Eighteen injections.

Each one administered by a large industrial-grade hypodermic needle.

I lost track of time, but I was aware of spending the last several days immobile and saturated in pain, dizziness, vomiting, and being soaked in full-body sweats. Even my thermo-bands failed to help level out my internal temperature.

My eyes were sore and raw but at least the hallucinations passed. At one point I believed a giant yellow moth was flapping over the bed and occasionally I laid there watching a tall red-feathered velociraptor stalking the edges of my dark bedroom.

Today was the first day I felt like myself.

I found fresh meat procured by Mourning Crow in the freezer. From the size of the kill, it was evident that my mate had adhered to our hunting guidelines and made sure to only target the weak. It wasn't a surprise. Like us, her people were long accustomed to environmentally conscientious hunting tactics. It was a comfort to know that she was thriving on Sahei.

The large holo-screen in the central room was left active and cluttered with Mourning Crow's luminescent red study materials. It pained me that I couldn't be fully present during her preparations but took solace that her Blood Oath-sworn mentor was E'pire, Oru's lifemate. The female Forged was ruthless and meticulous. Beyond Oru herself, I couldn't think of anyone more suited for extracting the best out of Mourning Crow and putting an offworlder on the proper track for our people's most sacred ritual.

Mostly, I was concerned that Mourning Crow might be triggered into another episode and unknowingly do something permanent. I knew I couldn't monitor her hourly, but I wanted to be strong for her. It felt like a failure not to be at her side, keeping watch on her blind spots.

Truth was, I had no idea how to help her.

If it were within my power, I would absorb all her pain and let her live a life of song and fulfillment.

Eventually, I meandered into my workshop corner.

It was necessary to outfit Mourning Crow with her own thermo-bands to keep her cool in the Sahei's humid weather. I spent the night before my injections, altering a few of my old novice armaments to fit her measurements. But the color was all wrong. After her Dread Rite, my mate would no doubt progress quickly into more appropriate equipment.

I swiveled my stool around to assess our empty domicile.

Mourning Crow stuck close to me every day throughout my recovery, only taking mandatory breaks, like today, to attend her Dread training sessions. My memory was blurry but recalled her wiping my face clean, laying next to me despite my growling protests, and stroking my head to help me sleep.

"This won't do," I grumbled. "I need to prove worthy of a larger domicile as soon as possible."

Mourning Crow would be operating solo before the end of the cycle and this yurt wasn't large enough to accommodate her additional trophies and our future offspring.

I spent the remainder of the day thrumming dutifully while tinkering with an extra thermo-band harness to change the shiny polymer pigment from black to white.

...

"Hey!" Mourning Crow returned shortly after dusk. "You're up!"

She was outfitted in a plain black belt joined to a grey loincloth and had on a stark black thermo-bands wrapped around her bare chest and thighs. She was also sporting several new scrapes on her cheeks and knees. I'd forgotten to fashion her knee pads.

"How goes your training?" I swiveled and perched on the edge of my workshop stool.

"Crazy man!" Mourning Crow's ears bounced in the air. "Those hard-light holos are super detailed!"

"Glad to see E'pire is going all out," I liked watching my mate's naked hips sway on either side of her new easy-access loincloth. "I'll have to stop by and observe now that I can see straight."

"Ha! That's exactly what I need," Mourning Crow smirked sarcastically. "An even larger audience watching me get my ass kicked."

"A solo duel with an U'la'ke Liege couldn't keep me away," I wanted to pull her close but I hadn't bathed in several days and I was certain my scales reeked.

"Oh! That reminds me," Mourning Crow leaned in with her hands on my knees. "E'pire's arranged for me to spar with one of their drones after The Convergence!"

"You must be doing better than you think," I put my hands over hers. "Is it a gestating larva or was it collected from a preservation planet?"

"Wild caught," my mate explained. "Apparently, there was a small moon that needed to be fumigated and the extermination team brought home a sample."

"Apprise me of the date and I will be there," I nodded proudly, then stood up and returned to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"Yup!" Mourning Crow followed me to the opposite end of our yurt's open floor plan. "Should you be out of bed?"

"According to Kazz'mons' schedule, I'm allowed to be up and around," I retrieved a large flank of meat, thawed it, and sliced out the bones for my mate. "It feels good to move again."

"It looks good to see you up as well," Mourning Crow snuggled into my side.

"Sorry about the smell. I'm still twelve hours off from having the all-clear for a fully submerged bath," I smiled at her while passing her the bones after cleaning them off, "At the very least, I'll shower tonight. Even I can't stand to be around me."

Without warning, Mourning Crow darted under my arm and tugged my face down to hers. Then she kissed me deeply and wrapped her arms around my neck.

Damn, she tasted good.

If her stomach hadn't started growing, I would have tossed the food on the floor and taken her directly on the kitchen countertop.

She laughed and let me let her go. Then we sat together and finished our meal.

"Do you want help?" Mourning Crow finally chirped from her chair. "With your shower?"

"Only if you're there for my company," I leered at her. "And not to nurse me."

"Would you settle for a tutor?" Mourning Crow perked her ears up.

"Another Ahnzi lesson?" I washed my hands in the sink while my mate licked her fingers clean. "I'm long overdue."

"Sure," Mourning Crow's ears dipped into a mischievous arch.

We tidied up and went to our home's hygiene chamber. Mourning Crow entered first, tapping the floor with her foot to summon up a small black stool, then insisted that I sit down.

I wasn't keen to be coddled, but I appreciated having her near.

"It's so weird how elaborate your bathrooms are," Mourning Crow stood by the wall tapping on the sauna settings to raise the humidity because she knew I enjoyed the warmth. "Back home, we're lucky to get a full bucket of cold water and you paid extra for access to a filtered hose."

"Was it similar in Thorngate?" I unclipped my loincloth, tossed it aside, and plopped down on the Zhaguai-sized stool.

"Pretty much," she toggled the shower head options and extended the hose several feet from the wall. "Most water was safe-ish to drink, but access points were limited."

"What's my lesson today?" I settled in and smiled at my mate while she unbuckled and retracted her black thermo-bands into a small bundle and tucked it into a compartment in her gauntlet. Then she removed all of her garments and dumped the pile over my one rancid item of clothing crumpled in the corner.

"Patience," Mourning Crow opened the wall inset holding the soap and washcloths. "We'll get there."

She grabbed the soap but ignored the washcloth. "I realized the other day when I was helping you clean out your quills..."

Ugg, there's a pathetic state I wished was another hallucination. There I was, officially capable of siring my lifemate's offspring, and I couldn't even lift my head. I had no choice but lay there helpless while she wiped off my drool and vomit.

Mourning Crow sprayed her hands and the bar of soap. "I've never actually explained to you the various customs my people have for bathing."

"There are protocols for washing?" I tilted my head sideways.

"Oh, yes!" Mourning Crow's smile stretched wider. "Water conservation is vital and every motion counts. Cleaning one's self inefficiently is a big No-No on Menthla. The procedures vary depending on the season, the weather, and even a person's relationship status. There are even distinct ablution ceremonies practiced by specific tribes on special occasions."

Having been raised in a culture steeped in time-honored traditions, I longed to know more.

"Is there a technique for lifemates?" I chittered at her. "Or bonded, as your people call it."

Mourning Crow nodded so enthusiastically that her eyes squinted shut.

"Then by all means," I drew in a long breath and puffed my chest full of excitement. "Teach away!"

Mourning Crow stepped in close and knelt down with her face to mine. She stroked my cheek while I clicked and leaned into her touch. Her eyes stared into mine as though she were peering into my soul for the answer to an unknown question. "Ni Eh'kt, I offer you a challenge."

This woman, my lifemate, knew exactly how to captivate my attention!

"For the next few moments while we are in this room," her tone was serious and composed. "Do only what I ask of you, no more, no less."

"YES!" I couldn't take my eyes off hers.

She stood up and spritzed a small amount of water onto the soap and began lathering up her hands slowly, all the while maintaining eye contact. Then she stepped closer and proceeded to lather her chest in layer bubbles.

This was a two-person ritual. I would be ready.

I made note of every gesture, in preparation for when it was my turn to copy her. Like the old game, human see, humans do.

But instead of passing me the soap, she bent down and cupped my left hand, folding my fingers into hers as she began passing her bubbles up along my arm. She bent my elbow up, my palm facing out, and snuck me the most peculiar smirk.

Then Mourning Crow pressed my hand on her chest between her slippery white breasts and began moving her entire body up and down while I sat still.

My breath hitched and my eyes went wide.

My challenge was to hold still and let her wash me with her body as my sponge!

Up and down. Up and down.

Her chest was small, but her skin rolled over me like silk. I wanted to take in every detail, only my eyes kept lingering on hers. The repetitive motion relaxed my spine, but the sight and sensation put my groin firmly on edge.

To my rumbling disappointment, Mourning Crow pulled back momentarily and straightened my arm down. But she was far from done. She lunged in again, so close I could feel her warm breath and this time dragged her chest up the outside of my muscled arm. I thrummed and clamped my hands on my knees when her tiny plump breast bobbed and bounced on top and around my shoulder.

So close, but I didn't have permission to touch her. At least not in the primal manner my lower half yearned to raid her.

She raised my arm all the way up over my head and slithered her soapy body up along my underarm, then plunged herself all the way down my side.

Shit, she was thorough. Up and down again. Making minor adjustments from side to side and taking her time, pressing her body tight against mine.

How was it that this had become the most erotic moment of my entire life?

Occasionally, she'd spray and pour cupped handfuls of water over me to dampen my skin. I suspected, if we were on Menthla, I'd be too large for a single bucket.

Her fingers lifted my chin and then she stood up and tucked her bubble-covered chest and arms against my head and began scrubbing each of my long tendrils between her breasts squeezed together.

I strained not to grab or coil my quills around her.

My body screamed to touch her. That delicious skin was right there, massaging my face. It would be so easy to stick out my tongue and steal a taste.

No! I will not fail.

She rounded to my back and continued scrubbing the grime from my upper quills, then she scooped the tendrils off my back and dipped down my back.

Her nipples were out!

Those two unmistakable perky little nubs traced all the way down and tickled my rear and that's when I really started growling.

Up and down. Up and down.

Her slender fingers slipped over my thighs as she worked her way around to my other side and repeated the intoxicating process on my right arm.

I could look her in the eyes again, but it didn't help me settle down.

My only solace was counting the strokes until it was time for her to advance to my front.

Finally!

Mourning Crow bent down between my legs and squished her breasts against my chest but remained frustratingly careful to navigate between my spread legs and avoid contact with my fully engorged hardon.

She gyrated over my pectorals and along my collarbone all the while leaving me begging to feel her scrub that one particular location. My eyes were entranced on her backside and ass, slick and dripping with bubbles. I wanted to rake my claws up those smooth iridescent scales and slap her pristine buttocks.

Every motion was precise and measured. Not a single stray bubble or drop of water touched me where she didn't will it. My mate knew exactly what I craved and was intentionally withholding. Only now did I fully grasp the wickedness of her challenge. Mourning Crow could be surprisingly cruel for someone who claimed to dislike torture.

Suddenly, just when my resolve was beginning to falter, Mourning Crow dove down, but not for what I'd hoped for. She pulled the hose length closer, gently rinsed me down, and guided me to my feet with the smallest gesture, and then she strolled beside me.

Once again, she lathered up her body and tucked in close to my side. Then she hugged me and dip down my thigh, all while letting her slick pussy lips glide down my leg.

Up and down.

Mourning Crow's soft fingers danced up my inner thigh, caressing and teasing but never making contact in the way I desired.

I was straight-up growling uncontrollably as a steady stream of translucent precum seeped from my tip.

Eventually, she came around my second leg and all my muscles twinged in anticipation.

Please, woman, touch me with anything! A nipple, your fingers, or how about those ears?

Somehow, she'd washed my hips and abdomen and magically skipped over the center.

Then she rinsed me and swished away the excess suds.

I was ready to tackle her and tear the room apart to claim what I craved.

Finally, as if she knew I was nearing my breaking point, Mourning Crow knelt down before me and lowered her chest to my waist.

She gathered the soap in her hands and coated her chest in glistening suds.

Please!

I was grinding my fangs in anticipation.

My eyes locked on hers with my vision swirling in giddiness.

I took a long, deep inhale to quiet my nerves.

FUCK!

That wasn't soap I felt but her tongue!

She was sucking the head of my cock clean with only her mouth.

Her probing tongue and sustained eye contact drove me crazy.

I wanted to touch her hair, her cheek, rock my hips, anything! But I was determined to uphold her trust. This was a contest I refused to fail!

Mourning Crow opened her lips wider and slid deeper down on my shaft, enough to let her slippery chest cushion my sac.

Between the ever-increasing suction and her tongue flicking all of my piercings and caressing my underside nodules, my thrumming had transitioned into full-on feral.

I'd never felt anything like this. It hadn't even occurred to me that this was a possibility. Zhaguai women weren't known for getting on their knees for anyone, not even a lifemate. And if they did, they didn't advertise.

Mourning Crow's hand cupped and massaged my balls as she continued sucking clean every rigid nook and cranny on my pulsating shaft.

Without warning, she swirled her tongue around and coaxed me to release a crude out loud moan. If guards had been stationed beyond our front door, they would have charged in here thinking she was trying to murder me.

Hadn't she though? The cold and disciplined Zhaguai that had existed before my arrival on LH387 was utterly annihilated. All that remained was this monogamous, love-struck lunatic.

Oh, the lengths I would go to keep my mate pleased.

Mourning Crow's stared up at me, loving and placid, with her ears curled back. From her scent, I knew she was wet. I had the urge to stroke her hair, but I clenched my fists and forced my body to keep still.

Her pace increased and my mind started slipping.

I can't... no stopping...

My pulse quickened and my sac tensed.

Something akin to a warm heavy bubble expanding deep in the base of my brain made itself known. I was aware of her eyes fixed on me, but my vision blinked out.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

Mourning Crow pounced and pressed her mouth all the way down!

I roared and relished in the touch of her delicate nose pressing the muscles below my belly button.

She was so fucking tight!

And the ridges... each plunge lit my skin on fire as her exotic internal ripples rubbed rhythmically against mine.

Oh Yes! The up and down!

My length squeezed down her throat. Diving root-deep into this illicit uncharted warm channel with Mourning Crow holding me firm and sucking me down with her pale eyes focused up on me.

A stray nerve flickered in the back of my mind.

Shit, what if I hurt her?

"Your voice!" I panted, barely able to annunciate coherently.

Mourning Crow glared at me and dug her tiny claws harder into my hips.

She refused to stop and neither could I.

I moaned again until my whole body faded out into a blur of light. It was like electricity penetrating all of my veins in a single galvanized shock.

I roared again, but this time I recoiled, overcome by the sensation of every last drop of me surging down my lifemate's beautiful throat.

.

.

The next thing I knew, we were dry and clean, and Mourning Crow was steering my zombified body back into bed. I flopped down and pulled her next to me bewildered and grazing her neck with my thumb.

"You ok?" Mourning Crow giggled at me.

I grumbled, then nuzzled in close.

"To alleviate your fears," Mourning Crow squiggled a finger along my arm. "If you recall, my species eats femurs for snacks and our gag reflex isn't exactly on a hair trigger like a human or cavars."

That... huh...

My breathing simmered down.

I've witnessed her devour small mounds of sharp, splintered short ribs while barely pausing between swallows.

"But your size does add an element of danger," Mourning Crow cooed in my ear. "I can only do that if I'm in complete physical control of the pressure, pace, and position."

"Consider me your willing marionette," I chittered at her.

Mourning Crow wiggled into my arms and kissed me sweetly.

"I know you had a long life before me," I filled my lungs with her scent. "But do I even want to know how you learned to do that?"

"It's a multipurpose skill," she smooshed her ears over my face and stuck out her tongue. "Occasionally, I had to get creative about hiding doodads in Thorngate."

"That's..." I rumbled with laughter. "Of course you did."

"So... now that you feel better and all cleaned up..." my mate wagged her ears playfully.

"No doubt," I rolled on top of her. "You're wondering when it's time to make use of my new augmented DNA?"

"I know there's no hurry," Mourning Crow spread her legs and rested her ankles over the back of my thighs. "But I understand it's also a major priority for you."

"Hmm... I've given it much thought," I smiled and rubbed my weight against hers. "The Convergence occurs in two days. It will be the perfect opportunity to take inventory of all the potential donor candidates."

"Right on," Mourning Crow nodded. "But you gotta explain something to me. What's with the long-winded title for you people's mating season? Couldn't you just say Fuck Fest?"

I bobbed my head, consenting that it was a fair, albeit crude, summation, but the event was anything but simple for my people.

"It's a sacred moment in our cycle when all Zhaguai return home or to a welcoming planet within the Nexus," I explained. "All adult Zhaguai males become in rut and female cycles line up to ovulate during the same week. It's a formal gathering to celebrate and compete for our place in the Eternal Bloodline."

"Ahhh. The Convergence," my mate rolled her head in comprehension. "I get cha."

.

.

.

Will Eh'kt and Mourning Crow find their donor? Will the notoriously xenophobic Zhaguai welcome the razkurs? Will Mourning Crow survive her first encounter with a live U'la'ke ?

Find out in the next chapter ... The Convergence

TRANSLATIONS:

U'la'ke = alien cat species that are mortal enemies of the Zhaguai. Have stinger tails with paralytic venom. Known as "The Felija" to humans. They live in large Prides. The Lieges are the biggest, are both sexes, have large manes, and thirteen tails.

Ni Eh'kt = My Heartbeat/Bonded

Cavars = Large Flightless Birds

...

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading.

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~A. E. Shelly (a.k.a. Oloo)