First Species

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Right now, it's just us girls.

  “So those two dudes out there are...”

  “My mates, Drake and Merck.”

  “Uh-huh,” I glance at Camille, knowing she's trying to pay attention but is clearly hurting.

  “Listen,” Talyn begins, leaning forward and resting elbows on knees, she loosely knots her hands, “I know this is hard, God knows. But being mated to a Lycan and prehistoric seems so natural at this stage I don't give it any more thought.”

  “You've told us you were a counselor in your pre-transition life,” Camille speaks for the first time, her gold eyes contrasting with a deep reddish-brown hair color.

  Talyn nods, leaning back and crossing her legs. “It's so unusual to get two unknown transitions that they called me in, though it's absolutely dangerous.” She looks away for a second, and I think I see unease, but then the expression vanishes. “My mates are here with our young, and that's great because I have to feed them at least twice a day.” She gives us a direct stare. “But that's not really all of it. I'd miss them if I were to go by myself, and if Cara has one of her tantrums, she'll light things on fire.”

  “Dragon?” Camille asks casually.

  Talyn nods. “It's really been challenging. Like potty training, but instead of going in the toilet, it's torching the general environment.”

  This is just weird.

  Camille laughs wistfully. “Well, I did kick Kiel in the nuts.”

  Shit. “You did?” I ask.

  She nods, gorgeous hair sliding forward and hiding one of her eyes. “Yup, after the Mutable circus came into town, I just didn't know what Kiel was,” she gives a small shrug, “and then I found out my boss was a Mutable.”

  “What?” Talyn asks, and the caution in her tone has me turning to face her.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I'm supposed to be giving you two girls emotional support for transition before you manifest signs.”

  “Well, how come we haven't?”

  Talyn shifts her gaze to me. “Maybe you have a higher blood quantum? Mine was very small. I was lucky to get past the poisoning and all the other crap that went down. Then I birthed a prehistoric. I'm golden.”

  “Right,” Camille says, wincing as she stands. “I really appreciate you coming all this way to put us at ease,” Camille gives me a slight nod, indicating she just looped me, “but I don't think I need a pep talk or whatever else this is.”

  Talyn frowns. “I'm only trying to give you a sense of what your life will be like afterward. A point-of-reference if you will.”

  Camille cocks her head. “The only thing I'm mildly curious about is our age. You had twins two years ago?”

  Talyn sighs then gives a curt nod.

  “You're very well-preserved.” Camille's eyebrows rise.

  “My aging process has slowed to that of a prehistoric and Lycan now that my transition's finalized.”

  Camille nods. “Not a bad fringe benefit as those go. I'm just not sure I want to have children. I liked my job – working with children. It was enough for me. In fact, I felt as though I was helping more kids by performing that role.”

  “Me too!” I exclaim. “I mean, not the kid part, but I was content.”

  Talyn sighs, looking between us. “Like I've mentioned, I helped a lot of people too. Unlike you, I desperately wanted children, and at that point, none of us were fully aware of the terrible, long-term consequences of the damage the Zondorae brothers did with their drugs. I thought I was infertile because of how old I was. Boy, was I wrong.”

  “You're not ancient.” Camille's lips twist.

  Talyn laughs. “No, but I was past my prime for having children.”

  “I'm scared,” I admit in a low voice.

  Talyn stands, walking the meter to where I sit, sinking in front of my chair. She takes my hands.

  “I was as well. I had these two guys on opposing sides—hell, Merck was sent to sterilize me because he was a Hunter. Lycans didn't want any females that were half-breeds birthing their young. Killian didn't give a damn if that meant Lycan extinction. He was a purist, even if it meant making us sterile.”

  “Sounds like an idiot,” Camille comments.

  Talyn shifts her attention to Camille. “He was.” Her smile is fierce. “He's dead now.”

  “Do you change into a wolf?” I ask.

  She winks. “Only at the full moon.”

  I laugh. “You know that sounds cliché, right?”

  Talyn nods. “Everything does until you live it.”

  I nod.

  “So, listen—none of the shifter groups are going to hurt you, but the Firsts are especially reverent of their females.”

  I had noticed Drest was pretty nice even if he was arrogant. Pushy.

  And hot.

  “Do I have to be with Drest?” I remove my hands from Talyn's, and she sits back on her heels. “Jac?”

  “Wow, they already have a prehistoric for you?”

  Talyn looks to Camille, who puts up her hands in a “beats me” gesture. “Just Kiel so far. He's a lot, I'm just going to mention that. He doesn't seem like what I've heard about the ʽtypical First Species.ʼ”

  “He'd have to be to take on Mutables.” Talyn's brows meet.

  “Drest did too.” I look to Camille.

  Camille lifts a shoulder. “Kiel admitted that his Alpha barely sent him.”

  Talyn stands, returning to her chair and settling in. “There aren't a lot of eligible males, and those who have Alpha status get first rights to retrieve viable females.”

  “So we go back and what? We get to choose a male?” I ask.

  Talyn shakes her head. “No, you go back with the males who've been assigned your acquisition, and if you say no to them, then you pick someone else.”

  “What about the woolly?”

  Camille looks at me and snorts, giving a quick wince with the motion. “There's such a thing?”

  Talyn's palms spread. “You knew about dragons.”

  Camille shifts her weight. “I heard about it.”

  Huh. “Well, he's the... prehistoric dude.”

  “Ah. I see.” Talyn looks at Camille. “And?”

  Camille shrugs then hisses between her teeth. “Don't know, haven't seen any shifters spring out and declare their undying breedability thus far.”

  “Well, you two are in for a treat.”

  We don't have to wait for Talyn's teaser. “These shifters make the pleasure for a woman something we can't say no to.”

  Instantly, I'm suspicious. Men just want to poke us and get off. There's no concern about our pleasure. That's been my experience.

  “I had a great lover once,” Camille says wistfully then adds, “I thought he'd lick my lady bits off.”

  I bark out a laugh, clapping a hand over my mouth.

  Talyn joins in. “You haven't seen anything until you're mated to a dragon.”

  The cogs of my mind move. “Oh my God, you're talking forked tongue?”

  “I am.” Talyn uses a mildly smug tone, chin lifting.

  “Holy shit,” Camille whispers.

  “Indeed,” Talyn says. “If you can't see the merit in having two huge males live to protect you and give you sexual pleasure for the rest of your natural life, I can't help you.”

  “I guess I do see the merit,” I say slowly, thinking about the short list of lovers who ran me through the beef fuel injection mill without a care for the end goal. Maybe I wanted to have an orgasm, dumbshits. Or feel desired as a whole—rather than the part I came with.

  “Well now that you've hit us between the eyes with the porn-o-lot,” Camille winks at me, and I groan. “Tell us what to expect in daily life.”

  Talyn begins to speak, and when she's through, I feel better about going with them.

  I'm not sure who I'll end up with, and yeah, the lust pill I keep swallowing is an ego-suck because Drest and the other Firsts can scent it.

  But Talyn's right. Camille and
I will transition. It's not an “if.” It's either that, or we die a horrible death.

  “Okay, ladies, I'm going back to Kiel to finish my healing.”

  Talyn frowns. “He would have never put it off for our chat.”

  “He didn't, but there's a second step. He did the first part, and that was strange, I'm not going to lie.”

  Talyn gives a light laugh. “Alright, I don't know what it is, but be prepared to get naked.”

  Camille's eyes narrow with suspicion. “He didn't say anything about that.”

  Talyn cups her chin. “Kiel probably hasn't thought to expound on all their methods. And human hybrid females are told so little, really. For instance,” Talyn gives me a glance, “Drest is First. Healing a female would be second nature to him. He healed the bounty named Mollie, but all trace of that connection would have severed when she turned vampire.”

  Turned vampire.

  “So Drest was supposed to be with Mollie?” I ask in a soft voice.

  “Only if she had blood quantum. The First Species can't afford to mate women who can't throw true.”

  “Throw true?”

  Talyn says, “Make First Species offspring. Anything else is not valuable to them.”

  “Well, that's arrogant,” Camille says, crossing her arms.

  “That is the reality in the shifter world,” Talyn replies as she sweeps a dismissive palm wide.

  It's kinda reality in my world too.

  Chapter 19

  Seiger

  W hat. The. Fuck?” Seiger roars into the faces of the useless hyenas who remain. Because there are so few and his voice booms, the short, wisp-like hairs that cover their bodies in half-form lift—trembling from the force of his words.

  Lead hyena drops to the ground, debasing himself before Seiger. The gesture is simply not enough. No atonement would be.

  Without a conscious effort, Seiger morphs into a partial mastodon. Lifting his knee high, he brings his rounded, heavy, and powerful foot down on the skull of the hyena leader.

  Skull fragments pierce even the thick, bony pad of this half-form. Seiger winces, his foot mired in the useless brains of this one, and shifts to a different form, instantly healing the small but highly irritating damage caused by crushing a shifter skull.

  “Not... good enough,” Seiger seethes, bowing low, hands fisted. Eyes narrowing, Seiger's face, heavy of beak and the sharp eyes of his hawk form, narrow at the guard who was second to the main sentry at the underground catacomb of the colony prison.

  “Alpha,” the second bows his head, no doubt taking in the spreading pool of crimson glory making its way toward the small group on the floor separating them from their Alpha.

  “Speak,” Seiger's voice is a grating chirp that slices the very air like an ice pick.

  Leon, the hyena grimaces, sensitive hearing traumatized but continues, “Sean could not stop Casek, Alpha. He felled so many of my pack...” Leon spreads wiry and strong arms away from his body, and a mass of neatly ordered speckles a few shades darker than his skin sweep both sides of his flank, a sign of his heightened anxiety.

  Earth. “We are not trees, Leon.”

  The hyena nods quickly. Yips of unease and fear sound from behind him.

  One sweeping glance from Seiger quiets them all, and his attention returns to the cowering second before him.

  “No, Alpha, but he behaved as though his arms and mouth were the chainsaw for our limbs—our heads.”

  “Yes. Casek is quite systematic. That is why I chose to imprison him.” Seiger cups his chin. “I am disappointed I cannot kill Dirk as well. Alas, he is already dead, and I will have to suffer a new donkey.”

  Leon remains silent.

  His toes are bloody now from the murder of the hyena before Leon.

  “Jael is gone. The rogue Casek took her.”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  “His escape is of a lesser consequence when weighed against her absence from this colony. Human scourge could take our property—or a First, earth forbid. Do you understand the importance?”

  Leon nods.

  “Get the donkeys of the colony together. Right. Now. We have a dual acquisition to maintain, and now Jael is in the company of the most dangerous of our colony.”

  “He will not breed her,” Leon says with the confidence only a Mutable possesses. Sheer bravado, greed, and a seediness of character unparalleled in the shifter kingdom—Leon personifies these traits perfectly.

  “Fool! Of course he will not breed her. Yet.” Seiger emphasizes with a chirping hiss. “Go,” Seiger breathes.

  Leon does.

  Seiger's eyes scan the assembled donkeys. They look remarkably similar except one who is a rare albino. His form is littered with the proof of his unpopularity.

  So naturally, Seiger calls him forward first.

  Larger than the others, he has a lightning-type scar that runs like a vertical slash through his eyebrow, narrowly missing his right eye. The ragged scar terminates at his jawbone with a curly-cue type finish.

  Moving forward slowly, defiant eyes meet Seiger.

  Excellent. “Roiel,” Seiger greets, remembering his name.

  The donkey inclines his head, not in disrespect but in wariness, for his gaze never leaves Seiger's own.

  Word of my stomping the hyena's head travels fast, Seiger muses, pleased by the rapid freight train of gossip within the colony.

  “Alpha.”

  Seiger wastes no time. “Dirk has been executed.”

  “I am aware.”

  “Good. I need a new first.”

  Though Roiel attempts to contain his surprise, he can't quite manage.

  Seiger chuckles.

  Murmuring ensues, and Seiger's eyes roam the donkeys of his immediate colony, perhaps a dozen. Low numbers compared to other regions.

  Perhaps because Seiger puts them on the front lines so often. They are shrewd and expendable.

  “Silence,” Seiger commands, and the donkeys quiet, visually mining the corners of the huge room that was once used as a cistern for the city. Strange, domed ceilings offer up disquieting acoustics, throwing sound around in an arc that takes it away from its point-of-origin. At all exits and points of entry, hyenas are stationed. Ready to fall on whatever donkey raises dissent.

  That is why it is so telling that Roiel poses questions.

  “I am the least of them,” Roiel explains, waving a stubby but powerful half-form hand, covered in what the humans would name “angel's hair,” at the loose group of his kind who stand nervously behind him.

  “Well, you've survived how long?” Seiger cocks an eyebrow.

  Roiel doesn't hesitate, “Fifty cycles. I have not one friend, one convenience. Every hardship that comes to this colony, I have personally endured. Why now have you decided the need for the lowliest of donkeys?”

  Seiger steps forward. “Do you not fear, Roiel?”

  With a low bray, Roiel snorts out his reply, his answer being heard like a slapping echo around the circular room fashioned from local quartzite stone.

  “No?” Seiger repeats Roiel's answer, mildly incredulous.

  Roiel dips his chin, causing Seiger to lose sight of his pale reddish-pink irises for the moment. “I do not fear death. Living has been the trial.”

  Ah—nothing to lose. Also excellent. “Their thought process about your worthiness does not matter. I, and I alone, make selections based on a myriad of considerations. All of which the other Mutables are not privy to.”

  Roiel is silent.

  “If there be any donkey who would challenge my choice, come now and fight Roiel for your chance to be the chosen. Because time is of the essence. We must reacquire Jael before she matures.” Seiger meets the eyes of all who are inside the space. The hyenas, the scavengers of shifterkind and the donkeys, the most dedicated and diligent of them all.

  Seiger understands that brute strength, speed, and senses are huge benefits. But more importantly—heart matters. This donkey who has been beaten down his en
tire life will not fail Seiger. He can feel it in his bones.

  In due course, Roiel will die trying.

  That is the loyalty Seiger hopes to command for one of the most delicate acquisitions he's ever performed during his reign as Alpha of this colony.

  Then, another donkey steps forward, executing a bray-sneer of challenge, and Seiger sighs, stepping back.

  Roiel pivots smoothly, lifting hands that morph into rounded hoofs.

  The other donkey charges, and Roiel drops to the arms he just lifted, performing a perfectly balanced handstand while viciously kicking out with his back legs, right into the face of his opponent, immediately crushing the other donkey's left eye socket.

  Nicely played.

  The other donkey's bray of pain fills the circular stone vessel they find themselves in, and with a grace unusual for his kind, Roiel drops on all fours and, snatching his square jaw forward like a bird catching a worm, bites the kneecap from his howling opponent.

  This is not what Seiger had expected.

  Roiel not only fights fiercely, but his ingenious approach is sadly lacking in the more heavily favored Mutables.

  Roiel spits the amputated joint onto the floor and stands on his hind legs. “I would spare you,” he tells the writhing donkey.

  “Fuck you,” the other donkey grates, collapsed onto the knee that can still hold his weight.

  Roiel looks to Seiger.

  Seiger nods.

  Roiel next takes the nose from the donkey with his brutal, square teeth.

  Even Seiger's strong stomach hiccups at the sight.

  “Holy fuck!” brays another, lifting a partial hoof, “he's going to take chunks from Lenny until there's nothing left.”

  Well, perhaps Lenny should have reasoned that through before challenging Roiel, Seiger thinks. However, amusing as all this is… “Enough.”

  Roiel's mouth drips blood, fleshy bits hanging like threads of silky gore from his square teeth. He obediently steps back, waiting for Seiger's command.

  Seiger decides he likes this donkey much better than his predecessor, Dirk, and jerks his chin a centimeter at the gored donkey moaning on the ground. “Let him heal. I doubt there will be additional dissenters.” Phrased as a question, Seiger gives a few heartbeats of time for other donkeys who have more brawn than brains to determine if taking on Roiel, one on one, is in their best interests.