by Sabrina Kade
Steven holds up his hands. “She spoke of trying to leave her master,” he tattles, looking more like a child than a man in his early twenties.
Alino follows behind the fat, blubbering female. “This true, Sloane?”
My face paled.
Alino rarely hurt me during my time with him, but this ended up being one of the few exceptions. He reached forward and dragged me from the display by my hair, and though Steven watched, there was no emotion on his face. No fear. No joy. No anger. Just… emptiness.
There’s no such thing as Prince Charming.
CHAPTER TWO
Exer
The air smells better when I’m further away from the lairs. I’m sure a lot of males say that when they’re close to their mates, but I believe it in my heart and my soul. Out beyond and further north, the air is crisp, and the stench of desperation no longer fills my nostrils. I can barely stand the bitter, sour stink that wafts off the skin of my brothers. They long so much for a mate that they cannot control it. But it hurts me. I feel as though I’m going to lose my breath and collapse into the dirt. For the longest time, I could barely stand to be around Dolan, so desperate for the curvy female. I am beyond relieved she does not pay so much attention to me anymore. And though Dolan has her, the scent has not gone away entirely.
There are others. So many of my brothers want what Prince Korben forced upon us. Once the outsiders left, not many of us remained, and yet, he brought in twenty human females. Small and fragile in physical appearance, other than Dolan’s mate and a few others. All different shapes, sizes and skin tones. The stench wafts off of them now, but it is not their own. It is the stench of my brothers permeating through their smooth skin. I am sickened because of it. I have to get away more and more often. I do not understand how my brothers do not smell it. Am I the only one who has to leave the comfort of the lairs to spend time in the chilly air close to the northern border?
It certainly feels that way.
I tug at the smooth fabric draped across my chest to keep the chilly air from hitting my skin, but the nippy feeling cannot only be from the environment. I am spending too much time away from the lairs, and though most to do not care about my absence, a small part of me hopes that one female – one bloody-haired female – has noticed I am gone.
See-loan. No. That is not correct. That is a crude warning. Sloane. I struggle to say her name correctly in her human tongue, but I will not give up. I think I pronounce it correctly about half of the time and the rest is a sloppy collection of consonants. I should not spend so much time thinking about Sloane. Though she is tall and beautiful, pale and soft, she reminds me so much of a female I looked upon at home.
I shouldn’t be drawn in by her beauty.
I barely spend time at the lairs anymore, and there is no way Prince Korben would let me stay away more than a few rotations. After that, I worry he would consider me an outsider and no female wants a mate who is no longer welcome with his tribe.
I shouldn’t even think about having a mate.
But Sloane is beautiful. Her face crosses my mind often lately.
That is yet another reason why I must get away.
The stench of my brothers is potent and repulsive, but here, right below the northern borders, I can breathe without coughing or fear of gagging.
I long for Sloane, but I don’t long for the company surrounding her. This is how it has to be. I will watch over her. I will protect her when I can.
And when she takes one of my brothers for a Chosen mate? I will, well, I am not too sure.
It is only a matter of time before she takes one.
Sloane is the most attractive human female on Hethdiss. She is bright and lively, but she is also impulsive. Sometimes I catch her scent, and she longs for a male or mate. She is jealous Dolan’s mate and her ever-swelling stomach. Yet, she does not look at my brothers. And plenty are desperate for a mate. Why does she not take one? I do not understand, but I do know that if I could handle the desperation and the desire, I would want her.
I don’t like the idea of her being with one of my brothers, but if that is something she would covet, I would not stop her.
Still, the idea of her receiving pleasure from Cade or Iriel makes me hiss through my teeth.
I lean forward, glancing through the talas in hopes of finding a distraction. There are not many creatures near the lairs, but this close to the northern border, I have found someone who does not reek of desiring a mate.
There is a sharp rustling amongst the broad leaves of the talas, suddenly, and Hinda toddles forward. I stand from the rock I perched myself on previously and hold out my hand, happy to see that she is well.
Hinda is an idekeiss, and she is a scarce find indeed. Walking about on her six, scaly, chubby legs, I can’t help but smile when her huge mouth falls open. She is happy to see me as well. We come together, and I crouch down, holding my hand out to her. Idekeiss are known to be territorial but won over with patience.
That is fine. I am in no rush, and each meeting with Hinda has been more successful than the last. When she does not wriggle away from my touch, I slowly lower my hand to her massive, squared head and rub across the rough texture. She is not smooth like a human, and a small part of me does not like that.
What would it be like to stroke Sloane’s skin? Would she welcome my touch as Hinda does, or would she cast me away like the eight-legged fauders?
Hinda knows nothing of my strange worries, and I am grateful as she continues to snuffle about my hand with her nose. Her face looks as though someone has sparred it several times, but that does nothing to her strange beauty. Despite appearing young, her rough skin is wrinkled and smelly, and yet, this does not bother me either. Hinda is judging me, yes, but she is not looking for a mate. She does not stalk around the females like a predator looking for its prey. She simply wants to see if I am prey or predator.
“You are a good female, aren’t you?” I say in a soothing tone, stroking my fingers through Hinda’s short, floppy ears. She continues to look at me with her night black eyes; her jowls shifting as she breathes. I am sure others would find her peculiar or unpleasant but not me. To me, Hinda is safety. Security. Peace.
Not like Sloane.
Sloane is always bouncing around like a sprog. Her skin is so pale, but it flashes with stripes of bright pink across her cheeks when she is nervous, flustered, angry, or too excited. There is nothing that won’t make the pink appear. Also, unlike Hinda, Sloane is rarely silent. She speaks fast, and often, telling me about her homeworld and her past. I try listening, but sometimes I find myself lost in her lips and fast-moving hands. She always has something to say, and for some reason, she longs for me to be her audience.
It is humbling but often overwhelming.
She is also rarely alone. The one with rounded hips, Lay-lah is usually by her side, and that means Dolan is there as well. Dolan dries out my throat with his desperation scent. The way he looks at his Chosen, it is apparent that he always wants to give her pleasure. While it is terrific that another one of my brothers has found a mate, I am not sure this is the right choice for me. I wouldn’t be a good mate. I long for the security of a tribe but loathe the social side that is required. And Sloane is a nauseatingly social being.
But maybe I would be willing to endure it if I had the right female by my side. One who would not mind that so many faces, scents and sounds leave me revolted. One who would not care that I enjoy the company of the animals amongst the talas, more than I do my brothers and their Chosen mates.
Sloane’s face comes to mind, and Hinda whimpers as though realizing this is not truly where I want to be right now.
I need to see Sloane. I hate that I need to see her, but I still do.
“I’m sorry, Hinda,” I mutter, raking my hand across her scaly head before rising to my full height. “I won’t be long. I have to do something. Make sure that she’s all right.”
Liar. You want to make sure she’s not becoming favorable with on
e of your brothers.
I hiss at the little voice in my head, and luckily Hinda doesn’t seem to mind. She lets out a strange rumble through her jowls and lumbers away back to the talas, but not without breaking wind.
Great. Now I shall stink when I return.
***
The Gathering Room is all but empty by the time I’m back at the lair, and I grimace when noticing one of the crueler females. She glares at me with her cold, light blue eyes, and I fight the urge to ask what her problem is. Instead, I straighten my shoulders, swallow the bile rising in my throat and move in her direction. At least this one doesn’t smell of any desperation whatsoever. I stand before her, hoping she’ll be the one to talk first, but I suppose luck is not on my side. She merely arches a thin, jet black eyebrow, and I swear the corner of her mouth rises in a smirk.
She has the answer to the question I haven’t even asked yet. She enjoys being difficult.
I roll my eyes and give in, lips parting—
“Hey, you’re back.”
I spin away from the harsh looking female to find Sloane standing in the doorway, and without a word, I stride up to her, happy to see her smooth, pale skin, and crimson red hair. I nod, feeling like an idiot before I slick my tongue across my lips. There’s so much I want to say to her, so many things I wish to express, but of course, I only respond, “Yes.”
Sloane nods, and I resist the urge to slap my forehead. Instead, I clear my throat and try to put together a more appropriate, eloquent response.
“Yes, I returned a little while ago. How are you?”
Her eyes widen. Am I saying something wrong? Does her translator not work? I hold up my hands, and she glances over her shoulder before turning back to me.
“I’m good. You were gone for three days this time.”
I nod. “Yes. I was. I am back now.”
“For how long?” Pink flashes across her cheeks, and though I am not sure of the reason, I am a bit flustered by the forwardness of her question. Her eyes flash up to mine. “Sorry for being nosy. It’s none of my business.”
It’s not, but I don’t tell her that.
“I am not sure how long I will stay here.” My answer is not a lie. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay before the desperation of my brothers becomes insufferable. It is not bad right now. There are a few females in the corner talking amongst themselves, and the severe one is alone as usual, but most of my brothers are roaming around the lairs in search of a Chosen. So now, I can truly focus on Sloane.
“Oh.” Sloane’s delicate, pale shoulders slump, and her usually happy expression drops slightly.
I do not like this look on her. I like when her cheeks are pink, and she is bouncing around and explaining human things to me as though she will never run out of breath. Was I wrong in thinking that my absence does not bother her? Would she ever want to come with me?
I try to picture Sloane petting Hinda, and it almost brings a smile to my face.
Plus, the air would be cooler there. Humans do not mind colder climates and my spending so much time away from the main lair has helped me adapt. I could spend many more days and nights close to the northern region now. I could show Sloane the fauders, fosks, or even a rodur. She may also like it.
I never bothered to ask before, but maybe there was plenty of wildlife back on her homeworld? Perhaps this is something that she’s missing?
I could show her. I could take her to the northern region borders and show her that Hethdiss is more than rain, fields, talas fields and—
“Exer? Did you hear a word I said?”
I blink, embarrassed because I have not. Sloane has been speaking to me at that fast pace, and I have probably already missed so much. I glance back into the Gathering Room, considering staying there merely because none of my brothers are around.
“I am sorry, Sloane. I did not. I will pay closer attention. Do you wish to stay here?”
A strange sound comes through her teeth. “Anything’s better than listening to Layla and Dolan.”
I almost laugh. She is not wrong. Dolan and his mate were annoying before they Chose each other, but now I can barely stand to be in their presence.
Sloane notices that her comment amuses me, so she forgives my earlier mistake of not paying attention and takes a seat on the floor and rests her back up against the nearest wall. I quickly follow, enjoying being so close to her. Hinda is a fun companion, but she is nothing more than a docile animal. Sloane is different than that. Even when her pale shoulder brushes up against mine, it is as though my whole body is on fire. I try to calm the heat rising in my cock, and turn to Sloane, waiting for her to speak, but when she does, her words come as a shock to me.
“I can help, you know.”
“Help?” I am not entirely sure what she is offering, so I tread carefully.
“With whatever you’re doing that’s keeping you away, Exer. I can help. I may be a human, but I’m not a child. And I’m not useless.”
Did I say any of these things? I search my memory and come up blank, and I’m sure my expression lets Sloane know I haven’t the slightest idea what she’s talking about. More pink on her cheeks. She starts picking at the floor before she crosses her legs. A delicate puff of feminine scent hits my nose, and it takes everything I have not to dart my tongue out to taste it. Only Sloane does this to me, and if I am not careful, I will want to run away from my own desperation scent.
“Sorry,” Sloane mutters, pushing a hand through her hair so I see her face more clearly. It is a lovely face. “I guess I should back up a little bit, huh? I’m going off rumors, and you probably think I’m losing my mind.” I grunt, not sure what else I’m supposed to say, and fortunately for me, Sloane continues. “I guess I’m trying to figure out what you’re doing. What do you do when you’re away from the lairs?”
It would be all too easy to tell her, but despite my physical longing for Sloane, I am not sure that I want to share my sanctuary of peace. What if Hinda does not like Sloane? Will she never return to me? Will the fosks and fauders grow aggressive because she does not smell like a real predator? If they do not like her, where will that leave me? I cannot go further north. And no one would be stupid enough to go south.
“I can hunt, you know,” Sloane babbles. “I can fish, too. My dad and my grandpa taught me. So if that’s what you’re doing, you should let me help. I don’t mind. And you don’t strike me as the hunting type.”
She lowers her head, and though this seems like embarrassment, I am not sure why. She has said nothing that isn’t true. My knowledge of hunting and fishing is minimal, but why is she speaking to me about it? Is this what she thinks I am doing?
Hunting? Fishing? Seems like such a waste.
I lower my gaze to Sloane’s body as she patiently waits for a response, but I am not sure what I can say when all I can think about is her attractiveness. Pale, soft skin without a single blemish or scar. She has no scales, and her nails are short and blunt, but her limbs are long. She is one of the tallest females here, but what really draws me in is her hair.
That strange, bloody-red hair that pours down her back, but is cut short in the front.
Was Sloane ever a warrior? She once muttered something about being a mow-del, but she never elaborated. Is mow-del another word for fighter? It would make sense. If she was a warrior, she must have been a strong one because no one else here carries the same coloring. I swallow hard, building up the courage to ask her to explain to me about mow-del again, but the words will not come.
“I am not hunting or fishing,” I say instead. My words are curt, and I’m surprised when Sloane winces back as though I’m preparing to strike her.
Not exactly the behavior of a feared warrior.
“Oh… right. Of course…” She’s stammering, and though I itch to touch her, comfort her in some way, I cannot bring myself to move. But the feeling is still there. Did my brothers feel the same way before a female claimed them as a mate? I have looked at and wanted female
s on the fatherland but have rarely felt the need to comfort them.
Sidyth females never longed for comfort. They wanted sprogs. Status. Not much else.
Still, I cannot fight the desire to calm Sloane down.
“Were you informed by someone that I was hunting or fishing?” I ask.
She shakes her head immediately. “No! I assumed…” She shakes her head, and words come tumbling from her pink lips. “That’s a lie. I spoke to Blythe. She knows things, and it made the most sense.”
“It made the most sense for me to hunt or fish? Even though you said, you did not think I would be good at it?” A smirk builds its way up my mouth, but I cannot let it come all the way. How would Sloane react to me smiling and being so carefree? Perhaps she is sensitive to scents like I am. Will she run if she realizes how much I secretly ache for her? I do not think so, but I don’t like the idea of that bitter, sour scent on myself.
I want her. But I don’t know if I can stand being around her at the lairs.
“Yeah,” Sloane continues. “I was going to say that if you were hunting and fishing, I’m pretty good at it. At least, I think I am. Or used to be. I don’t suppose you guys have any Remingtons lying around here, huh?” I shake my head, not sure what a Remingtons is. “Makes sense. I guess with you guys being in exile and all, it wouldn’t make sense to have rifles laying around.” She shrugs. “Still, I could probably try to figure out something. Like, a bow and arrow! I’m not as good with one of them, but I could work my skills to figure it out. And fishing? I could rig up a hook and line pretty easily. Then we could catch fish. Dolan likes these things. They’re called…”
“Endalas,” I mutter, surprised when jealousy prickles up my spine. I don’t like hearing Sloane speak about other males, but that is something I’m always going to have to ignore. Especially while trying to figure out what Sloane is talking about.
“Yes! Endalas! I could rig up a fishing line, and we could fish for them! Bring a whole bunch back, that way Prince Korben wouldn’t have to rely on his father so much for supplies. Don’t you think that would be helpful?”