Now on Sale - First Mataras: Irene - Read Chapter Two Now

 

Here I am, doing what I love most…teasing and tempting! Ifyou haven’t grabbed up the sci-fi rock and roll fantasy that is First Mataras:Irene, you’re missing out. You can read Chapter One on yesterday’s post…andhere’s Chapter Two.

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The thunder of sound was almost aphysical blow, and Irene stood frozen a few steps beyond the entrance in shock.Her senses reeled.

The bass thud had become blisteringthunder inside the sound-canceling barrier, which had kept the club from breakingthe station’s noise level regulations. Irene was grateful her headgear and thehood tugged over it offered some buffering, but her ears would probably beringing when she left.

When she’d recovered from her surprise,she stepped further in the room, taking in her surroundings.

A long bar spanned most of one wall ofthe club, and the clientele standing at it were predominantly Kalquorians. Atleast half wore those black uniforms trimmed in blue, red, or green. The redspredominated, and Irene noted those men had the fiercest expressions, thoughthey appeared relaxed and content for the most part. Even the pair slammingfists into each other’s chests in turn looked absurdly happy. They laughed andgrowled at what was apparently a contest of strength or perseverance. Irenewondered if they’d end up caving in their sternums.

Others, again predominantlyKalquorians, crowded the floor, milling around and shouting in companions’ears. At around the halfway mark to the other end of the club, more stoodgrouped tightly, congregating at the stage’s edge. Thick arms swollen withmuscles and tendons pumped the air in time with the driving beat. It filledIrene’s body; a brutal pulse her heart tried to keep up with.

Her attention zeroed in on the stage asanimals’ howls and growls filled the air and the audience cheered. Three menstood up there, Kalquorians.

She stared. Again, she was astonishedinto stillness, but not because of the sound, which for once in her life, tooksecond place to sight.

The men were shirtless. Gleaming,muscular chests shone with perspiration, accentuating their brawn. The manbeating a line of drums of various sizes and tones, which were set up on theleft of the stage, barely wore anything at all, including shoes. His shortsweren’t skintight, unlike the pants the man screaming at the crowd wore, butthey left little to the imagination. Irene gaped at the obvious bulges of thetrio’s crotches. 

Warmth that had nothing to do with thebody heat of so many gathered people filled her. Her lower guts trembled.

She’d had crushes and fantasies, ofcourse. The curious feelings which she knew were taboo on her home planet haddriven her to touch herself in her narrow bed in New York and learn of carnalpleasure. She was naïve about much when it came to sexuality, but she wasn’tentirely clueless.

However, the blatant vision of suchnaked masculinity was a revelation. She was seeing men, really seeingmen, for the first time in her shielded life.

They were beautiful. Even thedrumbeater, his long, shaggy hair and beard dripping sweat, was brutallygorgeous. His feet pounded the gray-floored stage in time with his drumming,which he alternated between fists, open palms, and thin polished sticks.

The music began to creep back intoIrene’s consciousness when she recognized the sheer technique of his work, theperfect timing he managed despite snarling at the crowd and snapping his headfrom side to side or back and forth. As untamed as his work had initiallysounded, Irene easily determined the rhythm and how he varied the tone bysoftening or intensifying his approach. His fills appeared at the perfectmoments, never stepping on the work of his companions.

Tuned to the music, Irene’s focus wentto the man at the right of the stage. She was surprised to note such a largefellow, though slighter and shorter than his companions, could appear almostdelicately handsome. His features were gentle despite his enthusiastic blowinginto an instrument shaped similarly to a bassoon, but the bell was a large,fluted shape. It emitted the growling sounds weaving through the drumming.Irene thought of jungles and forests full of wild animals, though she’d neverbeen to such places. Nor did she think animals could have achieved the nuancedrhythm and range of notes emitting from the instrument. The way the musicianplayed it, she was certain it could have found a home in an orchestra.

She’d delayed considering the man inthe middle of the trio for last. After concentrating on his companions, whowere undeniably talented, Irene turned her attention reluctantly to thescreaming front man to discover why they’d joined someone so beneath theirabilities. 

He was handsome enough despite thelivid face his violent efforts produced. In fact, in the moments his features relaxedbetween howls, he was quite striking. His eyes were large, prominent inotherwise well-balanced features. A smile broke out every now and then,increasing how attractive he was. His straight hair, cut to shaggily frame hisface, hung to his shoulders. He possessed presence, Irene noted, and hisintense expressions, exhortations, and gestures to amp up the crowd betweenshouts worked to great effect. They responded to his every word with agreeingbellows…whatever he was saying in Kalquorian, they liked…and when his fistspumped the air or he clapped, they answered in kind. As far as performancewent, he was terrific.

But his voice…

Irene’s life revolved around singing,and she recognized damaged vocal cords when she heard them. The lead vocalist’shad been injured at some point, producing a raspy quality impossible to miss.She winced as he howled foreign words, his voice showing the strain in eachoff-note. Why hadn’t he had the damage repaired?

As she tuned to his technique, however,she had to admit for what he was doing, it fit the wild sound of the band. Likethe drummer and growly-instrument player, he had technique. He breathedproperly and seemed to understand the difference between chest and headsinging. He used both and in-between to produce vocalizations appropriate tothe song. His vocal-fold technique was solid when he exploited it. He washowling notes, not merely making noise. It became obvious he’d had training.The audience didn’t seem to mind the quality she’d initially cringed to hear.It apparently worked as far as Kalquorian musical sensibilities were concerned.

He wasn’t so bad after all, given whathe had to work with. As Irene grew used to his sound and gained acceptance ofit, she found herself enjoying the primal harmonies and raw energy. It was theopposite of serene Plasian music, certainly worlds away from opera, but the menwere definitely musicians in their own right.

Her interest was diverted when aKalquorian passed closer to her than any had dared, actually bumping into herand shifting her cloak. His gaze raked her with interest as he passed. Irenewas startled to recognize the red-trimmed clanmate of the Kalquorian captain, amember of the trio who’d gone backstage after the opera. For an instant, panicfilled her as she wondered if he’d recognized her.

He muttered unintelligibly and movedon, though his eyes swept over her yet again. His clanmates were also present.They followed him to the bar, also affording her notice but continuing past.

Calm settled over her. They’d beencurious because they thought she was Odeergin. It was possible the speciesdidn’t make it a habit to attend a Kalquorian music shows. If so, she needed toget out before someone, possibly Captain Nil, thought to question her presence.

It was late anyhow. She needed to go toher quarters. Since the Kalquorians had left the opera venue, a member ofsecurity might decide to check on her. If Donald or anyone else realized she’ddisappeared without anyone noticing, it was a valid concern.

She’d reach her suite faster if sheused the service corridor. Figuring no one who worked in the club wouldchallenge an Odeergin, she headed for the back door.

 

Nobek Rusp pounded his drums in hisusual frenzy as his band, Certain Death, neared the end of their show, hours ofdedicated practice covering for his divided attention.

He’d initially noticed the Odeerginwhen it entered the club. The species had a tendency to clear an area. Hisworry the poisoned-breath alien might cause the evacuation of what had become avery passionate crowd proved unfounded. Probably since the greater number ofthe customers were Nobeks on leave from a destroyer, which had docked at thestation earlier in the afternoon. It would be a point of pride for the warriorbreed to remain in the vicinity of certain death if the Odeergin was riled.Especially since the venue was crowded, which begged for trouble.

The Odeergin had simply stood still forthe most part, slowly advancing a step every few minutes as it watched Rusp’slemanthev band, Certain Death, perform. Who knew Odeergins had good taste inmusic? Touring and playing gigs in the wide reaches of the galaxy taught Ruspsomething new every day.

He’d continued watching the cloakedcreature in case someone did offend it and it pulled off the long-snouted maskto enact revenge. In such a situation, he’d grab Sherv and Jemi and rush themfrom the stage to the back corridor.

That was why he noticed the“Odeergin’s” leg when a Nobek fleet officer brushed against it, shifting theconcealing cloak so the limb was exposed. Rusp had been so surprised by thelong, smooth, female calf emerging from a scuffed brown boot, he’dalmost missed a beat…which he’d taken to boasting hadn’t happened in an entireyear.

He recovered, automatic muscle memorysaving him, as the figure stared at the officer who’d made glancing contact.Then it began to move toward the stage…or rather, to Jemi’s side of the stage,toward the back corridor.

Rusp barely noticed as the endingcrescendo boomed over the crowd yelling the approval he usually lived for. He’dseen pictures of Odeergins. They were scaled rather than smooth. Their legswere cylindrical, not curved. The only leg he’d was aware of that matched thefigure slipping past the stage was of the rarest being in the galaxy: aKalquorian woman.

As the last note died and Shervbellowed over the applause, “Thank you! We’ll be playing here for the next twoweeks, so be sure to come back!” Rusp rushed to Jemi’s side of the stage ratherthan acknowledge the crowd.

What was a Kalquorian Matara doing in aclub on her own? The Beonid station was one of the safer places Certain Deathhad played, but there were still the sort of ruffians roaming around who’dstoop to holding a member of Kalquor’s greatest treasure hostage.

Rusp’s sole thought was to reach herand find out why she wasn’t among clanmates who should be keeping her safe.Then returning her to them or perhaps to a parent clan before she landed introuble.

Were there still females young enoughto be accompanied by their parents? Not fertile ones, but the majority who wereunable to provide children were still precious.

“Rusp! Where are you going?” Shervshouted hoarsely as the Nobek sprang off the stage and hurried down theemployees’ back hallway.

He didn’t answer. The door to theservice corridor was closing, a swirl of brown cloak disappearing from sight.He put on a burst of speed and rushed from the club.

The woman disguised as an Odeergandidn’t turn to respond to the hiss of the door she’d escaped through opening,though she was mere steps away. Rusp was on her heels in an instant. “Matara?”

As she began to turn toward him, Shervand Jemi arrived at his side. Both jerked when they saw the Odeergin breathingmask face them.

“Fuck, Rusp! Get away from it!” Shervgrabbed his shoulder and yanked.

Instead, the Nobek snagged the skirt ofthe cloak where its closures ended and swept it wide. He was treated to thesight of a pair of undeniably Kalquorian knees and shins. Definitely a woman’slegs.

Except there was something wrong. Theskin color was too fair. He realized it an instant before her gloved handslapped him hard.

He blinked at the sting and ache of hisjaw…she had impressive strength…but his brain was busy noting Odeergins didn’thave five-fingered hands like Kalquorians. Nevertheless, his heart nearlystopped when she clutched the respirator snout of her headgear and shoved itupward. Jemi screamed, and Sherv yelled in anticipatory horror an instantbefore her furious features were exposed.

Rusp gaped at the brown eyes and theirodd round pupils. She wasn’t a Kalquorian Matara after all. She was an Earther.

 

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She searched for freedom and found aKalquorian clan.

Irene Jonson is a rising star in opera, thanks to Earthforcing her to leave her parents as a teen to join a prestigious opera company.Years later, she loves music, but she wants the freedom to forge her own pathas a performer and be reunited with her family.

Sherv, Rusp, and Jemi are a clan and band playing hard,driving music. Success means more than fame and fortune; it would show theirdisapproving families they’ve chosen the lives they were meant to live.Encountering Irene, creating a new and exciting sound, gives them thatopportunity…and a chance at love.

Two worlds on the brink of war threaten everything Irene andClan Sherv have built and everything they dream of. Two worlds are bent on snatchingIrene from the men and music she loves. What chance do four misfit musicianspossibly have against Earth and the Kalquorian Empire?