Page 8 of Gyft

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” She frowns. “Surely Gyft told you I don’t understand your language?”

“Yes, I am Gyft,” I say patiently, in case she’s a little dim. “Come, my bride. And while we can speak freely right now, may I share my thoughts? This is probably the only time I can tell you that you are horribly unattractive. I’m sure it’s not your fault. Perhaps we can cover the strange colors of your face until my people get used to you? Right now, you look like a ghoul that walked out of the deadlands and kissed death.” Disgust rolls down my bumpy spine. Her lips may look like they’re dying—black on the outside, but there’s a strange whitish pink inside when they open. It’s vile.

“I’m headed toward the nearest town, Hilayo or something like that. It’s only two miles west—I’m just not sure where west is. I can’tfind the mountains.” Then her rambling turns to slow motion as she yells. “Do. You. Know. West?”

“Dear Goddess, your screeching will attract every predator there is. You know this is the forest right before the boundaries of the deadlands, right?” I ask, stepping forward to cover her mouth with my hand.

“Mmmph!”

I jerk my hand away when she licks the palm. “Gross. That is uncivilized, even for your species—”

“Yuck! Six fingers! You have six fingers and I don’t know where your hand’s been—” She dry heaves.

But I ignore her strange ramblings when I notice black inside my palm. Is she contagious? What the—?

Condoms. I shall have to wrap my cock when we consummate. She may be contagious.

“Just a little lipstick,” she says. Then makes her voice louder again. “Lip. Stick. Say it with me now. Gah, it would be great if I could teach you all proper Universal. I could set up a reputation as a teacher. Secure a position as a nanny! People would be scrambling for the human scholar. I’d like... be considered a true professor. That’s such an admirable, humanitarian goal. That’s what Vetti and I were striving for you know. A revamping of our goals to be more humanitarian. Want to say it with me? Hu-maan-i—”

Too late. A howl rips through the forest. I recognize the snarling tone—a mightymongortialsenses prey.

“What’s that? Oh, my God, were you trying to hush me from that?” Her ghastly eyes are wide and black has gathered in the corners.

I use two fingers to place over her black lips and she stares up at me with a frightened gaze. It’s oddly... intimate. Much more so than covering her mouth with my hand.

It must be the protector in me coming out, even though I still have no plans for this to be a real marriage.

I scoot her closer to the giant tree roots and motion for her to crouch. Hopefully she’ll understand to stay in place. Not that the roots will protect her from the strength of a mongortial but if I lose the battle, it won’t be hungry enough to fight for her if it feasts on me first.

A wet snarling sound rips the silence directly behind me, sending shivers up my tail, and I quietly unsheathe my blade as, in what seems like slow motion, I turn to face the beast.

The bride whimpers and the stale scent of fear clogs her pores.

“It is all right, Olivia,” I assure her, holding deathly still.

It is not all right. The creature is full-grown and male and from the acidic saliva dripping at his fangs, hungry. There is no better motivation than a tempting morsel of fresh meat, even as bony as she is.

“You can call me Livvi,” she whispers. “Put that on my headstone so people know I was approachable.”

Steam erupts from the creature’s nostrils. He has the inner temperature of an oven and usually bakes his prey before it even dies.

I hope that neither of us will be cooked today.

It attacks with the ferocity of a pack, but these beasts are solitary. Alpha males who can’t be around others of their species. Instead, they search for females, overpower her, impregnate her, and move on, leaving her to raise a litter that eventually attack each other if left together. If separated, some become food for other predators before they grow but one that has reached maturity? It has survived all odds.

I slash across his face with my blade, fending him to the right and away from Olivia. Blood spurts straight out in an arc. His claws rip at me, but my own have long since emerged with the threat of danger and give as good as I get.

Heat wafts from his jowls as he tries to position his snarling mouth to my face, hoping to broil my brains, but I push him upward with my arm under his chin, making sure his snapping jaws veer from my head. He bellows in my ear and off to the side, I hear the bride screaming with maiden terror.

His claws sink into my flesh but it’s just a few more minutes that I need to cut off the circulation in his jugular.

But then a heavy stone comes down on themongortial’shead just as he loses consciousness. I blink and look up, surprised.

My bride has clocked the two-hundred-pound monstrosity.

She’s screeching in her language, probably swear words, but I feel dizziness from the adrenaline that quickly leaves my body.

Along with my lifeforce from the seeping wounds.

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