“He wanted him because you wanted him,” Bobbi guessed.
Dragon nodded, impressed by her understanding of the situation.
“Zerlix and I have never properly bonded, the way a Big Brother and Little Brother are supposed to,” he said. “I think he hates me because I’m mammalian—or maybe because he wanted our Sire and mother all to himself, or he resents the attention I draw away from him by being different. I don’t know—but I do know if he’s decided to Claim something—or someone—he won’t ever give up until he gets what he wants.”
“Did your mother know that?” she asked. “I mean, when she let you keep one of the, uh, heechees as a pet?”
“I don’t think she thought of it much—she’s always had a blind spot when it comes to Zerlix.” Dragon shrugged. “As for letting me keep Nibbles, I think she read some books on mammalian psychology that said it was good for a mammalian child to have another warm-blooded creature to look after.”
“Well, it was a very kind gesture,” Bobbi murmured sincerely. “She seems like a remarkable woman, your mother.”
“She’s the best and kindest mother any male could have,” Dragon said honestly. “But I’m afraid the story of my ‘pet’ doesn’t have a happy ending.”
“Oh, no…” She looked down at the patchwork fur blanket. “What happened?”
“I built Nibbles a cage and kept him in my room for months. It was…a great joy to have him,” Dragon murmured. “He made me feel less alone in an alien world.”
He smiled, remembering the soft, furry body in his arms—the way Nibbles had made that funny purring sound as the little animal snuggled against his chest when Dragon stroked his silky, purple-spotted fur. The little heechee had known his name and always came running when Dragon opened his cage door, eager for the little bits of bread he fed him as a treat. At the time, it had been good to have something smaller and weaker than himself to care for—it had made him feel stronger and more sure of himself.
“What…what happened to him?” Bobbi whispered, bringing Dragon back to the present. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but…” She shook her head and made a gesture for him to go on.
“I was careful to hide him from everyone—especially Zerlix,” Dragon told her. “Months passed and I thought it was safe—I thought he’d forgotten all about my pet. Then, one day I came into my room and found him standing there with Nibbles in his hands.”
He closed his eyes briefly, remembering the way the little heechee had been squeaking in fear…the way his big, liquid eyes had been so wide and terrified…
“Oh, no…” Bobbi put a hand to her throat. “I don’t want to know this, do I? Oh please, tell me he didn’t…didn’t hurt the poor little animal right in front of you!”
“I begged him not to. Begged him to let Nibbles go—I told him I would do his chores for the rest of my life, that I would pay him all my allowance—that I would do anything he said, anything at all, if only he would put my pet down and let him go.”
Dragon was surprised at the lump he felt in his throat as he spoke—surprised at the emotions that came rushing over him. He hadn’t thought of this old, painful memory in years. He pushed the feelings back down and continued speaking. The little feela had to know what kind of danger she was in—had to understand why he had Claimed her.
“I’m guessing he didn’t put him down,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“No,” Dragon said flatly. “Zerlix said, ‘I told you I’d have him for my dinner and I fucking well will!’ Then he bit off his head, right in front of me.”
“Oh, no!” Bobbi clapped her hands to her mouth and her eyes filled with horrified tears. “Oh, Dragon—that’s terrible,” she whispered in a choked voice. “How horrible for you!”
Dragon was rather surprised at her reaction. He’d been hoping to scare her—to impress on her the reason why he had Claimed her to keep her safe. But he hadn’t expected her to react with sorrow and pity to his story.
It wasn’t a story he had ever told anyone before—because no one would care. Well, except for his adoptive mother, who had done her best to comfort him and had made the blanket of skins so that he could always remember the furry little animal he’d had for such a short time. But any other Saurian would have shrugged their shoulders and said, “So what? Heechees are meant to be eaten. What’s the big deal?”
But this little female—this little feela—was crying for him—weeping in a way that Saurians never did, for they didn’t have tear ducts, the way his species of mammalian did.
“Tears…” Dragon reached out with a single finger and brushed one off her flushed cheek. And for once, she didn’t jerk away from him. “You’re shedding tears for me?” he asked.