by Amanda Milo
Although, this hob is always cautious. Jonohkada. Shadow to Gracie, amateur medical technician to Isla—and currently a flea in the ointment of my plans. “Do you want your hand broken? Put it down.”
Jonohkada cringes a beat, his wings tightening to his back before he swallows, struggling to marshal his courage. Apparently, he manages to gather enough, because he straightens an increment taller and states, “You cannot abduct Isla.”
I stare down at him, considering the problem he presents. And he is a problem, because if he’s going to be reluctant to forget he overheard our conversation, I will be forced to provide him with enough incentive to stay silent. He must see I mean to provide him plenty, because he begins to back away from me.
But not fast enough.
I catch the hob by the throat, raising him in the air, about to shake him into compliance—
When a voice—a voice I detest hearing because if I’m hearing it, it means I’m about to have a hornsache all the day long—rings out with authority: “PUT HIM DOWN!”
Gracie. TEVEK.
The irksome female is suddenly before me, pointing one of her small, breakable fingers at my snout. “Enough, Bash! I mean it! You stop harassing my hobs. Jonohkada is MINE.”
“When, exactly, did this happen?” Dohrein asks from behind me, voice holding a note of threat.
Hm. Sounds like her mate won’t protest if I fling Jonohkada off the side of the canyon.
(Don’t you make that smooth-faced grimace at me. Yes, YOU, you little hob sympathizer. Jonohkada has two as-yet unbroken wings: he’ll survive.)
Gracie leans around me to look at her male. “Not romantically, chill.” Her glare snaps back up to me. “You can’t hurt him.”
I laugh, just once. Flames leap out in front of me, splitting the air between us.
Gracie’s eyes narrow. “Why are you threatening him? Jonohkada never fucks up.”
It’s true that this hob has never given me reason before this to punish him. He’s probably a fine male. But I can’t have him telling Gracie, who is queen to the herd of humans, what my intention is before I enact my plan for Isla, especially if my plan hinges on abducting the female that I want. Gracie could sequester Isla away. Gracie might alert the Gryfala’s high council that I am a danger.
Dangerous Rakhii get put to death.
But I am not a danger. I only want Isla. She will be mine, I will be hers, there will be great love, and I will take good care of her.
As if my thoughts have conjured her, Isla appears. And her expression undergoes surprise, shock, and… perhaps even horror. Because, from her point of view, it must look as if I’m about to silence her friend Jonohkada. Permanently. “Bash?” she asks.
At the sound of her voice, at her saying my name rather than the hob’s, I open my hand.
Jonohkada lands on the quarry stone with a fang-jarring snap, his oxygen-starved body hitting the unforgiving surface with a loud smack. He gasps and clutches at his throat.
Gracie and Isla drop to their knees on either side of him—and at first it seems Gracie is slower due to the cumbersomeness of her pregnancy, but this isn’t entirely the case. Well aware of what a hob’s wings can do, the female is cautiously nudging Jonohkada’s limp, bedraggled wings closed so that the powdery insides aren’t a danger to her, and she instructs Isla to do the same on her side.
Then they thoroughly fuss over the male.
I search the side of Isla’s face with blistering intensity. Does she care for this hob?
If she does, then he is an obstacle.
I will obliterate an obstacle.
Jonohkada must be able to sense the direction of my thoughts because he’s gone completely still under the females’ ministrations—even his coughing fit has frozen. His hands are still at his throat, but he’s got two females beside him and he’s not basking in his moment with them at all. He’s watching me out of the corner of his widened eye like I’m about to attack.
He’s correct to worry.
And when Isla’s concerned hand pats the side of his face to get his attention, he should be able to feel his impending destruction.
Gracie’s hand hovers over Jonohkada’s shoulder. Hesitatingly—oddly hesitatingly, when there is nothing hesitant about this female—she brings her hand down, clapping him on his shoulder, pat, pat. “What the hell happened, Jonoh? Why did Bash go after you?”
I know the moment the hob decides to be a lungsqueak. Anyone can tell—because the male curls up and hugs Gracie’s hips. He starts, “Gracie! Bash is going to—”
Dohrein makes an unholy snarling noise and flies at the male who has ahold of his mate.
Only he slams into my shoulder because I’ve beat him to the blubbering hob; I’m lunging forward with the aim to smother Jonohkada’s reply by shoving my hand over his mouth. I succeed.
For my attempt, Jonohkada bites me viciously, and I shake him.
While his wings flap and slap wildly as I jostle him roughly back and forth, Dohrein takes his Gracie, hauling her back with him possessively.
Jonohkada’s wild eyes implore her, clearly considering her his protector even as his fangs stay jammed in the meat of my hand and Gracie’s mate drags her further away.
Ignoring the sounds of humans shrieking, I thunk Jonohkada back down to the ground, slamming him flat. He struggles to rise; but I keep him shoved down, pinning him. My plan consists of cutting off his air until he passes out and can’t tell further tales but he thwarts me by silently relaying his message. He darts a meaningful look at Isla, then jumps his gaze back to Gracie, a telling look if either of them are paying attention—so I shake the hob again.
“HEY! Enough with that! Quit it!” Gracie orders, fighting her mate’s hold. She escapes, because he lets her. I suppose he’s worried about causing her harm in her pup-heavy state.
Loose and mad as a diseased animal, Gracie does the unthinkable.
She grabs me.
It wouldn’t be so terrible—but Isla is RIGHT HERE. Isla here to see another female put her hands on me?
Unthinkable.
A Rakhii female would never allow her mate to cavort with some other female. Gryfala do not tolerate even the idea of another Gryfala’s touch on their male. They outright reject a male who’s allowed advances by another female. And I have observed that humans do not tolerate the male they want being given attention by another female either.
Startled, stricken, I jerk away from Gracie, my eyes flying to Isla. While she stares back at me, I act quickly.
I spit on myself.
I keep spitting on myself.
“Um, Bash...” I hear Isla say.
“Dude. I’m not even gonna try not to be offended,” Gracie mutters. “Although ha, where I’m originally from, we’ve got hedgehogs, and what you’re doing is called selbstbespuchen.”
“God bless you,” Isla tells her.
Gracie snickers softly. “It’s German for ‘self-spitting.’ Hedgehogs have the same kind of frothy saliva and—” she dares to near me with one of her fingers, pointing it at me, “—they do that. It’s a ‘Get away from me, don’t touch me, pthew, pthew.’”
“Interesting,” Isla offers in a musing tone. “Prickly hedgehogs and… Bash.”
Voice agreeable, Gracie comments, “Makes a lot of sense.”
My arm, where Gracie grabbed me—I coat it in my saliva, rubbing it over my scales with rough movements to cleanse the area. Consequently, my bleeding hand, where the hob’s fangs pierced through my scales, also receives a coating of saliva and heals.
Huffing a grunt, I glance back up, and am relieved to note that Isla is watching me with brows raised, but despite knowing that Gracie has touched me, she doesn’t appear upset.
Abruptly, I blink, a dolorous feeling of dread stealing over me. Because it occurs to me that Isla might not feel proprietary where I’m concerned... because perhaps she does not care for me in the way a mate should care.
My hearts feel crushed.
Jon
ohkada, taking advantage of my hands no longer being on him, hauls in a rasping breath and shouts at the top of his rumormongering lungs, “BUBASHUU IS GOING TO ABDUCT ISLA AND FORCE HER TO BECOME HIS MATE!”
CHAPTER 24
ISLA
Okay. Let’s rewind to about five minutes before we found Bash shaking the daylights out of poor Jonoh.
Gracie had just dragged me off for a private mini conversation that went something like this: “Do me a favor? Tell Bash to chill today or you won't be slobbering on his knob.” (Gracie.)
Me: “Whoa, wow, we—” I’d like to, but we’re not even close to that ever happening “—we haven't, he doesn’t—”
Gracie: “OHHHH, no wonder he's still so grinchy! Well what are you waiting for? It's not like they have Christmas here. Just jump him.”
“HOW?” I’d asked.
Gracie had looked at me like this was the easiest thing. “You’re his kryptonite, Isla. Are you into him or not?”
“Yes! I want him. He’s mine. He just doesn’t know it yet. It’s a delicate situation.”
Gracie had snorted. “There’s nothing delicate about a Rakhii. And definitely not that Rakhii.” She’d peered at me. “Why are you still here?”
“Because it’s a workday…”
“No, I mean—I can’t be wrong about this—Bash is into you too. I saw the whole rock-hoarding thing.”
I’d shrugged. “He collects them.”
Gracie’s smile was the Cheshire Cat’s grin. “I bet he does. Why aren’t you two snogging up a storm and knocking boots until his bed catches fire?”
“That’s the delicate part. See, he doesn’t know that he likes me.” I’d waved around us, to everyone around us who has been, at one point or another, insulted and/or screamed at by the human-hating Bash. “He’s sort of anti-Homo sapiens, so it’s slow going convincing him that we’re going to be awesome together.”
Gracie had screwed her face up. “No, no—something’s off. The Rakhii are nuts. Once they find their female, they want all her attention, and if they see you giving it to anyone else, that ‘anyone else’ is in some serious danger. You should be hidden away in his den somewhere, somewhere where he keeps you under him for a couple weeks, at least. Somewhere away from everybody else. He’s a Rakhii. For those crazy horned suckers, abduction is like courtship.”
I’d wondered then if I should take this personally. The alien I want hasn’t kidnapped me yet. Does this mean our relationship is doomed? What does it say if the male you want doesn’t drag you away from everyone to lock you in his cave and drill you into another dimension? “This is so backwards,” I’d laughed.
Gracie, arms crossed, shoulder against the rock wall she’d been leaning against, had tossed me a smirk. “Oh girl, I know. Welcome to loving an alien.”
That had given me food for thought.
Not good food though. Because if abduction means interest, where are Bash and I at, exactly? Why hasn’t he dragged me off by my hair?
That’s what I was pondering right up until Jonohkada’s announcement. “BUBASHUU IS GOING TO ABDUCT ISLA AND FORCE HER TO BECOME HIS MATE!”
Giddiness fills me… for all of a millisecond. Because Bash’s scales heat up from dusty yellow to molten orange and he roars, “That’s a LIE!”
Awww, damn.
Bash continues. “I would never force her.” He looks disgusted, truly disgusted at such a notion.
Wait. Is that the only part about the afore-shouted claim that he’s taking issue with? I look back and forth between the hob Bash was clearly trying to silence and the big bad Rakhii himself.
They’re locked in a staring contest, one looking righteously angry (Jonohkada), the other indignantly furious (Bash)—but Jonohkada isn’t backing down. I mean, sure, the man is mostly still on his back, his wings in a heap, but the hob seems adamant about what he thinks he got shaken around for.
“Hotahn advised him to take the female he wants, that she can be coaxed to agree to stay with him!” Jonohkada claims, his voice sounding more than a little horror-stricken.
“That’s not forcing,” Bash points out—and I think that’s fair. By definition, he’s right. And sure, back on Earth, if a human guy had plans to snatch a woman off the street and ‘coax’ her to stay with him, everyone should worry. I would. I’d think that was totally grounds to be concerned, but from what I’ve seen, Rakhii are not like humans. I’ve heard they—and the Gryfala—police any crime here pretty strict. They don’t have prison. They have lock up under an arena where they publicly execute the guilty. Everybody sees justice happen, and it’s one heck of an incentive to toe the line. There is very little crime. (Although I have heard Rakhii have a bit of a proclivity where theft is concerned. But it’s a special thing involving attraction and some sort of phase in the courtship and mate-keeping process unique to Rakhii and I guess that isn’t an outright killing offense.)
Bash isn’t a bad alien. I’m not worried he’ll hurt me. And if Bash wants to take me to his cave and coax me to do anything—I’m there. Count me in for being coaxed.
“Did you really want to abduct me?” I blurt, because I’m unsuccessful at trying to rein in how giddy I suddenly feel. ‘Do you really, really like me?!’
Bash’s ears are low and when he turns his eyes on me, they look pained, and it makes him look somewhat guilty. “I was inquiring as to the best way to go about attracting you.” He turns a fiery glare on Jonohkada. His throat tightens. It ripples. “And now this cursed hob—”
“Whoa, whoa!” Gracie smoothly slides in between the hob still down on the ground and the wrathful-looking Rakhii. “Jonoh didn’t do shite. Don’t you dare punish him any worse.”
Behind her, Dohrein is growling, “Gracie, when a Rakhii looks as if he’s about to blow fire, do not put yourself in harm’s way.”
Bash is glaring at her. “You have an abominable lack of brain cells.”
To everyone’s shock, Jonohkada pushes himself up behind her and basically agrees. “I thank you, Gracie, but I’d much rather you remain safe if this scenario were to occur again.”
Gracie, hands on her noticeably round stomach, growls at all of them. Then she pins Bash with a withering glare. “Would you blow fire on one of my kids?”
Bash’s eyes narrow. But… not angrily. More like a pause.
Easily a head taller than his mate, Dohrein’s eyes meet Bash’s. “This word means ‘offspring,’” he supplies.
Bash’s chin lifts in acknowledgement of his assistance. To Gracie, Bash grates, “I would not.”
Gracie gestures behind her to a wobbly-but-standing-on-his-own-two-feet Jonohkada. “From now on, consider him my kid. All of them are my kids.”
Behind her, Jonohkada makes a face. And fair enough, because he doesn’t look much (if anything at all) younger than us. Is Gracie nuts? “Stop torturing my hobs. Hear me?”
I’m peeking at Jonohkada, trying to get a good bead on his age. I’m also thinking that maybe Gracie is protective not because of his age at all, but because he’s so… he has this sweetheart-guy way about him. And while no man wanting to be taken seriously by the unattached female population wants to be labeled as ‘a sweetheart’—Jonohkada… well, he kinda is. He’s just so darn nice. And most of the time he looks like he’s expecting someone somewhere is two steps away from smacking him upside the head. So yeah—I guess I can see why Gracie feels like he needs a protector. Why she thinks she makes an effective shield. Even if she is like two whole feet shorter than him, doesn’t even have his claws or sharp teeth, and he’s technically from a badass race of flying aliens… Gracie’s kind of scary.
Bash doesn’t look afraid (just maybe like he’s hoping his glare can turn Gracie into someone who stops irritating the ever-living hell out of him). Through his teeth, he (graciously) says yes: “Agreed—you domineering, ungovernable, irritating alien.”
Gracie snorts. “I’m domineering? Oh, that’s rich!”
Bash’s brows scrunch together. He mouths, �
��‘Rich?’”
I tug on his sleeve, enjoying how fast his head drops, how his expression shifts intensity, his gaze immediately locked on me. “Laughable,” I explain.
Bash’s brows scrunch again. “There is no relation to the word!”
I cluck my tongue, considering it. “No, I guess there’s not.” I shrug. “Don’t know how that one came to mean that.”
“Because you humans are crazed!” Bash erupts, dragging a hand through his quills. Which makes the muscles in his arm bunch. I’ve got a really good view, standing this close to him. I feel my eyes go hooded.
Bash’s mouth opens to spew something else, probably something derogatory about my whole species, but he glances down at me—and freezes.
Gracie claps her hands. “Okay, team. We’re done here.”
Dohrein’s dry voice informs her, “I initially came to find you because I was just about to heat corn kernels for us in the lab.”
“Awesome!” Gracie says. “Popcorn is definitely called for. Let’s get some for the show.”
“What show?” Jonohkada asks, confused.
“Shhh,” Gracie says, “your job is done. Next time, consult me before you go off matchmaking on your own.”
“Matchmaking?” Jonohkada asks, sounding horrified, and his voice comes to me in the way that tells me he’s swung his head in our direction, but I’m ignoring him and the other two, I just hear Gracie shooing him along, giving me privacy with the alien I’m hoping to snag. The same alien who is looking like maybe he wants to be snagged.
I stare up at him. “You didn’t have to attack poor Jonohkada.”
Bash’s intent look darkens. “And why is that?”
“Because I’m giving you full authorization to abduct me. You don’t need to pussyfoot—”
Bash’s eyes widen, his ears snapping up—then, stiffly, they flip in different directions.
Ah, his translator cleared the words separately; he’s struggling like hell over the combination.
I start grinning. “—around. Just steal me away.” When Bash continues to stare down at me, I go on. “So no more getting growly, there’s no need. You want to hang out sometime, you could also do the novel thing and ask me like a normal guy.”
