus-infused brain. It just wasn’t how he was raised. And it also didn’t seem fair since none of Mason’s other women had any kind of rules. Plus Mason really didn’t have the time or energy to tell her what she could do all the time.

On the other hand, Naya was probably equally uncomfortable with his way of doing things. She expected her husband to act in certain ways, to conform to what she’d probably seen from her father and other elven males her entire life.

He suspected if he didn’t at least attempt to play along, she might think he didn’t care about her. Or their marriage. You didn’t tell someone ‘just ignore centuries of your culture now, OK?’ Even if she was ‘adapting’.

“What I mean is,” he said, trying to pick his words. “You’re free here…in Nassau. We’re all your family. So you can go where you like and see who you like. In Nassau.”

She played with her hands in that increasingly familiar gesture of discomfort.

“I understand, husband, and I thank you. Perhaps…one day, I may feel as you say. But today I do not. I know I’m supposed to be changing to a new world. But…I can’t imagine being comfortable around…human men. Alone.”

Mason took a breath and stepped away from his closet, putting his hands on Naya’s arms.

“You’re comfortable enough with me,” he said, forcing his hands not to wander.

“It’s not the same,” she said, almost pouting. “You smell different. And you have proven yourself a friend to our people. I can’t…I can’t trust them, Mason. We are taught since childhood not to trust other races. And for good reason.”

Mason had kind of forgotten about the whole ‘everyone wanted elves’ thing, and slowly started to understand. He knew elves carried all kinds of benefits, probably both perceived and real, to the other creatures of roboGod’s world. He had actual objectives to win their trust, to gain them as followers.

And now to impregnate as many as possible, he reminded himself.

When he’d first seen the objective he’d assumed it meant…in general. Like he should hold some kind of mass wedding between the elves and his people. His men certainly wouldn’t complain. And with the system’s push to mate and Nassau’s aura of life, he figured a few months and Bob’s literally your uncle…

But he was starting to realize that might be trickier than expected. Who knew what other tempting objectives might pop up between people and elves? And he also needed to make sure Naya felt like he was taking her (and her people’s) safety seriously.

“OK,” he said. “I have an…animal friend named Violet, and she needs something to do. How do you feel about a giant purple worm following you around everywhere?”

Naya grinned, and Mason figured he was on the right track. He went a little further.

“And feel free to take Streak whenever you go out. I’ll make sure he understands and will bite any human man who touches you. If he’s gone too, talk to Becky. She’d be happy to help.”

Naya came a little closer and put her fingertips on Mason’s chest, obviously pleased.

“Thank you for understanding, husband.”

She rose up to her toes and kissed him almost chastely, soft lips sending a bolt of lightning down his body. For a moment he forgot what the hell he was supposed to be doing, his arms trying to curl around the slim little elf as he envisioned ripping clothes off…

Naya smiled and bit her lip.

“My people,” she said, pulling away. “We have a ‘date’, remember?”

Mason fought the growl. Naya’s nipples had hardened through the shirt, and he could smell her arousal. But he decided to consider this a lesson to his dick about who was in charge.

He pulled back with a deep breath and as much of a civilized smile as possible.

“Streak’s waiting outside, and he’ll have the idea now. Go ahead. I’ll be there in…thirty minutes? I mean I can help cook, or clean dishes or something, too.”

Naya looked ready to laugh in his face, but just shook her head.

“The head of the house does not cook or clean, husband. I’ll see you soon.”

With that she hesitated, then kissed him again, face flushing pink.

“Thank you for taking this seriously. It’s very important to me.”

“Well. You’re important to me,” Mason said, smiling as Naya kept moving closer into his arms. But with one last kiss she pulled away and grinned with excitement, waving as she hurried for the door.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Mason took a few calming breaths, and considered a very cold shower. Now he just had to get through an evening of being surrounded by unearthly beautiful women. All who’d be waiting on him hand and foot with ‘yes lord’ and ‘of course, lord’. And somehow he’d have to do it without letting his ridiculous libido get out of control.

He wasn’t quite sure if it was his dick or Cerebus faintly laughing on his ears.

* * *

Mason walked with annoying anxiety to the new 'elven' quarter, realizing he hadn't actually been there before. After the creation of the Nexus, most of the elves had moved up with everyone else on the platform houses. Their actual purchased 'buildings' (like the scout enclave and the seer's hut) were still below, but the elves themselves lived in the tree.

The houses were better, but Mason expected the main reason was safety. It was the main thing on his mind now that it occurred to him. He needed to make Naya and her people feel safe. And not just from the outside world, but from the people in Nassau. He hadn't ever really considered that, and he supposed he should have.

He trusted his players with his life—with a couple minor exceptions. And he didn't think about his civilians as any kind of possible threat, except maybe as spies.

But anyone could hurt an elf. And the system seemed keen to encourage the various creatures of the world to do just that. Being part of his House probably helped. But they still hadn't really interacted with him. All they had was their trust in Naya.

He arrived at the platform and stared at the many beautiful houses all variously integrated into the tree itself. The elves had already been decorating the outside, both with familiarly mundane things, and also with magic.

Colorful paints had been used on doors and walls to make what Mason assumed were elven symbols. Some lines were hung for laundry and now covered with eye-catching silk and cloth.

After a few seconds of admiring the obviously feminine touches, he stopped and realized: he had no idea where he was going.

It's not like the elves had a 'hall'. On the other hand, he assumed the entire lot of them were all crammed in the same house preparing...something. So he probably just had to knock until someone answered...

Then he remembered Wayfinder literally showed him everyone in his House as little dots. And also he basically had super senses. Around the same time he stopped and started paying attention to hear the commotion, he'd found the swarming hive of elves on his map. He walked to the obvious house and took a few deep breaths.

It's just a bunch of foreign women, he thought. You can do this. There's no killing or dying or mortal danger. The stakes are low. Some women might not like you. It's fine. You're immortal and they live centuries. Plenty of time to try again.

His pep talk wasn't helping, so he just forced himself to knock. Scurrying and panicked feminine voices followed.

"What? Already? I thought you said we had an hour!"

"I said half an hour."

"We can't make Husband Cake in half an hour!"

"Go!" Someone hissed.

"Me? Why me?" said a rare male voice, followed by a lot of hissing and probably hand waving. It all helped Mason’s nerves a little. He fought the grin as the door cracked, and Orlon the scout master touched his fingers to his temple and smiled.

"Good evening, Baron. Please come in."

The man was dressed in his scout uniform, long hair slicked and tied, every perfectly symmetrical inch of him the sign of a careful, military man. He actually looked sharp as hell, and Mason unconsciously glanced at his suit, hoping he wasn't wrinkled or disheveled. Had he even touched his hair?

"Good evening, Orlon. They wrangled you into this, too, did they?"

The elf smiled, but it was polite.

"It's a great honor to be served before one’s wedding, my lord. And I was happy to accept the invitation."

Male solidarity failure plus insult cultural event. Check, Mason thought. Good start. Maybe I should spit on the floor next.

He cleared his throat and walked in, struck by a wave of pleasant scents, mixed between perfume and cooking spices. Naya practically came running from another room. She’d changed into a new silk outfit full of colors and elaborate layers, as well as a collection of jewelry that highlighted everything it touched.

Not that Naya needed highlighting. Mason’s eyes were particularly captured by a blue pendant dangling down her neck, resting between the elf’s thin-fabric covered breasts. She bowed and touched her head as usual.

"I'm sorry, husband. I should have been here to greet you."

"Oh, Orlon and I managed." Mason glanced at the scout and couldn't help but see the slight grimace at the word 'husband'. He realized these people were very formal and just because Naya had decided to 'adapt', it didn't mean her people had. His mind screamed something and he added quickly: “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Naya smiled but didn’t otherwise react. And Mason also realized, for all he knew, the other elves thought his treatment of her was terrible—that he was taking advantage of their situation and forcing her hand. Maybe even dishonoring her. Figuratively and literally.

He had no idea how he should be treating a 'wife' in front of a bunch of elves in any case. His nerves stopped relaxing, and mostly he tried not to panic. Fortunately, Naya came forward and took his hand, still looking happy.

"We're mostly ready. Come and sit. We'll drink some special…tea, and eat some...I think you'd call them pastries. Though there's not so much sugar as you humans use. And you might find the flour strange."

Mason went along with the same smile he expected to plaster on his face all night. But Naya looked so thrilled and excited it was pretty easy to go along. This was for her, after all, he reminded himself. And if Mason could literally twist his body into a weapon with awful suffering, surely to God he could be a pleasant, confident, social being for a night.

When she got him to the spacious living room now filled with women and tables, a good portion of the room quieted as the elves bowed or touched their heads. There were women everywhere, and they were all statuesque and gorgeous and why couldn’t he remember literally any of their names.

They were staring like he was supposed to say or do something.

"At ease," he said with what he hoped passed for charm, already regretting trying to be clever. The elves mostly just seemed confused. "Thanks for the invitation," he finished very lamely.

Some smiled and went back to working on what looked like a good fifty bowls or plates. Mason wiped some sweat off his temple, already hating the damn suit and fighting the urge to rip his tie off. But considering he’d marched straight through a desert he knew it wasn’t actually the heat.

Still, after so much time being practically naked out in the wilds, the feeling of clothes and shoes (and people) was always uncomfortable and restrictive. Was he going to be like Cerebus one day, he wondered? Pretty much naked and sitting on some throne of skulls?

Naya took him to a table and fussed over seating him, and soon vaguely familiar, beautiful elven faces were whisking by, delivering half a dozen dishes and drinks.

"I hope you're hungry, Naya said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. Now that she was closer he realized her formal silks seemed less restrictive, even thinner, and more natural looking, like they had less layers.

The fabric clung to her curves, inviting Mason's eyes in ways he definitely didn't think he should be accepting in public.

"Always," he said, suddenly very glad Haley had lessened the tension.

He leaned back to let his 'servers' keep filling up space, trying to smile at and thank the women as best he could.

"OK," he said, staring at the plates and bowls of mystery food. "Where do I start?"