Chapter 2

Garrus was no fool. As he watched the media stories surrounding his people, carefully monitoring what the locals were saying about the small contingency of military advisors, and reading the speculations and even the fascinating fiction that was cropping up about them, he wondered where the humans were getting some of their ideas, some of which were beginning to border on obsession and hero worship. While it was true turians were militaristic, they were not sadistic. They were explorers and colonialists, but they were not pirates, or Viking-like, pillaging whatever they pleased. The fact that they were so similar to some things with which humans were familiar, and yet so different in other ways at the same time, gave rise to all sorts of speculation, wild fantasies, crushes and media interest by local celebrities. It pleased him to know that his people were working among these humans so well that the relationships between the races were peaceful and enthusiastic.

But the Primarch's Second-in-Command had not reached this pinnacle of his career for frivolous reasons. He was smart. He had contributed to several successful campaigns. His people had moved among alien cultures and societies for so many centuries that they had long since evolved senses and abilities that helped them to co-coexist, while at the same time preparing them for any defense that might be required. Anyone who does not take the time to study an enemy is letting themselves in for one nasty surprise after another. And while the turians might now be welcome, one unhappy incident between his people and these long-lost humans could just as easily end up as an interplanetary conflict.

So he moved carefully, biding his time. Waiting. But until now the signals he needed from her, such as signs of her physical strength, had not been there. She very nearly shrank from him. What was he to do? He had to treat her with the upmost respect, and he could not disgrace her in front of her people. So he let her be. That is until she would no longer allow it. She had approached him this night with an ultimatum: either he speak of his intentions toward her, or she would seek company with a palace guard. This he could not allow. She would disgrace herself with someone less deserving, someone who might try to make a spectacle of her for entertainment or financial gain. He'd stopped her exit. She had demanded to know the truth. When he told her he believed she was too weak for him to take physically and therefore excite him erotically, that his body literally would not allow him to mate a weak female for fear of hurting her, for Spirits sake, he was nearly twice her size… She had kicked him in the face. And that was just what he needed.

He stepped carefully toward the fountain, keenly aware of her scent. He recalled her words in the salon… "My people have condemned me to a life of either forced celibacy or a life as a secondary wife.. . a concubine… Tell me the justice in that, Garrus." She had been yelling at him by then, anger and frustration, humiliation and despair all congealing into a furious, protracted argument. He had never intended to cause her that much pain, never intended to hurt her or humiliate her.

"I'm a half-breed. From the day of my birth I've been looked down on. I am a Queen-Elect because of my mother's station and the order of ascension, but I'll never be able to marry a K'OrSachean because my father is a Mirrorian. Only a pure K'Orsk who will potentially produce a pure blood child is acceptable as a wife. I'll only ever be fit as a third-, maybe second-wife. A concubine. Because I'm not a pure K'Orsk.

"I arranged this treaty for the good of our worlds. The treaty, the help it's providing our peoples, the advancements for us both… " Her gaze drifted away as she tried once again to fight back tears. And again, she failed. "But I had no idea that I would have feelings for you, for pity's sake, you are as alien as anything I've ever seen… "

She stopped and looked down at the ornate rug without really seeing it. "I know I'm talking in circles. There isn't any reason for you to have any interest in me whatsoever. It defies logic. But I do have feelings for you. Heaven forbid, I just couldn't help it. But you won't even look at me. I do what your people say I should do, and you do nothing." She looked up, then, angrier still. "So I came here to tell you that I have feelings, and you say you don't. Ok. I'll find someone else, but you won't let me leave." She started shouting again. "What gives you the right?!"

That had been a strange thing for her to say… "what your people say I should do… "

"What does that mean," he had asked, 'What MY people say…?'"

She shouted even louder at that… "They told me you expect me to be submissive. Nice. Girlish. Virginal. Believe me, I choked on that, but I have tried. It didn't work. Nothing worked. I sent my secretaries to talk to your secretaries, and all I ever heard back were the same instructions. Nothing more. What do you want?"

"Strength, Gracie. Strength. I know that you are strong in other ways, but I am turian, full-grown. I cannot take a female who does not possess the strength required to be a mate. And how do I approach you with this discussion, how do I humiliate a queen, how do I shame a woman who depends on her strength, and the perception of that strength, in order to rule? When I've approached you, you've become shy. You send out these mixed messages. You seem interested, but when I come near you retreat. How do I begin to understand these things?"

"That's what they said you wanted!"

Why would my people say this?

She filled his senses now. The kick to the head had been all he needed to push him over the edge. He was not angry. Rather, he was pleased, relieved, excited. She was strong enough for him. If it took kicking him to make that much clear, so be it. He should have tried harder to get to her but, like his own staff, hers had turned him away on many occasions, saying she was too busy to meet with him. It seemed to him that people from both camps had an interest in keeping them apart; making sure they never worked out the kinks of this fledgling attraction.

Garrus stalked silently closer to the fountain, the quiet music of the water and the ebbing rain masking almost all of the sounds from her lovely body. Female. Different from turian females, but similar in enough ways to delight his imagination. He knew the feel of female. He had known lovers. Female bodies were meant to satisfy males, as males were made to satisfy their females as well. Those interesting situations in which a male was attracted to a male, or likewise a female to a female held no interest for him, but neither did they offend him. Nature worked mysteriously, and it was not for him to have an opinion one way or another. He simply knew that, as far as his interests were concerned, he preferred female.

Garrus was at his core what his military buddies had referred to as a hetero. A man's man. And the studies that he'd dedicated to this very night, to this meeting, told him that his body and Grace's, though different in some major ways, were similar in the areas that would make this encounter not only possible, but promised to be hugely gratifying. He had wanted it, oh yes… but if he started, he would finish. Once he knew that she wanted him, wanted his mating, she could not stop him. No one could have.

He was primal now. Quiet. All senses on the alert. He knew exactly where she was, behind the fountain, the soft grass masking any sounds his big feet might make. He could smell her body, hear her quickened breathing, and sense her pounding heart. Her fear was abating, and beneath that fear he could detect again the scent of her desire for him. She couldn't hide it. She might try to deny it, but it was there.

What do I do now? She closed her eyes and tried to focus on something—anything—besides the overwhelming need to run… anywhere… She had watched Garrus for months, listened to his lovely, deep, comforting, breathy voice, grown to trust him, shiver when he turned those blue eyes her way. She had become fascinated with him, his easy flowing strength, his grace in spite of his size, his competence with his people and with hers. Even watching him on the fields as he guided joint exercises, provided instruction with the various weaponry with which he was nothing less than the consummate professional. He was highly respected. Taller than average turians and most humans, he was physically impressive. He inspired trust.

And he was gone. In his place was this huge, stalking beast that looked, now more than ever, like a lion, or raptor, or a huge, powerful man… and all three at once… A predator twice her size, crazy angry with her, stalking her, growling venomously like a big cat. What had he said, back in the salon? Believe what I say, female, what you have started, I will finish. What did that mean? He meant to tear her throat out with that mouth full of fangs? She'd only seen them once, and she was certain that it had been accidental on his part. Like the habit he had of using his sultry voice, he held his mouth mostly closed to mask those teeth and to keep humans relaxed around him. If he advertised those teeth… fangs… people would have broken and run in terror. Or did he intend to shred her with those razor-sharp talons that he usually kept carefully ensconced in protective gloves? Or lift her by the throat and strangle her with those double-muscled arms, powered by the extra musculature and sinew across his broad chest.

She heard the slightest noise, a rustle of leaves, a subtle shift of wind, and she felt herself believe that he had found her… he is close….. She gathered courage to speak, though it pained her to hear the quiver in her voice. She hated more than anything to sound weak, and now she doubly feared that sounding afraid might inflame him further. Still, cornered, she had no options. A queen to the bone, she would do whatever she had to do in order protect her people. If she had antagonized this representative of an alien world into killing her, shredding her, tearing her to pieces, both their worlds would be thrown into an irretrievable chaos. "Garrus, I'm sorry." She waited, no answer. For a moment she thought he might have left and returned to the palace. I only imagined he was here….. A tiny useless hope, quickly crushed.

Garrus answered. The Garrus she'd listened to for months, the Garrus that she'd quite literally and painfully fallen in love with. "You desire me." The words came slowly, low almost to being imperceptible, but at the same time filling her head, musical, a low seductive song. The water playing over the fountain added to the soothing quality. "And I desire you, Grace. You have shown me what I needed. You are strong, strong enough for me to take." A long pause, then from another direction… "And believe me, that is what I will do."

A weird combination of excitement and literal fear flooded through her. She felt dizzy. "What…?" Finally, she managed to get the air in her lungs to travel up, make a voice. "You think I want you now? Are you crazy?"

"I can smell your desire, smell it through the rain, through your clothes, through your small lies... Say what you need to relieve your fear, but there is no hiding the scent of your heat…" His joy, his animal need, his aching desire were singing through his veins. The signals were there. He knew he had frightened her with his growl, but there was no stopping it when it had escaped his chest. He was surprised by her, and he had to warn her off until he could assess what was truly happening, especially since it was so utterly out of character for her. But when he had collected his thoughts, understood that she was angry with his, albeit unintentional, disregard for her anger, he knew. This was all she had to show him that she was strong enough, and that she was finished with all the obstacles, and if he was such an idiot that a kick to the side of the head was what it took to get the point across, then that's what she would do.

And that's what she did. And it wasn't clear to her until now why she had. He'd been standing there telling her that she was weak. Read: incompetent, stupid, lame, limp, useless… and she didn't fucking need that from him, not one more criticism. Not one more condemnation. Not one more rejection. And according to all the information she had read, there really wasn't anywhere on his body or his face that she could punch or slap that would make any impression on him whatsoever. But she did know how to kick box. And she did know that at either side of his face, just behind his mandibles, a turian male was vulnerable.

But now… what…. ? He can smell me? He knows I want him? How the hell do I hide that? The only response she could think of would sound idiotic if she said it out loud. "What makes you think I want you? I mean, after I stood in the salon screaming at the top of my lungs that I was pissed at you for ignoring me?" She was mute. She'd brought this on herself. She'd thrown gas on that fire. Thrown it with all her strength. And it was here to burn her.

Still, honestly, what had she awakened? The sound of his voice, his demeanor, the trust he inspired had led her to a conclusion that the last half hour had painfully shown her was incorrect: Garrus was not a sweet, over-grown puppy. He was a dyed-in-the-wool predator, a trained killer with heaven knows how many ended lives in his past; lives that he snuffed out without a glance back. Not rampant, not indiscriminant, and somehow that was even more frightening and deadly. He calculated, measured, tested the wind, humidity, temperature, and sent death with surgical accuracy. Then he watched, detached, as his equipment told him his victims' hearts had stopped beating. He was an Alpha among Alphas, huge, powerful, smart. A blue-blooded sniper, weapons expert and adept at hand-to-hand combat, as well as a variety of knives and swords. As if he needed them. If he were completely naked, he still had size, speed, strength, reach, a mouth full of fangs and talons waited at the ends of his powerful arms and legs. Turians were fighters, and he was at the top of his game.

And he had chosen her for mate. He was only waiting until he could claim her without causing undue fear.

And she had chosen him. Screamed at him because he had not delivered. Kicked him, then forced him to give chase to prove himself.

Until now they had missed each other in polite conversation and misunderstanding.

But no more. The dizziness was being slowly replaced with the gnawing realization that she did in fact want him. Badly. Badly. Hungrily. He was as male as a creature could be. His size, the strength of him, the sound of him… Male…. Her body answered the ancient howl… Her body ached for him… To be pierced with his heat and penetrated, tasted, touched… loved… wanted…. Needed…..

There it is… that lovely scent… flowers, raw meat, hunger, desire, female, which is life itself… this chase is ended… I will have you…

Carefully he bent, picked up a random stone, tossed it to the far end of the fountain, and stepped to the side closest. The very gentle capture went as he had pictured it in his mind. That was what made him so good at everything he did. He was able to mentally map out his actions, then play them out in reality, executing precision and grace without hesitation. The lovely female was his. She need not fear any longer. He would be her mate, and she his.

There she was, tall, beautiful, her subtle, exotic Mirrorian markings around her face and down her breast bone, long black hair wet from the soft rain. She had heard the sound at the left wall of the high fountain, and leapt right in surprise. He had caught her easily, lifting her light as air and putting her flat on her back on the wet grass before she even fully registered the movement. He held her down, hand on her chest, one knee between her legs to keep her from any successful attempt to struggle away. It was important that she not hurt herself against him. Blue eyes took her in, slowly appraising her face, her body, her large dark eyes. Whether human, turian, Asari… Female is female. Being a creature who could comprehend and appreciate beauty in its many forms, Garrus saw her for what she was: a lovely human woman, soft, deserving of respect and care. This was a holy place, a place where life grew, though he was fully aware that it could not be a life that he might place there. But all the same, her body held a promise of delicious sensations, wetness, tightness, grasping need only for him, thrusting into deep, satisfying warmth… He breathed her in, the chemistry of her needs hitting his brain with quiet, desperate hunger. His turian body was now finally able to throw aside its throttle that kept him in check, keeping him from being drawn to a weak female who could not withstand his strength.