Chapter Fourteen

19 October 2563
Beta Centauri System
Ambrosia II
Keep proper/ New Saint Etienne
0315 Local

Sleep was illusive. Iruu's mind, yet again, was too troubled to focus on meditation and he was certain by now his ancestors were no longer listening, so he was not inclined to even attempt to pray.

Two of the moons hung in the sky against a splash of the galaxy as it streaked in an arc across the night. 'Loram was sitting near the low, rock retaining wall staring out at the distorted reflections as they wobbled across the ocean's black surface. Waves lightly crashed on the beach before him and tethered boats knocked against the pier further down the beachfront droning out a hollow melody.

The stitches in his face itched and his left eye was swollen. He couldn't stop tonguing the empty space where teeth use to be, and despite Amy's effort, something in his right hand was broken: given away by angry, inflamed tissue, and a dull ache. Iruu was clean and dressed again in traditional linen pants, shirtless against the warm night, with a tight binding around his ribs.

Stitches would have to come out within a day and whatever was going on in his hand would right itself completely in a good sleep cycle. It was doubtful his eye was damaged enough to show bruising against his dark skin by morning and his ribs would be back in proper order soon enough. He had little to worry about from a combat-readiness perspective: he'd done far more than what was on the morrow's agenda with far worse injuries in the past.

Iruu scratched at his stitches. It had been a long time since he had participated in the Okona. On the homeworld it was a rare event: one attended only by ranking adult men and wives, or those who hoped to be the legitimate mates, of the combatants. Here, Daniel had turned it into a nightly ritual stripped of the bulk of its ceremonial significance.

It mattered none who was victorious in the match: what mattered was how a man fought.

'Loram had engaged in his first semi-official Okona in War College. Thankfully, there had been no females in attendance then to witness him being put squarely into his place.

As a child, fighting with the staff weapon was taught to him by his uncles, like all children of Loram Keep. He had only ever sparred with boys his age and thought himself quite proficient. That was until the Commandant pulled him from evening formation in his third year in the Academy at Sudin and proceeded to beat him half to death before his peers.

Commandant 'Nesunai had been a decorated veteran long past the age at which he was eligible for active service. There had been not-so-silent musings among the cadets that he appeared ready for death at any moment. But, the old man proved a very valuable point at Iruu's expense, and it was a lesson he never forgot.

Opponents were never to be underestimated, no matter their physical condition. A man would be judged by his adversary according to how willing he was to go into the fight assuming the other man was his better. The slightest indication that one failed to appreciate the potential for their own defeat would give a wise rival all he needed to insure victory for himself.

Of course, there had been more than one lesson in all of that. Gia had fawned over Iruu the following morning more so than ever, for all the annoyance it caused. He reported for sentry duty at the Kaidon's mansion limping, with stitches in his face and his left mandibles bound together with gauze and an eye swollen shut, and she been more of an immense tease than usual.

It was later in life that Iruu learned this was advantageous because there were certain social expectations for men fighting in the Okona. The last he had fought on the homeworld had been during as assignment from the Sudin High Counsel. He had won that one: putting a Kaidon in the dirt just hours before severing his head and spending the night with his Mistress and the following two days with his harem.

Iruu dug a rock from the sand and flicked it toward the water. Gods, there was so much blood on his hands. Even if he could ever go home he would be fortunate to survive more than an hour: there were entirely too many bloodlines who had lost women because they bore his sons, too many young men and children slaughtered because of whose lineage they shared.

The sound of tuneless humming pulled him from the rim of a well dredged mire of personal regret. He could smell the aroma of alcohol on the ocean breeze and knew by the collection of other scents that Maggie was out there long before he caught sight of her.

Whittaker slowly strolled along the sand high on the beachhead, letting her hand graze the low rock retaining wall. Her head had all but stopped swimming and she was relatively steady on her feet, in her own opinion.

She had sat in her room pecking at her data pad for as long as was sufficient to keep her mind occupied before finding herself treading the line between sleep and awake. The dim collection of dreams that had threatened at the periphery was enough to make her pace the floor losing a battle against tears until she couldn't stand being in the room another minute.

In honesty, she had decided to go walk around to get further away from where she assumed Iruu to be. Despite the hour she hadn't dared step out onto the balcony for fear of finding him there or losing her mind completely and knocking on his door.

Maggie was at the point of inner torture where she just wanted to escape. She was drunk, but as the effects waned, it wasn't enough anymore. Alcohol had always given her the illusion of control, just enough to kill inhibitions and quash guilt at wanting a little temporary, physical solace.

In the wake of a sobering mind all of the what-ifs of the past had come back and her brain was a pit of images too dreadful to bear on her own. Faced with loneliness at a time when she was usually getting fucked into oblivion or unconscious...or both, Whittaker didn't know what to do other than seek the comfort of another person. Only, she wasn't delusional enough to think it was a human she wanted comfort from and she was sober enough to be afraid of herself.

As she approached, mentally cursing, Iruu looked up at her with his tongue sticking out awkwardly between his mandibles and she couldn't help but laugh despite her misery.

"You got your ass kicked," she croaked.

"That was not the point of the exercise," he rumbled.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, plopping down in the sand next to him with resignation, "It was so you could prove you are all that is male…and blah, blah, blah…" she slurred.

Iruu huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

"Ya' know, when I want to look badass I try to keep my teeth in my face."

He shrugged, "They will grow back."

"Really?" she asked, looking up at him, seeing the line of stitches along the underside of his jaws.

'Loram gazed down at her, "Yes."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked out at the dark ocean, then leaned her head against the warmth of his arm. The feel of his skin against her cheek was more a mockery than a relief: she was so far down the hole of self-hatred she didn't feel deserving of comfort. Whittaker knew she was still too drunk and she needed to get up and just walk away.

But, she couldn't. Instead, Maggie trailed one hand along Iruu's arm, mindful not to brush the bruised edge of a crescent-shaped gash.

"You are intoxicated," he said carefully.

Maggie nodded, "Yes, I am."

"Why?"

She scoffed, wrapping her arms around his bicep, "Because I can," she said miserably, tucking herself up close to him.

Iruu clicked his mandibles in irritation, "Gods, you remind me of," he paused then added softly, "someone."

She knew from the sound of his voice it wasn't intended to be a flattering comparison, but she didn't care.

"Who was she?" she asked, just wanting him to keep talking.

Slowly, 'Loram snaked his neck to look down at her. She had her face buried against his arm, her hair sticking up in tufts of silver in the moonlight.

"He?" she prodded, turning to look up at him.

"No," he said, his mandibles creasing in to a smile, "My tastes have never run in thatdirection," he said.

Maggie gave a tiny smirk though her eyes swam with tears, "So, who was she?"

'Loram furrowed his brow ridges. She looked absolutely as miserable as he felt. Dressed in standard gray pants but with only the black cotton shirt, he could see how small and frail she was, sitting next to him, clinging to his arm.

Heaving a sigh, Iruu tilted his head to look up at the stars. As he leaned lazily back against the rock wall Whittaker released her grasp and curled up next to him, cuddling up in the crook of his arm, resting her head on his chest.

For the longest time she thought he was done talking. Maggie tried to make this be enough: leaning into his silent warmth as she toyed with raised scars that crossed his bare hide, listening to the rhythmic sound of his hearts as she watched tiny, side-walking crustaceans skitter back and forth at the shoreline.

"It was youthful absurdity," he finally said in a low rumble, shifting to stretch his legs out before wiggling the sand from between his hooved toes, "She was my Kaidon's daughter," he said bitterly.

"That sounds...not good."

He hummed in response.

It had been fun while it lasted: the constant teasing by a daughter of nobility; her incessant verbal sparring; and all the ways she would find to tell him, in very few words, she would have him, not just as her mate, but as her husband, one day.

But, Gia 'Sudin came of age in the year before Iruu, and just as he knew they would, her interests turned from him to the numerous adult males who were able to properly court her.

'Loram had almost three years to bask in her attention. Then, he silently endured standing quietly like a good little cadet and watching as warriors came and went from the mansion, knowing exactly why they were there.

As much as he tried to convince himself that her previous flirtations had never mattered, and that this was how it was supposed to be, that she deserved someone who could properly pursue her, Iruu was intensely jealous.

When he and his fellows had entered their fourth and final year at War College they had been relieved of their duties outside the academy to allow for more rigorous training. Iruu had been grateful, the exercises which followed leaving his mind little time for thoughts of Gia. He honestly thought the hardened members of senior cadre were trying to kill them. And, they were, so 'Loram manage to pull himself from the fog of heartbreak and back into the arena of training out of the sheer need to survive.

They were driven for days without food or rest, denied the modesty of clothing, stripped of their weapons, beaten into unconsciousness, and tossed like garbage into the outlands.

Looking back, Iruu understood the objective was to return to the academy alive, to force the boys to put the knowledge of the three years previous to practical use. Some youths died during the course of the exercise but Iruu and most of the class lived; and when that phase of training came to an end select cadets were allowed to resume duties outside the academy grounds.

It wasn't until he donned his ceremonial armor and prepared to set off with his brothers that 'Loram thought about Gia again. Grinding his mandibles, he had relieved the outgoing guard and assumed his position with the others. But it was well over a week before he saw her.

A hateful part of him had hoped Kaidon Cero 'Sudinai had grown weary of his Mistress and had her assassinated and sent her daughter back to whatever miserable, hell-hole her mother's bloodline spawned from.

Jealousy and hurting pride aside, he did not realized how much he missed at least seeing her until the moment she wandered through the front gate. He was hit with a bit of guilt for his unkind thoughts because he knew she was not to blame for his foolishness: she was above his social class and he never had any right to her.

But, as she drew near, Iruu had realized something was wrong.

She didn't carry herself with all the pride of a youthful noble; her robes looked faded and unwashed; and she was too thin. Certainly her belly should have been round with pregnancy by this time and her cheeks pink with the excitement of a woman bearing her first heir.

Not once did she look at any of them: she simply made her way slowly up the front flagstone walk, face turned to the ground, and pushed through the great doors without a word.

It bothered Iruu more than it should have.

When the boys were relieved by the oncoming guard, and began making their way down the main city street to the academy grounds, he had seen Gia sitting on the side lawn in the sun as a few Unggoy lounged in the shade of a tall tree. The Kaidon's daughter was pulling flowering weeds from the ground and tangling them together into a necklace. The entire scene was incongruent with anything Iruu understood. He couldn't imagine why Gia would be with the Unggoy and not Sangheili slaves and her own maid servants.

His fellow cadets practically came out of their skins when he turned from the side path, scaled a drooping willow tree, and sprang to land on the other side of the fence.

"Iruu, what are you doing?" Heth hissed.

Curling his neck back to the other young men, Iruu snapped his mandibles and snorted, "Go on without me."

"Are you crazy?" Ro offered, looking up at the towering mansion, "'Sudinai will kill you."

J'rek nodded in agreement, "And if you are late for sword training…"

"I said go," he growled, wheeling to clench his fists and take a threatening step back toward them.

The boys raised their hands and slowly began making their way, casting concerned glances over their shoulders.

Satisfied they would keep moving, Iruu turned back to see the Unggoy ambling away, uninterested in whatever trouble this felonious display of trespassing could bring them. 'Loram strolled over to where Gia was still seated, continuing to weave the gnarled stems of yellow and brown flowers together. She didn't acknowledge his presence when his shadow fell over her.

He watched her for a few moments taking in her thin frame and the unkempt pallor of her skin. Her red-rimmed eyes were focused on the task in her hands and he could see her working at her mandibles and scrunching at her features as if it took effort not to look at him.

Folding to the ground, Iruu removed the nickel and red ceremonial helmet and placed it between his feet. Gia wrapped her lower mandibles over her upper in an expression of concentration as she tied the ends of her creation together. Turning to Iruu, she looped it over his head and brought it down around his neck, letting her hands rest against the polished surface of his chest plate.

He quietly watched her face until she finally tipped her emerald eyes to him, not removing her hands from his armor, "He is right, you know?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, "Uncle Cero will kill you if he catches you here."

Before he could take a breath to speak his present lack of concern for such things, Gia threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, weeping. Iruu tensed in surprise and sat frozen for a few seconds before returning the embrace and resting his chin on top of her head.

"Gia," he finally whispered, his voice betraying his concern, "What has happened to you?"

She sniffed and pulled away from him, shoving at his chest before wiping at her eyes with angry fists. She leveled her piercing gaze directly into his and rose from the ground, "Don't you mean, what has not happened to me?" she cried, motioning to the flat of her stomach.

Iruu caught sight of the dark faces of Sangheili servant-staff peeping around a far corner of the mansion wall. Narrowing her eyes, Gia followed his gaze and turned to hiss classlessly at the nosey young women.

"Gia," he whispered in admonition, rising to take her arm.

She grabbed hold of his hand before he could reach her. She snatched his helm from the ground then pulled at him, entreating him to follow. He complied, allowing himself to be whirled around and led across the side lawn.

"Where are we…" he tried to ask.

"Shush," she snarled, pulling him along the mansion wall and around the back corner.

The ground sloped downward and a worn path in the grass lead to a short, wide door recessed into the stone wall. A few waddling slaves jumped out of the way with frightened squeals as they approached and Gia led Iruu inside.

It was dark and smelled of methane and Unggoy. Both Sangheili had to duck their necks to make their way along the wide hall. A few slaves hooted in surprise and retreated at seeing them.

They made their way down winding halls until Gia pushed through another door and yanked Iruu into a small room cluttered with mops and brooms, buckets and dust pans, and cleaning solvents and wads of dirty linens.

"Woman, are you mad?" he panted, realizing if found here, with her, he was going to be castrated before his death.

"Yes, I am," she snapped back, lugging the door closed.

"Why did you bring me here?" Iruu insisted, discomfort rising into his voice as he watched her turn the lock.

"Because I can," she said, forcing bluster into her voice as she sank to the floor.

He watched her push dirt around with the toes of her sandals for a few moments, "Gia, what in the name of the Forerunners is…"

"They are taking me to a doctor," she hissed.

"What?" Iruu growled.

Gia crossed her arms and sniffed, "Uncle Cero says it is the only way to know for sure…" her words trailed off into nothing.

Iruu cocked his head, "Know what?" he huffed.

She looked at him as tears broke free of her eyes, "To know if I will ever bear children," she screeched before wrapping her arms around her legs, burying her face against her knees with a dejected sob.

Iruu seethed. He could imagine no greater humiliation than what that examination would entail.

With fists clenched he stepped toward her and to his horror, she recoiled from him, pushing herself against the door and defensively raising her arms over her head with a terrified wail. As the sleeves of her robes gaped away Iruu could see bruises in varying shades down her forearms. The black and blue marks were clearly of finger and handprints against the light brown of her skin.

His knees turned to mush and he sank to the floor, gently reaching to touch her, letting his knuckles brush the wounds on her skin, "What in nine hells happened?" he choked.

Gia hiccupped and lowered her arms a fraction, peeping at him from beyond her protective barrier, "Did you not hear what I said?" she spat, expecting his anger.

Narrowing his eyes Iruu responded softly, "Did you not hear what I asked?"

Through a countenance darkened with complete sadness, the corners of Gia's mandibles twitched in a smile.

She shook her head, "It was his right…" she tried to begin.

Iruu snorted angrily.

"He was a Swordsman of Hakkamr," she said before looking away, her features screwing up as she squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "He was mean to me… and I have not conceived; Uncle Cero lets him…" she looked at Iruu with glassy eyes, "No other men will have me now…and I cannot refuse him and he is mean, Iruu…" she clamped her hands over her mouth as her eyes went wide with sudden realization and she mumbled through her fingers, "You will never marry me."

Allowing himself to be taken by a barren woman would mean Iruu would never have heirs of his own. If truly unable to conceive she would at best be a servant and he could never increase his social status being married to her. This was the only circumstance in which an eligible male was permitted to refuse to marry a female.

He brushed at the side of her face, settling himself on the floor and collecting her in his arms, "Of course I will," he murmured into the side of her face.

She sobbed, "It would not be right…your father was a Swordsman of Varlem…"

For all the playful banter it turned out Gia had intended to make good on all her insufferable teasing, enough so she had looked at the record of his lineage. She wasn't supposed to tell him what she found, but she wasn't supposed to be spilling embarrassing secrets to a cadet in the Kaidon's basement either.

"Gia, I am yours," he choked, nuzzling her cheek with his snout.

It had never been his intention to...but Gia hadn't needed encouragement. The moment his head bunted against hers she grabbed hold of his face, softly tangling her mandibles in his, and kissing him deeply as she pushed him to the floor, not that he put up a struggle. As much forbidden excitement as there had been at seeing her eagerly begin to shed her clothing, Iruu found himself completely undone by the bruises that wound across her body, the scratches that fell in hashed scabs across her slim shoulders, and the lines of bite marks that wound around the base of her throat. He briefly thought of stopping her, thinking that Gia was not in her right mind and he did not wish to take advantage of her that way. But she deftly unfastened his armor faster than even he could, all the while issuing small whimpers of desperation and soft pleas for him not to hurt her.

Maggie felt Iruu sigh heavily as he craned his chin against his chest, "I was late for sword training," he grumbled.

Whittaker looked at him with a wry smile.

"I was not allowed to serve in any ceremonial positions for my tardiness following that. They would not let me leave the academy grounds until after graduation," he ground his mandibles, "five months away."

He grew quiet and closed his eyes. Maggie watched him for a few seconds, the slits of his nostrils flared and the muscles of his neck flexed as he clenched his jaws. She reached and ran her palm down the length of his face. Iruu bumped her arm with his snout, turning into her touch.

"When all the other young males were out trying to impress females and joining the Covenant, I took the first transport to the State of Hakkamr," he took hold of her arm and pulled it to his chest, "The man who hurt Gia was not the kind for which even his kindred would mourn his passing, his seed hardly worth avenging on the hide of a young girl. I followed him and," Iruu clicked his mandibles, "I caught him in his back doorway and ran a blade through his neck."

Maggie bit down on her bottom lip, 'The greatest testament of affection a man can show a woman...'

"I returned to Sudin but," his expression dropped as he looked out at the ocean, "when I asked after her one of the servants told me Gia's name was forbidden to be spoken. The old woman said it was to be as if she never lived. I walked the streets until nightfall and snuck in over the fence and went to the Unggoy entrance. I grabbed the first pitiful creature I could find and demanded to know what was going on. He told me…" Iruu touched his hand to his face and worried at his temples, "'Sudinai would not even allow her to be a servant in his house. He sold her to a merchant from Nustaad…he made her a slave."

"Because she couldn't have children?" Maggie whispered.

"Women who are unable to conceive are regarded as damaged. Most are allowed to serve in the households of their birth or of their clan. If from a poor lineage, they may be sold into slavery…but, Gia was the Kaidon's daughter. He had no use of the money she would bring. And Nustaad…" he ground his mandibles, "is a den of sanctioned debauchery and she was so beautiful."

"You went after her," Whittaker smiled.

"Of course I did," he snapped, "I was prepared to stealher. We would be fugitives and live in the damned outlands if that's what it took."

The cadence of his speech was not lost on Maggie: Iruu recognized now how silly that plan had been.

He slumped heavily against the rock wall, mandibles twitching, "But when I found her," he said, closing his eyes tightly against the thought, "she did not want anything to do with me. I murdered that old warrior because of what he did to her, and she was content to..."

"She wouldn't go with you?"

Iruu shook his head, "She laughed in my face," he looked toward the sky and puffed out a breath, "She could have more men than she could take. That had become her life and…it was what she insisted she wanted," he shook his head, "soI left her there."

Maggie cupped a hand over her mouth.

Iruu shifted, wrapping an arm around her waist and turning to nuzzle the top of her head. Whittaker leaned into him, draping one arm across his chest and lacing her fingers in his opposite hand as she watched the gentle rise and fall of his breathing in silence as the moments ticked past.

She didn't have words. She wanted to but even if she could find them in her drunken haze she knew he would hear them as empty and hypocritical.

"I secured my place among nobility before I joined the Covenant," he said into her hair and Maggie closed her eyes, "If she would not have me as her husband, I made sure no other woman could," she felt the muscles in his chest tense, "I do not understand how a man could love his daughter so little."

Female heirs were different. Even if they were unable to contribute to the bloodline, they were still women; they were to be treasured and protected, not thrown into prostitution.

Whittaker turned her head and drew a ragged breath, opening her eyes to see the ocean through a blur of tears. When she spoke, her voice was small with anguish, "Because, to him, she wasn't his daughter anymore."

He had never considered himself incredibly perceptive when dealing with the words of women, and as a Swordsman, in his other life, he never had to be. There was generally little talking involved. However, he recognized Maggie's words as coming from personal experience.

Whittaker struggled to choke back her emotions but she was too tired and still too drunk. A few tears broke free and slid down her cheeks to pool against his chest, "It's easy to get thrown away when you're a disappointment."

She choked on the words and turned to hide her face against him as she embraced him tightly.

He sat there for a few moments, holding her, feeling her ragged breathing in his grasp, twiddling his mandibles in the soft of her hair as it tickled his nose; unsure of what to do. He had not intended to make her cry.

"Maggie," he whispered.

She turned to look up at him, her lips grazing the end of his snout. It was wrong in so many ways, for so very many reasons, but in that moment, he desperately wanted to comfort her.

Oh, hells, no he didn't: there was nothing noble about what he wanted.

Never in his life had 'Loram felt more frustrated by a desire. He wasn't even sure how he would go about trying to kiss her let alone anything else. She didn't have mandibles and the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was trying to bite her face off...and...

Iruu brushed his muzzle against her nose and, before he could stop himself, he turned and licked a line of tears from her cheek.

His tongue prickled Maggie's skin. Through the fog of drunkenness she vaguely thought it was kind of like getting a tentative kiss from a giant cat. She felt her pulse jump as he continued to gently lap his way soothingly down her face and her mind eventually made the connection and she realized that's exactly what he was doing.

There were no longer any thoughts as to whether or not she could be that kind of girl. Maggie slid her hands up his broad chest and over the fine scales of his shoulders as she turned into him, letting her head fall back and exposing more of her neck for him to hungrily kiss knowing shouldn't have wanted him to comfort her this way.

As 'Loram lightly nipped at the skin of her jaw and began working slowly back down her neck, Whittaker drug her nails across his shoulders and he gave a low growl as he drew himself up and twisted to pushed her into the sand beneath him. This was an affection he had never stopped to realize he was starving for; and with her hands roaming his bare skin he found himself unable to contain a lusty purr.

"Iruu," her voice quaked.

How long had it been since a woman said his name like that?

He could feel her trembling and smell the sweet aroma of her arousal mixed with the scent and bitter taste of alcohol as he licked every exposed inch of her he could: her face, her neck, her arms, her hands. There was sand in the way everywhere but he didn't care. He reveled in the way she writhed beneath him, seeking position, clawing at him for more, and when that wasn't enough he tugged the hem of her shirt from her pants and, running his hands along her bare skin, proceeded to nuzzle and tend to her exposed abdomen.

He wasn't exactly sure how this was going to work and he hoped humans weren't into anything peculiar, but when his mouth wound across her clothing and settled again against her small throat, he let his tongue glide slowly against the soft flesh, tearing a wanton moan from her...he damn well knew he didn't care: he would do whatever she asked.

It had been longer than he cared to calculate since he had been with a woman and it took so little for his body to be painfully eager.

Maggie felt his breath, hot against her neck. He was being so gentle though clearly struggling blindly as he nipped at her skin and tried to figure out just how the hell the closure to her pants worked. This was not right: it was all wrong. She didn't understand this. She didn't want someone to be nice to her, that's not how a life sentence is supposed to work. She didn't want his delicate, forgiving touches.

A blaze of unfamiliar terror streaked through her and she drew herself up against him, pinning his hand against her stomach and garnering from him a discontented, frustrated groan.

Holy shit, she couldn't do this. Yes, yes she could. No, hurt me damn you, I know you damn well can!

"Iruu…please…" she panted through gritted teeth, running her hands along his arms, thinking to push him away but pulling him closer instead. Son of a bitch, he was hard and ready, and...Mother. Of. God.

He growled deep in his chest as he pushed his hips against hers, agitated by the barrier of clothing as he nuzzled her neck, her cheek, her ear, "Yes," he rumbled breathlessly, anything, sweet, merciful Ancestors, anything! He had never in his life had to beg, but he was fully prepared to do so if that was what she wanted to hear.

"Please…" she heard her own voice tangled with uncertainty and need and every miserable part of her wanted to scream against the exquisite rhythm of his soft but demanding movements.

Iruu ruffled his mandibles into her hair and grazed his tongue against the shell of her ear, "Anything," he found himself murmuring shamelessly.

A needy sob tore from her as she struggled to surface from the drowning pool of longing and scotch. She couldn't accept the compassion in his touches; she couldn't use him like this; she didn't care if he wanted to pretend she was someone he cared about, she was use to men not remembering her name; but she wasn't Gia, she couldn't let him think she was somehow deserving of his gentle, indulgent, mercy.

As his mandibles grazed her chin and she felt the rough of his tongue find the soft rim of her lips, from the part of her that ached to be used and resented being caressed, she found the one word she could never be sure she had ever said in her life, "Stop," she whimpered.

'Loram froze. In that moment, he would have sworn even his hearts obeyed her word. He had alwaysbeen an opportunistic knave but he had never forced himself on a woman: his right as a noble or not.

Iruu pushed back onto his knees as Maggie wriggled away from him and struggled to find her footing in the loose sand.

"Maggie, I…" he tried but she turned back with murder in the drunken, murky depths of her eyes and held up her trembling hands.

"Don't," she sniffed, before turning to hurry clumsily away.