Page 13 of Taken for Granite
No.
Not his mate.
This was a biological reaction to a random female. His mating gland produced various hormones beneficial for procreation. As the gland filled, his body demanded to empty the hormones into a suitable vessel. For whatever reason, be it a fluke of genetics or pheromones, his body decided on that female.
It was biology, nothing more.
He felt the familiar burn of his mating fever before but he had always tolerated the discomfort until the need to purge passed. Not once in the centuries since his people were stranded on Earth did he give in to the urge to mate. Now would be no different.
The Khargals’ Prime Directive prohibited contact with primitive species, Tas reminded himself. Even in the confusion of the initial crash that stranded him and his crewmates on Earth, they had agreed to uphold that decree. They may have been light-years from home with little chance to ever return, but they were still honorable Khargal warriors.
Nothing had changed. His will was stronger than his biology.
The air temperature increased as the sun dipped lower in the sky, before dropping as night fell. He moved to the roof of the building, taking a familiar perch. Before his capture, he had passed years on top of buildings in human cities, hiding in plain sight. If a human ever bothered to look up, they saw only a stone grotesque or decoration. They did not see him.
He listened to the sounds of the city, orienting himself. High-pitched sounds of vehicles traveling at a swift speed told him the location of a major roadway.
A cool wind carried the scent of brine and dampness, giving him the location of a body of water, probably a river. It did not smell like the Earth’s salty ocean.
He studied the scents, finding mostly exhaust, machine oil, and petroleum. Human cities were filthy endeavors, but the air quality smelled better here; perhaps it was his newly won freedom. He remembered the choking smoke and fog of London. For a century, pollution tainted the city’s air and killed its inhabitants, but the thick fog proved the perfect place to hide. A Khargal could move along the rooftops unseen, masked by shifting fog and smoke.
The air was better here. Cleaner. He wondered what else was different in this new environment.
Soon darkness would fall and, using the night to shroud himself, he would search out food and a safe place to rest and enterduramna.
A vehicle approached. He recognized the rattle and hum of the engine. His female.
No, his captor, he reminded himself and ignored that the female had been woefully unprepared if she had been working for the Rose Syndicate. Her surprise, when he pinned her to the ground, had been genuine.
The hitch in her breathing and the scent of arousal had also been genuine.
Tas moved closer to the edge of the roof. The door of the vehicle opened with a creak and a slam, followed by another set of doors opening, presumably the ones in the back.
Her scent drifted toward him on the breeze, light and fresh, promising such delights. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and lose himself in those unique notes. His cock stood at attention.
Remembering the soft, giving feel of her, he wondered about her appearance and cursed his damaged eyes. His other senses allowed him to navigate the human’s world with dexterity, but he had no way to judge the female’s attractiveness.
Not that it mattered, because he would never take a human mate. Some of his brothers-in-arms had broken with the Prime Directive and taken human mates, even bred half human-half Khargal hybrids. He never understood how those males could abandon the pledge they took and give into physical urges, but now he understood. The weight of centuries pressed down on him, offering only loneliness and never-ending fight for survival. For what? More hiding, more loneliness, and endless waiting for a rescue that failed to arrive?
This female represented hope. Purpose. If he had a family to safeguard, his long life would not be wasted. He would not be alone.
For the first time, Tas understood why Frelinray had been so infatuated with his human female. He wanted his friend to have found his female and shared a long, loving life with her, despite fearing that Frelinray never made it out of the bombings. It was a fool’s wish.
“Um, hello?”
His body tensed at the female’s voice.
“I have food, if you’re hungry.” Something heavy hit the ground. Tas picked up notes of bread, fruit, water, and sugar.
An electronic device rang. “Yeah,” his female said, “I’m here. Well, I don’t know. I’m not a gargoyle catcher.” She paused, as if listening to the other half of a conversation. She must be using a portable communication device. He had observed his captors use such devices. Human technology had advanced by leaps and bounds during his captivity.
“I want to talk to Chloe.” Another pause. “Oh god, Chloe. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Pain and grief flooded her voice. “No, put her back on. I won’t do this unless I can talk to her.”
Tas’ protective instincts stirred. Someone held a loved one of his female—against that person’s will, judging by the distress in her voice. Tas drew several conclusions quickly. The female did not work for the Rose Syndicate, and the people she did work for were also not the Syndicate. That they shoved his crate in the back of a vehicle with no armed guards spoke of amateurs entirely unprepared to contain a Khargal, even an injured one. These amateurs thought one lone female could recapture him? Lure him back into a crate? His female had been pressured into this; presumably, her Chloe’s safety was at stake.
Was Chloe a child? The female did not smell of a mate but that meant little. Her mate could have perished or abandoned her, as was the fickle human way.
“Mick—”
