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The first sign was the heat.
Not an increase perceptible to others, but an internal alteration, precise, mathematical.
T’Rina stopped reading the diplomatic report and closed her eyes. Her breathing was steady, but beneath her skin a different pulse was beginning, deeper. Too early.
“It is not timely,” she murmured to herself.
The calculation was unequivocal. The cycle was advancing.
She activated the internal communicator and cancelled her meetings. Then she sent a brief medical notification requesting a package of neurochemical suppressants. She intended to withdraw to her quarters. Isolation, discipline, containment. Saru did not need to witness that.
He should not see her like that.
Saru found her standing beside the panoramic window of the hallway at Headquarters, her hands clasped behind her back. She turned to look at him as he approached. He smiled at the sight of her standing there in the soft light that twinkled in the fabric of her dress and wrapped her in a pale glow.
“I have concluded my duties for the day and expected to encounter you before returning to my quarters,” she explained.
“Is there a problem?” he narrowed his eyes.
“No,” she replied too quickly. “I am required to attend to a personal matter. It is therefore logical that I inform you I will be unavailable for the next five days. I will be in seclusion for meditation” The quick movements of her head gave her away.
“Personal matter…” he repeated slowly, inclining his head toward her. She looked to the side and a passing officer reminded him of the public surroundings.
Saru’s refined perception allowed him to notice subtle changes in her, like the way her body seemed to stir the air around her, how her heart rhythm had shifted, and a tension clung to her. He took a step closer and tried to take her hands.
“Your temperature has risen,” he said, without accusation. “You are…” he passed his hand gently across her face, “perspiring.”
T’Rina stepped back almost imperceptibly. She remained silent and looked straight at him. Saru opened his eyes in a smile, drawing her hands subtly towards him.
“Maybe we should continue this conversation in our quarters,” Saru offered to her silence
“There is no need,” she rushed to reply, but this time she smiled faintly, squeezing his hands sweetly. “I must leave.” She folded her hands in front of her, composed as usual. The point of her ears had turned dark green and her pupils were slightly dilated. The heat was rising now with ordered violence. The pulse in her temples. The telepathic echo that was beginning to seek, to extend outward. She contained it with an effort that tightened her jaw.
She turned looking down, and walked away from him. He watched her leave with his hands on his thighs and a bitter taste in his mouth.
He attended to his obligations as he was meant to, and then retired to their quarters, determined to find out what was happening to his wife.
He entered the room to absolute silence and no sign of her. He found her in the meditation room. For a few instants he simply lingered in the contemplation of her, wrapped in a light pink dress that highlighted the green blush on her cheekbones, the golden sparks in her hair…
“Saru…” she said, opening her eyes and drawing him out of his reverie.
“I was wondering if we could talk,” he admitted.
“I must isolate myself for a few days. It is not a matter that warrants your concern.”
He sighed and stepped in. Then he spotted the medicines on a small table. She saw him notice and pressed her lips together.
“Pon Farr,” he whispered.
“I have requested the necessary medication, and I will remain in these quarters until the cycle subsides.” She stood up and clasped her hands together.
“Alone?” he asked, momentarily disconcerted.
“It is the only logical course of action, given the disparity in our physiologies.” she clarified, lifting a brow in measured emphasis. “Our prior interactions are not representative of this phase”
Saru walked toward her slowly, tilting his head to meet her eyes as she took a step backward. Her breathing was unsteady, but Saru’s closeness sent her pulse racing and raised her body temperature to levels he could clearly perceive. He paused a few inches from her. She held his gaze, but her control was fracturing at the edges.
“My condition may affect you telepathically. It may also affect you physically. I cannot guarantee containment.” She broke off. The heat became a wave. His proximity intensified her pulse until it became almost unbearable. The scent of his skin, the low tone of his voice… it overwhelmed her.
Saru watched her struggle for air.
“T’Rina, do you really believe you could harm me?” he asked, incredulous.
“Saru…” she tried to find the appropriate words amid the turmoil her own desire unleashed in her thoughts. “The aggression- the force,” she corrected herself, “with which desire manifests during this cycle… It is…” She struggled to find words and had to take a deep breath to center herself again.
“T’Rina, do you fear harming me or…” he was beginning to understand much better, “…frightening me?”
She lifted her gaze and her heartbeat ran wild. She could not articulate a response, and he took her hands. She wished to pull away, but did not. His touch intoxicated her; he had to leave. She had to seclude herself immediately.
Saru looked at her, still trying to understand. “Or maybe,” the pain in his tone evident, “You desire a Vulcan partner.”
“Absurd,” she lashed out, angry, only to feel a wave of embarrassment hit her cheeks.
Her outburst caught him off guard, leaving him unexpectedly flattered and more concerned than he had anticipated.
“T’Rina…” She did not reply “Love…”
The sound of his voice was maddening, the steady way in which he held her so close to him, to his scent. She was giving in…
“My self-control is beginning to be compromised. I will not risk your integrity for a biological compulsion.” She was restless; she needed to move away from him before she lost control completely.
“I am not fragile, T’Rina” Saru pulled her softly to him, and she allowed it. “Do not take my restraint for absence”
She lost her breath. Had he just said that? Saru? Sweet, gentle Saru? She remained motionless for an instant, but Saru’s words had unbuckled something inside her. A telepathic surge brushed against his thoughts. The images he managed to perceive were confusing, but the sensation was unbridled; the knowledge that she desired him in that manner awakened a hunger he had long restrained.
“You are my wife.” He looked into her eyes with an intensity he had not shown her before, and the images of her desire formed clearly in his mind. She recoiled in alarm, her heartbeat spiking sharply. He took her hand into the position of mental fusion. “Do not withdraw.” She sensed his control, his unwavering composure, even as her own began to unravel. She feared herself and tried to pull away, but he held her firmly.
He held her hand gently, moving it softly to his face, and she let him. When they made contact, the images flooded her thoughts aggressively and she was taken aback by the intensity of his feelings. The images formed rapidly in her mind and she became aware of the true nature of his desire, the possessive impulse that ran through him, the ferocity he habitually restrained. His soft touch, his caresses and tender care, his sweet kisses suddenly assumed a different tone. He treated her so gently, like a delicate flower, fragile to the touch and yet… all along, this was what he truly wanted: to take her fiercely and hear her voice break with pleasure. She could not breathe, but did not break contact. Now she did want him to know, so she let her own thoughts move toward him, the well-formed images of her fantasy. The intensity of her emotions matched his, but she had lost control over herself and let him in unrestrained. When she released his face, the link did not fade completely, and he could feel her embarrassment at having let go so fully. She lowered her gaze and he inclined his face toward hers.
A knowing smile curved his lips.
“Do you wish me to perform the koon-ut-kal-if-fee for you?” he teased.
She lifted her face, mortified, still in his arms where he held her steady against his body.
“No. I… those thoughts…” She did not know how to explain it, even if she did not need to. She was alarmed. She should not have let him in, should not have shown him, should not-
“Because I will. Name it, and I will meet it.” He was not mocking her. He meant every word.
He noticed she was having difficulty breathing. “Your dress is too heavy. Your temperature continues to rise. It is impeding you.”
“Please,” was all she could articulate.
One of his hands moved to open the back of her dress, while she rested her head and her hands on his chest.
The sound of his voice, his hands against her bare skin, she wanted him so much. She looked up at his face.
He observed her carefully, flushed and vulnerable in his arms.
“Kelpians are known for their physical strength,” he said, submerging into her shadowed eyes. Then he moved his head to whisper in her ear, “No Vulcan would defeat me. I would win the koon-ut-kal-if-fee.” He paused to let her dress slide to the floor. “And claim you as mine.”
Her body reacted immediately, sending shudders through her nervous system. He straightened to look at her.
“You cannot claim what was never withheld.”
She unfastened his jacket and slid her hands down his arms and chest, letting the clothes fall to the floor. He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh as he allowed her to get rid of the rest of his clothes.