by Amanda Milo
But pretending is all I can do.
Because she doesn’t welcome my touches.
I tell myself I can be patient.
But seeing my brother so content, so happily matched, so well marked - his mate holds him in the highest esteem.
Mine… can’t bear to touch me.
His mate has clearly spent hours impressing her marks into his skin as a symbol of her deep affection for him.
Mine spends hours in the bathroom, trying to wash away her skin.
My mate is damaged.
I won’t leave her to do it, but if I could, I would burn down the entire planet of Dendroaspis for what they have done to my mate. A retribution for the torture their people inflicted on her.
If not even a remnant of their kind survives, perhaps then she will sleep in peace at last.
Chapter 14
CALLIE
Zadeon smells like ashes, like sunshine when you're reclining in the shade, and freshly chopped wood - earthy, rugged; male.
Not the musky, nauseating undertone of unwashed snake.
That’s only in my mind.
I close my eyes and try not to relive it. But the smell - that putrid, frightening scent is like smelling death - sweet rot - my mind conjures it like it’s been redesigned to torment me.
Next come the phantom sensations. The feel of their skin is the worst - smooth, slippery but dry - but the scutes on their stomachs could lift, and grip and-
Involuntarily, I shudder.
Instantly; sunsets and campfires; burnt chocolate and charred marshmallows reminding me of gooey warm s'mores. A forest of pines and poplars. He doesn’t touch me - he never does, unless he feels the situation warrants carrying me bodily from a room - but he’s moved close, his unique masculine scent proving once again that I’m safe, because I’m with him. He’s here.
He’s always here for me.
I open my eyes, and the first thing I see are... scales.
I look away quickly. And I take a deep breath.
When I work up the nerve to force my gaze past his body and to his eyes - it’s to find him staring down at me, a frown on his face. “Another memory?”
Instead of answering, I smile at him. He’s the closest thing to a friend I have here. Sure, the human women are friendly. But their whispers and stares and even their well-meaning ‘help’... I hate it. I just want to be left alone.
Though, I don’t mind Zadeon. He’s been with me through it all, and I’m grateful.
But I’m afraid to even open my mouth to tell him that.
My stomach is still feeling like it’s trying to make up its mind if it wants to be sick or not.
Again.
This has happened almost every time I wake up - always caught in the grip of a ‘dream’.
That’s too benign a word.
I shudder - this time from that chill that steals over you just before you get sick.
But to Zadeon, it must look like I’m still struggling with my nightmare, because he growls.
Just as the force of him shooting to his feet causes the entire bed to shake, I reach out and snag the magic potion. I toss it in his direction without even waiting to make sure he caught it.
As I race for the toilet bowl, I hear him violently yank open the innocent cabinet door for a washcloth.
It admirably bears his frustration, but if he’s not careful, he’s going to rip that thing right off its hinges again, and that is not going to improve his mood.
I hear the magic spritzing start up double time. It’s not real magic; I don’t think magic exists here any more than it does on earth, but it does work magically on Zadeon.
Mostly.
Sort of.
Until he gets extra agitated.
Something that causes him extra agitation?
My nightmares. Haunting me.
I get that everyone experiences unpleasant, traumatic incidents in their lifetime. I get that. But to blend these with my very own worst phobia… it feels extra cruel.
Wanna take a guess at what horrible, nightmarish thing I’m terrified off?
Snakes.
And I ended up with the biggest, scaliest, scariest of them all.
I wasn’t truly phobic of snakes before…
Before them.
But I am now.
The thing is; I know Zadeon saved me. I know he’s good. He wouldn’t hurt me - has never hurt me. I know that. As I said; I’m grateful to him. I even trust him with my life.
Apparently, I’ve known of him all my life.
I’m the female he’s loved all his life? Me? And he’s been in my dreams… How...
I can’t… I just… I haven’t let myself think about it.
All I know is it makes me feel like a real ass when I can’t hide my revulsion over his skin.
Snakes. Why’d it have to be snakes?
That's what plays through my head now as I stare at Zadeon.
He's still spritzing away, attempting to maintain his calmest version of himself, and he’s succeeding, looking mostly composed.
This spray was made to help him be less likely to tear the walls apart when someone visits.
That would be literally not figuratively, by the way.
He squeezes the trigger down on that bottle like he’s choking it for saying something rude about his mother.
But it works.
Although initially, he may have made this weird scoffing rumble sound when Dohrein brought him this elixir in a spray bottle and explained that it would - in theory - help prevent Zadeon’s threat response from being tripped like a bomb blast and maybe save our room.
Make that, our third room. Because he’d completely destroyed our second and he was also the one responsible for demolishing our first. I don’t remember much of that first time, but he told me later it was the cameras. The moment he’d realized I was bothered by someone watching me without my express permission, he perceived it as a threat and he’d gone into a protective killing rage.
That’s not an oxymoron.
The second time I was perfectly cognizant and that was the problem; some of the women here had made comments that got to me, and I’d gotten upset, so he’d gotten upset.
Unfortunately, some biological quirk made it so that he doesn’t really leave my side. Not for long. This made things dangerous for the room because he wouldn’t hurt me, and he wasn’t supposed to hurt the other women - and he couldn’t leave me to burn off a little homicidal aggression.
Nowhere to go and alllll that power and energy boiling over.
After he was done? The only thing left standing in that room had been the bed. Even some of the ceiling was gone; busted up in pieces and left for dead on the floor.
Angie came running to the door…
Well. The hole where the door used to be. Then when she’d been snatched backward and Arokh had pulled her to the side to keep her out of Zadeon’s path - we could still eye each other thanks to the giant, gaping hole in the wall to match the new ‘doorway’.
Basically, it was just the doorframe left standing, so we didn’t have to try hard to goggle at each other in shock.
He took. Down. The. Walls.
“Your man's a psycho!” she mouthed. But she hadn't said it like it was a bad thing. Angie was still angry - she’d heard what those witches in the commons had said about me.
But… ‘psycho’ was a little harsh. “He’s not a psychopath.”
Dohrein edged in, right next to Angie until Arokh glared at him and pulled her in for a hug in front of him.
Dohrein sent him a provoking quirk of his lips, then looked thoughtfully at me. “Hmm. Perhaps the meaning differs where you’re from. Here the definition of psychopath is someone suffering from abnormal or violent social behavior-”
I cleared my throat.
Arokh bared his teeth at him before facing off with Zadeon. Arokh is big. Zadeon is a beast. Taller, even more muscle, more scars, more everything. Even so, Arokh wasn’t so intimidated that he could
n’t confront his brother about what he felt was abysmal behavior. “You tear apart her nest?” he asked in horror, “with her inside?” Aghast, he grabbed Zadeon by the arm and yanked.
And was instantly shaken off.
“Arokh. Take your mate. Leave.”
Now Arokh was exasperated. He flung his tail in my direction - but not anywhere close enough to hit me with the sharp parts on the end of it. “What do you think it does to her? Seeing you strip that protection? Are you trying to protect her or terrify her into a coma!”
And that was last of the room rages.
The physical manifestations anyway.
Now he smoked like he was on fire.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
Squeeze-squeeze-squeeze-squeeeze.
My words don’t reassure him.
Because he doesn’t believe them any more than I do.
“Let’s go-”
“To bed,” he finishes. His voice is hollow. Tired.
It’s my answer to everything.
I’ve been here most of the day.
Am here all day most days.
I turn away, nodding wearily. “I’m tired.”
I hear the spray bottle’s nozzle finally give in to the pressure.
Squeeze-squeeze-squeeze-CRACK!
I flinch but only because my body seems to be programmed to respond to sharp sounds.
Not because I’m worried.
I yawn. “The spares are in the bottom drawer,” I remind him.
I am lulled back into the bleak blackness of sleep by the sounds of that agitated ‘squeeze-squeeze-squeeze-squeeze’ as he strangles the life out of the next bottle.
I never hear him leave the room.
CHAPTER 15
ZADEON
The gurgling of a strangling man can be a peaceful sound.
Most especially if you prefer it over his speaking voice.
“Let him up!” This time, I feel spines sink into my back.
There is only one Rakhii I know here that would dare.
If he were my opponent, I would spin quickly - breaking the quills off in my back, yes, but they’re already there; might as well deprive him of his most prized weapon.
And Arokh’s tail is a considerable foe.
However, I won’t permanently damage my brother.
Not if I can help it.
“Remove them,” I warn.
I hear the tightness in his voice. He’s afraid he’s going to lose his tail. “You have to let him go. If you kill another hob, they just might put you down, and then where would that leave your female?”
Unresponsive and deathly still.
Unprotected.
I lift my hands.
The hob gasps air, and his brother-hobs cautiously shuffle forward so they can drag him out of my reach. To my dismay though, they don’t seem put off at all by the warning.
No, this seems to have whipped them more into a frenzy.
“Did you see-”
“-and then when he had you down he-”
“-choking you like this, and pinning you down just like the Gladiator Games of-”
Disgusted, I sneer at them.
This only makes them more excited.
“Look at him snarl at you! Do you think he broke any bones?”
Arokh’s lips are pulled up in a disbelieving grimace. “Hoblings. They could use their heads knocked together.”
“What they need is a good beating,” I agree. “And I’m so teveking bored, I’d even give them tips while they’re down.”
There’s a beat of silence; I’m sure it is actual silence and not my ears playing tricks.
Then; “That is actually a brilliant idea.”
The voice comes not from my brother but from behind me.
It’s Dohrein.
Arokh hisses. Dohrein is a hob, and Arokh is Rakhii but I don’t believe this is the source of the antipathy between them.
Between them isn’t quite accurate; whatever thorn is between them, only Arokh is riled by it.
Dohrein seems almost unaffected - if he didn’t take so much pleasure in getting a rise out of him.
I can guess the stem of the trouble though; Angie.
I side with my brother for many reasons; he’s my brother, I trust his judgement, and in either honor or protection of a mate?
He has my full support.
Yet, Dohrein is the one who freed me so I could save my brother.
And save my wounded mate.
My mate is not afraid of him like she is other males - she isn’t demonstrative towards him by any means, but she doesn’t spike with fear at the very sight of him.
And his voice seems to go extra soft and his face even kind whenever he addresses her.
Having my brother feel animosity for someone that I feel I’m indebted to… it is an uncomfortable feeling.
Nodding to the group amassed just off to the side of us, he elaborates, “They’re young. They have very little experience in ground combat compared to you. Really, this is a perfect opportunity,” he says, becoming more animated, his wings even flaring out a little.
I don’t sidle away from them.
But I want to.
It’s just a quirk of Rakhii nature. It doesn’t affect us; but a little part of us is nervous anyway. I don’t care what the Gryfala say; it’s wing-drugging, plain and simple.
I’m relieved beyond words that female Gryfala don’t have the ability to affect with their wings.
At least hobs don’t seem to abuse it. Gryfala?
Most would be trustworthy and above all, fair.
But there are some...
I shake my horns at the thought.
“The perfect opportunity to get your friends killed?” Arokh asks, tone derisive.
Dohrein’s eyes narrow at one of the hobs. “There’s one I would lose the death report for if something tragic were to happen.”
“You’re too kind,” Arokh hisses. “Don’t set my brother up to be executed-”
“If you’ll remember, you can thank me that your brother wasn’t executed, and for that matter, how’s your neck? Still attached to your head? You’re welcome for that too.”
I sweep three punch cards off the floor. I crack them down on the tip of my horn - all three, at once - earning hob calls and hollers like I just ate a man’s heart at the urging of the stadium’s crowd; not punctured a stack of cards. Then I whip them into the wall like throwing stars.
The hobs break into fights trying to get to them.
Beside me, my brother is cautioning; “No! He is not balanced.”
“I can hear you.”
“I wasn’t whispering!” He gestures to the group. “How old are they? Why are they even here? Only one or two of the humans are that young. The others don’t even seem to show interest in hoblings.”
Dohrein rubs his fingertips along his jaw. “If I understand correctly, my female tells me that we’d need to locate ‘Coogahrs’ in order to find females that would be satisfied with the more recent graduates.”
Arokh looks curious. “Cooogahrs. They sound interesting.”
Dohrein nods. “And if there are any here they’d be welcomed with a rabid enthusiasm. Apparently, they are a specific breed of human female that prefers the human equivalent of hoblings.”
“Yuck.”
“Rabid?” I ask.
“My human tells me it’s a disease that causes insanity of the mind, and in some sufferers, a sort of frothing, killing frenzy.”
“Ah,” Arokh says. “So, basically Zadeon?”
I send him a glare; but there’s no heat to it. It’s good to have my brother teasing me out of my mood. I spit on my hand and reach for the holes in my back. “Show me the one I can kill.”
Dohrein lets his head tilt slowly, considering. “I said I’d lose the report of a death; for the record, that’s not technical permission.”
I bring my fists together, and lift my shoulders, feeling the vertebrae in my back pop-pop-pop-pop. “I n
ever was good with technicalities.”
CHAPTER 16
CALLIE
Hours later, it’s my turn.
My turn to comfort.
I fiddle with the light, cupping my palm lightly over the orb thing that controls the brightness in the room. The harder I press down, the brighter it will stay. Because he has night vision, I really don’t know if that makes it more uncomfortable or less to have light flooding on, so I go easy for both our eyes’ sakes.
He’s sleeping hard. I repeat his name again, in that stage whisper everyone everywhere automatically tries for in the middle of the night. “It’s just a bad dream, Z.”
He never seems to hear me at night, though I haven’t ever tried quite this persistently to get his attention. Never needed to.
But he’s really having a bad one.
My voice doesn’t soothe him in the same way his soothes me. Right now, it gets no reaction from him at all.
I hesitate.
His tail whips again, and his growl makes the bed shake.
The lamp too. I reach out and shove the base of it back into place before it can slide off and hit the floor.
Then I screw up my courage and I glide my hand over the covers until I near his. It’s palm down and twitching lightly.
Courage as firmly in hand as I can manage, I do what I’ve seen him do - I tap my fingers to his fingers.
He jerks like he’s been electrocuted. And I say that from experience, having been front row for that in real time.
Somewhere inside, I knew I had nothing to worry about. I need to start believing that part of me. I’ve been known to be grumpy if I’m woken up suddenly, or if I come up disoriented - but Zadeon?
His voice is so deep. “Callie?” He works to shake off the sleep, or the dream, or both. “Callie, are you well?”
As sweet as can be, and as always, his first thought is of me.
I smile at him.
He responds to that by unsteadily rising up on an elbow and goofily smiling back. And… I’ve never seen this look on him before. It’s oddly charming.
“You were having a bad dream,” I explain, still keeping my voice down to a hushed whisper.
His eyes are fixated on my lips.
Tugging the sleeves of my sleepshirt down on both hands, I pinch and strangle the cuffs. “I’m sorry you had a bad dream.” When he still doesn’t say anything I look down. “You of all people know that I get how much those suck.”