by Sabrina Kade
She is happy to see me.
My cock juts upward, and her face falls slightly. My physical reaction to her is so strong; I think my overenthusiasm might scare her. I shift my body, so my physical excitement isn’t as noticeable, and scan the near-empty Gathering Room. I realize that while Layla isn’t all alone, most of the females here do not often speak to Sidyths. There is a pale one with dark hair and light blue eyes. There are two who both have brown manes and brown eyes to match. Their bodies are like a Sidyth female’s, but they may as well be Octonods.
I bring my attention back to my future Chosen, and she lowers the item in her hand. The smile has faded. Perhaps she is not as excited to see me as I initially assumed. Still, I cannot bring myself to leave. If I walk away after greeting her, she’ll think something is wrong with my senses. I cannot have that. I am trying to prove that I would make a good mate for her. Better than Exer. Better than whatever or whoever else makes those thoughtful lines on her forehead.
I slink across the dark space, trying to make myself look as large as possible despite the aching in my cock. I puff out my chest. Can she see how strong I am? My shorts are smaller today. Smaller and tighter. I want her to see that my legs are in spectacular shape. I want her to hunger for me as I hunger for her.
Even now, as I amble toward her, I see the loveliness in her soft, beautiful frame. She is not like the others. She has large breasts like Prince Korben’s mate, but the rest of Layla’s body is in proportion with those bountiful globes. I imagine taking them into my hands and squeezing them until she moans out with pleasure. My eyes rake down to the fold between her legs. Her skirt is hammocked, but I know the wonderful treasure lying beneath.
Azan tells me that human females have a nub between the folds of their slit. That it swells and drips. What does Layla’s look like? Will she ever let me press my nose between her folds and lap up her juices? Will she taste like a Sidyth female? Does it matter? Everything about her is already so different from our females, and she is also different from most of the human females too. At least to me. Her eyes are wide and brown but positively not youthful. There is wisdom there, and so many questions I long to ask if only to watch her mouth move. Ahh, and her mouth. Her lips. That is my favorite part about her. Sometimes I swear I forget the indents on her cheeks when she smiles. Or the amount of small dark dots on her back. I never forget her lips. Each dip and crevice. How the lower one is much larger than the top one.
I would faint from joy if she ever offered to wrap those full lips around my cock and do the things Azan’s mate does to his.
But her lips don’t part when I stand before her. She stares at me as though preparing to send me away. She always does. My future Chosen is sharp-witted and cynical. Her words are only sharp when compared to the softness of her lips, and I don’t know if this more or less attracts me, but my cock is fully erect when she slicks her short tongue along the bottom lip and frowns.
“If you’re here to tell me I’m ugly again, I won’t believe you. Not with that whole situation going on down there.” She brandishes at my massive cock, pitching a shelter under the thin fabric of my shorts.
Her words sting, but I kneel in front of her anyway, ignoring the dark-haired one in the corner who barks for me to leave her alone.
“It’s okay, Lacey,” she calls to her. “He’s here to tell me things I’m already concerned about, right? You think Exer’s too good for me, don’t you?”
I want to laugh. My future mate is entirely nonsensical. I want to scream from the mountains that no one is as perfect as her. The bloody-haired one that has captured Exer’s attention is nothing special. Not to me. She is slim and hard, not curvy like the female before me. I have never seen the bloody-haired one gaze upon one of those books from suns rising to suns setting. No. Layla is special. She is special to me. I need her to understand this.
But despite making declarations, my words will not pierce through to her heart.
I drop my attention to the closed book. I try to figure out what information it holds, but I cannot tell. There are bright colors and words, so taking a chance, I reach for the strange object.
“What are you doing?” Layla snaps. “You better not mess up my bookmark.”
I shake my head. I will do whatever she wants, even if I do not quite understand. The object is lighter than I expected, and I cannot help wondering what is so fascinating about these objects. Layla and Azan’s mate regularly bury their faces into these bizarre things. Even the sprog-sized one mated to Hujun occasionally glimpses over the text. The book reminds me of a Flat from back home. There are words and pictures, but instead of a single screen, there are many flimsy screens. I have to flip through them, and I cannot help growing increasingly interested as I continue my inspection of what captures Layla’s attention.
“It’s a book,” Layla says at last.
I flicked my eyes to hers, and she drops her head. “I know that.”
She frowns but doesn’t say much more, standing up and, to my surprise, settling next to my elbow. Her hip brushes against mine, but I don’t say anything. Layla is smart. She knows I am aroused. And unfortunately, I must also be intelligent, but I know that Layla does not share my same physical reaction.
“Do you have any idea what this book is about?”
I arch an eyebrow down at her. About? I flip through the ‘pages’ once more, trying to pick up on a pattern. Lots of strange pictures. Lots of unfamiliar words. Everything in black and white. I notice males with impossibly long hair and feminine faces.
“It’s a manga.”
My eyes widen. “Man-ka?” I try, dropping my attention once more.
She snickers. Snickers! It’s a beautiful sound. This is the friendliest Layla has been with me since the crest-mahs celebration where I declared my love for her through song. I must be sure not to waste the opportunity.
“Man-ga,” I try again.
She nods. “Cool, huh? Of all the things York was able to have brought here, it’s a fucking manga. And a girly one at that!” She looks up at me. “You probably have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“I do not.”
“That’s okay,” she says, waving me off. And then she tells me about the book – the manga. These picture books are popular on her homeworld, and one of the females who I cannot remember the name of had an impressive collection at her dwelling. Layla talks about how many different styles of manga there are, and though I don’t understand most of what she speaks of, I am happy to be an attentive listener. I’m sure I would fail any exam covering this conversation, but I don’t think Layla plans on testing me.
I sure hope not.
One thing is for sure. Layla is standing close to me. Layla’s hip is brushing against mine. She leans over the book to point out individual images, and her massive breasts push through her top. Can she not feel how much I want her? Does she not see that I will listen to her stories about silly human desires about overnight trips and indirect kisses? Why does she continue to speak about manga? I don’t want to talk about manga. I want to ask her questions.
Why is she so fascinated with Exer? Why will she not give up on him?
I want to know about her — not silly books.
I bite back my annoyance. A strange conversation with Layla is better than no conversation at all. I smile and nod at appropriate times, taking care not to let my fangs show too much. Azan says the humans do not like it, and though I don’t always like listening to my brother’s advice, he has a human mate, and I do not.
I can barely stand the tension, though. She goes on and on, babbling about books, manga and the other females. I don’t care about the other females. And apparently, the ones left in this room are growing tired of Layla’s chatting, because the gloomy, pale one moves, and the ones who look alike say they are going outside for an observed run.
Thankfully, Layla inhales audibly, pulling away, breasts rising and falling.
“And that’s your basic information about
manga. I hope you paid attention because there’s going to be a quiz later.”
My expression drops. Perhaps, I assumed incorrectly.
“Whoa,” Layla says, smiling. “I was teasing. I wasn’t expecting you to pay attention to half of what I said. Sometimes I enjoy hearing myself talk. Most of the time, the only person I could trust to listen to me at all was—” she stops and color flashes across her full cheeks. “Sloane. Sloane was the last person who listened to me at all.”
Liar. I don’t call her that, but I also don’t believe her. She was going to say someone else, and though I should let it pass, I lean forward. “You speak of another mate, yes?” I guess.
“Huh?” Horror and surprise flicker across her face. “I already said. I was talking about Sloane.”
“You said her name, but that is not who you meant.”
She bristles. I love watching the different expressions on her face. Happiness. Horror. Anger. Guilt.
“So what if it’s someone else, Dolan? What do you care?”
“I care.” The answer flies from my lips, and as much as I want to take it back, so I don’t frighten her off again, she needs to hear what I have to say. “Of course, I care. You are my mate.”
“I’m not your mate.” She steps back and settles on the flat rock, peering up at me. “You know that, right?”
I shake my head. “You are my mate. I have Chosen you. I am simply waiting for you to Choose me.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but view this as progress. Sort of. Maybe. Either way, I’m happy to be here still talking with her. I stare down upon her head, fighting the urge to run my fingers through her smooth, brown hair. She would not like it, and so I resist.
Still, the idea of her having a mate on her homeworld fills me with such rage, that I cannot believe I never considered it before. Does she have a mate? Does she long for someone the same way I long for her? Someone other than Exer?
“Did you have a mate back home?” I implore.
“No, Dolan. I didn’t have a mate. Dios mío, I’m only twenty.” She pushes a hand through her soft hair, and I see her face more clearly. It’s a full and expressive face. My cock bobs. Why does my future Chosen have to be so attractive? I’m trying desperately hard to be polite, but my physical longing for her is about to trump everything.
I love watching her mouth move, yes, but I’d like to view my cock moving inside of her more.
I need to stop thinking about pleasuring her and allow my brain to take over once again. Layla speaks to me. Perhaps she is feeling me out, beginning to realize that I would make the best mate for her.
That is unless she was lying earlier, and she already has a mate.
“Who were you going to say?” I ask again, trying to bite my impatience away. But Layla is a tricky one. If I do not keep asking the same question over and over again, my cock will take charge once more, and the only thing I’ll be able to focus on is making her scream my name. “You said that only one other listened to you?” I kneel slightly, shocked when she gets that color across her cheeks again.
Have I said something to embarrass her? Has she been caught?
“You do have a mate,” I mutter.
“No!” She slaps me hard on the forearm. I wince, more out of surprise than pain, but I cannot hide the expression on my face.
“You hit me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Dolan. I hit you. Because you keep saying I have a mate back at home. Tell me, if I had a mate back home, why in fuck’s sake would I be here spreading my legs to aliens for money?” She snarls, looking like an angry Sidyth female, and stands again. “I’m going to say this clearly, so your alien brain doesn’t get confused. I don’t have a mate, okay?”
“Then who were you talking about earlier?”
Her lower lip trembles. I half-expect someone to come and tell me to leave Layla alone, but luckily, no one arrives.
“Who?” I hiss.
“Shep.”
I inhale sharply, why I’m not sure. This word. This name. It means nothing to me — less than nothing. But one look on Layla’s face lets me know this term is crucial. It’s not the name of a mate. She said that already. So what else could it mean?
“What—” I start, but she growls again.
“You said you wanted a name. I gave you a name. I never said I was going to tell you a bedtime story.” Momentarily, she almost looks pleased with herself for tricking me. She knows how desperate I am to learn more about her. Yet, she does this to me. And here I go, chasing after her like a stinking sprog.
“You don’t have to follow me,” she calls over her shoulder.
“I know this.”
“He’s not going to,” a new, and yet entirely too familiar voice calls from the entryway of the Gathering Room. Azan’s there, and his mate is nowhere in sight. This is not good. He allows Layla to pass under his arm with ease, but when I try to follow, he blocks me, always reminding me that he’s bigger, stronger and more annoying than I am. “Leave her be, Dolan.”
I don’t answer at first, backing away to put some distance between us. My older brother is only a hand or two taller than me, but this close, it feels like so much more.
“I wasn’t bothering her,” I insist.
“I know this.”
I narrow my eyes. He was listening and spying on me. Making sure his little brother doesn’t do anything stupid. I hiss, pushing my way past, but by the time I get to the halls, Layla is nowhere in sight. I huff, turning around to face my infuriating older brother.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” I grumble.
He doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. Azan speaks few words around others. This was a good trait back home. Everything about my brother is good, if not for the poisonous fangs behind his bright red mask. That’s one thing he was never able to change. Because of that, Mother always treated me better. But I knew the truth. She wanted me to carry his poison. That way, Azan could have been the perfect offspring.
“You can’t keep me here,” I grumble. “I’m allowed to talk to her. She is my mate.”
“Has she agreed to this?”
The scales on my neck push away from my skin. Azan huffs triumphantly. I don’t need to respond to him, but when I try to escape down the hallway once more, he seizes my arm. I bat him away, but he pulls my shoulder, and our chests crash against each other.
“If she has not Chosen you, then you have no reason to bother her so much.”
I push off him. “I am not bothering her. I am trying to get to know her.”
“Why?” he snaps. “You think she will Choose you because you won’t allow others near her?”
I hiss under my breath. He’s not wrong. I have been chasing away some of my brothers, but I didn’t think that Azan was also aware. I must steer him away from this topic. “I am your brother. You should know better than anyone that I am a worthy male. Much more so than Exer or…” I trail off, trying to remember the name that Layla spoke, “Shit.”
Azan frowns. “Shit?” His brows furrow. “York says this word, but I do not think it means—”
“Is this a common name on her homeworld?”
Azan hisses behind his mask. “No. It is not. It means excretion.”
Now, my eyes widen. I must have mispronounced the word. Shit cannot be the word Layla said. Unless, is she playing a joke on me? Would she do that despite her wanting nothing to do with me?
“I may be mispronouncing the word,” I admit, annoyed.
“I should hope so.”
“When I spoke to Layla about having a mate on her homeworld, she said no. But she mentioned there was someone who listened to her. No others do, I suppose?” I scrunch up my nose. Who would dare not listen to Layla? “Humans are primitive. This does not surprise me.”
“If you find them so primitive, perhaps you should not seek one out for a mate.”
I hiss, annoyed. “You have one!”
“I care for her. She is brill
iant. Do you feel the same?” I don’t answer him, and Azan relents only slightly. “Perhaps Lay-lah speaks of a family member. Like a brother or mother?”
“Makes more sense than excretion,” I can’t help admitting.
“Indeed.” Azan frowns, relaxing his posture, so others do not think we are about to get into a sparring match. Hujun would not like it, and Prince Korben is convinced that everything bothers his mate lately because of her pregnancy. And like before with Layla, like a sprog, when Azan moves, I fall in line next to him like the good little brother I wish I weren’t.
“She is confusing, Azan,” I say when I can no longer take the silence. He strides past his dwelling and toward the lair cave opening. “She was kind to me today. She said harsh words, but something was happening to her face. She smiled, but it was not a full smile.”
“I see.”
“She told me about books. Manga.”
“York has informed me of these things as well.”
I bristle, not about to get frustrated as Azan and I exit the cave and stride across the lush fields of Hethdiss. Light rain falls from the skies, but my brother has never been one to avoid it. Me on the other hand, I hate the cold. I hate the rain — only a few steps away from the cave my posture droops, and my steps slow.
Azan notices immediately. “You should come out here more. Work up your tolerance to the cold and wet. Humans like it, you know.”
I shake my head. “No. Your human likes it. Layla likes—” And I stop.
I don’t know what Layla likes when it comes to weather. I never asked. I assumed she would be like me and avoid the rain and cold, but what if she loves and lives for it as Azan’s mate does? I slow my step, staring up at the sky. My lungs itch with each intake of breath, but I force myself to keep going until we reach the line we have drawn out in the earth for the humans on the first triss.
“If you want to know more about Lay-lah, you should ask her, Dolan.”
