Stud (2 page)

Places
like
this
, he thought, glancing about the room. Like the rest of the town of Reltan, the decor of the café was more rustic than elegant. Patrons were served at tables made of rough-hewn wood, and the food arrived on handmade ceramic plates. Paintings of fishing boats from a bygone era hung on stuccoed walls above a floor of cobbled stone. According to the video history he’d watched while en route to Talus Five, this region had been settled by Terran immigrants of primarily Mediterranean descent who wanted to return to a simpler lifestyle than that found on present-day Earth. The style of architecture was based on old-world fishing villages, and though the buildings weren’t without modern conveniences, the ambiance was decidedly historic.

Fortunately, they hadn’t taken it a step further and revived an ancient language. The Standard Tongue—or Stantongue as it was often called—had been difficult enough for Tarq to learn. He would never have been able to communicate with people who spoke anything else, and Zetithian was, for all practical purposes, a dead language.

Waroun’s information had also told him that the food at this café was quite good, which was something his nose confirmed. Though they served a variety of foods from Earth’s North American and European regions, the emphasis was on Greek and Italian. Now that Lucy wasn’t nearby, other aromas drifted back into his awareness and he picked up the pungent scent of garlic in the air, along with the essence of olive oil and herbs like fennel, oregano, basil, and sage… smells as clear to him as written words were to everyone else.

He was studying the head of a great beast mounted high up on the wall when Lucy returned with a tray. “What
is
that?” he asked, pointing a finger.

“It’s a vrelnot,” she replied as she set his salad in front of him. “At least that’s what everyone around here calls them. They live in the Eradic Mountains. Very dangerous.”

Nothing by that name was on his planned route, fortunately. Waroun obviously didn’t know everything about every planet; this was one thing he hadn’t mentioned. “Have you ever seen a live one?”

Lucy shook her head as she set out a small loaf of freshly baked bread on a cutting board. “Only sport hunters ever go there, and sometimes they don’t come back.” Placing a small dish of balsamic vinegar mixed with herbed olive oil beside his plate, she topped it with freshly ground pepper. “It’s the one place everyone else learned to avoid when this region was settled.”

Tarq nodded. “Stay out of the mountains.”

“Right.”

Despite the salad sitting right under his nose with its medley of aromas and the steam rising from the bread, he could still find the essence of Lucy tucked in along with the others. His penis, which had softened slightly while she was gone, sprang back to attention with that first whiff. Tarq was trying to figure out how to keep her there, short of pulling her onto his lap, when an irate male called out, “Lucy! Quit yakking and get your ass over here. The next order is up.”

Tarq was looking right at her face, ignoring the food despite his growling stomach, and saw the spasm of embarrassment cross her features, followed closely by one of irritation. “Is that your mate?”

“No,” she replied. “He’s my father. I don’t have a ‘mate’ and probably never will.” Lucy set his glass of water on the table, knocking over the saltshaker in her haste, but righted it in an instant and was gone before Tarq could draw another breath. He watched as she collected the steaming plates from the kitchen and delivered them to another table, smiling at the customers as though nothing had happened.

Lucy was obviously used to being yelled at, but Tarq thought it was horrible. He didn’t understand why she put up with it, nor could he imagine a father treating his daughter that way.
He
certainly never would, though he’d never actually met any of his daughters—or his sons, for that matter. At last count, he had over five hundred offspring, and though very few were female, he sincerely hoped that none of their surrogate fathers were as nasty as Lucy’s, though he had no way of knowing for sure. Some things were best left unknown, but the not knowing bothered him at times. Where were they? Were they growing up strong and happy? He could get reports through the registry, but there was nothing quite like firsthand knowledge. He’d never been present at their births, only their conceptions.

Her father’s outburst was completely forgotten as Loucinda Force cornered Jublansk by the stasis unit. “Oh, God,” she exclaimed. “Did you see who that
is
sitting out there? It’s
him
!”

“What do you mean,
him
?” Jublansk demanded as she pulled out a bag of onions. Shutting the door with her broad hip, she carried the onions over to the processor and dumped them in.

“It’s the guy in the commercial,” Lucy said, raising her voice enough to be heard over the noise from the processor. There were quieter models available, but Lucy’s father considered it an unnecessary upgrade. “The Zetithian guy. You know, the one who says he’ll give you joy unlike any you have ever known?”

“Girl, are you shittin’ me?” Jublansk’s colorful robes swirled as she spun around, nearly hitting Lucy in the head with her tusk. “It can’t be.”

“Why not? He’s supposed to be around here for the next few weeks, and he’s got to eat, doesn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but why here?”

“Why not here?” Lucy shot back. “My father may be an asshole, but he can cook.”

“But are you sure it’s him?”

“Sure? Of course I’m sure. How could anyone possibly forget him?”

Lucy remembered the precise moment she’d first seen him. Passing through where her younger sister, Reba, had been lounging as she watched television, Lucy had spotted his face filling the screen and had been instantly mesmerized. Blond, blue-eyed, and very handsome—though definitely not human—his hair fell to his waist in thick, shining curls, and though his fang-like canines drew the eye, it was the seductive curl of his full lips and the purring note in his voice that was so arresting. A straight nose and strong square jaw spoke clearly of a man unwise to cross, but the twinkle in his feline eyes promised untold delights, pleasures, and secrets the likes of which Lucy had never even allowed herself to dream.

He had introduced himself as Tarquinian Zulveidinoe and reported that he would be in the Har-al-kaq region of Talus Five over the next several weeks.

“The planet Zetith was destroyed in the year twenty-nine eighty-four, and our species is nearly extinct, therefore it is up to those of us who are left to continue our race as best we can. We are genetically compatible with many species but seem to cross best with humans of Terran origin. Our children are nearly always born in litters of three, and our genes are dominant. Unfortunately, our females are less receptive to males of other species, and since I tend to sire male children, I am making myself available to any ladies wishing to conceive and bear my young. There is no charge for my services, but all offspring must be registered with the Zetithian Birth Registry.” A soft smile played across his sensuous lips. “Call me, and I will give you joy unlike any you have ever known.”

His name and call number were displayed at the bottom of the screen as the list of compatible species scrolled by. Lucy had glanced at it briefly, knowing she would be able to recall any of it effortlessly at any time. His face, however, was burned into her memory like a brand.

No, she couldn’t forget him. Ever.

“Humph,” Jublansk snorted. “You thinkin’ of callin’ him?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Your father would hang you up to dry if you went anywhere near that beast.”

Lucy bit back a laugh. “You’re calling
him
a beast?” Her father had more “beastly” qualifications than anyone she could think of. This “Tarquinian” was more like a house cat than a beast—he purred like one, anyway.

“You know what I mean,” Jublansk said with a meaningful look. She picked up the bowl of freshly chopped onions and headed toward the grill.

Lucy felt her eyes stinging with tears but wasn’t entirely sure the onions were to blame. “Yeah, I know.”

Lucy knew her father needed her help, though he never put it that way. Getting involved with a man might mean she would leave home, and her father had done his best to discourage that—though Lucy wasn’t sure just who he’d had to discourage. With plenty of other—and far more accessible—girls from which to choose, the boys she’d known in school hadn’t considered her worth the trouble of dealing with her notoriously ill-tempered parent. As a result, at the age of twenty-nine, Lucy was as chaste as she had been on the day of her birth.

It rankled with her, however. She was no less attractive than many of her schoolmates, but, thanks to her father, the boys had given her a wide berth, despite the fact that she could have at least helped to improve their grades. None of that mattered, though; even if a boy had asked her out, her father would have seen to it that she didn’t have the time to spare.

Natasha, one of Lucy’s best friends, had married and moved to Yalka, a town that lay to the north of the Malturn wilderness, and had repeatedly urged Lucy to leave her home and stay with her until she found a job. Thus far, Lucy had seen no reason to do so. It had been drummed into her head that she was made for work, not romance, for so long that she didn’t believe her life would be measurably improved by the change. She could always find work but no one to love, so why bother? Though her present situation wasn’t paradise, at least it was familiar.

So what was it about the Zetithian that made her suddenly want to break the chains and habits of a lifetime? Was he like the Mordrials who could read minds and somehow control the elements? She’d never heard that Zetithians possessed magical powers beyond the occasional vision of the future, so why was he so compelling?

Lucy couldn’t begin to imagine her father’s reaction if she were to give birth to triplets who, if the rumors were to be believed, would come out looking more like pureblood Zetithians than half-breed humans. There would be no hiding their parentage from anyone. Aside from that, everyone would know she had been desperate enough to call him. Better to remain a spinster than to admit that she’d had to hire a man to be her lover. The fact that he didn’t charge for his services wouldn’t matter.

Even if she left her hometown of Reltan and took Natasha up on her offer, the stigma would remain—or would it? She didn’t know anyone in Yalka besides her friend; if she kept a low profile until after they were born, she could say the children were adopted, or belonged to her sister who had died giving birth to them. No one had to know the truth…

Her father’s voice snatched Lucy from her reverie. Would he ever stop hollering at her and just punch the order onto her notepad? Restaurants everywhere used that system; why did he have to be so old-fashioned? It probably made him feel more in control to simply yell “Order up, Lucy!” than to tap a screen, but
still
…

Lucy collected the Zetithian’s order and carried it out to him. If anything, he appeared even more irresistible than he had before. Was it because he was Zetithian? Did they all have that effect on women, or was he the only one who could make her feel like that? He was just sitting there, picking at the remains of his salad with that curtain of blond hair hiding half of his face, and he still looked like her wildest dreams come to life.
It
doesn’t matter
, she told herself
. I’ll never go through with it. By the time I’d get the nerve, I’d have forgotten his call number was 322-13738-477783-4. Why am I even thinking about it?

She felt a blush rising to her cheeks that intensified with each step she took in his direction. Sighing deeply, Lucy was beginning to wish she’d never even heard of Tarquinian Zulveidinoe—ridiculous name, anyway—until he smiled at her.

He could be the answer to every dream she’d ever had. Children of her own. Independence. The only missing ingredient was love, something that might elude her for the rest of her life whether she took this chance or not. Oh, yes. If she didn’t work up the nerve to ask him now, she would most
definitely
call him.

Chapter 2

Tarq still hadn’t figured out what her scent was doing to him when he realized that just the sight of her had him salivating—and it had nothing to do with the plate she was carrying.

“That was the best bread I’ve ever tasted, and the salad was very good too,” he said, hoping to get her talking again. Her father couldn’t fuss if he was complimenting the food.

“Jublansk makes the bread—and the salad dressing,” Lucy said as she replaced his empty salad bowl with the plate of fish and eggplant. “It makes my father so mad because he can’t figure out what’s in it and she won’t tell him.” With a giggle, she added, “But I’ve watched her, so I know.”

“And you won’t tell him either?”

Lucy smiled and shook her head. “We all have to have our little secrets.”

Tarq wanted her secret to be the fact that she’d met him in some secluded spot, then made mad, passionate love with him until his dick gave out, but, of course, he didn’t say that. It was odd having to watch what he said to a woman. In all the time he’d spent working in the brothel he and his friends shared, he’d never been with a lady who was the least bit shy. Usually they were all over him, begging him to do all sorts of inventive and erotic things—some that he hadn’t particularly enjoyed.