by Jackie Nacht
Prescott pushed the platypus away. “That was just terrible. I mean really?”
Flex laughed. “But it got a rise out of you. Come with me for a minute.”
“No.” Prescott didn’t want to go anywhere with Flex. The platypus confused him too damn much, and if they were one on one...well, even he was smart enough to know he couldn’t trust himself.
Flex turned, and there was a hell of a lot of fire in those brown eyes. “It’ll only take a minute. I’m showing you where we will be housing everyone. I’m giving you the grand tour.” Flex waved his arms toward what appeared to be an abandoned building.
Prescott stared at Flex. Truth be told, he was fucking terrified of being alone with Flex. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel in control of himself. His desire and mind were having one hell of a battle inside him, and his mind was losing fast.
“Okay.”
Flex reached out and grabbed his hand, and Prescott jumped at the warm touch. Holding someone’s hand shouldn’t affect someone that much, but it did. Straightening his spine, holding his head up, Prescott tried to give the perception that he was in total control when, inside, he was a mess.
Flex guided him up the beach and into the building. When he got inside, he was shocked to see all the worn but nice furniture. The place was homey and lived in. Kids ran by, and there were even toys that had survived all these years after the venom dropped. How?
Colorful blocks, cars and houses for dolls were out in the open as platypus children played. There were already bee and wasp kids in the mix, playing and having a blast.
“Where did you get those?” Prescott pointed to the toys.
“They’ve been passed down from generation to generation. When the venom dropped seventy-five years ago, there were a lot of kids that were mutated by the platypus venom. I know the stories say a lot of the kids didn’t survive the venom being released, but we had quite a few platypuses. My great-grandfather was one of them. He was ten when the venom dropped. Believe it or not, I’m fourth generation post-venom. My parents and grandparents mated young.” Flex led them down a hallway.
“How old are you?” Prescott was trying to put the numbers in his head, and wow, Flex had to be young.
“Twenty-four. My dad is forty-four, and my grandpa would have been sixty-five this year but passed away two summers ago.” For the first time, Prescott saw Flex frown. It showed the platypus really cared for his family.
“So, was your dad on the beach?” Prescott wondered.
“No, our numbers were getting too high, and we were getting to a point where we could no longer hide. He moved with a group a mile down the beach.” Flex opened a door. “Your living quarters.”
The room was small and cozy with a pile of blankets in the corner for a makeshift bed. It was perfect really, and Prescott was exhausted from the journey. Down the hallway, Prescott heard familiar voices and followed them to see that each of his friends were getting rooms and being taken care of.
“Go on in and rest for a bit. We’ll have dinner ready when you wake up.” Flex all but pushed him inside.
“I...I want to fight, Flex.” Prescott turned and faced Flex.
“No,” Flex said bluntly.
“Why? What the hell does it matter to you anyway?” Even as he asked the question, he had a feeling he already knew the answer.
“You matter to me, and I’m not letting you run into a fight when no one knows what the fuck is on the other side.” Flex stalked toward him, and Prescott held his ground until he was staring up at Flex.
“We just met. You can’t possibly say I matter to you. You don’t know me. Plus, if you did, you would know that I can handle my own.”
“Look, I know in here,” Flex thumped his chest with his fist a couple times, “that you’re more. Would it be so bad to bow out of this fight so I know that we can discover these feelings another day? And when we have the time, you can show me how well you fight, but right now, you’ll be staying here.” Flex blew out a breath. “Humor me this one time. I need you to stay.” Flex said the last part softly.
“I don’t get you. We’re nothing alike. You’re...” Prescott had no words to describe Flex. Hell, he didn’t know the guy yet. He tried to walk away, but Flex grabbed him by the arm and pulled him closer.
Flex leaned down and brushed those beautiful lips on the shell of Prescott’s ear, sending a chill all over his body. “And staying this one time, you’ll have all the time in the world to get to know me. See what we have in common or find out how much we might like our differences.”
Prescott breathed in Flex’s scent, and already—even as an anti-venom—he knew his friends were right. Nature was pulling him toward Flex. God, this was crazy.
“Now, get some rest.” Flex sucked on his lobe before he pulled away and left the room.
Prescott was rooted to his spot. He was so damn confused. Turning, he longingly gazed at the pallet before he slid down on top of the warm blankets. Sighing, he let all the tension release, and in a moment, he felt the exhaustion of the days of traveling take its toll. Closing his eyes, he let sleep take him.
Chapter Three
Prescott woke up stiff and aching. He had to have been asleep for hours. Slowly getting up, he made his way out to the open area where Prescott could see everyone was sitting down eating a late meal.
Reese waved him over. “I was about to come get you. You’ve been asleep for five hours now.”
“I have?” Prescott sat down and rubbed his face. He glanced around and didn’t see any signs of Flex. He shouldn’t be looking for the platypus, but he was. He should face facts but...
“Where’s Flex?” Prescott asked, cutting off his own thoughts. He didn’t want to think about it at the moment. Everything was moving too fast.
Reese pursed his lips.
“What?” Prescott could read his friend like an open book. The man had bad news written all over his face.
“Flex left,” Reese said quietly.
“Left where?”
Reese blew out a breath before he answered. “To go fight.”
“What!” Prescott shouted, all eyes turning toward him.
“Prescott—” Reese began.
“No. That damn platypus convinces our leaders to keep me behind and then goes off to fight. What...the...hell?” Prescott’s inner rage was growing by leaps and bounds. Leif and Tristan came over.
“Prescott, they need all the help they can get. And I need your help.” Tristan stood close so that his voice could only be heard by Prescott.
Prescott tried to listen to reasoning. Tristan was right, but Prescott couldn’t help but feel he had been wronged somehow by Flex. Flex never told him he was going to fight, but at the same time, they weren’t together. Flex didn’t have to tell him shit. However, Flex did put a halt to him fighting. Fuck, did the platypus have him tied into knots. He was scared out of his mind that something would happen to Flex, and they hadn’t even gotten to know each other. A real sense of panic washed over him as he sat back down and covered his face. He didn’t want his friends to see him vulnerable. He was the rock of the group.
“I...” Prescott let out a humorless laugh. “I have no fucking clue.”
Reese came over and wrapped his arms around him. “Nothing can prepare you for what you’re going through. Being mated to a venom has a way of confusing anyone.”
“I hate being out of control,” Prescott muffled out.
“I know, and mating a venom is anything but control.” Reese leaned his head on Prescott’s shoulder.
“I don’t even know the cocky asshole, and I’m fucking terrified I’m never going to see him again. I’m soooo... pissed he just left.” Prescott gritted out the last part as his entire body started to shake.
“You can tell him that when he comes back.” Reese nudged him in the side.
Prescott glanced up. “What if...”
Reese held up a hand. “Nope, you’
ll see Flex again. Even I know the platypus wouldn’t let you down.”
“He better not. I’m going to chew him out.”
Reese chuckled. “I bet he’d like that.”
“So far, he seems to.” Prescott’s breath hitched. So far...yeah, that about summed it up. He wasn’t even for sure since they barely had ten minutes to each other. “Hell.” Prescott rigorously brushed his hand over his hair.
“Come eat.” Reese pulled back and tried to pull him toward the table of food.
“I don’t think I can.” Prescott rubbed his stomach. He felt queasy and ill at ease, wondering if the venoms had already gotten to Mission Territory.
“Get some food. It’s going to be a long couple days.” Reese pulled him toward the table, and the whole time, Prescott wondered how in the hell he was going to get through these next couple days fearing the worst.
Later that night, Prescott woke to the sound of screaming and rushed footsteps. Rushing off the pallet, knife in hand, he grabbed a hold of his machete by the door before he hurried out into the main room. In the middle were several rattler venom who were squaring off against Tristan and several platypuses. Prescott stepped toward the group when one of the snakes struck out with his tail, sweeping a platypus off his feet. All hell broke loose as Prescott jumped into the fight.
Lifting his machete, Prescott swung and struck the rattlers tail, slicing it clean off. A horrific sound came from the snake before it rounded on him with his fangs. Before he had a chance to defend himself, a platypus jumped in front of him and stabbed the snake.
“Stay behind me, or Flex will kick my ass!” the platypus shouted before he went after another snake.
Prescott tag-teamed and helped the platypus out. In his peripheral vision, Prescott could tell the platypus was pissed about it, but when the snake had the platypus pinned, Prescott pounced on the back of the snake, stabbing it until the life left the rattler.
The platypus appeared shocked as he pushed the snake off him. “Thank you,” he rasped as Prescott helped him up.
Staring over his shoulder, he could see the small group of rattlers were taken down. Tristan was taking the last one out when the platypus next to him clapped him on the shoulder.
Prescott faced the platypus. “I don’t think I’ve met you.”
“Weeds,” the platypus said, out of breath. Weeds was covered head to toe in the brown fur of the platypus although his body was pure human, and the venom had no tail or bill. “You fought well.”
“Make sure you tell Flex that.” Prescott wiped the blood off his blade with his pants.
“Oh, I will. Flex will be pleased.” Weeds hissed as he reached up and touched a cut on his forehead.
“Hmmm.” Prescott wasn’t so sure about that.
“What? You think because you stayed here, he doesn’t want you to fight?” Weeds chuckled.
Prescott shrugged as he watched his friends helping the injured people out. “Seemed like it.”
“Protecting yourself against a nest is one thing. Jumping into a territory full of hostiles is quite another.”
Weeds made a lot of sense. It was a simple numbers game. They had more, and the small nest of rattlers that came in were completely outnumbered. That wasn’t the case for Flex and the others. How much were they outnumbered? Prescott rubbed his face, adrenaline washing away as bone-deep concern assaulted him.
Weeds spoke softly beside him. “Come on; let’s take care of those cuts on your arms.”
Prescott glanced down to see the scrapes along his forearms. Numbly he followed Weeds while his mind remained with another platypus.
Four days later, Prescott was angry, sore and tired. He hadn’t slept, and the only patience he had, he reserved solely for the little ones. That was it. The rest of the time, he was a surly bastard as he stared off into the distance toward Mission Territory every night, hoping.
They hadn’t been attacked since that first night, and Prescott and the rest assumed that it had to be an isolated incident of wandering travelers as opposed to something that had been calculated from Pacific or La Jolla.
Prescott glanced over at the water to see a couple of bees splashing in the waves with other platypus children. It was unbelievable how well the group had come together, and there were whispers that if the group succeeded in Mission Territory, that others might move there. However, Prescott could see a divide. Some of the bee families gazed upon their children playing in the water, content, and knew that they wouldn’t be leaving the area. They were safer here than in Mission. Prescott didn’t know why any family would move there until the territories at least stabilized and became less violent.
And that was the problem. Would that happen again? It seemed with La Jolla and Pacific Territories joining, that might take a long time, but Prescott knew they had to fight. If they ran, then this violence and crime would become like a wild fire until the whole area was no longer safe to live in.
Off in the distance, he saw movement. Prescott couldn’t make out the figures and shouted, “Tristan!”
Tristan came running, weapons in hand. “Who is it?”
The approaching group grew and appeared armed. Prescott turned his full attention to the group coming their way. Squinting, he tried to make out someone, anyone, hoping until one figure stood out like a beacon. Flex was walking with a slight limp, and Prescott decided he didn’t care how pissed he was for being left behind. He didn’t think about anything else as he ran to his mate.
Chapter Four
Flex felt like shit. He limped, with the huge gash on his leg, but he was fucking determined to be with the first group back. He hissed, and Green was about to grab his arm again to help him walk when Flex saw someone running toward them in the distance.
A small body with brown hair falling across the brow of the man, the sun setting behind him, was worth every bone-jarring step along the way. He didn’t even have time to react before Prescott was upon him and leaping into his arms.
“I’m so pissed at you.” Prescott pulled back and jumped off.
Flex almost laughed at the turnabout.
“Aww, you missed me,” Flex teased.
Prescott scoffed and rolled his eyes.
That didn’t matter to Flex; Prescott had let his guard down for just a moment. He could be pissed at him all night long, but Flex knew that the anti-venom cared at least a little for him. It was a start, and hell, he wanted to see what else was in store for them.
“Shit; you’re bleeding.” Prescott bit his lip as his eyes gazed down to the wound on Flex’s leg.
“It’s just a scratch.” Flex smiled as Prescott lifted the leg of his shorts to reveal the scratch.
“Fuck, it looks bad,” Prescott hissed as he touched the area around the wound.
“You sound concerned,” Flex teased. In truth, he felt like he was about one minute away from passing out. He was dizzy and nauseous, and wanting to see Prescott safe when he feared that something could have happened to him had him pushing past the pain to get back.
“Come on. I can bitch you out while I clean you up.” Prescott stood and grabbed his arm, putting it over Prescott’s shoulder. Flex swayed and moaned as they made their way toward the building.
Weeds approached and grabbed a hold of Green. “We need to get you both inside.” Weeds hesitated before his gaze locked on Flex. “How many?” Weeds whispered.
“We lost four platypuses, but it could have been worse. Hell, it could have been a whole lot worse, but Mission wasn’t expecting an attack and every venom that came to the fight brought their strengths to the front line. We had aerial battle with the bees, speed with the snakes and strength from the ants. Mission Territory was in for a serious surprise.”
Reese and Leif came running up. Reese was the first to look around, and Flex held up a hand. “Kalder and Wilder are okay. They want us to bring you to Mission immediately. A lot of clean up was needed.”
Boone raced by Flex toward Ju
lius, grabbing his mate and holding him tight.
Reese nodded, holding his hand to his chest. “Okay, we’ll be ready in ten.”
“A couple hours,” Flex slurred.
“Huh?” Reese asked.
“I...” Flex saw dots cover his vision before he heard shouts from Prescott and then knew no more.
Flex moaned as his brain fired back up. He couldn’t open his eyes, and his first thoughts were of the pain in his leg. Shit, what the hell happened?
“Flex,” a voice said next to him.
Flex pried his heavy eyelids open to see Prescott staring down at him.
“You scared the hell out of me.” Prescott shook his head as he leaned his elbows on the bed. He reached forward and petted Flex’s hair as if he was used to doing it.
Flex tried to swallow and couldn’t. His throat was bone dry. Prescott reached over to a table nearby and grabbed a glass of water, bringing it to his lips. Flex drank thirstily. God, he was parched. After emptying the glass, Flex pulled back.
“How long was I out?” he rasped.
“Just a night. You lost a lot of blood, and that wound was becoming infected. Whatever remedy Weeds put on, it seems to be helping a lot. It’s not as hot as it was last night and doesn’t look as angry.” Prescott gazed down at Flex’s wounded leg.
Flex groaned as he sat up to stare down at his leg. It was wrapped in seaweed with the weird natural concoction that Weeds created. It helped. It would take a couple days, but he could at least travel. He pulled his legs off the pallet, trying to stand when Prescott pushed him back down.
“You’re not getting out of bed.” Prescott all but tucked him back in his blankets.
“We need to be getting back,” Flex argued.
“They already left,” Prescott said as he sat down next to him. “Boone took a group back with some ants and bees last night. My friends went with him to travel to their mates.”
Flex brows rose. “You didn’t go?”
Prescott bit his lip again, and Flex was coming to realize that was Prescott visual sign of nerves. “We’ll be traveling there when you get better.”
