Mating Net

Prince Devoron-Vitan, supreme commander of the Tigron Empire's star forces, wants to go home and find out what the star-blazes is going on.
In one short gestate, his twin brother Djohn-Kronos has killed their father, taken the throne, nullified all existing royal betrothals, and started a war.

Published: 2005
Length: Short Story
Word Count: 13,378
Genre: Sci-Fi/ Futuristic Romance
Rating: Spicy
Available formats: PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)


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Rowena Beaumont Cherry

© Copyright by Rowena Beaumont Cherry, 2005
© Cover Art by ImageWeaver Studios, INC, 2005
ISBN 978-1-60394-529-5
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

In which the god-Emperor plots to steal his brother’s fiancée

He was on the prowl for a new mate.

No one suspected. It was too soon after his last Empress’s death. Everyone who knew anything about the Great Djinn god-Princes of Tigron would expect him to grieve for the rest of his natural life, because everyone assumed that he had had the rut-rage with his young Empress and had fixed his affections on her forever.

Though he had every right to mate again--and there were two innocent reasons why he should replace Djustine-Saturna as soon as possible--the chattering fool peoples of all the Communicating Worlds would call his haste indecent in the extreme.

What did he care what aliens and lesser beings thought? His broad shoulders already bore the blame for his father’s final atrocity. His friends and his enemies could not possibly think worse of him than they already did.

Consciences were for Commoners. He was the greatest of all the Great Djinn. He was the god-Emperor Djohn-Kronos. By All The Lechers of Antiquity, he had gods-Right to any virgin he wanted, and he hadn’t had sex in a gestate.

He flung himself into the pilot’s seat, snapped the canopy shut, and chopped his beringed right hand into the cradle.

“I’m Djohn-Kronos. Open the force field.”

A hot, blindingly bright cross-hatching of light yawned ahead of him. He accelerated out of the apex at the top of the Palace’s West Pyramid and enjoyed the sensation of being slammed back in his seat by Tigron’s heavy G-forces.

His racing craft’s sinister double shadow scudded over the rough flowering desert terrain below, startling large lizards, stampeding small herds of hardy ruminants. Moving fast and dangerously low, now his shadows skipped the ridge-backed mountain range and swooped over crater-worlds. Some craters were volcanic in origin. Some were ancient asteroid-impact. Some were both: crater-upon-crater.

Each crater was a distinct eco-system varying according to their depth, geology, whether or not they were spring-fed, and the overlaps of shadows thrown by the distant small white sun and by the nearer Primary planet--the Body Imperial. While not quite a second sun, it made the Royal Side of its moon up to six percent hotter than the Commoners’ side of Tigron.

Unlike his twin brother who thought that Tigron was doomed to crash into its gas giant, Djohn-Kronos loved his home-world.

There! Below him shimmered the forbidden paradise of which all Djinn Princes dreamed. Created in more fertile times, the school for Djinn princesses had been built on an island which was surrounded by a shallow sea. Light blue, inviting, but dangerous was that sea. Tigron’s most precious virgins were guarded by sea monsters.

Since a rut-enraged Prince would not be put off by monsters, the school for princesses was also protected by an overarching biodome to keep the fertile scent of the full-Djinn princesses from escaping and maddening the Great Djinn males with lust.

Damn and Deca-damn! Savage fury caused Djohn-Kronos to bank sharply and roll in the sky, like some great reptile displaying his power and prowess.

Secluding princesses at the school was not an infallible system for maintaining public decency and a civilized society. A girl had to be at the school to be safe. His good name and reputation had been ruined forever because some slack-damn sentimental royal widow whose name he was still, a gestate later, too angry to contemplate had home-schooled her pre-pubescent daughter until the damn girl wasn’t pre-pubescent at all. Now Djustine-Saturna was dead.

Despite her young age, with care--and she had had the very best care--Djustine-Saturna might have survived a singleton pregnancy, but not twin males. Djinn males were always bigger.

There weren’t many virgin princesses left at the school, but his imagination ran wild as he circled. Below him, veiled from his Djinn-sharp sight by the biodome and shimmering white force field were naked girls floating in black, gravity-warping murk pools, which allowed them to grow tall and willowy and high-breasted despite the cruel tug of Tigron’s gravity.

One could recognize a princess of Tigron at a glance.

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