A drakki from my home planet would never have folded herself into an anthromorphic shell as we males do. Female drakkon were considered too precious for interstellar travel to planets where such a covering might be required. But if a drakki were to acquire a shell, I imagine she would look much like Ola, only with the entrance to her female works inside a scaled stomach as opposed to between her legs. Ola’s human form is so much larger than most of the females on this planet, tall and fleshy, but relatively strong underneath. Any drakki would have fit well inside of a shell made with her light brown epidermis and bountiful curves.
I did not know that I liked curves prior to meeting Ola.
Reverence…
No, no, I cannot follow that instinct. This is temporary, and everything will be ruined if I allow myself to give in to those thoughts.
I quickly finish her sponge bath and reach for the silver cuff…only to find myself pausing before I take hold of it.
The anthros and their silly histories that they can never bring themselves to forget…
It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.
Yet I find myself unable to reshackle her to the bedpost. Or depart from her just yet.
I leave the silver cuff dangling from the post, then settle into the chair beside her bed. Sensations, large and previously unknown disturb my flame, as I watch the up and down of her chest.
I do not like these new sensations. How do the upright primates refer to them, again? Ah yes, feelings. Well, these feelings are worse even than the great clawing itch I suffered before I gave in and claimed her. I rub at my chest, as I used to rub at my belly, wanting them gone.
Suddenly no longer able to bear it, I rise from my seat and leave the room, my nostrils flaring with the urge to burn something to the ground. Feelings were never a problem for me before. But ever since the she-wolf crashed into my life, it has been a constant battle to keep my flame a cool blue.
I shed my accessories when I return to the master suite. This room is twice as large as the one I just left, with a bed made exactly to my specifications. I god spoke the architect and the consulting designer to get exactly what I wanted.
I’d thought I might keep her with me in here as well. Drakkon mates do not share quarters as modern anthros do, but I’d reasoned that it would be easier to monitor her during my resting hours if I imprisoned her in the same room.
However, that plan had revealed itself as impossible as soon as our eyes met at the Wolf Lounge, and I’d suddenly had the urge to rip the head off the wolf with whom she was holding hands. It did not matter that I had been the one who god spoke that basketball player idiot in the first place.
No, I could not fully control myself in her presence, could not be trusted in the same room with her. The vexing she-wolf was more dangerous to me than she knew. And if I could no longer bring myself to shackle her after twice performing the breeding act, what would happen when she fell pregnant with my progeny?
My fire flares inside of me, fearful and bright.
My ultimate revenge…my plan for my drakkon race…the reverence I owe my father…she could ruin everything.
I sleep fitfully that night and am awakened to an alert from the house’s smart room. “You have a biohail from Maxwell Kreft!”
Is the latest Colby still labeled as Maxwell in the biosystem I allow him to use to complete necessary errands? How vexing. This has happened with a few of the Colbys. They name their sons something else in the hopes that it will be enough for their progeny to escape my service.
Naturally, it never works, but it is irritating. I huff smoke as I answer the hail. “You will change your biosystem name to Colby at once.”
Several moments of silence, then, “It is done, Master.”
Again, I don’t bother with useless thank yous. “Why do you hail me? It is not yet time for breakfast.”
“The she-wolf, Master. She is trying to escape.”
Chapter Twenty
“The she-wolf, Master. She is trying to escape.”
Colby’s answer hits me like the jet planes I must always be so mindful to avoid when I’m in the air. And I barely hear the rest of his words as my flame darkens with rage.
The details matter not. My she-wolf has once again tried to escape. Which can only mean one thing.
The gatekeeper’s death was not enough. Despite my two claims, she still fights me. It was not enough to quell her. Her obstinate spirit…it must be crushed.
No more feelings. My flame burns with nothing but cold blue resolution as I make my way down the stairs.