Bhyr remained mute. His reaction should be rage. Indignation at being spoken to with such disrespect by one of his Horde. He felt relief. It left him unsure of what to do and how to respond.
Condemning the male for doing nothing more than what Bhyr himself had done–and wanted to do–was hypocritical. Neither could he find it in himself to lie. To suggest that Bihter was alone in his abnormal behaviour.
‘It is best we keep these developments a secret.’
Bihter stilled. ‘You will not drag me before the Horde for punishment?’
‘No.’ Bhyr paused, thinking hard of how to phrase what came next. ‘A question about your breeder. I intend no disrespect.’
‘Ask.’
‘When you experience these feelings, how do you get your breeder to do as you command? How do you avoid them overwhelming you?’
‘I do not.’
Bhyr frowned. ‘How? The feelings hold such power.’
‘You misunderstand. I do not command, but ask. I reason with her. My feelings have their way. I give her the freedom to do and say as she pleases, when she pleases. It works well.’
Bhyr stared. ‘I see.’
‘Still believe I am not deserving of correction?’
He nodded.
Bihter appeared dumbfounded. Then contemplative. ‘If you wish to confide in me, I will hold it in confidence.’
‘No.’ Bhyr met Bihter’s eyes, his expression cool. ‘No.’
‘You can trust me.’
‘I trust no one.’ He raised a hand to cut the connection, ready for the conversation to be over. He craved solitude.
‘Brother, wait.’ Bihter struggled with himself. ‘Call the breeder by her name. See what happens. What harm could come of it?’ His tone held humour. ‘Surprise yourself.’
The connection ended.
Frozen in place, Bhyr exhaled in a rush, unnerved.
Ask his breeder instead of command? Treat her as an equal and reason through his decisions with her? Would she become agreeable? Would she stop looking at him in that haunting, despairing way?
If he called her by her name, she would feel emboldened to call him by his.
He shivered at the notion of such intimacy.
It seemed a first step towards disaster. But nothing he’d done improved the tension between them, had it?
If he did not want to break her will, he must find an alternative solution. He would act as Bihter suggested. No one of importance need know he was doing it. His breeder would not understand the gesture, wouldn’t even notice the change. Only pride stopped him and he was too sensible to disregard a better way for such a reason.
Bhyr broached the subject after last meal.
His breeder cringed and swiped a hand over her mouth. She went to shimmy past him, and he grabbed her arm.
His fingers wrapped around the limb with inches to spare. ‘Wait.’
12
Bhyr
She flinched. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘This cannot continue,’ he said. ‘I am distracted. Irritable and short-tempered. I cannot afford to be this way.’
‘Your emotional shortcomings are exactly that. Yours.’
‘We will start anew.’
‘Are you joking? You kidnap me, seduce me with force, treat me like a slave, and more, but only taking into account the aforementioned, you expect a do over?’ Her voice was hard. ‘With no apology forthcoming, either, I suppose.’
The First of the Aztekan Horde did not apologise.
‘We will make the best of this. I will explain better. I will treat you as if you were not inferior. I will do this if you acknowledge what’s done is done. You are here. Accept it.’
That was not so hard.
Except her head had cocked and her eyes burned. ‘As if you were not inferior?’ She scoffed, but her gaze turned speculative. It was the first time since the Testing she’d looked at him with anything but hatred. ‘Are you trying to say–poorly–that you want to treat me as if I were an equal? Even though you don’t believe I am one?’
‘I have no equal,’ he said without pride. ‘But I will no longer treat you as a lesser life form of it means peace returns to the nest.’
‘So humble. You want peace? Take the Keeping off and send me home.’
His mouth thinned. ‘No.’
‘Say one thing, do another, is it? Fine. Can I ask a question? Or is that forbidden?’
He eyed her.
Nodded.
‘Your people took a friend of mine. Cristina.’ She tucked her mane behind the shell of her rounded ear. ‘Did she make it through the Testing?’
‘Warriors do not learn the names of breeders.’
Bihter had mentioned the name. Was the warrior’s female the friend she spoke of? Likely. However, Bihter’s breeder might not be the one she sought. If he spoke of his suspicion, Bhyr would drive his breeder’s hopes up only to crush them if they discovered her friend had perished. She would take her grief and rage out on him.
There would never be a truce between them.
She sniffed. ‘I need to know she survived.’
A tangled, thorny feeling took residence in Bhyr’s chest.
She cared about this person. Enough to risk his ire. Enough to break her stubborn silence and engage with him.
He shook his head. ‘I cannot help.’
‘You can.’ Her face set into bullish lines. ‘You won’t because you think it’s beneath you or whatever.’
‘Why must you question me? Tell me, human, why bother distinguish between “can’t” or “won’t” when the result is the same?’
She spun, wiping a hand over her cheek to hide the fact she leaked. ‘Because it matters.’
Bhyr shook off his dissatisfaction. Another of their interactions ended on bad terms. He could extend himself to discover the fate of her fellow human, but should he?
Would it put her in a better mood if he did? Fine, he thought, exasperated with his indecisiveness.
He would take her among others to seek her friend.
He messaged Bihter to meet him at the Gathering Grotto. His breeder needed decent coverings. The tatty ones she wore sufficed for use around the nest, but she needed sturdier boots to protect the soles of her feet. Tuskbeast hide and the same for her legs. A fluffier fangbeast ruff would suffice for her torso. Tough goodbeast horn would work as bracers for her forearms.
Gathering the things he needed from storage, he dropped onto his stool. He set about whittling the curved needles he’d need to sew the pelts with gut.
Several spans passed in blessed quiet, then she sidled up next to him. Expression lacking its usual disgruntlement, she tapped his bicep.
Hope they might do better this time kindled in his chest.
He turned to face her.
She shuffled her feet. ‘May I borrow that knife?’
His ears had failed him.
Bhyr twisted more to stare at his breeder. ‘I look a fool?’
‘God’s promise, it’s not what you think.’
Hands behind her back, smiling with all her teeth, his female didn’t look innocent.
His expression curdled, and disappointment snuffed the spark of hope.
‘I want to shave,’ she said.
‘Your pelt is a natural insulator.’ His gaze flashed down her body. ‘There is no sense in removing it while inhabiting a planet covered in snow and ice.’
‘Sense? It’s my female prerogative. Well? Come on. I shouldn’t have to justify doing something so insignificant.’ She put her fists on her hips. ‘What about the stone you rub over yourself everyday? Do you need to do that?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I do not.’
‘Then you understand the need for personal wellness.’ She leaned forward. Her expression brightened as she held out a hand in expectation.
Putting down the thin shards, Bhyr glowered. He suspected she would not be quiet until he indulged her, and he needed to focus. ‘The cells in my body turnover at an increased ra
te during the prime phase of my life cycle. By exfoliating a layer by hand, it stops a thick build up of my exoskeleton.’ He had not allowed it to happen for solars. ‘This would lead to a moult.’
‘You shed like a snake?’
‘It would diminish my scaring, yet incapacitate me in a cage of flesh for cycles.’
Her eyes travelled his body. ‘Not a snake,’ she said, thoughtful. ‘A butterfly emerging from a cocoon.’
‘The creatures are unknown to me but you take my meaning. Moult opens me to Challenge from dissatisfied warriors in the Horde.’ He paused. ‘I trust no one enough to make myself that vulnerable. I never will. It would leave you, my breeder, unprotected. It is not a matter of wellness, but survival.’
‘I get it,’ she said after a long stare where her thoughts fluttered into the light on moth-dark wings, then receded into the sky of her mind. ‘My grooming practices might not leave me open to a Challenge, but it makes me feel icky to forgo them.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘Saying the word “icky” aloud doesn’t convey the same gravitas as your explanation, but still.’ She waved her hands in the air in a way he now knew expressed a range of emotions. This one conveyed irritation. ‘It would make me more comfortable. It’s a concession that won’t affect you.’
Bhyr’s mouth turned down as he studied her. ‘Breeders deserve care.’ The old law ensured that introverted warriors met breeders’ basic needs. Therefore, they might better survive the gestation of spawn. Humans needed far more attention and care than he’d expected, but it was the intention behind the law that mattered. He stood. ‘Come.’ He led her to the cleansing chamber. He motioned to her body. ‘Off.’
‘Uh, what?’ She pretended confusion. Her fists balled on the scraps clinging to her frame.
‘Take off your furs.’
Refusal gathered in her glittering eyes long before it left her whitened mouth. ‘No.’
‘You wish to groom,’ he said. ‘I will help you.’ He wasn’t giving her the knife.
‘I’ll do it myself.’
‘You will not.’
‘So much for treating me as an equal. I don’t know why I expected anything other than empty promises. Dishonourable. That’s what you are. It’s all you’ll ever be.’
‘Vzzt!’ Bhyr’s vision bled red. He claimed a single stride, his long reach negating her stumbling step back.
He took the fur in his fist and tore it from her body.
She shoved and kicked, a wordless note screaming from her throat. Her blows slowed into a flutter. She slumped against him, panting. ‘Those were mine.’
‘I do not care.’ He slid a knuckle under her chin to lift her face. ‘Obey me.’
Angry eyes bored into his, chin lifted in a stubborn tilt. ‘I don’t think you understand the concept of equals.’
The stiff nipples capping her teats grazed his chest with her rough breaths.
‘I will learn.’ Keeping her jaw cradled in his palm, Bhyr unsheathed his knife.
Her eyes darted to it then shot back to his face. Her hands twitched on his lower stomach.
‘Do you still wish to remove your pelt?’ He eyed her head in consternation.
There was a lot of it.
It was soft.
‘No. Yes.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Not from my head.’ Her breathing slowed as her shoulders hunched. ‘Under my arms and my legs.’ Her gaze flashed to his then skittered away. Her face reddened. ‘Other private places, too.’ She took her hand from his middle and patted the juncture of her thighs. ‘So, um.’ She stammered. ‘Will you take the Keeping off now?’
Instincts roused, he took in the forced calm of her expression. Was the device’s removal the point of her fussing or the gaining of a weapon?
‘It stays on.’
Irritation flickered across her features.
‘Tricky female.’ Releasing her chin, he ran a finger along the line where the softness of her belly met the hard gleam of metal. ‘This stays for it protects what is mine.’
The feel of her thrilled the animal need she’d unleashed within him. He did it again. Again. Each pass became firmer and more possessive until she shivered, and the questing finger became his whole, grasping hand.
She turned her face.
Bhyr sucked in a breath to clear his head. Instead, he took the alien scent of her deep into his lungs. He grunted as he settled his shaft back into his abdomen. It was uncomfortable, but letting that part of him distend whenever it pleased was appalling.
He was the warrior of warriors, not a beast in rut.
He dropped into a squat then patted his thigh. ‘Here.’
She smacked her foot down on his knee. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’
Bhyr let his hand drift into the fall of water. He smoothed the chill wetness onto her shin and calf and breathed through his mouth to resist the musk of her sex. Her toes flexed, the arch of her foot moulding to him.
Human legs were strange.
Their knee joints were backwards and soft-skinned, their heels flat on the ground. He drew the edge of his blade across her taut flesh from ankle to knee in a smooth, sure stroke.
‘No different from skinning any other kill,’ he mused.
Lips pressed together, she shot him a stabbing look then looked at everything but him.
There was little to see.
The room was bare but for the waterfall, hot spring pool, and the waste pit created for her human use. She looked because he unnerved her.
While the flush of blood in her cheeks and the heave of her chest was attractive, her obvious agitation made a deeper part of him shiver.
He disliked harming her but he didn’t feel a need to coddle her either.
Finishing her second leg, he clasped her thigh to his side and pulled her close. Her other leg hopped forward and her arms flew to the side to help regain her balance.
Bhyr caught her hand and placed it palm down on his shoulder. There wasn’t much sensation through his exoskeleton, but the flesh between the toughened plates craved the feel of her hands.
‘Touch me.’
She stared beyond his head. ‘Why?’ The soft flesh under her chin tightened as she swallowed. ‘Why?’
‘When I take you, it will be easier.’ He would know her.
Instead of her stunning him anew, he’d get through the rutting without questioning what he knew to be true.
‘I don’t want it to be easier. I want whatever this is to stop.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I want you to take me back home.’
Bhyr slipped an arm around her hips. The cold metal of her Keeping helped bank the fires raging in his blood at the thought of returning what he’d earned through Right of Might. The sole natural law recognised throughout the universe since the dawn of time.
‘Touch me,’ he said.
She remained rigid in his arms until her hands found his ugliest scar. A thick strip of raised flesh stretching across his throat in a jagged arch. Her trembling fingers danced over it. She traced the smaller nicks and divots along his shoulders and upper back. ‘Your skin….’ She released a shaky breath. Her hands rubbed circles on the armoured plates protecting his chest. ‘It has a grain to it like wood or stone.’ Her other hand joined the first.
Entranced by her intent expression, he stroked the flesh of her inner thigh.
She stilled.
‘And?’ He let his finger claws drag down to her knee then retrace their path.
Thin strips of red rose.
Her gaze blurred, eyelids slipping lower until a faint shine of her pupil was visible.
‘You smell clean. Not the absence of something. Like moving water or fresh air.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not explaining myself well.’ She looked at the waterfall. ‘I need to rinse off in the shower.’
‘Pool,’ he countered, craving more of her touch. ‘We will bathe.’ He tightened his hold and stood. Lifting her off the floor with her leg bent at the knee, his hand in the crook, he hooked her other leg around his waist. The knife he kept pressed
against her thigh.
He waded into the hot spring and sighed as the heat soaked through his flesh.
Indira had wrapped her arms around his neck to stabilise herself. She now reached with eager fingers to glide a hand through the water. ‘It’s silky.’ She lifted an arm, rapt, as the water dripped to her elbow. ‘This planet is scary. But there is beauty here.’ Her gaze tapped him then flicked away.
‘I did not say you are finished touching me.’
Hair arcing over her brow drew together. ‘I thought we were going to wash?’
‘Bathe me, then.’
She sank into the water until it lapped at her chin. Her eyes narrowed. She shrugged and surged upwards. Water sluiced from her body, the pinkish droplets wetting her skin jewels. She sparkled.
Bhyr blinked.
‘With what?’ she asked.
Off balance, he set down the knife to show her crystal vials of soap.
She lathered her hands and stroked them down his body in perfunctory swipes.
With forced bravado, her hands moved over his barb, affecting an impersonal touch. Gripping it in her fist and stroking when it swelled and distended from his abdomen. She reached between his thighs and closed her hand as if expecting flesh. Found nothing. She patted around, jerked her shoulder, and then swiped over his buttocks and legs to finish her task, determined not to react to his physique.
Should he reveal he smelt her generous appreciation?
Entertained, Bhyr clicked in his throat, eyes aimed at the ceiling, attuned to the faint tremble in her breath, waiting.
She did not disappoint.
His breeder rinsed her hands and went as if to select a conditioning oil. She lunged for the knife. The snap of her arm and its thrust was faster than he’d expected. She held it to his throat. Her moist lips parted for her little pants.
Bhyr met her wheeling eyes with a steady stare.
She flinched, anticipating his fury, and then blinked when he didn’t react.
She lowered her weapon.
Foolish.
Bhyr jerked forward.
Honed to pristine sharpness, the blade sliced into his flesh with the ease of light parting air.
Bhyr Page 11
