Hidden Rage: Kindred Tales

Still, it’s my society—my culture, he argued with himself. Or it might as well be, since I’ve been raised in it. I can’t leave it now, not even to go to my birth people—my Sire and Mother need me too much. If I leave them, Zerlix will fuck everything up and bring the whole Clan to ruin!

Speaking of Zerlix, his Saurian brother’s rooms were much larger and more extensive than his own—they had to be, considering the number of Pleasure Girls Zerlix insisted on keeping. Most of them were still sleeping on thin pallets strewn around the floor and many of them bore the marks of his brother’s fists, Dragon saw.

One of the girls beside him in the pit was Keelah, Bobbi’s special friend. She had dark green bruises like a necklace around her throat, as though Zerlix had been choking her while he spiked her, which was one of his sexual proclivities.

Another rush of disgust filled Dragon—the idea of ever hurting Bobbi like that was abhorrent to him. He wanted only to stroke and kiss and caress her petite, curvy body until she came over and over again for him. But Zerlix seemed to actually find pleasure in wounding his sexual partners. What was wrong with him?

“Hey, get up,” he snapped, leaning down into the pit to shout in his adoptive brother’s ear hole.

Zerlix shifted to one side and cracked one slitted yellow-green eye to peer up at Dragon.

“The fuck do you want?” he snarled sleepily, not bothering to get up.

“To talk to you, you piece of shit,” Dragon growled.

This got Zerlix’s attention. Dragon wasn’t in the habit of insulting the future leader of the Clan right to his face—but in this instance, he definitely felt like it was warranted.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Zerlix demanded, finally sitting up. The girls on either side of him stirred, but neither opened her eyes.

“I’m talking about the hit you put out on Bobbi,” Dragon snapped. “Did you think giving it to another Clan would keep me from finding out you ordered it?”

Zerlix’s slitted eyes opened wide in surprise.

“What? Who said I put a hit on her? I haven’t gone anywhere near the little bitch since my Sire gave her to you at the fucking feast!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Dragon insisted. “I fucking know it was you! The warning I got said the hit came from inside my own Clan—who else would do it?”

Zerlix hoisted himself out of the sleeping pit and scratched his scaly balls—all three of them, since Saurian males had anywhere from three to six testicles.

“Did you ever think it might be my Sire? Maybe Komendant Vizlar put the hit on your future bride himself—did you think of that?” he asked casually.

“Of course not!” Dragon felt sick at the thought. “Why would he want Bobbi dead? Why would he put a hit on her after he already gave her to me?”

Zerlix shrugged.

“Maybe because he doesn’t want a whole tribe of fucking mammalians running around his compound. It was one thing for him to take you in—you’re just one mammalian alone and you don’t take up much space, even if you are built like a fucking tower.” He glared up at Dragon. “But now you’ve got a bitch to breed with and he probably doesn’t want a whole herd of weak little prey animals infesting his home once she whelps.”

“Watch how you speak about the future mother of my sons,” Dragon growled, glowering at him. “And you’re just trying to throw dirt on the trail—I know you’re the one who ordered the hit. You should know that anyone else who tries for Bobbi will end up like the two I dealt with yesterday.”

“Fine. Whatever you say, Little Brother.” Zerlix shrugged his scaly shoulders, apparently completely unconcerned. “Believe what you want. I won’t deny I have plans for your little female, but they don’t involve killing her.” He grinned, showing a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. “Well, not until I’ve spiked her first.”

“You fucker!” Dragon punched him, hard in the jaw, knocking the Saurian back into the sleeping pit. The girls who were still sleeping there came awake, screaming as he landed on top of them.

Zerlix glared up at him, rubbing his jaw where a lump was already forming.

“You’ll pay for that, Little Brother. See if you don’t.”

Dragon poked a finger at him.

“Stay the fuck away from Bobbi if you want to keep breathing,” he snarled. “I mean it, Zerlix—I won’t warn you again.”

Then he turned and stalked stiffly from the room. Zerlix was lying, he told himself as he went down the long, tiled corridor that led to the dining hall. He had always been a liar and a cheat and a thief. He had placed the hit on Bobbi and all that nonsense about it being their Sire was just a distraction—just another lie.