by Sabrina Kade
“I am learning about her. She told me about books.”
“And shit.”
I hiss, hating how easily Azan riles me up.
“Or perhaps,” he continues. “You could tell her something about you. Something that makes you special, or at least different.”
“Forgive me, brother, but I don’t have poison in my fangs.”
Azan frowns. My words wound him but let him feel hurt once in a while.
“You do have something else that has made you special. You are not like us.”
“What are you talking about?” I hiss.
“The feichka.”
My lungs burn when I inhale sharply and snap around to face Azan. “That doesn’t make me special. That makes me weird. Mother wouldn’t let others know about it half the time.”
“Perhaps Lay-lah will find it interesting. York told me about how much she enjoyed things called ham-bur-gus and stakes back on her homeworld. They have things there that she calls fish. All different kinds. To-nah. Sal-man. Red snaps.” He shrugs. “It may be worth a shot, brother.”
I roll my eyes. Somehow, I doubt that my preference in protein supplement would be of interest to her. “You piss me off. I know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t believe you. Please, Dolan, leave her be.”
“No.” My body temperature rises despite the cold, and I bunch my hands into fists.
“If she is primitive, as you say, leave her be.”
“No.”
“Then she could find happiness with another.”
I hiss, barely able to control that rage that washes over when I lunge at my brother, tackling his massive body to the earth. I spar him in the face and the chest several times before he reaches around my wrists to stop me, but I keep trying to land hits on him. I want him to feel pain. I want him to know how much I love him, and yet, how much I hate him. A raspy scream erupts from my throat as I find my one hand free and land a painful sounding spar right under his jaw.
What follows is a satisfying crack.
Then I hear another scream — a female.
“Oh my God, Dolan! You idiot! What are you doing?”
My brother’s mate. I frown as her tiny little hands claw at my shoulders, trying to pull me off Azan. Annoyed, I fling myself back before I fling her away and Azan kills me on the spot for harming her. She is carrying a sprog, so I would never actually try to hurt her on purpose, but humans are fragile, and I don’t want to die right now at the hands of my older brother.
I’m panting hard as York separates us both, and despite everything, I glance behind her shoulder in hopes that Layla has come out to protect me. But no. The talas clusters are empty. I’m alone like I am most of the time. Only now I’m with an angry, pregnant human female who looks at me like I’m the scum of the universe.
“What are you doing, Dolan?” she hisses, kneeling next to her mate.
My brother bleeds, but his expression remains neutral. He didn’t fight back. He rarely ever does. Another reason why I can’t stand him most of the time. He doesn’t fight because he’ll win. His precious baby brother could get hurt. I hiss, but Azan misinterprets my lousy timing as an attack on his mate and immediately stands, shoving me back a few hands.
“I’m not hissing at her!” I snarl.
“Then what were you doing?” his mate asks again.
“Bah.” I blow her off. I don’t have to answer to her. The only person I would consider listening to won’t look me in the eyes most of the time. I storm away, annoyed that I’ve allowed my brother to piss me off yet again, and now it looks like I’ve hissed at his mate.
Why couldn’t Layla have come for me the same way my brother’s mate did for Azan?
What did Azan do that was so special? Why am I not special to Layla?
Aggravated, I stop a way back from the lair opening, trying to get myself together. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be emotional and riled up constantly. Azan does not like it. Mother never liked it. Father barely spoke to me. Layla certainly doesn’t care for it.
But seriously, what is Azan thinking? Telling me to speak to Layla about feichkas? Has he lost his senses? What would that do? Stupid brother. I rake a frustrated hand through my short hair, pressing my back against the nearest talas when a sound catches my attention. It’s slight, but one I pick up on immediately.
“Azan,” I hiss. “
Leave me be. I told you, I did not hiss at your mate.”
There is no response but, feeling the scales rise on my shoulders, I pull away from the talas and look around. I’m in a cluster of them, further from the main lair than I should be, and when no one comes forward, I bare my fangs. “Seriously? Azan’s mate, if that is you coming up to me, maybe I will hiss at you.” It’s a lie, but maybe it’s enough to make sure she doesn’t approach to reprimand me again.
Another rustle. That’s it. Now I’m livid.
I lunge toward the rustling, and shockingly, I circle my hand around flesh. There’s a squeak and a squirm as I drag the stranger out from the leaves, a halo of brown mane flying about so I can’t see a face. I try to get a good look, but there’s so much thrashing about, that I grow frustrated.
Human. Female.
“Who is spying on me?” I hiss at the struggling female, lifting her off her feet and pushing her hair aside. “You think you can—oh.”
My stomach drops when the face before me becomes crystal clear.
“Layla,” I whisper, lowering her immediately. I can barely find the words to speak. Layla. My future mate. My Layla. It cannot be a coincidence. She did come to watch out for me. Maybe Azan’s mate told her to come, but does the reason matter? “What are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer. It’s clear I’ve embarrassed her. I’m upset myself for the way I handled her. Her clothing is roughed up, and there are a few red marks on her skin from where I grabbed her wrist. Guilt wracks my conscience. She’s breathing hard. Her heavy breasts rise and fall with each intake of breath, and I find myself mesmerized by the sight despite feeling terrible about how I handled her.
She speaks at last. Her words are soft, and I almost don’t catch them, but of course, I’m always trying to pay close attention to my Layla’s words.
“I saw you go off with Azan.”
Images of my annoying brother flood my mind. “And?” The words fly from my lips, and I quickly try to compose myself. “I am sorry for snapping, Lay-lah, but why did you follow me because of that?”
Her eyes move quickly from side-to-side. She still will not look at me directly. I try not to feel insulted. “You’re brothers. Brothers fight. There’s a love and hate relationship between brothers. I wanted to… uh, make sure you were okay.”
“Did you hear anything?”
She shakes her head. “Not hear, no, but I saw you attack him. And then York ran in before…” she trails off, seeming unsure of what she wants to say. But I know how this sentence ends.
Before I ran in to protect you.
My heart swells with pride. She wanted to check on me! That has to mean something!
Unable to stop myself, I move closer, reach for her hips and pull her body against mine. She protests, but much more weakly than usual. Maybe… maybe she is—
“I only wanted to make sure you and your brother were okay.”
“Me and my brother? Or me?” My heart hiccups as I wait for her response. This is it! The moment I have been waiting for since first laying my eyes upon Layla. My brother was wrong. I don’t need to talk to Layla about feichkas proteins or brothers, Earth, or books or manga. Layla will want me because I am a good mate. I am a good protector. I want her. I ache for her mind, body, and soul. I want her for my own. I don’t want her to think about Exer, or Shit, or whatever that word is that consumes her thoughts. She wants me. I lean forward, brushing my lips against hers and close my eyes—
And she pushes me away. “I told you,” she insists. “I was worried about you and your brother. That’s all.�
�� She steps back further. “Family relationships are complicated. I get that.”
“And that’s all it was?” I doubt her words, but I don’t chase after her this time. She doesn’t move away completely, and the beginnings of her defenses slip away.
There is something here. Something about brothers. Family. Relations.
Stars and moons. Azan’s always right.
Layla’s mind is burdened with worries of her homeworld. And unless I take the time to understand, she will never be mine.
And she has to be mine.
“Layla?” I lower my voice, daring to take another step in her direction. She doesn’t back away. She lets me brush my fingers against the smooth, soft skin on her full cheek. Is there water in her eyes? I can’t tell for sure because she won’t lift her head. A painful memory lurks there, and as much as my cock calls to make a home in Layla’s cunt, I must not succumb to these images at this moment.
“Yes?” She’s blinking down at the fabric covering her feet.
I frown. “You can tell me about shit. I can tell it is important to you. I will listen.”
Her reaction isn’t what I expected. “Huh? Shit?”
CHAPTER THREE
Layla
I’m waiting for the punchline for what feels like hours, but Dolan remains standing in front of me, enormous arms pulsing as he waits patiently for a response.
I’m not exactly sure what he wants me to respond to. Does he want to shoot the shit? Like actual shit? Or shit that’s on his mind? I try catching Dolan’s intense expression from under my eyelashes. My mind races, trying to figure out what he’s talking about, careful to avoid focusing on his muscular biceps or massive cock. I swallow hard.
“Shit?” I try again, hoping he’ll give me a little more to work with. “Like… shit, shit?”
He nods. “The shit who listens to you. No one else does. Shit, yes?”
I blink, relieved. Oh! “You mean Shep!” I scream, cheeks hot and pink. “His name’s Shep, not shit!”
“His?”
“My brother. Uh, Blood brother. Like you and Azan.” I’m trying not to let my frustration show. Dolan’s making an effort today. He listened to me babble for almost an hour about manga, and I could tell it bothered the hell out of him. But I kept going because I wanted to see if he’d listen like Shep. Back home, Shep held on to every word I said like it was the most fascinating thing in the world as long as he was in his right mind. And Dolan did the same thing. Kind of. Sort of.
Either way, he’s still trying.
Though I’m not sure I like the idea that he got the word Shep confused with shit. I decide to let it go for now. Honestly, I’m relieved that Dolan isn’t pounding his brother with his fists anymore. That was terrifying to watch. So powerful. All aliens really are the same.
Even Dolan? I shake away the little voice in the back of my head. I don’t want to focus on that. Dolan isn’t special. He’s an alien. Besides, I like Exer. And even if I did feel something for Dolan, and by some miracle, I’d be able to stay here, I wouldn’t be able to in good conscience. What if money’s still getting sent back to Shep and my dad? Would the credit flow cease if I stopped working?
No money’s being sent back either way. Another painful notion I have to shake away, and I also can’t ignore.
Despite my feelings about all aliens being the same, even I have to admit that things are a little different on Hethdiss. There’s a promise of safety and security. There’s a promise of staying. It’s not like going home was ever an option. No. I need to work and keep working on the chance of getting medical credits sent back to my brother. Yes. That’s what I have to focus on. Exer’s eye candy, but even in my naughtiest fantasies, I have no plans of staying with him.
“Shep,” Dolan tries. The word still sounds funny on his tongue, and I try not to laugh.
He’s trying. Aliens don’t usually do anything on the chance of looking weak in front of a human, and Dolan’s showing some vulnerability. It’s… nice.
“Shep is not your mate?” he asks.
My shoulders droop. “No. He was my brother. Is my brother. He still is. Shep’s my little brother like you’re Azan’s little brother, I guess.” I shrug, wondering if Dolan’s going to pretend like he’s listening, but when I sneak a look up at his face, he looks interested. Nervous sweat prickles the tip of my nose.
Am I talking too much? Is he judging me? Can aliens judge people?
“You know what?” I say, taking a few steps away from him. “As I said, I wanted to make sure you and your brother were okay. And uh, you are, so there’s no reason for me to be here now, right?”
He’s on my heels after only a few long strides through the grass. “You’re here to talk to me, yes?”
“Uh… no. Not anymore. It’s okay.”
I hasten my pace back toward the cave, Dolan rustling close by the entire trip. A few other Sidyths look at him with question, but I casually say it’s all right. Dolan isn’t harming me. He’s not harassing me. He’s interested in me, and though that’s twice as dangerous as disinterest, I can’t bring myself to tell him to fuck off again.
“Are you hungry?” he asks from behind.
I stop and frown at his knees. “I… I could eat. Just eat,” I remind him.
“Just eat, yes.”
“No talking.”
“No talking,” he copies me.
I frown. We’re speaking the same language, but it doesn’t feel that way.
In the preparation room, I’m still struck by how well the Sidyths are doing despite their supposed exile. The set up doesn’t add up. The place reminds me of something straight out of a Kubrick film, down to the stainless-steel appliances and cool white surfaces. Everything has a purpose, and nothing’s wasted. The room is hot, of course, with sun rayers blasting in every direction, but if Dolan’s disgusted by my sweat, he’s polite enough not to say anything. Not that I would care.
I sit on the nearest stool, wondering what Sloane looks like when she gets into the same chair. She’s almost a half foot taller than me, so I imagine she doesn’t grunt and struggle like I am. Dolan doesn’t comment on this either, and a small part of me is thankful that he’s not forward enough to crack a joke about how short or out of shape I am. I still don’t understand how Ellis doesn’t feel like a child when she’s with her mate, Hujun. Over two feet are separating the two of them, and yet they’re so natural together.
Exer is one of the smaller Sidyth’s here. Maybe he doesn’t want a fluffy mate. Perhaps he wants a tall, slim woman for a mate. My eyes trail over to Dolan as he moves past me and opens what looks like a refrigerator. Based on the definition in his arms, he wouldn’t have any difficulty lifting me. His hair is cropped shorter than most of the other Sidyths here, so I get a full view of his sculpted back, shoulders, and those massive arms. I lick my lips, relieved that his back is to me. I don’t want to think about Dolan like this. Exer, yes, because dammit, a woman has needs, and at least he looks like a person, but Dolan, well, he’d never be able to have a casual fling so I could wet my whistle. Some of the Sidyths here may do it, but maybe they’re waiting until we’ll give in.
“What are you hungry for?” Dolan whirls back to me with an unfamiliar object in his hand. He chomps off the end loudly, chewing and gauging my reaction. I’m trying to figure out what he’s eating. When I think about exiled aliens, I thought there would be hunting and fishing. Killing and gathering. Not fancy underground kitchens with stainless steel refrigerators.
“We don’t have a mind processor here,” he says. “I’m sorry. You can’t have human foods if that is something you desire, but Prince Korben always tries to keep our favorites here.” He juts his chin to the space over my shoulder. “There are things out there, too for those of us who find this lifestyle dull, but I’m perfectly fine staying here and buying my time.” Another bite.
My mind reels. No human foods. Okay. No mind processor. Uh, all right? Sounds like something an alien would insert in my brain
after dissecting it. Shudder. Prince Korben and his father are the primary reason for our comfort here despite carrying the title of exile, but that’s not any new information. The rest of his statement, however, forces my ears to pay attention.
“Things… out there?”
He nods. “Beyond the second triss. They have the most coveted protein.”
I cock my head to the side. “Coveted? A protein?” He nods. “Why is it coveted?”
“Some species only process certain types of protein. Despite the practicing of their ancestors, some things cannot be helped.” He shrugs. “If you don’t understand this concept because you are human, I understand. It may be too complicated—”
“I get it, Dolan,” I snap, not in the mood to be insulted. “Sounds like you’re describing an allergy.”
He frowns. “Al-err-gee? No, no.”
“Yes. Humans have them, too. You don’t call them by the same word, but trust me, I bet they’re the same. You can’t eat a certain food, right? It upsets your stomach, or your skin breaks out in a rash?”
He nods. Still skeptical, but not arguing. “That is a crude wording.”
I roll my eyes. “I know what you’re talking about, okay? And…” I turn away from Dolan to look out of the main doorway of the preparation room. “So, there’s food here that Sidyths like? Is that why it’s coveted?”
He’s already talking before I shift away. I have to say I’m enjoying this bit of conversation with him. Dolan drives me nuts most of the time, but there’s something less annoying about him lately. Regardless, I shouldn’t lose focus on my mission to keep working but having a friend (is that what Dolan is?), certainly doesn’t hurt.
“Beyond the second triss is a waterfall,” he explains in a low voice. “We’re not supposed to go there without permission from Prince Korben. That’s why Hujun was able to go that far with his mate. They didn’t go for the proteins, however.”
I don’t point it out to Dolan, but this isn’t new information. I’m trying to get him to open up to me. The more I learn, the less I’m annoyed by him. I have to admit going beyond the second triss is incredibly appealing. Phoebe and Ellis got to go, but the details are foggy. I was so upset about the whole Dolan singing-at-Christmas-fiasco that I didn’t bother learning much. What is beyond the second triss that all the Sidyths are trying to keep a secret?