Shieldbrothers: Pride of the Kodiak

Chapter Three: “Always a Bridesmaid…”
Rating: NC-17

Charlemagne Bolivar leads Dylan Hunt through the graceful curve of a gothic style arch.
He pauses, studying the room to be sure that all is in place and properly done. The golden
glow of the mellow stone gives the room a warm, welcoming air. The room is a little too
warm for his formal silks and leathers but the temperature is set for the comfort of the
mating pair who would be nude most of the time.

The trio of high, arching windows, facing each other across the wide bed send sunlight
falling across the white silk cover emblazoned with the Jaguar emblem. Golden marble
statues of men face those of women across the length of the bed. Gold rods, supporting a
drift of sheer, white draperies, stretch between the upraised hands of each pair of
statues. Plump, white pillows are piled at the head of the bed. At the foot is a bench
of pale wood, carved with fertility symbols. A length of white silk is tossed across it
with the ornate helix box sitting in the exact center. Small circular tables of the same
wood flank the bench. Golden goblets engraved with fertility symbols sit in the center of
each table. Beside each table is a wooden chair, tilted to face the bed. Across from the
bed is a raised dais with four large chairs.

Buffet tables, covered with white linen, line the far walls of the room. The tables are
piled high with succulent smelling food. Whole fruits are piled in crystal bowls. Diced
fruits drizzled with sugar gleam temptingly in white china bowls. Crystal platters are
filled with sliced vegetables and are surrounded by an array of suitable dips. Boiled
crustaceans mound in crystal bowls. Dainty finger sandwiches are stacked high on gold
plates. Bottles of wine rest in crystal buckets of ice. Servants stand at the end of each
table.

Charlemagne raises his gaze to the gallery. Musicians are assembling there. There is
momentary discord as they test their instruments...woodwinds...violins...cellos. Guests
are also mingling, the hum of their conversation mixes with the beginning notes of soft
music.

Charlemagne nods approvingly. Everything seems to be in order and in its proper place.
It has taken so long to get his sister to this point. Everything must be exactly right.
There must be nothing to raise any doubts.

Dylan looks curiously around the room. “How soon before the event begins?”

“There’s still a bit of preparation...soon.” Charlemagne glances over his shoulder and
sighs. He’d hoped that Dylan would wear something a bit more festive than that deadly
dull High Guard uniform. And the Captain is exhibiting the bad taste of openly wearing
weapons. Charlemagne sniffs. Anyone who bothered to consult a protocol flexi would know
that all weapons must be discreetly concealed at coupling ceremonies. Apparently the
Captain didn’t feel the need to trouble himself with such things. He looks Dylan up and
down and gives the force lance a pointed stare. “Feel a need to come armed to our
festivities, Captain?”

“Ah...well, no. Have you seen my force lance?” Dylan’s grin flickers nervously as he
pats the weapon.

Charlemagne stares at Dylan a long moment and sighs. “Sometimes Captain a force lance is
just a force lance but I have noticed that it’s quite a bit bigger than Elssbett
remembers. Tell me...are you just happy to see me?”

He leaves Dylan sputtering behind him as he strolls over to greet the assembled matriarchs
and older women who have come to witness his sister’s coupling. He greets each woman with
careful respect. He lingers, talking and spreading charm before bowing and turning away.

Charlemagne walks back to Dylan. “Please, make yourself comfortable, Captain. We won’t
begin for a few minutes.”

Dylan looks around the room. Curious guests stare back at him. “There is to be some sort
of ceremony before the...event takes place?”

“Oh yes. Pride protocol must be followed.” Charlemagne glances at Dylan. “We will have
the formal helix ceremony first, and then we’ll witness the coupling.”

Dylan stares at Charlemagne with a startled expression. “I...I’m...sorry. What did you
say?”

Charlemagne looks at Dylan as if he is a slow child. Yet more evidence that the Captain
had not bothered to consult with anyone about protocol. Does the man think that merely
because he works with a Nietzschean that he completely understands their culture and ways?
“We’ll have the helix ceremony and then we’ll settle in to witness the coupling.”

“The...the...coupling?” Dylan stammers. His pale eyes widen in dismay.

“Yes.” Charlemagne climbs up the steps to the dais. He sinks into the comfortable depths
of his chair and gestures for Dylan to take the chair next to his. Ah, the good Captain is
squeamish about such things. Really those kludges are so amusing. His lips curve in an
anticipatory smile.

“We’re going to...watch?” Dylan reluctantly takes the steps and hesitates next to the
chair.

Charlemagne raises his brow. “Of course.”

Dylan stares disbelievingly at the big bed and then Charlemagne. “Wait...wait...we’re
going to sit here and watch Tyr and your sister...on that bed right there?”

“Yes. Is there a problem, Captain?” Charlemagne manages to hide his smile under a
blandly inquiring look.

“No...no problem.” Dylan perches on the edge of his chair.

“Good.” Charlemagne motions for a servant. Dear, dear, Dylan appears ready to flee at
any second. Perhaps some wine will loosen the Captain up. A servant hurries over to offer
a tray of wine glasses. Charlemagne accepts a glass. “I find your High Guard morals
so…quaint. Wine, Captain?”

Dylan shakes his head. “Ah…who else will be here? There seem to be a lot of chairs
around.”

“Yes...well,” Charlemagne sips the wine. “Since Diana is my sister as well as First
Daughter of the Jaguar Matriarch it is imperative that her coupling be without question.

We are required to have several witnesses to attest to her compliance with all aspects of
the...act.”

“Her compliance? That seems odd.” Dylan frowns.

“Does it?” Charlemagne asks blandly. “How many Nietzschean couplings have you witnessed,
Captain Hunt?”

“Well...er...um...actually...”

“None?”

“None.”

“I thought not.” Charlemagne raises his glass to his lips. “You will learn a lot about
Nietzscheans tonight.”

“I suppose so. I’m just not really sure why my presence is needed.” Dylan moves uneasily
in his chair as he eyes the bed.

“Why Captain...I thought you realized. Ah well...assumptions...umm?” Charlemagne waves
his wine glass. “The Kodiak...Tyr Anasazi...has no pride. The crew of the Andromeda
Ascendant is the closest thing he has to one. You, Captain Hunt, are...alpha...if you
will, of that pride so you are here as...father of the groom, I suppose.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, Captain. You’re not required to do anything more than witness the
proceedings. The bulk of the work falls to Tyr’s ‘best man’...the little human...Harper.
He will be quite busy.” Charlemagne chuckles. All unwitting, Harper and Cerys had
already provided him with much entertainment. Their reactions to the display had been
most amusing. How would they react to the coupling? Such possessive little creatures.
It makes him quite grateful that he never developed a taste for kludges even if they are
extremely entertaining.

Two Nietzschean matriarchs enter the room and walk to the foot of the bed and turn to face
Charlemagne. One is a tall blond with gray shimmering in her short hair. She wears silk
robes in shades of gold and carries a polished silver pitcher. The second woman has long,
black hair frosted with gray. Her curvy frame is covered with white silk robes. Her
hands cup a silver goblet.

“We are ready to begin.” Charlemagne whispers to Dylan as soft music flows from the
gallery to fill the room. He watches closely as his sister and her prospective mate make
their appearance.

Tyr and Diana pause under the arch leading into the room. They are both wearing white.
A sleeveless linen duster drapes Tyr’s wide shoulders, leaving his chest bare. Matching
pants mold his lean hips. Leather lacing up the flap on the front call attention to the
solid shape filling the front of his pants. Diana is in a sleeveless shift held up only
by the loosely tied leather laces at her shoulders. The fabric is thin enough to hint at
the pink of her nipples and the white silk thong cupping her mound.

Charlemagne hides a smile as his gaze turns to the humans. They have achieved credible
expressions of indifference but he can scent their distress and anger from his dais.

Harper and Cerys trail reluctantly behind the couple. Harper is wearing tight white
leather pants and a vest that fastens up the side with gold buttons engraved with the
Kodiak symbol. Cerys is wearing a long leather skirt with a slit up to her thigh. Her
low-cut vest is fastened up the center with gold buttons engraved with the Jaguar symbol.

Tyr and Diana walk down the center of the room. They separate to stand in front of one of
the two Matriarchs waiting for them by the low bench. The Matriarch holding the cup
inclines her sleek, dark head toward him. “With your permission, Archduke.”

Charlemagne nods and the Matriarch turns back to face Tyr.
“Tyr Anasazi. We have examined your DNA and found it to be suitable to join with our
Pride. This female...Diana Bolivar...desires you share her bed and father her children.
Is this agreeable to you?”

Tyr glances down at Harper then turns to look the matriarch squarely in her dark eyes.
“It is.”

The matriarch nods. Her long hair slides softly over the shoulders of her white robes.

The blond matriarch looks into Diana’s wide gray eyes. A faint smile edges her mouth.
“Diana Bolivar. The Kodiak male, Tyr Anasazi agrees to share your bed and father your
children. Place your helix on him.”

Cerys glances sidelong at her lover and receives a nod. She opens the helix box and
pauses, staring at the two armlets with the symbols of both Jaguar and Kodiak pride
engraved on them. Cerys sighs and picks the larger of the two. Her glance meets Harper’s
shadowed blue eyes as he steps forward and picks up the other armlet. His fingers tremble
as he lifts the armlet from the box.

Cerys walks over to stand in front of the big Nietzschean. She looks up at him and her
eyes narrow. He’d better not dare hurt her Diana. She’d make sure he’d never forget it.
Cerys stands on tiptoe and reaches high to place the helix on Tyr’s left bicep. She snaps
it in place. She steps back, scowling at him. Over-sized barbarian. Why couldn’t he be
nicer, like Harper?

The dark Matriarch looks at Tyr. “Tyr Anasazi. Place your helix on Diana.”

Tyr glances at Harper and nods. Harper bites his lip and walks over to Diana. She
extends her arm and he snaps the armlet around her bicep as he looks into her cool gray
eyes. Just let her try to hurt his Tyr. He’d make her sorry she ever heard the name
Anasazi. He steps back, glowering at her.

“Surrogates.” The blond matriarch’s voice fills the room. “Prepare them for the
coupling.”

Cerys stand in front of Diana. She rises up on tiptoe and pulls loose the leather ties
and the white shift falls to the floor. Diana steps out of the circle of fabric. Cerys
picks up the shift and neatly folds it, placing it on the bench next to the helix box.
She kneels in front of Diana and slides the silk thong down. Diana steps out of her
underwear and turns slowly so that the guests can see her body while Cerys folds the thong
and sets it on top of the shift.

Harper circles behind Tyr and eases the duster off the wide shoulders. He folds it and
places it on the bench. He kneels in front of Tyr. His fingers tremble with anger as he
unties the lacings. He opens the flap and slides the linen pants off Tyr’s narrow hips.
Tyr steps out of the pants. Harper picks them up, folds them and places them atop the
Duster on the low bench. He moves to stand beside Tyr. Harper clenches his hands behind
his back as Tyr does a slow turn, exhibiting his body to the assembled guests.

“Ah, yes.” Charlemagne leans over to Dylan and murmurs, “Those Kodiak genes are evident
in every aspect of Anasazi, no? More of a gauss gun than a force lance, wouldn’t you
say?”

Dylan is staring at his own feet in evident fascination. “Uh, yeah...right.”

The matriarchs step forward, facing each other. The dark haired matriarch lifts the
silver goblet high to the cheers of the guests. She lowers the goblet and holds it out.
The blond matriarch raises her pitcher and pours a stream of deep ruby liquid into the
silver goblet.

The blond matriarch turns to face Tyr and Diana as the dark matriarch silently offers the
goblet to Tyr. “Drink deeply, Tyr Anasazi and Diana Bolivar. Your union has joined
Prides Kodiak and Jaguar. May your coupling produce a strong child.”

Tyr takes the goblet, raises it to his lips. He drinks deeply. The guests cheer and call
out, offering lewd jests as his shaft swells and rises. He offers the goblet to Diana who
takes it and drinks deeply. Her face flushes and her nipples tighten as she hands the
goblet back to the dark matriarch.

Dylan blinks and looks away from Diana. He turns to Charlemagne. “I didn’t think
Nietzscheans drank alcohol. Especially during something as important as this.”

“As I said earlier, Captain…you will learn a great deal about Nietzscheans tonight.”
Charlemagne glances sidelong at the Captain, noting the flush rising on the human’s face.
His nostrils flare as he discreetly sniffs. Oh, my. It seems that Cerys is not the only
kludge to find his sister attractive. What is it with his sister and kludges?

“Your sister and Tyr seem strangely affected by the wine. I was only...concerned.”

“Oh, they are not drinking wine. It’s a...how shall I put this...a mood enhancer. A
little stimulant to put the happy couple at ease.”

“Why would you need something like that?” Dylan asks. His gaze flickers again to Diana.

“Captain, most Nietzschean marriages are arranged. One must have something to make the
proceedings go smoothly.” Charlemagne openly studies Tyr’s hard frame and jutting
erection. He grins as he raises his glass in a silent toast. “I see someone is getting
into the spirit of things.”

Diana follows Cerys to her side of the bed as Tyr follows Harper to his side. They wait,
staring at each other as Cerys and Harper fold back the comforter to lie across the foot
of the bed. Diana lies down, arching her body provocatively against the white sheet as
she looks at Tyr. Her hands rise to cup and stroke her breasts as she shifts restlessly.
She completely ignores Cerys as the human reaches up and draws the gauzy curtain to cover
that side of the bed.

Harper steps back, his lips thinning into a hard, angry line as Tyr moves past him without
a glance, reaching eagerly for Diana. Harper snaps the sheer curtain across that side of
the bed. He turns sharply and walks back to his chair at the foot of the bed. Cerys is
already sitting in her chair, her face stricken as she stares her lover lavishing kisses
on Tyr.

Harper stiffens as Tyr moans loudly, nuzzling Diana’s throat and breasts. His large hands
seem eager, touching, fondling as if he can’t get enough of her. His bone blades are
already erect. Harper draws in a sharp, painful breath when he sees Tyr settle himself
between Diana’s spread thighs. Her long legs lock around Tyr’s narrow waist. Her hands
grip and clutch at Tyr as she moans and presses ardently against him.

Harper stares at the floor. Tyr had refused to respond to him the entire day and night
preceding the coupling. That morning he had touched Tyr and been refused. Tyr hadn’t
wanted to be late for his run with that slinky witch. Then last night he had tried
again...even, hot color rises in Harper’s face at the thought, even, in desperation for
some physical contact with Tyr, offering his ass. Tyr had left the room then, not
returning until early this morning. Apparently Tyr had been saving himself for the Ice
Princess. Apparently he does not hold the magic for Tyr that she does. Despite all that
talk about needing him here, Tyr has not once even looked at him. He is painfully certain
that Tyr is barely aware that he is even in the room. Harper glances over at Cerys. She
looks like she is on the verge of tears. She is the only person in the universe who
understands exactly how he feels right now.

Cerys looks away from Harper’s haunted eyes as her lover cries out. Diana’s thighs are
spread wide and the Kodiak’s hard muscles flex as he pushes into her. She knows that
sound. It is not one of pain but one that Diana makes when she is on the verge of orgasm.
No one but her knows that sound until now.

She looks away quickly, staring out the window and trying to ignore the enthusiastic
moaning, the creak of the bed, and the slick sounds of bodies sliding over and into each
other. Her lips tremble a second before she flattens them into a firm line. She cannot
believe how eager her Diana seems to allow the Kodiak to fuck her. And Diana refused her
yesterday. Cerys had used all her wiles on her lover and Diana had repeatedly shunned her.
Yet here, Diana is writhing in sensual abandon under the broad body of the Kodiak. Cerys
brushes a single tear away with a sharp, angry motion. Diana had been saving herself for
Tyr.

The two matriarchs trade approving glances. They pour more of the ruby liquid into the
golden cups sitting on the circular tables. They turn toward the dais and mount the steps.
They take the seats beside Dylan and Charlemagne.

“Matriarchs.” Charlemagne inclines his head respectfully.

“Archduke.” The two women tilt their heads to him in a graceful gesture.

Dylan looks at both women and nods. His gaze moves toward the bed as Diana moans loudly.
“Ladies.”

Charlemagne leans toward the blond woman seated next to him and murmurs, "The stimulant
seems quite potent tonight."

The matriarch lifts a brow. "Indeed?"

"My sister seems amazingly...intense in her participation with the Kodiak." Charlemagne
raises his wine glass and sips.

"There is too much attached to this bonding to risk anything to chance." The blonde
murmurs in his ear.

"Still...the potency..." His gaze flickers from his sister’s flushed face to Tyr’s jutting
arousal. A faint frown creases his brow.

"The potency is appropriate for the task involved. Don't think you know more about these
matters than we." The brunette leans around Dylan to glare at Charlemagne.

Charlemagne smiles slightly. "I bow to your extensive knowledge."

Both women turn to their attention to Dylan, looking him up and down, slowly. They trade
long looks with each other. The blond matriarch next to Charlemagne raises her brow and
turns her deep blues eyes on Dylan. The dark one, sitting next to Dylan, looks at him and
sniffs. Amusement gleams in her large eyes.

The blond Matriarch leans forward, looking around Charlemagne at Dylan. “Are you bonded,
human?”

Dylan starts and looks away from the bed. His pale eyes are wary. “No...no.”

The dark woman smiles sweetly at him and asks, “Is there some problem with your DNA?”

“Not that I know of, ma’am.” Dylan gives his host a pleading look.

Charlemagne leans over and murmurs. “Don’t mind her, Captain Hunt. She’s just scouting
for more ways to diversify the gene pool.”

“I see.” Dylan glances at each matriarch with obvious dismay. The matriarch next to him
is looking back with mocking dark eyes while the blond one is subjecting him to a slow
assessing stare.

~ ~ ~ ~

Harper stares disbelievingly at the bed. Even being here, forced to listen the gasps and
moans and cries; forced to watch the flex and quiver of Tyr’s muscles, the sheen of sweat
on the smooth skin, he still cannot believe it. How can Tyr do this to him? How can Tyr
claim to love him and demand that he not only agree to this betrayal but watch it as well?
He wants to be anywhere but here. He would prefer to be on the Andromeda, tinkering with
one of his many projects far, far away from the reality of Tyr’s marriage bed. But he’s
not on Andromeda. He’s here because Tyr asked him to be here to watch his back. That’s
what he’s been watching for the last few hours. Tyr’s broad, muscled back as his lover
flexes, relentlessly plunging into Diana. He’s lost count of how many times his lover has
climaxed, spilling his seed into Diana.

Harper bites his lower lip. Things that he thought were his and his alone are on public
display. Those little growly noises that Tyr makes when he comes. The dazed, predatory
look on his face when the skin around his bone blades is kissed. The shift and flex of the
hard curves of his ass. The quivering tension in his thigh muscles. The toss and slide
of long braids. Everyone is looking and commenting like Tyr’s performance is some sporting
event. Several guests are milling around the bed whispering and pointing out certain
aspects of technique.

A couple hovering next him seem particularly interested. They’ve walked around the bed
about a dozen times peering and nodding and commenting. Harper clenches his fists on his
thighs. He aches to pitch both of them through the window.

“The musculature of the Kodiak is quite pronounced isn’t it?” The handsome blond male
tilts his head. His gray eyes are locked on the hard flex of Tyr’s ass. There is a fine,
pink flush edging his high cheeks.

“He is quite…vigorous in his attentions.” The woman strokes her long, wavy black hair and
sighs languidly. She eases closer, almost leaning against the high back of Harper’s chair.
“Have you noticed how his flanks and buttocks allow him to thrust quite strongly and
deeply. Watch…just there when he pushes forward. Did you see?”

The man nods. He sips at a glass of wine. “Yes. I see. The Kodiak pride always chose
musculature over other aspects but it does seem to be serving him well here.”

“I’m quite surprised that the Kodiak was willing to bond with her.” The woman leans back
against the man, her hand slides over his thigh.

“Well, you know of course that he had little choice. Pride Kodiak is extinct. It’ll be
his only chance to found a pride.”

A redhead in flimsy blue robes sidles up to the couple standing next to Harper. She
laughs, soft and malicious. “What amuses me is Diana’s little kludge.”

The man looks Cerys up and down, his gaze lingering on her full bosom. “What do you mean?”

“Well, look at the little thing.” The redhead smiles slyly. Her voice is full of false
sympathy. “She’s clutching her little hands so tight that her knuckles are white.”

The dark woman stares curiously at Cerys and raises a brow. “Is that the little human
shieldsister of Diana’s?”

“Yes. I’ve never been able to understand Diana’s attraction to the little bitch.”

The man returns his gaze to Cerys bosom. “She has several worthy attributes. Quite
fetching...for a human.”

The redhead sniffs. “I, for one, am glad that Diana finally put that part of her past
behind her. I mean, really, she’s petted the little kludge for years. Kept her in her
bed as well, I understand.” The red-haired woman shakes her head in a pitying manner.

“No! I thought that was only rumor.” The male drags his eyes from Cerys and looks at the

redhead.

“No it is a fact. Diana has been inseparable from her little ‘shieldsister’ for years.”

“I had no idea it was true. Is that why she has not mated before?” The dark woman asks
as she strokes the male’s back.

“The official word was that she had not found any male who suited her. Everyone knew it
was because of her affection for the kludge.” The redhead glances at Cerys.

“Apparently, it was only rumor. She seems quite taken with the Kodiak.” The blond male
takes a sip of wine and looks down at Harper. “Who’s this one?”

The redhead openly stares at Harper. Her nose wrinkles in distaste. “Oh that’s one of
the humans from that ship the Kodiak travels with. The Andromeda. The captain is seated
next to our Archduke. Apparently they befriended the Kodiak and consider him family.”

“That’s rich! As if the Kodiak would consider any of that lot family.” The male
chuckles.

“Well, you know his pride is dead.” The dark woman shrugs. “Maybe he has little choice.”

Harper sighs with relief as the three move away. How can they all be so detached about
it? He looks at Tyr. Why has Tyr not looked at him once? Not a single glance. Tyr had
said he needed Harper there so he could focus on him instead of Diana. He had insisted
that it was Harper alone that he trusted...but when it came down to it...Tyr’s entire
attention was focused only on Diana. Harper scowls. He is getting the feeling that it
would take a whole damn team of assassins popping into the room to get Tyr’s attention off
that Diana.

Harper looks across at Cerys. Her face is pale and drawn. Her green eyes are wide and
shiny with unshed tears. Diana is as insensitive as Tyr. It’s obvious that Cerys loves
the towering Nietzschean female...at least to him. Harper looks at the Nietzscheans
milling around enjoying the floorshow as Tyr’s moans and groans, arching against Diana.
It’s almost impossible to believe but those two act like they’re not aware of anyone else
in the room. So much for needing someone to watch Tyr’s back. It looks to him like there
are plenty of people in the room watching Tyr’s back already.

~ ~ ~ ~

Cerys watches in stunned silence as Diana writhes and wraps herself around that over-sized
barbarian of a Kodiak. It can’t be her love that sighs and cries and whimpers at
everything the Kodiak is doing. It can’t be the one who pledged to always belong to her
who arches under the eager mouth of the Kodiak as he marks her soft skin with bruises,
bites and scratches. This must be some never ending nightmare. Diana had claimed she
needed Cerys beside her...that looking at her was the only way to make the Kodiak’s touch
bearable but she has not looked in Cerys’ direction. Not once. No, Diana only has eyes
for the Kodiak.

As Cerys stares, dazed, the Kodiak finally roars his pleasure and collapses over Diana’s
lean body. Her lover looks so frail, covered by the hulking Kodiak. Cerys half-rises to
her feet to shove the oaf off her Diana only to freeze as Diana presses Tyr onto his back
and moves over him, urging him to hardness again. Cerys cannot look away as HER Diana
impales herself on that darkly swollen shaft while the Kodiak eagerly grips her hips; HER
Diana who bucks and rides the Kodiak with such ecstatic abandon.

Cerys sinks slowly back onto her chair. She glances over at Harper. He sits stiff and
rigid in his chair. His pain-filled eyes are only for the dark face of his shieldbrother.
Harper’s lips are pinched and his hands are fisted on his knees. How can Tyr do this to
Harper? How can Diana do it to her? Cerys looks down at her hands. Little half-moon cuts
from where her nails dug in to her palm surprise her. She wants to run from this room and
ride her horse into the hills. She wants to put as much distance as possible between her
and Diana. But she promised…and she’s going to stand by that promise no matter how much
she hurts. She just wishes that all these people would disappear.

The Archduke had invited everyone at court, apparently, to attend the coupling. Cerys is
so embarrassed for Diana. The witnesses mill around drinking the Archduke’s wine and
eating his food as they watch Diana behave like a common drift whore. Cerys works to calm
her breathing as two middle-aged Nietzschean women move closer to watch.

The first woman leans forward with her nose almost on the curtain and takes a long stare.
She straightens and smiles over her shoulder at her friend. “My, my, my...Diana is
putting on a good show.”

The other woman directs a thoughtful stare at the couple writhing on the bed. “She seems
to be genuinely enjoying the Kodiak. But who wouldn’t. Did you see? He is quite
endowed.”

“I’m surprised Diana would bother. I thought she had eyes only for that little kludge she
beds.”

“Shhhh. She’ll hear.” The second woman glances in Cerys direction.

“What if she does? Her days as a pampered pet are at an end. I think it’s about time.

The little bitch fancied herself a Nietzschean with her ‘boneblades’. The Bolivar’s have

always been much too tolerant of kludges.”

A tall young Nietzschean woman pauses beside Cerys’ chair. Her pale green robes outline a

curvy figure. She sweeps her long, sable hair over her shoulder as she kneels gracefully

next to Cerys’ chair. She smiles warmly and places a hand on Cerys’ knee. “How are you

holding up?”

“I’m fine Sophia.” Cerys shifts away from the subtle caress. She bites back a sigh.

This is the last thing that she needs right now. Not that Diana is noticing. Cerys

sniffs back her tears. She can hardly believe that Sophia is flirting with her right in

front of Diana and Diana is plainly oblivious. Last year, Diana had been in a rage merely

because Sophia had flirted with her in the garden and made it known that she was willing

to ‘befriend’ Cerys should she tire of Diana.

Sophia strokes Cerys arm. She leans close, her lips brushing Cerys’ cheek as she

whispers, “I’m so sorry that you have to witness this. It must be so painful for you.”

Cerys bites back a sob. “Diana wants me here, Sophia.”

Sophia looks back at the bed as Diana moans loudly and bucks against Tyr. “Does she? She

seems quite distracted by her new husband.”

Cerys looks up into Sophia’s eyes. She can’t stop the quiver of her lips. She wants to

tell Sophia that Diana loves her...that she needs her. She wants to tell Sophia that

Diana will rip Sophia apart for presuming to flirt with her and touch her. But Sophia’s

eyes are so kind and her hand is so gentle. Sophia does not look at her as if she’s a

‘pampered little kludge’. Sophia looks at her with longing and desire. It’s so good to

have someone look at her...see...her.

Sophia runs her fingers through the long chestnut hair falling down Cerys’ back. She

murmurs, “I would never betray you the way she is.”

Cerys lifts her chin defiantly as she loses control and tears slide down her cheeks. “I’m

fine.”

Sophia gently brushes the tears away with a fingertip and then presses her fingers to her

lips. “Would you like something to drink, or something to eat perhaps?”

“Thank you. I’m fine.”

“Will you come to me later...after this fiasco has ended?”

“Diana is my shieldsister, Sophia. I will not abandon her.”

Sophia turns a meaningful eye on the rutting couple. She allows her gaze to linger over

Diana’s lean frame. “I suppose not. But consider this...perhaps it is she who has

abandoned you.” She turns to look into Cerys eyes. “I can offer you so much more

pleasure than Diana ever could.”

Cerys closes her eyes as Sophia strokes her neck and softly kisses her nape before rising

and walking away. She will not waver. Diana is true to her. Diana loves her. That’s

not her Diana moaning, gasping and screaming her completion. Her Diana would never betray

her in this manner. Cerys opens her eyes to see Diana sprawled limply atop Tyr. Her blond

hair is damp and her body glistens with sweat. The scent of sex is heavy in the room.

They lie limp and dazed on the bed.

The blond Matriarch stands and orders, “Give them drink.”

Harper stands and picks up the goblet. His movements are stiff and jerky with suppressed

anger. He yanks the sheer curtain back and reluctantly steps closer. Diana snatches the

goblet from him and drinks deeply. She offers the goblet to Tyr who drinks from it. His

amber eyes never leave her face. Diana thrusts the goblet back at Harper.

“You’re welcome.” Harper snipes. He looks across the bed to where Cerys stands holding

her goblet in a trembling hand. Her green eyes are big with dismay. She backs quickly

away, brushing away tears. She sets the goblet back on the table and huddles in her

chair. Harper sets his goblet down with a thunk and drops back in his chair.

Harper sighs as two Nietzschean men pause near his chair to get an eyeful of the

activities. Now what? How much more of this did he have to listen to?

The man with short black hair turns his gaze to Cerys and stares openly at her. "The

little human is lush. I could use her...or one like her on my next mission off planet."

"For what?” The short, stocky man next to him asks in tones of amazed disgust. “Once you

get their stink on you it's almost impossible to get off."

"She could service some of my Betas.” The taller man shrugs. “It would keep down some

dissention within the ranks."

"I don't know how long she'd last. She's been so pampered. I understand that she's never

lain with a male."

"Once this is over I'll approach Charlemagne and ask for her."

The stocky man munches on a sandwich as he studies Tyr and Diana. "What do you think of

all...this...by the way?"

"The coupling? I admit I was surprised. But Charlemagne's no fool...he knows that there's

been a lot of talk. This is a perfect way to squelch all that and get his sister bonded

at the same time."

"So...you think it's a ruse?"

Both men look at Tyr and Diana's vigorous lovemaking. They look back at each other and

laugh. "No...this is no ruse."

Diana slides off Tyr and rises up on her hands and knees. Her hips tilt in wanton

invitation. “Take me, Tyr! Get me with child this night.”

Tyr growls and positions himself behind her slim hips and thrusts forward. His big hands

close firmly over her hips. His neck arches, his long braids sway against his back as he

begins to thrust forcefully into Diana.

A murmur of praise and pleasure rushes through the dwindling crowd of onlookers. A few of

the males and a handful of females move closer. Harper’s eyes widen as he begins noticing

the number of bone blades flickering erect on the guests. Oh, for crying out loud. The

entire bunch is getting turned on. He shifts uneasily in his chair.

A pair of fine, dark eyes catch and hold his glance. The stranger offers a slow, sensual

smile and unfastens his red leather vest, baring a smooth, copper torso with muscle

definition to rivals Tyr. A hard ridged abdomen flows into narrow hips and long legs clad

in tight black leather pants. A strong hand lifts to sweep the long, jet-black hair away

from his face to fall in loose waves over the stranger’s shoulder. The bone blades are

decidedly erect.

Bad memories hit hard with no warning. Harper stares down at the floor fighting back his

fear. His hands tremble on his thighs as he savagely pushes the memories back. He is not

going to think about that. Not now. Not here.

To Harper’s dismay, two large feet appear at the edge of his vision. He looks up and the

darkly handsome Nietzschean is standing next to him. The dark eyes are warm and

concerned.

“Oh shit!" Harper gasps as he looks at the tall Nietzschean. Harper blinks. It's not the

guy from the Über Bitches ship. It’s not the same person. Besides how could it be? Tyr

had promised him that all of those were dead.

Harper’s tense muscles ease. It is the skin color and long hair. That is all. This man

is different. His skin is a smoother, richer shade of copper. His cheekbones are high

and chiseled. The black hair has soft waves to it and smells pleasantly of some exotic

scent that he can’t quite place. The eyes are dark brown, almost black but they are warm,

open...and was that a wink?

Harper looks quickly away and finds himself looking at Tyr' face. He knows that look.

The half-closed eyes and parted lips. Oh, yes. Tyr is certainly enjoying himself with

Diana. No doubt about it. Tyr is completely absorbed in her.

Harper glances sidelong at the tall Nietzschean and offers a shy smile.

The tall man drops down on one knee next to the Harper’s chair. "Good evening."

"Is it?" Harper asks dryly. His mouth tightens as he glances at the bed.

"You seem...concerned...about the proceedings." The dark gaze moves disdainfully over the

bed’s intertwined occupants and goes back to Harper’s pale, strained face.

Harper sighs. "It's been a long night."

"Most couplings don't take all night. It depends on the stamina of the couple." The

stranger studies Tyr and Diana with cool assessment. "They seem to be particularly

vigorous. We may be here a while longer."

Harper looks at the strong profile and feels reassured. This guy is nothing like

that...the...other. He drops his gaze as the stranger turns back to him. At the edge of

his vision, he can see a large dark hand hovering over his own. Harper stays still and

the stranger’s fingertips brush delicately over the back of his hand.

"What is your relationship to the Kodiak?"

"What makes you think there is a relationship?" Harper asks. He leans back in the chair,

relaxing for the first time since the ceremony began. It’s nice to have someone else to

look at and talk to.

"Several things. The look in your eyes when you look at them. The tense set of your

shoulders...the racing of your heart at the question." The stranger continues lavishing

subtle, delicate fingertip caresses over the back of Harper’s hand.

"We're friends." Harper meets the dark gaze. Tyr is only man that he ever allowed to

touch him but the stranger’s touch feels nice. The gentle butterfly light brush of

fingertips is both reassuring in its gentleness and artful in its seductiveness.

"Nothing more?" The man asks quickly, leaning closer.

Harper looks at Tyr and flinches away from the sight back to the admiring warmth of the

stranger’s dark eyes. His voice holds a trace of bitterness. "Apparently not."

"Ahhh..."

"What's that mean?" Harper’s blue eyes darken with temper.

"Nothing...everything. I have been watching you tonight and decided to introduce myself.

I am pleased to meet you." The dark stranger smiles as his fingertips continue the subtle

stroking.

Harper looks into the warm eyes. His hand stays still on his thigh. "Yeah? You were

checking me out?"

"Oh, yes,” The stranger purrs in a husky voice. “I am Möbius out of Riva by Vincent."

"Harper. Nice to meet you too."

"Perhaps we will see each other around the compound. I would enjoy...talking with you."

"Yeah. Me too." Harper smiles. Serve Tyr right. The vibes coming off the guy are

definitely of the 'I’m interested' variety. Möbius is handsome, assured and damn

seductive. Plus, he’s a Nietzschean. He’s someone that Tyr will see as a serious rival.

Maybe Tyr needs to see that others want what he rejected. Harper has the distinct feeling

that if he is crazy enough to offer anything to Möbius it will not be rejected.

Möbius stands. He slides one hand up Harper's bare arm and strokes his shoulder before

stepping away.

Harper glances at the bed. Clearly Tyr did not notice a thing. Tyr’s back arches and

flexes as he thrusts into Diana. Harper’s eyes narrow in anger. This is so unfair for

Cerys and him to have to be made to watch this. He is not taking this. Tyr owes him big

for forcing this on him. For refusing him and taking Diana. He is going to make Tyr pay

for all the pain he’s caused him this evening. But how?

Harper watches the flex of Tyr’s ass and the heavy sway of his sac as he takes his perfect

Über wife. A cold calmness suddenly flows over him, icing over his mute fury. He still

can’t believe that he offered his ass to Tyr and got refused...well, Tyr isn’t getting

that offer again any time soon. In fact, maybe he should be demanding it himself. Let Tyr

yield up his prime Nietzschean ass for this. Harper sits back in his chair and folds his

arms over his chest. Oh yeah. A bit of ‘Tyr Booty’ ought to be just what the doctor

ordered to take the blues away. And there’s that Möbius. Things are beginning to look

interesting. There may be more than one way to make Tyr pay for tonight.

***

Harper stands next to Cerys near one of the buffet tables. The food is mostly gone.

Harper glances over the few pieces of fruit and sandwiches remaining. He really doesn’t

feel hungry. He cradles a china cup of a gently steaming drink. The pale green liquid

has a mild, sweet fruity flavor that is pleasant enough but despite the heat, it does not

warm him. Cerys is holding a cup of the same beverage as she stares at the bed.

Most of the guests are gone now but some linger, settling bets. Others are idly talking

and tossing occasional glances at the bed. Some are kneeling next to the bed, watching in

bemused fascination as Tyr and Diana continue to participate in the marathon sex show.

Except for two very short rest periods, Diana and her husband have been at it all night.

Harper looks away and sees Möbius standing near Charlemagne. The two men seem to be

chatting amiably. So, Möbius is still here. He looks up and nods slightly in Harper’s

direction. Harper nods back and turns his attention to his companion.

Cerys is staring dismally down into her cup. “Dawn can’t come soon enough for me, Harper.

I’m already pushed so far beyond what I can bear that I feel...I feel...”

Cerys looks at Harper then her gaze slides behind him and sharpens. Harper glances over

his shoulder to see what drew her attention. A pretty Nietzschean woman with long, sable

hair is looking back at Cerys.

Harper touches Cerys’ arm gently, reclaiming her attention. “What?”

“I feel like I’m about to fly apart and go off in a dozen different directions.” Cerys’

voice is hoarse with barely restrained tears.

“I think I know what you mean.” Harper frowns as his gaze flinches away from the bed.

Möbius catches his glance and offers an encouraging smile. Harper relaxes enough to return

the smile.

“Do you?” Cerys turns red-rimmed eyes on Harper. “I have known Diana since I was eight

and she was ten...most of my life. Never...ever would I have thought that she would

prefer a man over me.”

“It must be hard.” Harper sips his drink. When had the room gotten so cold?

“Hard? Hard doesn’t come close to describing what I feel, Harper.” Cerys turns quickly

to look at Harper. “I don’t mean to gripe at you. It’s just that...it hurts.”

“I know.” Harper stares down at his empty cup. Well, that didn’t help. He feels no

warmer for drinking it. He sets the cup on the table.

“Yeah. I guess you do.” Cerys pats Harper’s hand. She puts her untouched drink down.

“Well, let’s get back to our torture session.”

“Do we have to?” Harper asks. “I mean I’ve seen more of both of them than I ever wanted

to see.”

“The matriarchs may call a stop to it soon. Then we’ll retire to our quarters and leave

Diana and Tyr here to...” Cerys hesitates over her words.

“What? Bask in the afterglow?” Harper scowls and turns his back to the bed.

“In a manner of speaking. They’re going to be exhausted. We won’t see them for a couple

days.”

“That’s just as well. I’m not sure what I’ll say to Tyr.” Harper stares coldly back at

several young Nietzscheans who are sniggering and darting amused looks at the two humans.

Cerys glances at the group and sighs. “I don’t know about you, Harper but I’m really tired

of being the butt of the joke.”

“Is there somewhere we could go just to be away from everything and think?” Harper asks.

He is in no hurry to see or speak to Tyr. Just the thought of returning to their rooms

makes him feel ill.

“Maybe. I can’t really think about that right now. All I want to do...all I can think

about is going over to that bed and jerking her out of it and screaming at her.” Cerys

clenches her fists as she glowers at the bed.

“They should pay for all they’ve put us through tonight.” Harper’s eyes are cold and hard

as he turns toward the bed. Tyr is moving with slow determination over Diana. Right now,

he cannot even imagine wanting to touch Tyr again. “If I never see Mr. Anasazi again it

will be too soon.”

“You don’t mean that.” Cerys turns a wide-eyed gaze on him. She touches his bare, her hand

warm and consoling.

“Don’t I? Try me.” Harper’s shoulders stiffen as Tyr cries out and goes limp on top of

Diana. “They’re done. Finally!”

“Are they done? Are you sure?” Cerys looks apprehensively at the motionless couple. “I

thought they were finished a couple hours ago and they revived after drinking the

beverage.”

“I think they’re done this time. Look, the Matriarchs are moving to the bed.” Harper and

Cerys watch eagerly as the Matriarchs pull back the curtain and look from one face to the

other.

The two women look at each other and nod. They turn to face Charlemagne. “With your

permission, Archduke...these proceedings are at an end.”

Charlemagne stands on the dais and looks around at the remaining witnesses. He raises his

wine glass to the remaining guests. “Friends. Thank you for witnessing my sister’s

coupling. Goodnight...or, rather, good morning.” There are amused chuckles as the people

leave the coupling chamber.

The blond Matriarch turns cool blue eyes on Harper and Cerys. “Surrogates. The mated pair

will remain here. You may return to your quarters. You will be contacted when the mated

pair awaken. Go.”

“That’s a pretty cold way of handing your hat to you and telling you to hit the road.”

Harper grumbles.

“Don’t take it personally, Harper. It’s just their way.” Cerys moves away from Harper and

walks to the bed. She looks at Diana a moment then turns to Harper who has also walked

over and is standing next to her. “It’s just their way.” She repeats.

Harper touches her shoulder. “Get some sleep. Maybe everything will look differently

when we wake up.” He looks at the happy couple. “Although I doubt it.”

“I’m just glad to get out of this room. I’m going to sleep. Goodnight Harper.” Cerys

turns to leave.

“Goodnight.” Harper watches with concern as Cerys walks slowly from the chamber. She does

not move with her usual energy. Her head is bowed and her shoulders droop as she passed

through the arch and disappears.

“Harper.” Möbius’ husky voice comes from behind Harper as he stares down at Tyr. Warm

hands cup the bare tips of his shoulders.

“Yes?” Harper looks over his shoulder into the fine dark eyes.

Möbius eases closer. His fingers caress the human’s cool skin. “Are you leaving?”

Harper looks in the warm depths of Möbius’ eyes reading the flattering invitation there.

It’s nice to be wanted, desired but he isn’t accepting any offers right now. All he wants

is to be alone, to think and plan. “Yes.”

“Would you mind if I walked along with you?” Möbius moves closer. His nostrils flare as

he tests Harper’s scent.

Harper finds himself leaning involuntarily into the welcome heat radiating from the tall

man’s body. The warmth feels so good, easing his chill. “Thanks for the offer...but I

really just need to be alone for right now, okay?”

“Of course. I understand.” Möbius drops his hands and watches as Harper walks slowly from

the room. Harper is most attractive with those vivid blue eyes and smooth slide of firm

muscles under the cool, pale skin. Harper’s personal scent is most pleasing as well. He is

certainly in a position to offer Harper more than Tyr can.

Möbius looks down at the sprawled body of the large man. The Archduke and his sister would

not be pleased if anything fatal happened to Tyr but he is free to challenge Tyr’s claim

on Harper if he wishes. The small human seems receptive to other offers right now and he

had much to offer. His lips curl in disdain. No lover of his would have been left

unguarded to be snatched by his enemies.

Möbius strolls back to join the Archduke and his High Guard guest. He moves to stand near

Charlemagne.

Charlemagne smiles at Dylan Hunt. “I suppose you’re be returning to your ship although you

know, of course, you could stay here...we have plenty of room.”

“Thank you. I’ll get back to the ship.” Hunt’s gaze moves quickly over Diana’s bared body

and away.

“You’ll be coming back for the dinner, of course.”

“Dinner?” Dylan asks. His brows rise inquiringly.

“Yes.” Charlemagne nods. “After my sister and her husband have rested we’ll host a dinner

in their honor. The dinner is scheduled for two days hence.”

“Two days?”

“Yes. They will be...uncomfortable...for a while because of their activity. We must give

them time to recuperate.”

“Of course...yes.” Dylan hurries from the room.

Charlemagne turns his icy blue stare on Möbius. He looks the dark man up and down and

shakes his head. There is a bemused curve to his lips.

Möbius tilts his head inquiringly. “What is it?”

“What game are you playing, Möbius?” Charlemagne asks.

“Game?” Möbius frowns.

Charlemagne waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t be coy…the little human engineer…what do

you think you’re doing?”

“He has recovered well from his…misadventures…with the deviant females.”

“He has.”

“When I first saw him cradled in the arms of the Kodiak...I thought him broken beyond

repair. He proved me wrong. He is strong…stronger than I would have believed.” Möbius

looks at the bed thoughtfully. He had watched Harper closely through the entire evening.

The human’s composure and courage were admirable. The flashes of temper stimulating.

“Then to be subjected to this by his shieldbrother...he comported himself well.”

Charlemagne laughs. “You sound as if you admire the little man.”

“I do.”

Charlemagne’s eyes narrow as he considers the comment. “Careful. You don’t want to play

with the Kodiak’s little kludge. He’s quite attached to him. You saw the evidence of

that attachment when he risked all to rescue him.”

“Indeed.” Möbius flicks a considering look over Tyr’s large frame. “But you are wrong, my

friend. I am not ‘playing’ with the little human.”

“You can’t possibly be thinking of challenging the Kodiak’s claim!” Charlemagne’s eyes

widen.

“What if I am?” Möbius asks softly.

“Is there nothing I can say to discourage this?”

“No.” Möbius voice is firm. The dark eyes determined.

Charlemagne looks at the dark man and shakes his head in amazement. Kludges! First his

sister...now Möbius. Maybe he should not allow any near his pride.

TBC