Page 33 of Condemned to Love

Scouts have taken to bringing small animals so the vrakken that don't have time to hunt can still eat. Maybe the sight of the fresh carcass should gross me out…but I'm faced with much worse.

"Mind if I join you, Red?" he asks, already making himself comfortable.

I raise an eyebrow. "Do I have a choice?"

He grins, a rare sight that makes my heart skip. "Not really."

As I eat, I can't help but notice how different he seems outside of training. His shoulders are relaxed, and there's an almost playful glint in his eyes.

"So," I start, "do all vrakken have such poor etiquette, or is that just you?"

Aldric pauses, pulling back from his meal and looking offended. "I'll have you know this is how civilized vrakken eat."

I snort. "Civilized? You've got blood dripping off your chin."

He wipes it away, smirking. "At least I don't eat like a bird. How do you expect to keep up with me in training if you don't fuel up properly?"

"Some of us prefer quality over quantity," I retort.

"Quality?" He eyes my plate skeptically. "That mush barely qualifies as food."

I stick my tongue out at him. "It's nutritious."

"It's sad, is what it is," he counters. But then he seems to pause. "It doesn't…bother you, does it?" His eyes dart down to the drained animal in his hands.

With a smile, I shake my head. "No, it doesn't."

"Good." He lowers his mouth. "Wasn't going to stop anyway."

I snort. "Ass."

We fall into a comfortable silence, and I find myself studying him. His hair is growing back, no longer the stark reminder of what he lost in battle. I wonder if he still feels the sting of that moment.

"What?" he asks, catching me staring.

I shrug. "Just thinking about how much less intimidating you look when you're draped over a tiny chair." My eyes drop to his massive frame, his wings taking up the chairs on either side, and the wood that is clearly struggling beneath his weight. It's comical.

He narrows his eyes. "I'm always intimidating."

"Sure you are, big guy," I tease, reaching over to wipe a smudge from the corner of his mouth.

The moment my fingers touch his skin, a spark seems to pass between us. We both freeze, our eyes locked. For a second, I think he might lean in, but then he clears his throat and pulls back.

"We should get to work," he says, his voice gruff. "Those weapons aren't going to polish themselves."

I nod, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. "Race you there?"

A competitive gleam enters his eyes. "You're on, Red."

As we settle into the rhythmic task of polishing weapons, I can't help but glance at Aldric. His brow is furrowed in concentration, those silver eyes focused intently on his work.

"So," I start, breaking the silence, "tell me about the war that drove your people underground. I've heard bits and pieces, but never the full story."

Aldric's hands pause for a moment before resuming their work. "It's not exactly a bedtime story, Red."

I roll my eyes. "Good thing it's not bedtime then, isn't it?"

He snorts, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Fair enough. Well, I'm sure you've heard of the First." He looks up at me as I nod. "Akeldama, our god, Made her, found her on her home planet. She was the first vrakken. And he gave her a year to make more before he brought her here."

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