Page 11 of Thief

My chef stares at me.

I sigh. “If I have to repeat myself, I will cut my own throat with your knife and accuse you of trying to kill me.”

Kenn disappears in the back, and we walk around the vast kitchen. I keep my distance, letting Kate explore the numerous appliances. Casually, she moves toward the sink. I give her my back and pretend I can’t hear the moment she takes the knife into her hand. Bread dough on the middle aisle, I poke with a claw and draw a line, thinking of what punishment I’m gonna inflict if she tries to stab me.

Then I hear the back door click shut.

5

Kate

My feet kick up dirt, then finely ground sand, as I run across the beach and away from both the city of Ohala and Eron. I hadn’t planned the escape, but seeing the knife and the kitchen exit triggered my flight impulse, and I couldn’t stop.

Sycol warms my skin, as I run nowhere. Up ahead, only a few miles away, the beach is like those I’ve seen on Discovery Channel Bali. Endless and lush with life. Farther away is what appears to be a dense forest.

Can I still run for miles? In high school, I ran track—the only thing that kept me out of trouble, my mom would say. After I lost my dad, I rebelled a lot, but Mom found things for me to do and keep me focused on schoolwork and athletics. Track running stuck with me.

I pump my hands and run faster. A quick glance back tells me nobody is chasing me. Not even my new captor. Eron stands at the door, arms crossed over his chest. On second glance, I stick my tongue out and smile, running faster.

A large black animal appears in front of me.

I stop dead in my tracks, trip, fall on my ass, and stare. I grip my knife more tightly. Oh Lord, what the hell is that? The animal stands on four muscular legs and is over three feet tall. Double ears frame a face somewhere between that of a dragon and a dog. Its long snout is filled with sharp teeth. Sycol reflects on his black, thick, fish-like scales, and they rise up with a loudpop. The beast doesn’t move toward me but stands, front legs bent and ready to pounce.

Slowly, I get up and back away. “Easy, boy.” Can I outrun this thing? I glance at the sea on my left, inching toward the water. I don’t know how to swim. Just never learned.

“Good boy,” I tell the creature, and it begins purring. The sound is similar to the one Eron made for me, and it gives me the creeps.

The creature steps forward.

I toss the knife at it, scream, and spin around.

I bolt back, eyes on Eron, who strolls toward me, an amused smirk on his face. When I get near him, I try running into the house. A muscled arm around my waist, and Eron captures me. Holds me at his side. The creature slows down and strides toward us. It stops before Eron and sits back on his hind legs, my knife between his teeth.

“Kate, meet my hound, Horley. He guards the house and has, in fact, brought you here. It is a dog on Regha, and arguably, one of the most loyal creatures we have. They are wild, but can be domesticated with training. I trained him.” Eron takes the knife. “I enjoyed training him.” He holds out a… a piece of dried meat, the shape and size of beef jerky. My mouth waters. Eron tosses it upward, and the hound catches it mid-leap, then runs off. Eron wipes his fingers on the towel around his waist, then throws an arm over my shoulder and leads me back inside, to a small table set for the two of us.

I sit, trying to catch my breath.

Eron flings the knife at the wall. I wince at the loudbang. The action is the only sign of anger he shows, before he sits down with me and points at the cup of dirty white liquid I tasted this morning. “This is inder, an imported morning brew from Telea. Available to the privileged, and my household, of course. Try it.” He picks up a boiled egg. “Chicken egg?” he asks.

It’s the size of a football. “Probably not.”

“You will eat it anyway.” His jaw ticks. Yup, he’s pissed.

I clear my throat. “I’m a picky eater.”

“Drink the inder, then.”

I sniff. “Nah.” I’d get up and get what I need, but I’m aware I share a table with an Alpha an inch away from blowing up, so I ask Kenn for a glass of water. Only after Eron nods at him while peeling the egg, does Kenn get my water. I sip and watch Eron peel the giant egg. Once he’s done, he puts it on my plate. It’s brown, not white, and when I sniff, the odor makes my stomach churn, not in the good way. “I’m not hungry,” I say.

“Most foods on Regha are consumed raw,” Kenn says. “Some species can’t eat that way, so I cooked it. Perhaps you would enjoy it fresh?”

“Oh no. Nope.”

“What’s the matter with it?” Kenn snaps, looking nervous.

“Nothing,” I say. “It’s wonderful and thoughtful that you cooked it for me, but I’m not hungry.”

Eron pokes a hole in the shell and tosses back an egg, drinking the protein. I watch his throat work, noting the absence of an Adam’s apple and the presence of many corded muscles. The sight of his maleness does something to my lower belly. I look away.

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