He shouldn’t have marked her. He didn’t feel the need to establish his dominance, no matter what society demanded. Yet they would soon go live on Luna Ten. A utopian refuge for Earthlings where, according to what Shedir had told Conan, females were eager slaves, males their loving Masters. He visualized the communal dungeon and the fucking glade where mates gave and took their pleasure. Conan reasoned that he must have lost much of his natural male aggressiveness with his balls, because he didn’t want to exert his dominance over Nebula, but rather to love her. He felt no particular urgency to mark her as his own in the traditional ways, even though the traditional mating gifts he had chosen awaited her at Leander’s. “You look so serious. Is something wrong?” Nebula rolled onto her side, then sat up and met his gaze. “I hurt you.” “No. You didn’t. I’m sorry I bruise so easily. Pay those little marks no mind. I would willingly have suffered far worse to experience the joy you gave me.”
