Usually, when five people go to work in the morning, and then don't show up at home in the evening, the police are called, and the news might cover such a story. When the police are directed to the last place where these people were known to be, a crime scene is likely created, especially given the obvious signs of struggle. However, when these five people work for a subsidiary of a company which employs not only its own para-military group, but its own police force, these things tend to be handled in a very discreet manner. Anyone looking at it objectively would understand the Weyland-Yutani Corporation for what it was; its own self-contained and self-governed sovereign entity. Most people did not see it that way. In fact, the general public oftentimes were unaware of just how many cookie jars the Weyland-Yutani Corporation had its proverbial hands in.
Instead of the New York police being directed to Sandy Talbot and crew's worksite when they failed to report back to dispatch, Weyland's own investigative department was given the call and the task. One man was sent to take a look at the subway site. Mr. Norman Pettiford had a decorated military background, and also did a stint as a homicide detective for the Chicago Police department for a few years. He eventually grew tired of the never-ending workload and put in for an early retirement. He was young yet, only fifty-eight years old which was a quite an early retiring age indeed. He wasn't ready to sit down in a rocking chair, and play shuffle board and bingo every evening, so when he was tapped by the head of Weyland Security to be one of their top investigators and advisors, he jumped at the chance. His job was usually very laid-back, and full of pencil-pushing so he was more than prepared for doing a little field work. Mr. Pettiford had no desire to visit countless murder scenes anymore, but filing paper work and shooting the shit with the guys playing golf on their lunchbreak, could only satisfy a true detective so much.
Bailey had offered to come with, but she was a distraction more than a help. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on his task with her big tits sitting in his face all morning. To make matters worse, she didn't seem to have a good handle on how much cleavage was too much, and while he enjoyed the show, he didn't have time for it today. Today, he got to flex his old detective muscle, one that he would find never went away, just sat dormant until he called on it again.
Norman Pettiford made it down the same subway service steps, that crew five had descended just twenty-four hours prior. Just like on the job, he never wore suits and business attire in the field. You never knew just what the hell kind of scene you were apt to walk into, so he had on a pair of jeans, some old tennis shoes, and a light sweatshirt.
As soon as he got to the bottom of that short staircase, two things hit him. One, was the stench, which was saying a lot having been well-acquainted with both New York's and Chicago's subway systems. The second, was all the blood smears mixed with some unidentified substance. His hackles raised and he instinctively reached for the 9mm handgun he kept in a shoulder holster. Some habits were hard to break. He'd come expecting to find either nothing, or some communications screw up, but as he slowly walked through the area, being careful not to step into any large puddles of blood or goo, he knew very well that he had come upon a murder scene.
"Where the fuck are the bodies?" Norman asked himself. There were definite signs of struggling and fighting given the blood, but there were no bodies. If he were still working in the police department, he would have called this in already, but he was a proud employee of Weyland-Yutani, and the rule was that all affairs concerning the company were to be handled in-house first. He wasn't opposed to the rule, but he wanted to find out exactly what he was calling in first.
"Hello, this is the pol- This is emergency assistance, is anyone here?" He called out loudly, but didn't like the way his voice took on a flat quality as the sound was absorbed rather than echoed.
From a belt clip on his jeans, he pulled a small but powerful flashlight, and stood both aghast and disgusted at the sight which greeted him. A blackish-grey, semi-hardened substance coated the walls, the floor, and the ceiling all around. He turned in a slow circle, as he gawked at it and almost tripped over something. When he looked down and saw it was a bloodied workboot with the foot still inside, he went ahead and called it in. Norman backed up to the stairwell where there was at least one single light casting a sickly yellow glow over everything, and retrieved his company issued flip phone. This one had one number on speed dial, because if you had to use this phone, there was only one number you needed to call.
"This had better be good," a man's voice on the other end said.
"Yes, Mr. Bishop, this is Norman Pettiford. I was sent to investigate the disappearance of Crew Five in the subway," he said.
"I assume you found something interesting, or at least you better if you're calling me this early in the morning," Bishop said on the other end.
"I would think I found something interesting, yeah. It's all this crusty shit caped up around everywhere, and a left shoe with a foot still in it. Apparently, it didn't get the memo to follow its owner," he told. He was looking around the whole time, with the gun at the ready.
"Collect a sample if you can, and then get out of there. I'll send someone to deal with it," came the command, but Mr. Pettiford had a different idea.
"To hell wit' that. I ain't collecting shit out of here, just send somebody out. I'm leaving," Norman stated, and hung up promptly.
He had every intention of leaving, he really did, but that detective muscle wasn't done being flexed and worked out. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as he suddenly had the feeling of being watched. The stairwell was just to his right, and all good sense told him that he needed to ascend those stairs, but he had to know. Know what, he asked himself. Why, I need to know what happened, he replied in his mind. To that end, Norman Pettiford ventured forth in the darkness of the tunnels. The city was still under the impression that this part of the subway route was under maintenance, so therefore the train which usually ran, was detoured along another set of tracks. The last station it stopped at before taking that detour was only a few city blocks from the spot where Norman now stood. If he walked, he could reach the platform in about ten to fifteen minutes. Grabbing his flashlight again, he went back to the shoe with its gruesome contents, and looked around it. There were some drag marks which were coming from the direction of another smaller service tunnel. Norman carefully followed the drag marks to the tunnel entrance. It seemed as if no one had been down here for decades, maybe longer. He knew that wasn't the case, but the feeling of desertion was strong. It was as if some unnamed force was repelling human presence, as if to say that humans no longer belonged and that it would be seen to that they went away.
The feeling was so intense that Norman found himself absently shaking his head, as if to confirm that he, in fact, did not belong. He turned to leave, suddenly disinterested in what may have transpired here, until the beam of his flashlight caught the outline of something. It looked like a body. He'd seen cadavers in all kinds of conditions, and his mind quickly put the puzzle together. For as much as he was being repelled, he was also being invited further in. He crept in. The hairs on his neck practically took off running, but he still kept moving forward instead of back. It was very dark, and the smell cloying. He suddenly got the image of walking down the world's largest gullet, and it sent a shiver down his spine. Norman Pettiford was not a shiver-down-the-spine type of guy, and he shook the thought out of his mind. It took a seat in the corner, but it did not leave.
He tried with all his might, to see what his eyes were looking at. It was unbelievable. It was a body that seemed to have the majority of the top half burned away. He recalled one case about fifteen years ago, where this guy in his twenties thought he could pull off a murder by soaking the remains of his girlfriend in acid. He hadn't done a real successful job, and Norman remembered thinking – with no small level of utter disgust – that it looked akin to melting wax, or the way ice cream dripped off a cone. That body still had a little skin left, but this one had nothing. There was a partial piece of skull, most of it was nothing more than dust. Around where the chest should have been, there was a large hole like someone had dropped a hot quarter through snow, only bigger. The skin and bone around it had a charred, melted effect, and the hands still held the haft of a tool. Maybe a shovel of some kind. From the looks of it, this person had been rather large. Who could have overcome this guy, and then poured acid on his face and chest?
Not who, my good sir, but what?
Norman shook out that thought too. He wasn't in the inner circle per se, but he'd seen, and heard, and snooped enough to know that Weyland-Yutani was often up to no good. Often up to some real hinky shit. This looked to be the hinkiest of all the shit Norman had seen thus far, and he was in no small hurry to leave. He turned on his heels and moved a little faster towards the tunnel opening, which yawned like an enormous maw. He was almost there when something, dropped from the ceiling no more than two or three yards away. Norman stopped and pulled up his gun. He fired four shots immediately. No use waiting. If it was one of the guys, he had a plausible reason for firing his weapon, and besides, there was no internal affairs department to investigate it anyway. Whatever it was, it was unphased, and seemed to move with frightening speed. Norman Pettiford shot off another two rounds…. then he screamed.
Along the platform, the people milled around as they waited. Some with headphones in their ears, the majority absorbed in their phones or tablets, and still others talked and laughed with friends. The few standing more-or-less at the end of the subway platform turned their heads curiously in the direction of the empty tunnel ahead. They didn't know each other, but looked questioningly at one another anyway.
"Ya hear that?" One guy asked a young teen.
"Yeah, sounded like somebody bustin' shots," the teen said excitedly.
"Nah, it was probably some kinda machine or sumthin'. Ya know they was doin' some work down there," a middle-aged lady offered.
The sounds of Norman screaming seemed to alert even more people, but before they could ask any more questions among each other, the F Sixth Avenue Local roared and rattled into the station.
It was a rare treat indeed to be able to take advantage of one of only two small basking areas in the city. It was similar in function, but calling it a bathhouse would be too formal of a word. It was really a grouping of geothermal pools which so happened to be regularly frequented by higher ranking yautja. Miles away, there was a waterfall, which fed an estuary, which in turn fed water to the pools. Both male and female alike were welcome, and there was never any separation based on gender. It was looked over by elder females, and unblooded pups served as the cleanup crew. There were ten pools in total, nestled in a rocky outcropping on the edge of the bustling city-state. Several males soaked or sprawled out on the rocks and rested. The steam from the water and the blazing sun heating the rocks, created the yautja version of a luxurious spa. It lacked a bar, cocktails, or massage table unlike its Earthly counterpart. It was simply a place to come to where one could at least partially let their guard down after a long day of hunting, or at this time of year, a long day of constant mating.
In one of the larger pools overflowing with red water, colored so because of the sediment and the algae-like growth within, sat Kujhade and Mar'cte. They had not spoken since Kujhade entered the pool about thirty minutes before. Kujhade lay back, eyes open, gazing at the sky. Mar'cte was watching him silently.
"Speak Mar'cte," Kujhade finally said.
"What is wrong with you?" He asked bluntly. Kujhade took a while to answer.
"What makes you believe something is wrong?" He asked, knowing well how perceptive Mar'cte was.
"You are my clan leader and my brother for many cycles now. I haven't seen you this solemn in mating season since before Jasmine," he stated. At that, Kujhade's head snapped up, and he grumbled low under his breath.
"Do not mention her to me brother, I am disgusted with her. I should cast her out, send her back to her home planet," Kujhade said, getting himself worked up.
"Calm yourself. What are you saying? Surely you do not mean what you say?" Mar'cte asked, alarmed. He felt a strange feeling worm its way into his gut. He didn't like this attitude one bit.
"She won the mating challenge issued by R'ka, and then she gave me permission to mate R'ka. She voided her victory, sullied her own honor. What female does this? How do you-"
"R'ka issued a mating challenge? For you? You allowed such an act to take place after being life-mated?" Mar'cte questioned, sitting up a little straighter in the water to face his clan leader and brother.
"I did, and she answered the challenge after I warned her not to go to the mating ritual. Jasmine is disobedient Mar'cte, and she does not understand the simple concept of preserving her honor at all costs," Kujhade said. Mar'cte gave him a hard stare, which bordered on insubordination and disrespect.
"R'ka could have killed her. Maybe she would have liked to kill a mate of yours. You would have allowed this as well?" Mar'cte asked calmly.
"M-di!" Kujhade roared. "I would not allow harm to come to Jasmine in any way, you know this,"
"I know no such thing. You allowed R'ka to issue a challenge without checking her. Did you prepare Jasmine for such an encounter at the very least?" Mar'cte continued to challenge. He was walking a thin line between banter between friends, and a challenge to his clan leader. He thought he would take the chance.
"I told her not to go, that should have been enough. She insisted to go anyway. She wants to take part in our rituals, our gatherings, she should understand what she is getting into," Kujhade said stubbornly.
"Did you explain what she was to expect? Brother, Jasmine is human, there is much she does not comprehend about our ways. You cannot allow her to walk blindly into danger," Mar'cte said, taking on a more pleading tone rather than a challenging one.
"She does not understand, so therefore she should remain in her place! She should raise our pups, mate when asked, perform her chiva," Kujhade asserted, all while avoiding Mar'cte's glare.
"In other words, she is a lou-dte kale, and should behave as such," Mar'cte said, and the words hung in the air like an ugly slur.
Kujhade wanted to say something to deny that. Jasmine was most certainly not simply a child-bearer. He loved her in a way which was always difficult to express, and now she had rejected him. She was too willing it seemed, to give him to another female. An unworthy female considering the challenge outcome. She'd done it with ease, and actually mating R'ka was simply a way to prove to Jasmine what she had given away. He was a worthy mate in all ways, regardless of the past and regardless of his albinism. All of this went through his mind with clarity, but how to admit such weakness to a subordinate no less? Simple; you didn't. So Kujhade kept quiet and let Mar'cte continue.
"If R'ka birthed you the purebred pups you desire, what would become of my sister? Would you send her away like a bad blood, dishonored and in exile? I remember a time not so many cycles ago, when you would not have shown your face at a mating ritual," Mar'cte said.
"If R'ka is allowing you to mate with her, then know that she wants something in return, and it won't be your pups. You need to make sure that whatever the cost is for bedding who you like, is not too high for you….or for Jasmine," Mar'cte warned. He looked on a few moments more, then simply excused himself from the steaming water. Kujhade could only look on after him, unable to produce a good rebuttal before he left the area.
Mar'cte had made his way down the rocky slope. At the base of the pools, he saw R'ka heading up, presumably to where Kujhade was. He crossed the well-trodden path to end up right in front of her. He had to look up to see her face.
"You can't mate with me," she said flatly and tried to push past him. He stepped in her path again.
"I would never mate you. You are beautiful but your honor is questionable. I only want to warn you. If you hurt my clan sister,"
"That pathetic human that your clan leader stupidly life mated?"
"If she or her pups come to any harm, I will blame you. I will hunt you down and I will kill you myself," he said, then moved off as if the brief conversation had been amicable.
"How dare you threaten me over her? She is not even your mate! She gave me her prized possession, and she is nothing other than stupid for having done it. She's as weak as I thought, and you would do well to stay out of my way Mar'cte!" She yelled after him. He had not even turned around nor continued to acknowledge her after speaking his piece.
R'ka gathered herself and climbed the slippery rocks to where Kujhade was still seated. She stripped her meager clothing and settled beside him. Under the water, her hand found his limp member, and began to massage it as she purred. Absently, Kujhade reached over to grab her by the hips. He'd intended to place her on his lap in a straddle position, but the sharp pain of his half-erect penis being squeezed too tightly stopped him.
"I'm not that little human you sully your honor with. Fuck me like a real yautja," she demanded, and then loosened her grip a little. She flared her mandibles and reached out to claw him, but he moved back.
His mind turned to Jasmine of its own free will. He wouldn't have minded some sex to get over his current agitation, but he certainly didn't really feel up to fighting to make it happen. This time R'ka hissed at his apparent reluctance to engage. Furrowing his thorny brow, Kujhade lunged at her, striking her hard across the face. She was caught off guard by the viciousness of the attack, but turned on nevertheless, as her mating musk kicked into high gear. Spurred on both by sexual need, and an anger which bubbled just under the surface, Kujhade continued his very consensual sexual assault. He backhanded her again, spinning her around in the water. He immediately got behind her, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and plunged her head underwater. She reached back and raked his arms with her talons, causing deep bloody gashes. He grunted, but otherwise kept going. She stopped struggling in an effort to save her energy since she could not breathe, and that was the opportunity he needed. He found her entrance, and welcomed himself inside with brutal force, and reckless abandon. Eventually, he pulled her head out of the water but for a moment only. Just long enough to catch a few breaths, then he plunged her back under the serene red surface of the hot water. R'ka seemed to be in ecstasy, but Kujhade was on autopilot. In his mind, he kept replaying the first time that Jasmine gave herself willingly in their shower. It seemed so long ago, when she had her legs wrapped around his middle as he pounded away. Every time they had sex, he had to hold back on aggression and strength, but the reward was great. Jasmine did not offer physical resistance of any kind at any time.
He let R'ka breath for a few seconds, then forced her head back down.
Her hands clawed at the rocky sides of the pool. He couldn't tell whether she was clawing to get out, or clawing to stay in. His mind wandered back to Jasmine. He recalled the first time she saw his trophy collection. He had been apprehensive of her reaction, but she'd surprised him. She told him that she had accepted even the hunting of her own kind, and he remembered thinking that Bakuub had been wrong about her weaknesses. Sure, she had many, but her mind and will were strong. Now, she had given him permission to mate a female whom she had bested successfully. That wasn't the Jasmine he recalled being proud of.
Breathe. Back down.
The Jasmine he wanted was the one who showered him with her human shows of affection, who kissed him when he knew nothing of such a gesture, whose mouth was so soft, who allowed him to do as he pleased with her body and welcomed it with relish. He wanted the Jasmine who had overcome a bad blood on her own, and then killed another human for also being a bad blood. He wanted the Jasmine who was possessive enough to answer the challenge of a greater foe, just to prove that he belonged to her alone.
Breathe.
Now he pushed her face into the rocks rather than the water. She was panting, grunting, hissing in pleasure from the brutal sex she was getting. Suddenly, he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear his name panted, hear it screamed in ecstasy, but R'ka wasn't going to do that. Jasmine would have. She would have been whispering things to him that he barely understood, but it would drive him to pleasure her anyway. Her softness, her lips, her wetness, her scent….
With a loud roar, Kujhade released and then backed away from R'ka without any hesitation or lingering. He had felt her shudder in orgasm also, and so his obligation had been fulfilled. She retreated to the other side of the pool with a wan smile, and her skin flushed green. She shook her tendrils, touching the stunted ones on the side where they had been cut.
"I still owe her for drawing blood you know," she said in a taunting way. He had been about to make his way out of the pool, but stopped and turned to face her slowly.
"You lost that challenge," he said.
"Not according to what we just did. Looks like I won after all. Maybe she knows deep down in her stupid little lou-dte kale mind that she is the nothing she truly is. Maybe I will pay her a little visit and retrieve my tendrils," she said calmly.
"You will do no such thing R'ka. I warn you to tread carefully with your speech," Kujhade warned, with a low growl to punctuate his meaning. She relaxed and failed to pay heed. Kujhade's bark had always been worse than his bite when it came to her.
"Save your growling for the ooman. She is the one who doesn't have the sense to retain a strong male after fighting for him. What does that say about her Kujhade? Does she not value you, or have you wondered about that?" R'ka asked, leaning back against the side of the pool with a smug look. He thought of a retort, but decided he would not give R'ka any more ammunition. She was dancing too close, and relying too heavily on his past affections for her. Kujhade turned once again to leave, but this move only encouraged R'ka to continue.
"She's weak, and an arbitrator does not need weakness at his back, but strength. While she is busy preparing for a chiva alongside younglings, I have already proven my strength in every way. She is not the only one to have birthed pups for you either. She was not even the first to do so," she continued. Kujhade had his back turned, poised to leave, but had not yet made an exit. Perhaps, she thought, he was seeing things with sense.
"Do not speak to me about pups. You had a pup of mine which you disposed of. I know why you did so, but this is not a path you want to tread with me now," he warned again, while still giving her his back to speak to. Jasmine had demanded long ago that he was forbidden to address her while giving his back. He stifled a small smile at the memory. R'ka did not see it.
"At least I have the sense to keep the bloodlines clean. She birthed one with your same affliction, no doubt after witnessing the trouble it has brought to you. The fact that she would flaunt him as an achievement rather than a source of shame, proves the weakness of her mind. You have allowed it Kujhade. I do not like to see you reduced in this way. You should have been stern about that, instead you let it linger. Perhaps I can offer my help to you. Maybe, pay your pale pup a visit, and do to him what you have been apparently too weak to do so far," she was saying, as she lay back, arms stretched out to either side, head laid back and eyes closed.
Suddenly, there was pressure on her body pinning her against the pool, and more importantly there was a tremendous pressure on her throat where Kujhade's hand was wrapped. He'd also pinned one of her arms, and brought his face close to hers.
"You have spoken too freely, and too disrespectfully to me. I am your arbitrator and as such I could certainly find a reason to deem you a bad blood and kill you on the spot for threatening the life of an innocent pup," he growled while strangling her. Her eyes were wild. With a free hand, she tried to punch or grab, but the extreme pressure stopped her. Maybe Kujhade meant to kill her.
"My life mate is mine! She bested you and took trophies if I remember correctly. In fact, I have half a mind to bring her your head as a form of apology to her. If she is a lou-dte kale then she is a successful one. How many pups do you have alive? How many?!" He yelled, closing his fist and drawing blood where the tips of his talons had pierced her skin. She flared her mandibles in distress, and reached a hand to try and pry his from her throat.
"That is right, you birthed eight after me, only three of them survived their chivas. This does not bode well for your stock R'ka. From this day forward do not approach me, I will not mate you, do not approach my pups, and most of all do not approach my mate. Is this understood?! Blink if you understand!" Kujhade demanded. R'ka blinked her watering eyes.
Finally, he released her and she gasped for breath. He backed up, not trusting to take his eyes from her as he stepped out of the warmth of the pool. If looks could kill, Kujhade would have expired on the spot. She said nothing, but the immediate fear of being killed had left, and another feeling replaced it. Kujhade growled openly about it, not liking that she didn't seem to be properly submissive, but he didn't have time. It had been two rotations since he'd left his domicile, and Jasmine, behind. He'd spent most of his time either mating R'ka, or attending his normal arbitration duties. In his displeasure with Jasmine's decision, he had paid her very little attention, but now was the time to change that.
Who did he think he was to threaten her, and put his hands on her as if he owned her? R'ka left the basking and pool area in an outrage. She'd been caught off-guard. When did he become so aggressive towards her? He had always held back no matter what she said or did. Admittedly, she held having pups over his head and the fact that she was the only one to ever agree to even have sex at all. Now, things were different in a way that she had not anticipated. He had a mate. Regardless of how inferior, the ooman had carried two pups, and the most horrible part was that they seemed strong and healthy; like they were going to make it. It was a long way back towards the marketplace and more importantly Kujhade's quarters if indeed that's where he'd zoomed off to. It was likely, give what she'd said. Yes, it may have been a little out of line, but how else was she to make it known that if they were going to be together, the little lou-dte kale had to go, and that defective pup?
R'ka cut her way through the crowd as the streets became more populated the closer she came to the marketplace. She pushed, shoved, and grumbled her way through, and then stopped cold in her tracks. Her eyes went round at the sight of….him. She had come to Kujhade's place, perhaps making it there before he did, but the yautja she saw making his way from the landing bay was not Kujhade. How did he find her? R'ka backpedaled but kept her eyes on his approach. How long had he been here, and why would he show up while the mating season was still going on? She chuffed to herself. She knew exactly why, but she'd come to Yaut Prime to avoid him, not confront him.
Thwei Nihkou'te, or loosely translated Bloody Teeth or Blood Tusks, so named for his propensity to bite his prey, glided through the milling crowd. Mating season was in full bloom and the scent hung heavily in the air. It invigorated him. It had been a long time since he had come back to the home planet, but his intel alerted him that R'ka, had come here. Perhaps she thought she could avoid him by coming here. No matter the case, he was here, he would find her, and he would impregnate her. He would also enjoy every moment of it. The thought crossed his mind that she might already be pregnant, but he dismissed it. If she was stupid enough to think that becoming pregnant would relieve her of an honor-based contract, she was sorely mistaken. She would be allowed to bear and rear the pup, but she would be enslaved to him during that time. As soon as she could bear another, she would be allowed to mate only him.
He stood an even 8'0". His shoulders were very broad, as the rest of him. His dreads were long and grey, spilling down his back along the blood red cape he wore, which flowed regally behind him. Some of the females saw him and begin to growl and mewl under their breath. He was older but highly desired. Thwei Nihkou'te was an accomplished hunter, had served as a huntmaster for many cycles, and was the undisputed leader of a very large clan. His many belts and much of his sparse armor, were adorned in skulls of nearly every description, including several human jawbones which served as the linking clasps for the cape circling loosely around his shoulders and neck. He spotted R'ka who seemed to believe she hadn't been seen. He watched from his peripheral vision as she backed away, but kept him in her sights. If she wanted to be hunted and conquered, then he would oblige. He meandered her way, walking slowly and taking in the mixture of various scents, until he caught one which was altogether intriguing and somewhat familiar.
He stopped and did a slow 360° turn, taking off his mask to get a more natural sense of things. There it was again. This time he zeroed in on it, and from across the marketplace, coming from the direction of the kehrite, was the owner of the scent. Thwei rumbled to himself. It was a human scent, specifically a female human, but how? How could a human be here? There was only one human he believed worthy enough to have made their way to Yaut Prime. Otherwise, they were a slave or merely used as a hard meat host, for trial or study. He found himself walking slowly towards her. She was unaware she was being watched so closely, as she seemed to be carrying some equipment. Most likely running some errand for her master, but if she was who he thought she was, she should not have been enslaved.
Ever since that chiva done on one of the cold regions of the blue planet, he had found himself thinking of her. He did not know her name, but she had fought alongside his pup, and even helped kill a queen. His pup thought it prudent to mark her with the symbol of his clan, and after having watched the chiva from start to finish, Thwei could hardly argue with the assessment. There was certainly an undeniable warrior spirit in the woman, and even under fear she managed to think long enough to fight and survive. Thwei had given her one of his most prized weapons as a token of mutual understanding, but over time it had become a little more than that. More and more, he found himself wondering just what kind of mate she would make. It was obvious that his son, whom the humans strangely referred to as Scar, had intended to mate her even if just once. Thwei himself had never mated a human, had never even considered the possibility or a reason, until after having met the female that night. If this was her, if she had somehow found herself here and a captive, he would pay a small ransom for her, and he would have her. Maybe that was the mating season talking, but Thwei didn't rely on that. He'd been thinking of that very thing off and on for a while, but now there may be the opportunity. As he got closer, the small female looked around as if feeling his gaze settling upon her, and finally she made eye contact. She held it for a moment, and then wisely dropped her eyes before he could warn her about it. He splayed his mandibles and took another whiff of her scent. It was heady, musky, feminine, fertile, and very inviting. He stepped closer, and was a little disappointed. This was not her. This was not his human. As he looked her over, he found that she did not bear the hallmark of slavery, but the mark of a mate; a life-mate. The implications of that played through his mind immediately, but he quieted them for now. He simply stood, regarding her, his gaze rooting her to the spot.
Jasmine watched this new male warily. He'd come from nowhere and now he was towering over her, and gazing at her like a long-lost lover. He approached her as if he knew her, but then stopped and took a whiff of her scent. Jasmine was a little embarrassed. She wished he hadn't done that, since she'd just come from weapons and hand-to-hand combat training in the kehrite. She was beyond ripe, but then remembered where she was. These guys actually liked that kind of shit. She probably smelled like something out of Bath and Body Works to this guy. Mentally, she calculated the distance between this big behemoth and her house, but she was too tired to even give it a go. Besides, they liked it when you ran away so they could have the simple thrill of chasing, and with this being mating season, Jasmine wasn't willing to risk sending any mixed signals. Her arms were sore from training, and every muscle sang a very painful song. She could hear her twins running up from behind her. They'd gotten away from Lijia again, but Jasmine didn't turn around. She simply stood and waited to see where this was going.
The large male took a step forward and then his jaw dropped at the sight of two younglings running up to this human, and calling her…. bearer? He watched as she grabbed them up, never taking her eyes off of him, as she put down her gear and wrapped protective arms around them. He still stood there, gawking. Jasmine continued to assess him, and then sighed to herself. This was kind of funny actually. Having been a prostitute, it behooved Jasmine to be able to make an instant judgement call on the type of john who approached her. There were all types, some harmless, and some not, but she thought she'd figured this one out already. She'd run into the predator version of the older rich guy, who kept himself in shape, and who still looked good for his age. He exercised intensely, ate right, and because of that he was more sexually virile than you assumed, and because he looked good and had money, young beautiful women were not outside his grasp. This yautja was as close to debonair as she thought they could come, and he had clearly taken some interest. She tossed her hair back to return the attention to Kujhade's bite mark sitting prominently on her shoulder. Thwei acknowledged it, and stepped back two paces. It was enough to allow her to pass without harassment, but close enough to let her know that his interest was still piqued. Without hesitation, but also keeping a watchful eye, Jasmine put the boys down, picked up her gear, and began to walk. The boys kept in close, and they were also watching this male with fascination. She knew they wanted to touch his trophies and belts since they were in the let-me-have-this-so-I-can-put-it-in-my-mouth-stage, but she didn't even let them ask. As she passed him by, Lijia fell in behind her, and pressed Jasmine along. The big male rumbled loud enough for Jasmine to hear, but it was better to ignore it. She now had a million questions to ask, but she knew better than to engage him, what with mating season and all. Any friendly engagement on her part would do nothing but encourage him, so she allowed Lijia to hurry her inside.
"What the hell was that all about?" Jasmine asked when the door closed behind them a few minutes later. She turned to see Lijia with a strange look on her face. Was she blushing?
"That was Thwei Nihkou'te, an elder and a big clan leader, and I think he wants to mate with you."
A/N: Ahh, so what do we think of Kujhade's line of logic? Is Mar'cte right to call him to the carpet? Does R'ka have a good argument against Jasmine and her rather ill-fated decision? Now we've got a new player in the game perhaps. A one Mr. Thwei Nihkou'te seems rather interested. We're familiar with him. I'm thinking of the elder predator from AVP, who gives Lex his weapon. I liked him instantly, so decided to give him a name, and took the liberty of making Scar his son. Just seemed like Scar was more than a run-of-the-mill youngblood, and I always got the feeling the elder was his father or some close family member. Anyway, I need to get cracking with my writing, because my head start is dwindling down. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for all the reviews, faves, likes, etc.