That was what his adoptive father, Rep. Vizlar had told him, anyway. According to him, Dragon’s birth family—whom Dragon couldn’t remember—had been the last of a dying breed. When the rival Clan shot them, they had killed off the last of the Kindred. Well, except for Dragon himself.
But this little female talked as though there were a lot of them somewhere. But where? They must be far away—but then, how did they get to Avria Pentaura? Do they have ships that can travel not only within their own solar system, but across the universe to visit other systems too?
He couldn’t imagine a ship like that. His own ship, which he had modified to go long distances on a small amount of fuel, still would have taken ages to reach the solar system nearest to their own. Such technology would be fascinating to study.
Dragon had always had an affinity for ships and their engines. He liked tinkering around in his spare time, building new things and modifying others. He had often reflected that if his birth family had lived and he had not been adopted by the Komendant of the Crimson Blades Clan, he probably would have made some kind of career for himself dealing with engines or flying ships.
But that future was closed to him now, he admitted to himself. He was an enforcer for his Clan—though he would probably never rise higher, because of Zerlix’s hatred of him. But still, he had sworn his oath of loyalty at the age of thirteen cycles, when a boy becomes a man, and had never looked back. The black live-tat on his neck marked him forever as an adopted Little Brother of the Crimson Blades and it was permanent. Everywhere he went, he would be known for what he was—there was no getting away from it. There was—
A low, agonized moan from the female beside him drew him back to the present. He looked at her in concern and saw that she was still clutching her head, but now she was shivering as well.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning down to look at her. “Is your headache getting worse?”
“Yes, b-but it’s n-not just th-that. So c-c-cold,” she whispered, through chattering teeth.
“Cold? Really?” Dragon couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. True, it wasn’t as wretchedly hot and humid in the Clan’s transport ship as it had been on Avria Pentaura, but it was still pretty stuffy. After the humid heat of the other planet, he was looking forward to getting back to the cold, dry climate of Saurous. But the little female acted like they were already there. And she really must be cold—at least, from the way she was shivering.
“Y-yes, r-really,” she flashed at him and he saw a glimmer of that hot temper of hers that had put her on Zerlix’s radar. “It’s freaking fr-freezing in here! Wh-why does it have to b-be so c-c-cold? Do you have a blanket I c-could use?”
Dragon looked around but the transport ship didn’t have much in the way of creature comforts. It was a utility vehicle, used to go from one planet in the solar system to another—nothing more. But he had to do something for the little female, he realized, or she might shake herself to pieces.
Since there was nothing else to give her, he stripped off his leather vest and then his shirt, which was made of thin, strong yaseem silk. He had purposefully worn it because it was his thinnest outerwear and he didn’t want to get overheated when they went to Avria Pentaura, which was always horribly hot. Now he wondered if it would be enough to keep the little female warm.
She’d be warmer if she wasn’t so exposed, he thought, as he handed the shirt to her and said, “Here—put this on.”
She voiced no thanks—only snatched the shirt from him and began pulling it on.
“I’m called ‘Dragon,’” he said. “What’s your name?”
“None of your Goddamned business!” she snapped, her voice somewhat muffled by the fabric she had pulled over her head.
“Fine.” Dragon shrugged. If she didn’t want to tell him her name, she didn’t have to.
He couldn’t help noticing her large, luscious breasts as she struggled into the black shirt, which fell to her knees. She was so tiny she was practically swimming in it but that was all right—hopefully the extra fabric would keep her warm.
She had nipples like his own, Dragon thought. Well, not exactly like his, which were little more than flat copper disks on his chest with tiny nubs in their centers. Hers had wide pink bands as big around as a crentha coin and her nubs were much longer and bigger than his. He wondered if they were more sensitive, too and what they would feel like if he touched them.
He frowned to himself as he noticed the trend his thoughts were taking. First he’d had the urge to stroke her long, red hair and now he was wondering what it would be like to palm her heavy breasts and stroke her ripe, pink nipples. What was wrong with him? He had never had such thoughts about the Saurian females that he’d been raised around.
Of course, Saurian females didn’t have much in the way of breasts, which were a minor secondary sexual characteristic for their species. Most chose to emphasize their narrow yellow eyes or to decorate their vaginal slits to draw male attention.
But he didn’t think the little mammalian female had been intending to draw male attention—at least not with her outfit. It was the same thing he’d seen the Orniths wearing—it just looked more provocative on her for some reason. Maybe because her breasts were so much fuller and softer-looking and weren’t covered by feathers or scales. He could see all of her soft, pale skin that looked silky-smooth and almost as touchable as her long, red hair…
But the little female was still shivering, he saw with some alarm. Could she really be that delicate? If she couldn’t stand the inside of the transport ship, how would she manage once they got to Saurous?
That’s your problem now—not hers, whispered a little voice in his head. You Claimed her—now you have to take care of her. And the first thing to do is to warm her up.
There was only one other thing he could think of to do, since his shirt hadn’t warmed her sufficiently. Unbuckling her harness, he scooped her into his arms and cradled her close to his bare chest, holding her close to make sure she didn’t float away in the zero G.
“H-hey,” she whispered hoarsely, squirming against him. “Wh-what do you th-think you’re d-doing?”
“Warming you up—I hope,” Dragon told her.
He was fairly sure he could manage it—he put out heat like a furnace himself. It was one reason he was never cold on Saurous, which was known for its frigid desert climate. Some of the Saurian Pleasure Girls he’d tried, out of curiosity before he’d decided he wasn’t much interested in sex, had even protested that he “burned them” with his body heat. So if the little female in his lap would just hold still, he might be able to transfer some of his warmth to her much smaller frame.
“P-put me down and d-don’t t-touch me,” she told him, holding herself rigid in his arms. “I don’t w-want you anywhere n-near me!”
“Fine.” Dragon opened his arms, releasing his hold in her. Immediately, she began to float upwards in the Zero G.
“Oh my G-god! Wait! Stop!” she gasped and flailed, reaching for him by instinct. Her small hands found his broad shoulders and then Dragon reached up and plucked her out of the air before folding her against him once more.
“Better now?” he asked, looking down at her as he held her against his bare chest.