Bride of Glass

by Jeanette Lynn

  “Yes,” I hissed, right into his fur-lined, square shaped face.

  My nerves shot all to hell, my mind all over the place, the only winning thoughts in this whole thing that of my continued survival—and I knew I needed Tokre to pull this all off if A) I ever wanted a chance at getting outta here, and B) I wanted to do so without having to drag my horde of alien furbabies I’d been broodmared into popping out along the way with me.

  Desperation, thy name is Rosalinda.

  “Fine.” Lifting my hand, the beast slapped the cloth he’d been using into my palm and stood, leaving me to gape down at the sticky goo soaked rag, stinking to high heaven with whatever concoction he’d seen fit to slather Tokre with.

  “E- I- Argh.” I shuddered and the slimy rag slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a wet slap. A wave of dizziness overtook me at all the pink tinting that cloth as I stared down at it, and I wondered if I was about to have to deal with another bout of dry heaving. I’d never been so happy for an empty gut in my life.

  Zhuii shook his head at the sound, that slick, sickening splat, his hand wrenching the handle on the door to swing it open wide.

  Noyel, still yelling at the top of his lungs, came tumbling in, flying forward, skidding across the entryway and straight into the middle of the room. His head smacked Tokre’s foot, jostling him, and I gasped, my hands hovering over Tokre’s body protectively.

  “Be careful! You could hurt him!” I squawked, to which Noyel muttered churlishly, lifting his head with a heavy shake to frown at the bottom of Tokre’s foot.

  “Why, yes, Noyel is fine. Thanks for asking.”

  Lips pursed, eyes narrowing to tiny little slits, I turned to him. “Do you always refer to yourself in the third person, or is this a new thing you’ve been trying out?”

  Noyel blinked. “The third... person?” Scrambling to sit up, his eyes widened to the point it looked fake, and then he glanced between Zhuii and me, to Tokre. “Noyel the third persons? Zhuii the second?”

  “Yes, I- Wait, what?” I spluttered, catching on almost too late. I would have missed the tiny smirk quirking his mouth, too, if I hadn’t been paying attention. Oh! That! That beast knew exactly what he was trying to pull!

  God, I had to give it to him, though, those beastly assholes—beast-holes—sure did know how to play it up. Ugh.

  Zhuii closed the door, scooping up the bag that must’ve been attached to Noyel upon entry into the domicile, the strap along the fat stitched bag torn clean in two.

  Approaching cautiously, tossing the bag at Noyel, who shouted at being beaned in the head with the fat sack, Zhuii crouched to bounce on the balls of his feet in a half kangaroo hop, scuttling closer.

  “Zhuii Rosie-lindy second?” Zhuii’s hand lifted and he began stroking his opposite arm absently, right where my hand had just been not so long ago, as if he could still sense my touch.

  “Third person! Third person!” I shouted defensively, as this all began to unravel faster than a loose, fat ball of yarn in the hands of an over exuberant kitten.

  “Zhuii third?” Noyel piped up questioningly, glancing to his companion, pretending to be more confused all of a sudden than Zhuii appeared to be. “Noyel second?”

  “Zhuii third?” Zhuii murmured confusedly, his giant mitt of a paw lifting to scratch at his scalp.

  “NO!” I bellowed. “I meant- I don’t- Look, fellas, Tokre is my mate, okay? No seconds or thirds or fourths or even fifths! This isn’t an all-you-can-handle-beast-men buffet at some interdimensional bridal fair!”

  Zhuii and Noyel exchanged a look before Noyel shrugged it off and started rifling through his sack. At the sight of beastly bone needles, tan looking, fat thread soaking in a jar—a very Earth looking baby jar, I might note—I let out a long breath.

  Good. I was certain more than a few of those holes Rek had put in Tokre would need closing up. Zhuii, obviously, either didn’t understand too much human-speak, when it came to specifics, or clearly wasn’t trained in medical/first aid capacity of any kind.

  “How many mates Rosie-lindy, if Rosie want all she can crochet? If Rosie-lindy intermenstrualdental crocheted at the fair?” Zhuii fidgeted in place, recouping from his initial, stunned looking disappointment that I had not in fact added him to my nonexistent beast harem, in any order.

  “Intermenstral croch-what-y...?” Staring at the male, trying not to burst out in some sudden and unexplainable fit of emotion he didn’t necessarily deserve—or hysterical laughter—seeing as they were helping me with Tokre and all—I sobered and told him drolly, “Six, at least, but I’d only accept applications from the cute, forgshrath-like squeaking ones first.”

  Noyel let out a barely muffled snort, his lips quirking as he caught on quick, enjoying my quip, but he allowed me this, keeping silent on the matter in favor of taking over the monstrous task of putting my mate back to rights.

  Zhuii, blinking at me for the longest time, frowned, his hand going to his goofy crop of cotton candy fluff for hair to run his fingers over it self-consciously.

  “Zhuii no squeak,” he grumbled, the words spilling from him in a blurt.

  His large form shifted uncomfortably and he looked to Noyel, a small flash of envy hitting his wide face before it disappeared.

  “Zhuii big.” He glanced from one wide shoulder to the other. “Strong.” Some of the macho beast machismo starting to fill his already impressive chest deflated a little when he admitted, “Loud. Not cute. Not squeaking. Not young, or like forgshraths at all.” He uttered the words so sadly, so broken sounding, I almost told him the truth.

  The look on Noyel’s face as I glanced to him helplessly, trying not to watch as he began to stitch up Tokre’s thigh, his head giving a barely perceptible shake intended for me, had me keeping my trap shut.

  Beneath all that disappointment stamped on Zhuii’s mug was a glimmer of hope, however miniscule. It was small and fleeting, and while I’d never dream of encouraging it, I couldn’t quite bring myself to extinguish it. Noyel had seen it and with that look asked the same.

  Did I want to add him to my nonexistent harem? Uhm, no. But was I that much of a dick to squash the idea that he was good enough for one—one that wasn’t mine, ahem, the one I didn’t have and had no intention of starting up—no.

  Eh, I’d let him have his tiny glimmer. What could it hurt, right?

  CHAPTER 12

  I couldn’t tell how much time had passed as I sat there, trying to distract myself, wanting to help Noyel and Zhuii with Tokre but knowing I couldn’t. I’d just be in the way and I knew it. The sight of blood made me nauseous, and the giant of a snow beastie was too damned big for me to even attempt to try and help lift.

  Speaking to each other in their beastly language, allowing me to find a corner by the hearth to stumble to, slump down, and huddle up in, I zoned out for a few while they did what needed to be done.

  My mate could very well have died and I’d have ended up at the mercy of Rek. He could have bled out right there in front of me and there wouldn’t have been a thing I could have done about it. And I would have been expected to... what? Just go along docilely with my new keeper? Let him jab me with his pecker and boss me around for the rest of my existence, a slave to his whims? I think not, I thought wildly, if a bit dazedly.

  My mind was racing a mile a minute, panic, anxiety, adrenaline, fear, worry surging through me.

  “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. This isn’t real. This can’t be happening. I’m not- This isn’t- I wasn’t prepared for this!” Before I realized I’d begun to talk aloud I’d already finished, ending my jumbled tirade on a bellowing snarl.

  My tigerlady was pushing at the gates again, ready to be let free. It was engrained in me, though, this constant, nagging, secondary feeling, always on the periphery, hovering, this need to hold back, keep everything in. Would she, my tigerlady within, ever be truly set free?

  Giving the room a cursory glance—this foreign plane with these strange beasts and their blo
odthirsty, barbaric ways—I had to wonder, do I want her to be? Would it help or hinder me?

  My hands cupped over my ears and my mumbling started up again. Maybe if I said it enough, tried really, really hard, I’d wake the fuck up.

  There was a harsh, slurred snarl from the bed and my head snapped up. Ten seconds later it sounded again and I hopped up, rushing on trembling limbs towards the sound. Tokre. He’s awake!

  The pelt I had draped around me like a cape tripped me up more than once on my short journey from my self-imposed timeout corner to Tokre’s side. I shucked it off on the third trip up, momentarily oblivious to my nudity or the chill in the air in my haste to get to him.

  “Tokre?” I murmured softly, ignoring the looks I was getting from Zhuii and Noyel, completely forgetting Tokre couldn’t hear me.

  I didn’t want those two here, didn’t want another intruder to deal with in my already overwhelming yet ever expanding little world.

  My brain, my body, my personal wellbeing, overworked, overwhelmed- my everything… I flat out felt drained. That was the word. I was feeling drained, and simply didn’t have room for anyone or anything else right this moment.

  “Tokre?” I croaked out, hesitating at the last moment, my voice catching as it suddenly grew hoarse.

  Glazed eyes blinked up at me tiredly, a little glassy and unfocused, but I welcomed the sight. It was probably that foul smelling tea Noyel had boiled, having Zhuii talk my beastie into drinking some of it. “For the pain,” he’d said, but I thought it was just to knock his ass out to make him more compliant, that much easier to move.

  I couldn’t blame the healer beast, in a sense, though I resented him knocking out my only semi-sense of security in this joint.

  “Mmmmnnnn.” Tokre’s hand lifted, entreating me to come to him, a long, jaw cracking yawn erupting from his groggy mug following.

  I didn’t hesitate, taking his hand, climbing right up into the bed beside him, grimy body and all.

  “Rosie should bathe... first, wash off all that dirt and blood,” I heard Noyel grumble on a sigh, ignoring Zhuii’s loud tut for him to shut up.

  “Leave Rosie-lindy be,” the orange-eyed beastie’s deep voice rumbled. “She be careful. Her Tokre, her mate.”

  Taking in Tokre’s myriad treasure map of stitches, I hesitated when he tried to yank me closer.

  He was weak as a newborn kitten from Noyel’s knockout tea, I guessed, unable to properly cow me into coming over there or yank my ass to him himself.

  Tugging away, I extricated myself with ease. Shaking my head, knowing my body was in a state and Noyel was right, I slid from the bed, ignoring the sudden shiver wracking my frame, to stand.

  Tokre’s hand slid to my wrist, where it tightened and he held on for dear life. Every ounce of strength he had left in him, tea be damned, went into his grip.

  He looked like shit, to be frank, a Frankenstein of pinched skin and pale tissue showing, though most of those nasty gashes had already stopped bleeding, and some had even begun to go from puckered pink skin to its typical pale. Was it the magic in the guck paste Noyel had produced from his bag to slather onto Tokre? Or that these beasties—these Lo denaii, as Noyel had referred to them—had better healing abilities than a human?

  Tokre wouldn’t just up and die on me like that. He wouldn’t—couldn’t. Not now, not when I’ve barely just gotten here and needed an ally so badly, now more than ever with Rek’s crap—however strange it was to mate your kidnapper beast creature and align yourself with him in the first place.

  Tokre was a wild beast man, living in a primitive type beast village, that he’d kidnapped me and brought me to, who was I fooling?

  Oh but I already knew the answer to that one: myself, because that was what I needed to hear right now.

  “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with myself,” I muttered absently, running a shaky hand through my hair as I shook my head. “And they eat people! Eat them! This is beyond Children of the Corn shit. This is straight up Rob Z fucked up!”

  Tokre looked to Zhuii and Noyel at my words, his gaze darting from me to Zhuii.

  “Eats peoples...?” Zhuii blurted, blinking those crazy colored, swirling eyes.

  “Rosie’s tired,” Noyel said aloud, sparing Zhuii a quick, funny look before carefully blanking his expression. That look screamed, shut up, freak, and we’ll discuss this later. But why? Unless... Hmm. And now I was beyond suspicious.

  “Rosie-lindy needs sleep,” Zhuii said slowly, looking to Tokre. The shorter beast gave a short but firm nod, like he agreed but didn’t know why. The beast was scrambling, trying to understand. It was obvious he was perplexed, trying to figure out why Noyel had decided to make that announcement right at that particular moment.

  Oh, the wheels were-a-turning for that beastie, the cogs just working away, desperately attempting to puzzle that one out.

  I feel ya, honey. Oh, do I feel ya.

  “Tokre can’t hear you,” I reminded the lot of them, wincing when Tokre’s short, plaintive growls turned snarling, scary menacing, his grip on my wrist tightening, punishingly so.

  When I jumped reflexively and yelped, the noises tapered off and his death grip loosened marginally. They started up again when he motioned with his free hand, demanding to know what the hell was going on.

  Through it all, I stayed put. That hand gripping my wrist held tight but lightly, thankfully, though not loosely enough that I could think to escape him. A small croon starting up in him, his thumb smoothing over my skin, where he started drawing slow, soothing circles over my trembling flesh.

  “Zhuii, tell him.” Noyel nudged Zhuii.

  “What Noyel think Zhuii tell for?” Zhuii tried his damndest to look perfectly neutral, like he had no clue what the blue-eyed beast was on about, but Noyel snorted, giving him a look, and shook his head.

  “Noyel knows, Zhuii.” The slimmer beast gave Zhuii a long look. “Noyel knows. Noyel doesn’t care. No Lo denaii cares.”

  “Know what?” Zhuii gave an overlong, overdone snort that hinted at nervousness. “What Noyel know? Noyel know no thing.” Zhuii chuffed and huffed, then gave a loud sniff. “Zhuii no know what Noyel say.”

  “Fine.” Noyel shrugged but pointed at his agitated patient. “Tokre gets upset, pops stitching, bleeds,” he added, glancing pointedly in my direction, putting emphasis on the word, “Zhuii can deal with Tokre and Rosie-lindy. Noyel will stay out of it.”

  “Pops his stitching?!” I squawked, feeling a little green around the gills just thinking about it.

  If this was some nutso attempt on their part to distract me from the whole are they cannibals or aren’t they deal, mission accomplished.

  Tokre let out a louder, more plaintive growl, lifting his free hand to gesture at Zhuii. His thumb on my wrist was about to gently rub it raw, his slow circles speeding up until I thought I might get hairy beast fingers rub burn.

  When Zhuii didn’t look up or respond at Tokre, looking a little cowed and possibly fearful—why, I had no clue—Tokre started to shift like he might get up to not only fetch me himself but detour to pummel Zhuii’s ass in the process.

  Obviously Zhuii can communicate with Tokre through their hand gestures, their own beastly sign language. Was that his deal? He didn’t want anyone to know? Why hide it?

  My eyes kept darting between the pair, Noyel’s passive aggressive posturing equally as unhelpful as he made it a point to comment with snarky remarks and quips, a spectator judging from the sidelines, getting his in.

  Zhuii started to snap back, it all happening at once, Tokre releasing my wrist as if he was going to attempt to sit up and go for the orange-eyed beast, snarls and jaw snaps, dominant displays filling the room, until the floor shifted beneath me and my head spun.

  I felt caught up, tugged every which way in some strange kind of whirlwind, beastly bull shnit tug of war. My blood pressure was probably through the damned roof!

  Everything was moving so rapidly… I spun faster a
nd faster, backing up in some desperate attempt to get away, until I couldn’t take it anymore. Was I moving... or was the room?

  “ENOUGH!” I shrieked, raising my fist to slam it down on the end of the foot of the bed.

  Everyone present jumped, myself included, though my jump was followed by a howling yowl.

  “Owie!” I cried out, cradling my fist to my chest, hopping from one foot to the other as I danced around.

  My toe stubbed that fat bedpost in my hasty hopping and I howled louder.

  Stifling a pain-filled snarl, intending to hit the pelts piled at the end of the bed, I’d actually smashed my fist into the thick, colorful wooden post at the end of the bed.

  My knee made contact right then and I just let it happen.

  Whatever shall be shall be at this point, I told myself, slumping to the ground to cradle my leg, my toe, my hand, babbling nonsense between howls of pain.

  Finally, as I wallowed on the floor in my own self-pity, my cries subdued to grunts and groans of pain.

  Leave it to me to find the hardest thing closest to me to punch.

  And now my ass is cold, I wanted to shout.

  And I didn’t give a single Fig Newton how ridiculous that sounded right now.

  Someone or some thing chose that moment to start pounding at the door.

  “NO!” I gasped out, “Rek! He’s back!” Shrieking, paranoid, panicked, manic, running the gamut, I ducked and turned, doing a tuck and roll right under the bed.

  Someone shouted something from the other side of the door, but I was half gone, gripping the slats jabbing my scalp above me, babbling like a madwoman.

  “Tokre! Don’t let him get me!” Two heads popped into my field of vision and I cried out, sucking in a huge lungful of air to scream.

  Spotting a mop of fluffy blue and that long, thinner face beside him, my trap snapped shut.

  It’s okay. I’ve got three strong males here. Well, one broken one but those other two I’m sure could take Rek, if they went at him at once. They won’t let him get me. They won’t. “I’m okay… I’m okay…”