Seeran: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 6) Page 3

  He had been held for hours in a small, windowless room. Hours. The walls were painted a flat, uninspired green. The air held a stale, dusty quality, indicating that the filtration system needed to be cleaned. And he could clearly detect another Terran observing them from the other side of the mirror at the end of the room.

  The Terran law enforcement agent, Officer Miller, leaned back in his chair and it squeaked loudly in protest. “Breaking the peace is a civil matter, meaning civilian. Not military. And the days of martial law are long over. You don’t have authority here. I can do whatever I want.”

  Seeran growled in frustration. A Mahdfel—a proper warrior—would hear his warning but it was just low enough to be out of the Terran range of hearing.

  The male was soft, his body fallen into disrepair. This weak, complacent creature was why he fought the Suhlik? Why he came to Earth all those years ago and made his sacrifice? To protect Terrans so they could grow fat and play at being lords of their tiny territories? He disgusted Seeran.

  “So tell me again what happened,” the soft Miller said, voice greasy and too well-pleased with himself.

  Seeran flexed his fingers, willing for ice to flood his veins and sooth the fire burning in his gut. He never lost control of himself. To be so agitated was new and... disturbing. “I saw a female in distress.”

  “On the beach.”

  “Yes.”

  “And why were you on the beach?”

  “I run.”

  “And why were you on Earth?”

  Seeran slammed a hand down on the desk. The male jumped back in his seat. “Do you want my complete service record? How many Suhlik I killed on Earth? Or how many tongues I carved out of the mouths of the Terran traitors?” The male went white. Good. The male’s obvious fear soothed Seeran’s rage. “I am on Earth because those are my direct orders from my warlord, which is a military matter and above your rank.”

  “So you were on the beach—”

  “I have told you. That male—Scott—threatened a female. He laid his filthy Terran hands on her and injured her.”

  “And why did you think it was your job to—”

  “Because it is wrong to harm a female,” Seeran said with enough ice for the words to hang frozen in the air.

  Officer Miller leaned back again, his chair squeaking. “And every human woman is your concern? You animals think that just because you helped us in the war that gives you the right to steal our women. Or come between a man and his wife.”

  Ex-wife. Although the Terran custom of terminating a marriage was abhorrent to the Mahdfel, they understood the concept. Hazel was not anyone’s wife, no matter what her former mate wished. And Seeran also understood that this soft Terran wanted to make him upset, to create an incident.

  No Suhlik had set a golden scaled foot on Earth in more than a decade and already the Terrans forgot the alliance they were too happy to make with Seeran’s people. They chafed at the terms of the treaty, complaining that the bride price was too much, too great a burden. Again, Earth took and gave very little.

  The true burden was knowing that he could spend his long life never finding his mate.

  Or knowing that she was on Earth, tantalizingly close but soft-bodied, bigoted Terrans kept them apart with petty bureaucracy.

  “You could have seriously hurt Mr.—” He glanced down at the notepad. “Schwartz...trouter.”

  Seeran snorted at the ridiculous name.

  “Laugh it up. You aliens don’t know your own strength. You’re just trained animals but you’re not as well behaved. You’re barbarians. Period. And you caught scent of a woman and your primitive brain went all wacky and you attacked a man.”

  “It is wrong to harm a female!” Seeran’s hand rushed toward the desk. The officer flinched in anticipation but Seeran stopped himself. His palm hovered above the surface. He slowly curled his fingers into a loose fist and lowered his hand to his lap.

  He needed to gather his thoughts and regain control of himself. This was not like him. He never lost his temper, not even in the heat of battle. Something about the female—Hazel, his mind supplied—cut right through his defenses. Her scent? The way her heavy breasts bounced in the scant fabric covering she wore? Or the way she fought even when backed into a corner by a male taller and stronger than herself...

  A tingling, warm sensation spread over his tattoos at the thought of her.

  Seeran placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward in the hard, plastic seat. He needed to change the direction of the conversation. He needed to wrest control back. He studied the Terran opposite him before speaking. “Who was it you lost? Who do you blame the Mahdfel for taking away?”

  Officer Miller looked surprised. “I’ll ask the questions here.”

  “A sister?”

  “That is irrelevant—”

  “No,” Seeran said, confident. He’d conducted many interrogation and knew when his words struck truth. “It was someone you wished to impress. A lover, or a yearned for lover. Someone you still want to impress, so you take what little power you have and flaunt it around, warlord of your tiny, tiny clan.”

  He held up two fingers to demonstrate exactly how tiny a clan the male possessed. It was immature and Seeran’s own warlord would cuff him on the ears for such a gesture, but he found it satisfying to watch Officer Miller grow red in the face.

  “You can’t talk to me that way, you filthy alien.”

  “Did she reject you? Would she rather take her chances with an unknown, filthy alien than with you? Does it keep you up at night?”

  “You take away our women and act like we should be grateful! It’s disgusting.” Miller’s face went a brighter shade of red.

  Seeran turned in the chair to face the mirror. He nodded to his unseen observers, pleased he revealed the man’s true, nasty nature. He didn’t have to say another word. The interview was over.

  Another Terran officer entered the room. They spoke in low tones. Seeran’s soft officer was not pleased and stormed out of the room. The other male said, “You’re free to go.”

  Chapter Four

  Hazel

  Leaning against a wall, Hazel fidgeted with her phone and glanced up at the police station doors. Waiting. What was she even doing? Hanging around police stations, waiting for her alien rescuer to emerge? And then what?

  She had no idea. She just wanted to talk to him, at least for a little bit. It felt important. He felt important, like they were on the cusp of something big, and she couldn’t just let that go. That fluttery, nervous feeling in her gut was worth all the awkward hanging around police stations in the world.

  What if the local police found some obscure charges—or Scott and his money leaned on the chief of police—and kept him? Could they even do that? Weren’t all alien affairs considered military matters?

  Hazel frowned, punching at her phone, wishing she had paid more attention to her civics class in school. Maybe if she had been a better student, she’d know if she should call her local representative or the military base about the Mahdfel who rescued her and... and...And she had no idea what to do after that. Rescue him? Her nose scrunched up at the idea. Someone with all those muscles didn’t need a waitress to rescue him.

  The rough brick dug into her shoulders and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She adjusted the sarong and arranged it into a short halter dress, covering her bikini top and bottom. Still in her work uniform, she wasn’t out of place in a beach town. Plenty of people were showing more skin. She just wanted to thank her alien, not give him the wrong idea.

  The doors opened. Hazel stood up straight and held her breath until a heather-toned Mahdfel male and a human woman with bright red hair emerged. Not her alien, then. She slumped back against the wall, more upset that she already considered Seeran her alien than the prospect of continuing to wait. Her day was already ruined; Scott saw to that. She probably wouldn’t have a job when she got back to the restaurant. Seeing Seeran, if only to mumble out an awkward thanks
, would salvage her crummy day.

  For the thousandth time, she cursed her taste in men. She had the worst taste, just the worst. Scott was living proof. Even if she thanked her alien with an innocent smile, what did she think would happen? She’d charm him? Beguile him after that shit show with Scott on the beach and then all the screaming inside the police station?

  Yeah. If the alien had half a brain, he’d want nothing to do with her. Trouble followed her like she owed it money.

  The door opened again. Her male emerged.

  Seeran stood for a moment in the sun, talking to the other Mahdfel and woman. They must be friends and paid his bail. What if that woman was his wife? Jealousy itched between her shoulders. He probably already had a mate and just helped out a woman in distress because he was a good guy. The one good guy she liked and he was already taken. Maybe, knowing her luck.

  Hazel shifted from foot to foot, uncertain. She needed to know. She needed to speak to him.

  The woman motioned in Hazel’s direction. Both males followed her gaze.

  Hazel blushed furiously. So much for being subtle, time to try brazen. She pushed herself off the wall and walked across the parking lot. As she got closer, she noticed the other male place a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Not Seeran’s mate, then. A Mahdfel would never allow another male to touch his mate.

  Seeran’s icy gaze focused on her. He didn’t even look pleased to see her again. Gah, this was such a mistake. She should have gone home and got everything together to leave.

  “Hi,” Hazel said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes followed the movements of her hand.

  “Hi,” he said slowly, as if uncertain.

  “Oh my God, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” the woman said, clapping her hands in delight.

  “My mate, you are being rude,” the other male said in English. A quick glance from him confirmed that he spoke for Hazel’s benefit.

  “I paid Seeran’s bail, I can be as rude as I want.”

  “I, um...” Hazel started.

  The male with the friendly face nodded once to Seeran and turned to leave, taking the woman with him.

  “Come on,” she protested, “can’t a pregnant lady bask in the awkward adorableness of her friend’s bad flirting? You’re no fun at all.”

  The male growled something in her ear, for only her to hear. She giggled and followed, a smile on her face. Hazel felt a deep yearning. She wanted that, exactly that.

  Hazel turned her attention to her rescuer. “Seeran?”

  He nodded and said her name, “Hazel.”

  She shivered in response to her name on his lips, uttered with such longing...

  “Cold?” he asked. From the gleam in his eyes, he wanted to ask more but knew she wouldn’t understand.

  “What? No. I’m fine.”

  Seeran reached for her. She flinched, momentarily. He hesitated before skimming his fingers along the goosebumps that ran down her arms. “This. Cold.”

  “Oh. We just do that sometimes.” Her nipples were hard, too, but she was the farthest thing from cold at the moment. “Could we, I don’t know, get a drink? Coffee? And talk?”

  Coffee, that was innocent enough. Booze lowered inhibitions and implied that something might happen. Coffee was respectable. Everyone kept their clothes on at a coffee shop.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yeah, just as a thank you. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Aliens drank coffee, right? Gah, this whole situation was ridiculous. She should just leave while she still had her dignity. Leaving town and starting over didn’t just happen. She had a lot to do in a short amount of time.

  He searched her face before finally responding with a curt nod. “Yes. Coffee.”

  Gah, that accent. His voice made her all melty inside. Coffee was definitely the right choice, the safe choice. Get one glass of wine in her and she might try to climb him like a tree, or invite him back to her tiny apartment and ride him all night like a cowgirl.

  Her core ached at the thought and she squeezed her thighs together. She needed coffee, she reminded herself, perfectly innocent coffee.

  She was such a liar. She needed something that started with a c and it wasn’t coffee.

  Seeran

  SHE WAS BOLD.

  “Great. I saw a place across the street.” Hazel smiled brightly. Terran faces were so expressive, transmitting every thought and emotion they experienced.

  They sat outside a coffee dispensary. A tired looking female took their order and left the two in silence. Sunlight fell on his mate, picking out the gold in her pale hair. He wanted to twist his fingers into that hair and wrap the strands securely.

  Anticipation wound tightly at the base of his spine, making him stand a little straighter. She didn’t know what she asked for but she was bold, nonetheless. This female was made for him.

  Seeran pushed down the guilty thought that sharing a drink with this female was wrong. Yes, coffee was not the mating ceremony tea but it was a bitter brew just the same. It was not the beverage that made the ceremony. It was the sharing of cups, contemplating the journey they were about to begin and speaking.

  Speaking...

  He had only spoken to his mate in broken words. He understood everything she said thanks to an implanted translator, but she could not understand him. Reaching into his pocket, Seeran pulled out a black cube, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

  “Is that a portable translator? I’ve never seen one in real life.”

  Seeran activated the cube. “I found it necessary when interacting with civilian Terrans.”

  “You had that the entire time and you let those cops talk to you like you were an idiot?”

  He couldn’t resist a smile. “You’re observant.”

  “Yeah, well, you work all day in customer service, you notice things.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m still a lousy judge of character,” she muttered.

  “I am pleased you asked to share this moment with me,” Seeran said.

  Her eyes were wide, as if startled. “It’s only coffee and considering that you saved my bacon—”

  It was not only coffee. This was more. His mate might not realize, but this would be their mating ceremony. He would hold the moments and minutes they spent together in his heart. If he never saw her again—and he likely wouldn’t—he’d have this moment frozen in memory.

  Earth had taken one mate from him years ago. Today it gave another.

  “Did he hurt you?” Seeran glanced down at the black box, waiting for it to translate. This was not the most efficient method of communication but it was better than his broken Terran.

  Her cheeks colored red and she absently rubbed at a shoulder. Seeran recognized the unconsciously motions of favoring an old wound. “Not really. Scott prefers to use his words rather than his fists.”

  Seeran plucked her hand off her shoulder. Their fingers intertwined without hesitation. Her palm fit his, like it was made for exactly this purpose, to be held by him.

  She turned his hand over, palm up. A pale finger traced the line where his normally deep wine complexion joined the paler lavender of his palm. “Our hands do that, too. This line right here.” Her touch sent a shiver of delight through him. “I’ve always wondered why.”

  “The palm contains less pigmentation but you are avoiding answering an uncomfortable question.” Her gaze met his. Her eyes were a deep brown with warm golden flecks that caught in the sunlight. He memorized every detail, to comfort himself on long, lonely nights. “Now tell me again but this time the truth,” he said.

  “Never anything that left a mark,” she said, voice breathy. “Like I said, he used words but sometimes he’d push me, say it was an accident or I should watch where I’m going. Once he pushed me, I stumbled and fell down the steps. My shoulder dislocated.”

  A predatory growl rumbled deep in his chest. He would hunt down this Scott and repay him for every push and dislocated joint.

  Hazel shook
her head, as if shaking off unwanted memories. Seeran dropped her hand and she wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. “That was the night I left. I drove myself to the hospital and then I went to my sister’s place. Hell of a wake-up call. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

  That a male could abuse his mate in such a way was unfathomable to Seeran. “How could your clan allow this to happen? Were the other males blind? Why did they do nothing?”

  She took a sip, a bitter smile on her face. “Because he’s charming. Abusers are charming. That’s one of the things I’ve read. Their public face is all charm but at home he was... different. His temper was out of control. Any little thing would set him off.” Another sip. “I really don’t want to talk about him anymore. I left. We’re divorced. The end.”

  “It is not the end. Scott does not believe it is the end.”

  “Well fuck Scott,” she said, venom creeping into her voice. “If he thinks he can bully me, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll get a dog. A gun. Something.”

  She glanced at him over the rim of her cup and away again. Seeran much preferred this bitter, venomous version of Hazel than the tired, sad woman recanting her story. This version had fire in her.

  “A Mahdfel?” he offered.

  “The thought crossed my mind,” she murmured. “I have to register for the Draft this year.” Some bright emotion flickered across her face. “You’re not single, are you?”

  Seeran looked pointedly at the cup in her hands and the cup in front of him. “No.” Not anymore. Whether they were officially matched through the genetic test or not, he belonged to her.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Oh. Lucky girl.”

  He was the lucky one. He opened his mouth to say as much but the watery gleam in her eyes gave him pause. Such words, even if true, would hurt her. Hazel had been hurt enough, he would not add to her grief.

  “I had a mate. Once,” he said.

  Her head tilted to the side, the sunlight picking out more strands of gold. “Had?”