Tears filled my eyes and I hiccupped, the sound overloud in the small space. “Don’t trade anything for me! Don’t let him, Zhuii!”
“Trade?” Zhuii’s mouth moved, working, thick brow tugging low, but he seemed to have lost his ability to make words.
Tokre’s snarls were growing feral, the bed rattling over my head, the sound of something heavy thumping above me repeatedly inciting my wild ramblings into an all-out panic attack.
Rek’s going to get me, take me away, trade me for that female. Or, if I’m lucky, the bed might just collapse on top of me and put me out of my misery. The damned thing was rocking enough, I thought morbidly.
The bed shifted completely when I jumped at a particularly vicious snarl from Noyel, thumping my noggin, his head whipping towards the door.
“Shit, I was just kidding!” I squealed to my inner self, not realizing I’d said the words aloud, watching the foot of the bed slide a few inches to my left.
A disgustingly deep, even deeper than any of the beasties present, snarl issued from just beyond the door, rattling the cottage, and everyone went still.
“What was that?” I whispered, hunching, fearful.
“Noyel!” a sweet voice called fretfully. “You open this door right this minute! I know you all are in there! I heard what happened, and if you don’t let me in there to check everyone over, so help me!”
There were snarling grumbles, muffled, and then, “Pardon me. Ahem. We know you all are in there.” Then lower, “There, you great oaf. Better? Jeesh! It’s not like I asked you to come along with me, I- Ugh.”
A long pause, more muffled discussion.
“No, frankly, my dear, I don’t. And neither will your beloved child when you barge in like an overbearing beast and try to examine him, like you used to when he was a child. Was a child,” the woman added dryly. “Someday you all will just have to accept the fact our little No-no bear and B-bookins are big boys now. And I- what?! Pfft! I do not! I’m their mother! It’s my job.”
A very beastly snort followed, a feminine sniff trailing shortly after. “Hush it, Lukar. No one asked you. Don’t you have something to do, somewhere to be? Warrior things to take care of?”
“Did they all show?” Noyel’s expression pinched, a beastly blush flushing his naturally pale skin, his shoulders stiffening, but then he let out a long sigh and gave himself a shake.
“No-no bear? B-bookins?” I blurted, choking the words out on a startled laugh.
“No-yell in trouble now,” Zhuii informed him darkly, then grinned, ruining the tone of his words with that cheeky grin and a deep chuckle.
“Shut up,” Noyel growled out viciously, in his surprisingly more human-like voice, all traces of that beast-like short speak disappearing.
Glancing from the snickering Zhubeast to the door, his lip curled in disgust. “Tell Tokre it’s okay,” he said quietly to Zhuii. “I’ll get the door.”
“NOYEL?!”
“Coming!” Noyel shouted back. “Just, uh, give us a minute!”
I watched from my hiding spot as Noyel began scrambling to pick up cloths and salves and whatever mess they’d made trying to patch Tokre up.
“Zhuii,” I whispered, more confused than ever. “What is going on?”
Zhuii’s snigger as he watched Noyel scurrying around cut off at the sound of my voice. “No Rek. No one come for Rosie or Tokre.” The smile he gave me as his head tipped in my direction was reassuring, his lips twisting in a smirk as he turned back to watch Noyel’s mad scramble, chuckling evilly at Noyel’s beastly mutters.
“Who is it, then?” I scuttled a little closer to him, still fretful despite any reassurances he offered. “Is it bad?” I asked carefully, frowning heavily as my gaze darted between Zhuii’s amused mug and Noyel’s frantic feet.
Tokre was slowly starting to kick up the grumbling noises, that brief respite from echoing beastly snarls bouncing around the small space, along with the bed in his agitation, short lived.
“The worst,” Noyel growled under his breath.
“Dorothy.” Zhuii snickered at the same exact moment.
“Your father says he heard that, whatever that is! Papa, too!” the woman shouted with a slap to the wood. “And you too, Zhuii!”
“Father?” I muttered in disbelief.
“I said I’m coming!” Then, arms flapping, flailing dramatically, his face pulling in an equally dramatic pose, he rolled his eyes heavenward, muffling a snarl through gritted teeth. “Gaaawwwd!” Noyel bellowed, reminding me very much of an oversized, hairy, angry beastly teenager.
The wood of the door shook as a heavier thump followed, which just proved to incite Tokre, who was left even more in the dark in all of this madness than I was.
“Zhuii,” Noyel urged, motioning for him to get on with it. Then, at a masculine, bellowing scream just beyond, “Don’t you break that door! It’s not mine!”
“Zhuii no-” Zhuii began, but then Noyel was rushing him, pinning his wider counterpart to the floor.
Snarling into Zhuii’s face, Noyel growled out angrily, “Zhuii, tell Tokre. Use the hand words. Calm Tokre down. Rosie is okay. Zhuii Tokre friend. Tell him. Mama won’t let Noyel heal if she thinks Noyel isn’t doing it right!”
Zhuii’s eyelids lowered until they were narrowed, his face a funny color with two squinty slits of orange for eyes. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, part in anger at being pinned and then called out on his bullshit, adding to it the fact that Noyel had a point—if he was indeed Tokre’s friend he should want to help him not make it worse—and partly because the woman he was trying to woo had witnessed it all.
Zhuii’s teeth gritted and he hissed between clenched teeth. “No scare Rosie-lindy, No-yell.”
Shifting closer to get a better view of the pair, I found Noyel frowning down at Zhuii, his head cocked to the side questioningly in a very dog-like manner. “Is that why you haven’t hit me or tackled me back? You don’t want to...” Noyel’s words trailed off when I let out a loud gulp, the look on Zhuii’s face as he glared up at Noyel showing just how seriously he was debating reconsidering his attempts not to traumatize me in favor of getting a few good whacks in.
“Why Zhuii care what other Lo denaii think? So Zhuii weird, so Tokre different. Noyel different too!” Noyel’s hands shot up. “All creatures different. Others care? They don’t matter!”
It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Everyone was different in their own way, who cared what a bunch of assholes that just didn’t get it thought?
Fuck ‘em.
And yet… those same judging assholes made Tokre’s life harder. Zhuii, being his pseudo friend, probably caught on to that. All that Tokre’s broken bs, how many others bought into it?
Was Noyel being a healer weird? Is that what he meant? Or was it the more human-like, more approachable differences to him, the more human looking aspects of him? Did that make him different in other’s eyes?
My second gulp caught in my throat and I almost choked on it. Two furry heads whipped to Noyel’s left to stare into my wide, startled eyes.
“Please stop fighting,” I entreated quietly, my eyes already watering as I stared at the pair. “Zhuii, please tell Tokre. I don’t like when he’s upset.”
The guttural growl building in Zhuii’s throat cut off abruptly, his gaze darting away.
“Please,” I whispered pleadingly.
“NOY- NEAL GRIEVER HECKES MOSOAU LUKAR?! You open this door right this minute!”
Noyel snarled and hopped up, throwing his arms up dramatically as he stomped to the door. “Noyel has one name! ONE! NOYEL!” he bellowed as he flung the door open.
A giant, dark furred mitt of a hand reached out lightning quick, a thick, furry arm following, cuffing the slim beast across the side of his head with his palm, sending Noyel tumbling into the wall. An animalistic snarl from I assumed the beast owner of said arm followed, distressed female titters following, muted in the madness as Noyel stumbled about, knocking To
kre’s fishing tools and baskets by the entryway this way and that, half stunned at the reprisal.
“No snarl at mama,” a horrifyingly deep, menacing voice snarled from the open doorway.
A portal to Hell, it was more like, letting in god knows what as a relatively young—to me, at least—mousy brown brunette came rushing in, a basket under her arm, a thick pelt with a fringe of colors edging it wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the chill. The giant of beastly giants lumbered in after her.
Massive, this male with her was, ducking to clear the doorway. He was big like the icy-eyed giant from Beast Fight Club, his eyes a deep, churning navy blue streaked with cerulean. A glimpse of other beasts standing around just outside had me balking, wondering just how many behemoths this woman had with her.
Did she go for the harem thing? Or did her mate hire her an entourage of beastly warrior bodyguards or something?
There had to be at least two or three more hanging around out front!
Glancing to the woman, taking in her sturdy but still rather petite form, particularly in comparison to these beasties, one had to wonder…
“Oh! Oh, Griever! Oh, my Neal!” the woman cried out, then whipped around, her finger shooting up accusingly to poke at the massive mammoth of a creature scowling down at her. “Grieve! You brute! I knew I should’ve had Lukar come in with me! You’re always such a bully!”
Her voice was beginning to grow all snarly and beastly, like it wanted to be shrill and shrew-like but she’d spent too much time with these beast men, channeling her own inner beast.
“Oh! Just look what you did!” Rushing up, reaching out, she lifted to her tip toes, yanking Noyel down to her, and gripped Noyel’s face. Turning it this way and that so fast I wasn’t all that surprised when his neck made a series of funny cracking noises with the motion, he grunted, grimacing instantly.
What surprised me most was the fact he stood there so docilely and allowed her to manhandle him. He looked almost apologetic, embarrassed, mortified, if I understood the funny tint to his skin and the look on his face correctly.
What was up with that, and what was the pair’s problem?
And why did this whole scene remind me of any of the hundreds of times Joanie’s accidently—and sometimes possibly on purpose—gone out of her way to send me cringing, at her and myself, for even daring to be seen with her in public. Or I to her, I added, replaying what had unknowingly been our last goodbye back at my place.
God… Joanie. I felt so damned sad all of a sudden. I’d never see her fashion challenged ass again. Never find myself blinded by neon claws waving wildly in my face. Never shove those stupid jelly platforms off my coffee table... never... never...
A harsh sound had me jumping in my skin, then groaning as my head smacked a bed slat. Hissing, I ducked and my hand lifted to rub the spot.
Ack. If I wasn’t careful I was going to concuss the hell out of myself. I’ve vomited enough to last me for a year, thank you very much, no matter how pleasant a sudden brain injury induced bout of amnesia to get the mood going was starting to sound.
Tokre’s bed creaked and a pelt slid from the bed, obstructing my view.
“Stay!” Zhuii and Noyel barked out at once, Noyel extracting himself from the tenacious face hugger of a woman’s grip to shout at his patient.
“He can’t hear you!” I called from my safe space, the sound muffled by the pelt dangling along the edge of the bed.
“Zhuii,” Noyel urged the orange-eyed beast quietly while the face grabber and her counterpart were otherwise occupied, a note of strain in his voice, “tell him everything is fine.”
Our sudden visitors, either intentionally ignoring all the hubbub or too caught up in their own to care, were still bickering, nattering at each other in loud, hissing whispers everyone could clearly make out. Or I should say, the brunette was still having her say while the male stood by idly, grumbling things here and there gruffly, patiently waiting for her to finish.
The male, he hovered over her, looking all crazy scary like he’d like nothing more than to murder something, possibly Noyel, maybe all of us, but the woman, and scowled.
“Don’t you look at me like that!” the woman tutted, working herself into a state. Her pretty, wide, clear blue eyes narrowed to tiny little slits, her hands slapping to her ample hips, the basket handle dangling from her arm swaying along with her as she tapped her foot impatiently.
The beast, her beast, while there was something in his eyes, a softening of sorts as something in her expression caught him, as if to hold him captive, kept surreptitiously glancing away, stealing peeks at Noyel. The look he was shooting the slender beastie gave way to his immense displeasure. That look screamed, we will be talking about this later.
Pink dusted the woman, this Dorothy’s cheeks, her angry gaze roiling to a slow boil as she blustered and huffed angrily, her skin blushing clean to her hairline with her ire.
“You could have hurt him!” she blurted in a rush, her voice thick with emotion. Turning to Noyel, tugging him right back down to her, firmly reattaching her hand to his mug, his face squished in her small hand, his mouth pressing to make fishing lips.
Piranha fishy lips, I thought, studying his sharp teeth as he stared down at her with the most annoyed yet affectionate look I’d yet to see on the beast.
“Oh, my Neal-y. Are you alright, dear? I’m so sorry but you know your daddy, and he just insisted he come with me today.” Her head whipped to her right to glare at her mate crossly before returning to her—yep, having a hard time fathoming it—child? “Let me see. Let Mama see!”
“Not a youngling,” Noyel grumbled, but didn’t de-cling her. “Go baby Bia. Bia youngest. Not Noyel.”
“Named you Neal, named all of you good, wholesome, Christianly names. Don’t care how you all care to go on pronouncing it,” Dorothy huffily puffed, “Neal at birth, Neal when you irritate me, and Neal when ya die. Please, honey, go on and argue with me—kept me waiting outside for lord knows how long in this crazy cold—your mama is in a mood.”
“Mama?” I mumbled, my voice bordering on a hysterical giggle. “Mama?!
“Go call on Bia. Your Bri-ain,” Noyel grumbled on a sneer. The look of utter disgust on his face belayed the amusement twinkling his bright eyes.
Mama’s boy, most definitely, which got my curiosity going. Who was this Bri-ain? Brian? Bia? And why did he sound like he’d taken the right road when navigating ‘Mama’? Eesh. Inquiring beast brides wanted to know.
“Bia? Hah!” All traces of Dorothy’s ire left and she snorted out a laugh. “Shows how much you know. If I tried half the things I do to you and your brothers to him, he’d disown me.”
“Run away, be with Hawrupishms Denaii,” the large, darker coated beast giant grumbled under his breath, making me blink up at him as he gave a very human-like eye roll of disgust.
Dorothy’s face scrunched up like someone had just laid a good one, and she harrumphed. “Hawrupa…poop-ashushams Denaii. However you say it. Pfft. Desirables, my fat fanny. My baby, babies, are too good for those no good- Ugh! Wouldn’t know a good furry creature man if one bit them in the butt! Lo denaii... Should be the other way around! We don’t want none of them, either!”
Dorothy’s accent grew with her conviction, until a decidedly thick southern drawl was growling out those words.
Dorothy’s beast grinned down at her at this, a strange noise akin to my gramp’s old busted up Mustang trying to rumble to life one last blasted time but cutting off to start again kicking up. Reaching out, he yanked his mate towards him, bending his enormous frame to rub his furry cheek along the top of her head, his nose following, to then let her go.
Do beasts do yoga, I thought offhandedly, watching him get his Gumby on, because damn.
Zhuii grunted like he seconded Dorothy’s notion—whatever the hell Hawrupwhatchamawhoodees and all that stuff was—and Noyel’s lip curled up in disgust.
Tokre, still left in the dark, still stewing in the unk
nown, wrenched a pile of pelts off to the side and right in my way, a massive wad of furs tumbling me into the dark as they dropped to the floor, lining the side of the bed the majority of the light was coming from like a blackout curtain/bumper pad combo. My beast mate’d had enough, and he was getting up. And here I am in the damned dark again. Hmph!
“Damnit, Tokre!” I bellowed, wriggling my way past the massive pelt wall to crawl out from my hiding spot. “Don’t you dare get up! Don’t! You! Dare!”
Chaos erupted, Zhuii and Noyel barking out crap in English and beast speak so fast, Dorothy, concerned, waving her arms and shouting out for Tokre to stay put as everyone came at him enmasse.
I made it out just in time before everyone reached the bed, hopping up in my horror movie body paint, flakes of dried blood crusting off of me here and there, still naked as the damned day I was born, to throw myself in front of him.
Tokre’s eyes were wide, confusion so thick on his face he looked half terrified. Of course he would be—I would be, too—the poor guy had absolutely no clue what the fuck was going down.
When everyone continued to advance, though Dorothy stopped momentarily at first sight of me, a sharp gasp leaving her at the mess I must’ve made—bloody ragamuffin, checking in—Tokre continued to wrench himself into a sitting position, groans of pain cutting his snarling growls short.
“Damnit, husband!” I screeched, whipping around to stab a finger into his monstrous mug, his volatile look blanking out to jerk back and blink up at me in stunned surprise. “Sit! Stay! NO! NO!”
Tokre grunted when I bared my teeth back at him, snarling right in the face of his confused agitation, too tired and filthy and a million other things to allow myself to be properly cowed.
Tokre’s anger gave way to confusion, his eyes darting around the room worriedly, taking in all the faces surrounding him, familiar and strange, his thick furry brow beetling.
“Stay,” I repeated, motioning for him to lie back. When I would’ve turned to pick up one of the pelts littering the floor like a furry barricade, the line drawn in animal skins separating them from us, my mate made the oddest, saddest noise I’d ever heard.
Bride of Glass (Brides of the Hunt Book 2) Page 18
