Citun’s Storm (16 page)

“I want to be inside now.” She gasped, a hand held to her chest. She waved the other arm in the air searching for Citun, she needed him to hold her up.

Citun picked her up and cradled her against his chest. “I know you won’t appreciate this remark right now. That was fucking awesome.”

“I made it into twins,” she whimpered and hated the tone of her voice.

“Cyrons are going to run screaming when they see you. My killer mate.”

“You’re not being helpful.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your chuckling says otherwise.”

Citun started running with her in his arms. She was certain he giggled the word twins. She didn’t know what was more disturbing, the scene they left or a four hundred pound leader-warrior who giggled.

* * * *

Storm stood staring out the large window in Citun’s home, it led to the backyard. Citun punched in a code on the wall and stepped through the substance humans said resembled glass. He heard her sharp intake of breath and glanced back to grin at her. He put his hand through the substance, reaching for her. She offered him a charming smile, gripped his fingers and followed him.

Outside, they heard the growls and bellowing of the Holiday being engaged all around them. Citun had heard the exchange his entire life; it was part of his heritage. Storm’s smile died on her lips. Citun’s heart was pounding. He tried to look at the ritual from her perspective. He imagined the piercing screams were frightening; the bone chilling, deep guttural growls might be intimidating. Storm had no idea of the restraint he used when they made love.

“Sounds like there’s a war going on,” she said.

“In a way, I guess there is,” he replied. “The spoils of war will be who receives the coveted offspring.”

“Don’t either sex get any enjoyment from simply having sex?”

“Sure. The sex is a bonus but not the goal.”

“What about the domination? Is that a bonus for whoever wins?”

“I have learned, with your help, being with a human is far different than being with a female Zargonnii. You smile at me, caress me, touch me,
talk
to me. I don’t understand a female Zargonnii. I have no idea if one wants to be touched. All I know is they want a daughter. Our females love their sons. So much so they will kill a cyron if they even suspect one is near their son’s home. There is nothing more dangerous on this planet than a female protecting her offspring, of any sex. It’s a mother who supplies her son with a cyron when he leaves his father’s home. Zargonnii homes, at least the males’, are made of cyron pelts and bones. If I had a son while my mother was alive, she and the boy’s mother would bring me another cyron to fortify my home. Their baby gift, I guess.

“All males are warriors. It’s in our blood to battle, but if we battle a female who can only be dominated to the point of causing irreversible harm, we will stop the battle. No female deserves to be harmed when they give life. Warriors understand if they kill a female they could potentially be killing a comrade, or a leader. Who knows how many lives would be lost with the death of a single female. Castians came close to extinction when their females were murdered. Without my mother, I would never have existed.

“After a while, females will stay away from a male they know they can’t dominate, even if he gives them many daughters.”

“Why?”

“I think because they begin to wonder at their purpose. They are stronger, but if you take their strength they feel less a female. The trek to deliver a single son to a father can be deadly. When we Holiday, many females come together at one time for the ritual. A tight circle offers protection. As long as we keep a respectful distance. Not many male Zargonnii are born and many mothers come back to male territory alone. Some have died. Occasionally, a warrior has come across a body or remains.”

“Why don’t males go out looking for a female to see if they have a son?”

“A female with a child is deadly. The baby must be given to the right father. A touchy area, and scent is everything. Too much testosterone in a single area would be confusing. Imagine a female’s fear if she felt she must battle dozens of warriors to find the right one? A shame, but the females can’t band together when the north is so vast. A warrior’s home could be anywhere and she must find him.

“A female won’t risk her baby daughter to aid a female returning a son. The female brings the male child as close to the father’s home as possible, then must wait until the father finds the child. Then they must return, again all alone. In their despair some disappear, we can only guess because certain warriors will search for a certain female the next Holiday. When she isn’t found, you can scent the sadness on another’s face when the warrior is redirected time and again. Especially if he wants another son. Eventually, realization hits home, the female is gone. Thankfully not many succumb, most realize they still need to guard their sons, even from a distance. If they have been dominated, they wonder if they will be able to.”

Storm walked over to a log and sat. “I guess I understand that. You are so much stronger and bigger I don’t worry if you are dominant. I know you are, and I don’t care. I suppose a massive female who is dominated might have self-doubt.”

“I’ve also learned many human females think this way. Many expect males to be stronger. We are a different species. I think because of your size and thought process, we warriors and humans make good couples. I hear the Holiday all around us. The calls are exciting, you can scent the females in the air, well I can. I have no wish to be out there. I’m content to be sitting here.”

Citun sat beside her and took her hand. Storm jumped when something crashed into the high fence. There was horrible screaming on the other side. Citun knew a female was desperately trying not to be dominated. From her wails he knew it was a matter of moments. Either she would give in or the warrior would have to walk away. The fence began to shake, Storm’s eyes widened. The female must be desperate for a daughter.

“Against your fence?” She was incredulous.

“As long as it’s outside a home perimeter any place is fair game.”

Citun didn’t want to mention with Storm near it gave a warrior the edge, scenting a dominated female was close. Wouldn’t the warrior be surprised to learn Citun’s little female could cut a cyron to shreds with her thoughts?

Overhead, the sky darkened. The rain would be welcome to many who Holidayed. The participants would be hot and sweating, in need of a drink. Rarely did any eat during the mating. By the end of the two week time period, both females and males would drag their tired asses home to sleep for a week, then gorge with a ravenous hunger for three days straight. Citun had been non-stop eating, try as he might not to, for the last week to build his muscle mass and make certain his body had the reserves to call on.

The effects of his excess energy made him jumpy. The Holiday was as old as time, every Zargonnii of age came into heat and their bodies prepared for the battle. Citun was at his peak. His body strong and filled with the urge to create an offspring. A child born to the females would be strong; they had to be to survive on this planet. Citun had no doubt if he and Storm were to make love, their union would be a success.

Strangely, even though a coveted offspring was the wanted result, Citun wanted to make love, not to Holiday. The pressure of having an offspring dissipated. Storm would be with him forever, any child they had would be his, too. It lessened the tug of genetic actions.

“You’re lost in thought,” Storm said.

“I guess I was.”

“Are you having second thoughts, about me, us? Now that you’re home?”

Citun squeezed her fingers. “I was wondering if the noises and knowing what they stem from scares you.”

Storm dipped her head in a shy manner. “Actually, I’m curious.”

The fence had stopped rattling, but Citun rose and took her near the back of the fence. Small gaps were visible. Storm widened her eyes when he encouraged her to peek through.

“I can’t watch,” Storm sounded mortified.

“You know you want to.”

“Maybe.”

“I will never battle you the way my kind battles females. Ever.”

Storm moved closer to the fence. After a brief glance at him she pressed her face near a crack. Immediately, her breathing increased. Citun was directly behind her and could see the scene she witnessed. A warrior had a female pinned beneath him; he had proved dominant. The female looked dazed, softly growling. The warrior wasn’t brutal, he was crooning to her, calming her. Every part of her was unmoving. The warrior’s gaze held hers captive.

The female was small and Citun wondered if this was her first time. Many first time females were dominated. It was nature’s way of proving no harm would come to them. If a female was too frightened to Holiday, no offspring would be conceived. The way the warrior crooned, Citun was certain his female was terrified.

“She’s so scared.” Storm sounded sad.

“Yes, she is. Believe it or not, so is a warrior his first time being dominated. But soon she will have a little one. Male or female, she will adore the baby. If she must give up her son, she will want a daughter. If she has a daughter, this female might even entertain the idea of finding this warrior again.”

The warrior was nudging the female’s chin with his nose. She noticeably relaxed and pressed her head against his shoulder.

“She surrendered,” Citun said.

“What happens next?”

“Watch.”

Another male approached the two. He was young and scented the smell of a female being dominated, Citun was certain he also scented Storm, two dominated females was a magnet for an inexperienced warrior. The Zargonnii female cried out at his approach. The warrior who Holidayed with her was up and snarling; too late, the younger warrior realized his mistake. A warrior never shared his female.

Storm screamed when the dominant warrior attacked. Normally, warriors had the utmost respect for one another, but not during a Holiday. The battle took only seconds. The younger warrior was allowed to live, but Citun doubted he would get a chance to Holiday. More than likely, he would need a healer. But, lesson learned.

The dominant warrior went to the female, who hadn’t moved, and flipped her onto her belly. She immediately rose to her hands and knees. The Holiday continued. Storm gazed up at Citun, worry made a small crease on her forehead.

“Holy heck,” she whispered. “If I were that female I’d offer my butt just as fast. He’s strong.”

Citun chuckled. “He’s running on adrenaline. He gets her for two weeks, if he’s lucky. Females are always fighting males; he needs to pace himself or he’ll find his ass under her, after that she’s gone. I’ve dominated. It’s hard to let a female go. There have been instances where females need to group together to retrieve a female. The male is that enamored. It stops being about dominating and starts being about family. At one time in our history, we did live together. We did love one another. Maybe that’s why human females are so fascinating. We still do love our females in a way. We respect them, and we would kill to keep them safe. After all, they are sisters, mothers, aunts, cousins. They are life. When my mother was alive I never saw her, but I scented her. When I first began going to our place of learning, I knew she followed closely.”

“Through scent?”

“Well that, and the six times I saw a mangled bangor fly over my head, sometimes in pieces. Wow, did she have a temper.”

“Why would your father allow you to walk alone when those beasts exist?”

“I was old enough to take a bangor on. Normally, by the time a male is twelve, we are fighting machines. It takes a mother a little longer to understand her son isn’t a baby anymore.”

“Your eyes light up when you speak of Zargonnii females. You do respect them. I can see it. Your ways are weird. You battle each other with passion but you care with more passion. The female who the warrior dominated, is she safe, even from him?”

“A warrior who dominates is expected to guard his female with his life, he will. Right now there is nothing more important to him than that female. She might already be carrying. It’s not just sex or honor, it’s everything.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

Citun gave her a wry grin. “Would you like a demonstration?”

“Well, yeah.”

Storm gasped when Citun’s gaze went from playful to dead serious. All around were howls and fighting. It was a war zone beyond the fence. The sky opened to the rain that had been threatening, adding to the primitive surrounding. Citun grew to battle mode and Storm stood motionless. Wary and eager, she was interested in rough play. She wanted a warrior, her warrior, and she was curious. More importantly, she trusted Citun and wanted him to know how much.

A grin played on her lips and using both hands, she shoved against Citun’s belly and took off. His roar added wings to her feet, and if her hair hadn’t been saturated, it would have stood on end. She heard him, his feet pounding on the ground behind her. Storm raced around the backyard. She had zero intention of leaving the safety of the enclosure, and she wanted him to have her outside. This was Citun’s element. There was no reason he had to give up his Holiday, as long as it was with her. She planned on making their joining interesting.

Storm screamed when Citun grabbed her around the waist. She smacked his arms and kicked her feet. The wildness of the storm increased. Citun was soaked; she was soaked. The noise of her shirt being ripped from her was audible.

“We Holiday naked,” Citun said on a deep throaty growl.

Her shorts came next. The material was shredded, and though Citun appeared to have lost control, Storm knew every action was calculated to make certain her skin was uninjured. Citun could have ripped her apart. Still struggling, Storm was thrown to the ground and flipped onto her belly. He was by no means gentle, and Storm wanted to spread her legs beneath him. She wanted him so desperately she was ready to beg. She continued to battle, knowing Citun needed the release. All week, she watched him sneak food. She guessed it had something to do with the Holiday.

The Zargonnii ways were primitive during a Holiday; Storm didn’t really understand. She knew it wasn’t only dominance that fueled them; the need to procreate was high within both male and female.