Thanemonger: A SciFi Alien Romance (The Ladyships Book 1) by Bex McLynn

Author:Bex McLynn [McLynn, Bex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-05T06:00:00+00:00

Seph pressed her cheek to the cool surface of the banquet table. She hadn't lifted her head since the Trine had left.

Hyva had said succinctly, "I'll bring the toroidal pile to the next session."

Arana had attempted to commiserate. "No one gets it the first time, my dear."

Vedma had giggled, eerily, as she shuffled past. "Hah! Sarddom." It was the nicest thing Vedma had ever said to her.

Once alone, she wandered out to the Hall, where her 'entourage' was stationed. Wies gave her a brusque greeting, but otherwise, left her alone, which suited her. She didn't want company, but at the same time, she grew sick of being cooped up in the Chamber.

"Seph! Psst! Seph!"

Oh dear god, she knew that voice...

"What, Therion?"

"I can't get in," he said, whining.

Confused, she slowly raised her head. Ah, yes. Wies and Company blocked the door. Literally, Wies and a company of fleetmen were positioned about the Athel Hall. Zver grossly overcompensated when he amended the terms of her 'entourage.'

"He can come in," she said.

Therion exchanged harsh, low words with Wies, ending with Therion dodging a fist to his shoulder. Seph just rolled her eyes and lowered her head.

"So, Seph, glad I caught you,” Therion gushed as he plopped into a seat next to her.

She huffed dejectedly. "You've not caught me. I am still a free-range person."

"I have no idea what that means," Therion said as he leaned forward, placing his cheek on the table so that they looked at each other. "But here's the important part: I'm not afraid to admit that."

"Listen, Ther. I can call you Ther, right? Not Acting Cachemaster Ther, or sir, or..." Seph took a breath, embarrassed that her throat tightened up on her. "Listen, I just spent all day flipping a light switch and learned absolutely nothing. Which is incredibly ironic and cruel, because in my culture, a well-lit light bulb is the sacred symbol of enlightenment."

"Huh. That actually makes sense. And I like it. In fact, let me just..." Keeping his cheek plastered to the table, Therion contorted his arms so he could eyeball his typing on his WristCune.

Ping!

Seph slid back, repositioned her forehead to the edge of the table, and dropped her arms into her lap. She peered down at her WristCune.

In a flat voice, she read aloud. "'Recessed lighting creates more head space.' That makes no—" She closed her eyes and groaned. "You're 'Thanebanger,' aren't you?"

"Hush, hush! Clades are clandestine. If I wanted everyone to know I was in a clade, my scrum code would be 'Throbbing Nobber.'"

"You're talking about your penis."

"No," he said, sounding insulted. "I'm a swordsman."

"A swordsman? In space?"

"Nob's another word for pommel."

"And what part of the sword is the throb?"

"Huh? The throb's my penis."

Seph groaned. "I say again: a swordsman? In space?"

"You don't board a spaceship with firearms, unless you're wearing vacuumed-sealed armor." Then Therion chuckled and said to himself, "Ah, planet dwellers and their quaint notions."

"Do you actually need something?"

"Heard you ran through my ship yesterday."

She squirmed. "The thane told you?"

"No. I heard you.

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