One Thousand Brides (11 page)

“My eye!” Taddus shrieked, his hand covering it.

“Yield!” Delos panted. “Go to Sick Bay—save your eye!” He jumped to his feet, standing over the kneeling primus.

Taddus glared at Jan. “You broke our law! Females don’t interfere with challenges!”

“Guess what?” She lowered her face to his. “Human females do.”

Their gazes locked. Jan raised her hands again. Her claws were slick with his blood.

“I yield.” Taddus’ voice was sullen. “Keep your savage female, Delos.”

Delos pulled Jan close and possessively rubbed his face against hers. “I intend to.”

* * * * *

The Brides straggled back to the Great Hall with their new husbands, each couple tied together at the wrist with the red cords, male’s right hand to Bride’s left. The Brides reluctantly left their mates just long enough to dress in their wedding garb. An anxious Jan talked to many of the women, relieved when it became clear that they were happy with their new husbands.

“I’ve never had an orgasm with a lover before,” one woman confided in her. “Terilian males really know how to please their mates.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jan answered with a smile.

Beth strolled into the Hall by Taddus’ side. The big male had bandages on his eye and neck.

“I waited forever. I thought no one would choose me,” Beth whispered to Jan. “I was so pleased when Taddus came!” She linked her arm through his. “I know we’re going to be happy together.” She gazed at Jan, a wistful look lingering in her eyes.

She loved her bridegroom back on Earth,
Jan thought sadly.

Taddus touched his bandaged neck. “We’ll be very happy together, dear.” Glaring at Jan, he added, “I like
sweet, gentle
females.”

“Are you looking forward to the ceremony?” Jan asked Beth.

Beth’s voice was low. “Everyone’s worked so hard. I just wish—I wish it could be a
real Earth-type
wedding. I had such a beautiful dress picked out…”

Jan touched Beth’s shoulder. “Honey, how would you like to wear my gown?”

* * * * *

To have and to hold…

In sickness and in health…

From this day forward,

Until the next Spring Running…

Delos’ arm was tight around her waist as they waited to say their vows. “And don’t think we’re going to part at the next Spring Running,” he whispered. “I’ll
never
let another male mate with you.”

Jan smiled, breathing in his intoxicating scent. She knew she’d never want anyone except him.

An hour later, she nestled close to her new husband, sharing delicacies with him as they ate from the same bowls. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. His hands caressed her face, her shoulders, her thighs.

Jan drifted in a pleasant state of arousal. Other Brides were nuzzling their husbands’ necks, rubbing cheeks, stroking, touching and being touched.

The music started. Some couples rose to dance. Janis was too comfortable to move. She smiled as she looked across the room. Beth’s young face glowed as she danced with Taddus.

Although it was fun to have an actual wedding, Jan realized that none of the details mattered. She didn’t care that she wore a plain tunic instead of satin, that there were no candles or flowers and that the cake tasted like fish. All that mattered was that she had the right bridegroom.

Delos bent to whisper in her ear, “We didn’t mate enough today.”

Her pussy grew wet as she imagined him thrusting into her. “Three times wasn’t enough?”

“Not nearly. I want to mount you again. I want to hear you scream with pleasure.”

Her lips went dry as she pictured the scene.

“I’ll lick you first, though. I’ll enjoy thrusting into you when your sex is slick and wet after an orgasm.” He chose a morsel from a bowl and held it to her mouth. She licked the meat. Holding his gaze, she sucked his finger into her mouth, caressing it with her tongue as though it were his cock.

“Your cabin or mine?” Jan asked.

“Whichever’s closer.”

Raucous music filled the room.

Delos took her hand and they threaded their way through the crowd as a thousand Brides and grooms danced together, flapping their arms in The Chicken Dance.

The earlier part of the day, the Spring Running, had been all Terilian. But this wedding was all human.

Jan hoped the blending of two cultures would continue successfully. In the meantime, she had her wedding night ahead of her.

She could hardly wait.

About the Author

Solange Ayre, galaxy-hopping investigative journalist, also serves as a policy advisor to the United Conglomeration of Planetary Jurisdictions. She makes her home on Ayriana, her private island-republic in the West Caribbean region of Earth.

After a whirlwind childhood living in the capitals of Europe, Solange married St. Georges Ayre, one of the wealthiest men in the world. The crystal palace he bought her on Ayriana is the primary tourist attraction in the area—at least, for those who can find it. St. George’s mysterious assassination is still mourned by his grieving widow.

Directly descended from King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, Solange graciously supports the democratic government of France and relinquishes her claim to the throne. Under no circumstances will she answer to the title “Your Highness.”

In her spare time, Solange enjoys breeding and showing her prize-winning miniature dragons as well as researching and writing erotic romance.

Solange welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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