In fact, the skilev of Draku Rin was so peaceful that they didn’t even have an official police force of any kind. Small incidents of altercations outside the arena or theft or other petty crimes were dealt with by the families of those involved, sometimes with a priest as a mediator, if necessary. The most major offenses—which were still minor by human standards—were presided over by the elders. The worst punishment possible being exile, which was used so rarely that it hadn’t happened in Draku Rin in over a generation.
“Humans are….” She searched for some argument to justify the differences in their societies. “We….”
Farona patted her hand. “We understand that this is the nixir nature. The titans were betrayed by their children and that betrayal left a stain on the spirits of your people. It isn’t something you can change, any more than the barren stalker can change its hunger for yan-kanat flesh.”
She settled back in her chair and lifted her cup with both hands, her dilated gaze still fixed on Sarah. “You must accept that this will bring you in conflict with Jotaha throughout your lives together. He will expect you to become more like the yan-kanat, and you will expect him to tolerate when you are being nixir.”
Sarah pondered those words, some of her mellow fading as the remains of her yanhiss cooled in its cup. “You really think it will cause problems?”
Farona finished her sip of yanhiss, then set the drink back down, her double eyelids closing for a moment as she sighed. “It will only be a problem if you can’t bring yourself to submit fully to Jotaha, and become the mate he wishes you to be.”
They left the den after finishing their drinks, because Sarah knew that Jotaha would soon be home, and she liked to be there waiting for him because it always seemed to please him to see her. His apparent happiness at having her in his home was even more of a balm for her stress and anxiety than the yanhiss.
Its effects were mostly faded when he stepped through the pod door. He carried food from the communal kitchen, letting her know they would be spending at least part of their evening alone together.
If they spent much time in this space alone, without distractions, things got difficult. Every night, she wanted to leave her bed and crawl into the furs that Jotaha used to sleep on the floor. She wanted to stroke his scales, tease the sensitive ridges on the top of his tail, nip at his chest in a way that seemed to excite him.
She ached to touch him, to feel his hard, strong body pressed against hers, the alien rasp of his scales stimulating her naked skin.
Every night, she had to restrain herself, because even the mildest show of her desire for him would spark answering arousal from him. That left him snarling in pain as the seal burned his most sensitive organ.
Even kissing had become too much for him. Anything more than a quick peck had him groaning as his seam split. He confessed that having her scent fill this small housing pod drove him mad with lust, and anything that added to that only pushed him closer to losing control over his own body to the point that Seta Zul’s will lashed back at him, reminding him that he had yet to bind himself to Sarah.
She had to admit that it was a heady experience. Jotaha’s desire for her was so strong that it caused him physical pain. It made her feel more desirable than she ever had in her life. It also made her feel wanted and needed. No one had ever needed her before. Even her daughter had someone who could replace Sarah’s role in her life.
For Jotaha, Sarah was his only drahi. The only woman for him. He could never replace her, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to, given how often he told her he loved her.
After he set the food bundles down, he greeted her with a quick kiss. He stepped away from her before she could wrap her arms around his waist, regarding her with a serious expression.
“You’ve been drinking yanhiss.”
She felt an instant surge of guilt, though there was nothing forbidding the activity, and Jotaha had certainly never asked her not to. “Yeah. Me and Farona and Rataka dropped into the Drako Den for a quick drink before I came home.”
He took her by the wrists to tug her closer. His hands fell upon her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him. “Are you still so anxious, my drahi? Have you not yet found some peace in your new home?”
He lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers. “I worry that you will be unhappy here, and that nothing I can do for you will ever make this feel like your home. I don’t want yanhiss to be the only way you can bear this life.” He nuzzled her hair, then caught her lips with a hungry kiss when she opened her mouth to reassure him.
His hands tightened on her shoulders as he groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain, his tongue flicking out to tease her lips for one delicious moment before the seal made him pull away.
“I’m fine, Jotaha. I’m happy here. I’m with you.” Her heart pounded with her arousal, that single, brief kiss leaving her shellshocked and aching for more. “I can’t wait until we’re mated.” If the reality was anything like the dreams she had every night, then she would probably climax the moment he entered her.
He touched her cheek, stroking his claws gently over her skin, his gaze searching her face as if he sought a lie in her words. “A messenger from the temple approached me as I was leaving the training grounds. Seta Zul’s elder priest has fallen ill and cannot perform the ceremony until he recovers.”
She groaned in disappointment, pulling away from him. “Can’t they find a back-up priest?”
She was so eager for Jotaha that she didn’t think she’d make it another week without performing the first mating. Even the knowledge that his burning seal would brand her pelvis wasn’t enough to scare her off. Seta Zul’s priest had promised that they would give her a pain-inhibiting potion beforehand if she desired it. Although it would also dull the sensation of a powerful climax that came after the branding, which meant many drahis rejected the offer, willing to endure the pain for the promise of blissful pleasure.
Jotaha huffed in amusement. “I had much the same response, surprising the messenger, who expected me to first inquire about the health of the elder priest. It is clear he has not experienced the seal around his unbound drahi.”
At her questioning look, he sighed, lifting a hand to flatten his head spines. “Sadly, they do not have a substitute fully qualified to perform the sata-drahi’at yet. Our ceremony was intended to be the last trial for the acolytes before they moved on to the final test for their robes.”
She shook her head, finding it difficult to push away her frustration and disappointment. “Your people need to learn the concept of redundancy. It seems like you have a word for it, but the yan-kanat clearly aren’t putting it into practice.”
His head spines quivered as he huffed again. “And here I thought you would be more concerned about the acolytes attending our ceremony. Even for nixirs, mating is usually a private thing, is it not? Most yan-kanat females find the idea of having an audience for the first mating distressing.”
She held up a hand. “Hold up. What’s that about an audience?” Her voice rose on the last word.
He captured her wrist, then linked his fingers through hers, drawing her against him. “The branding doesn’t frighten you off, but the watchers do?”