Page 38 of Fever

“While your intelligence far surpasses that of most Regha males, you are nowhere near my level of brain capacity. If I am having a hard time determining which control is faulty, what makes you think you can?”

“I have balls, Dreikx. That’s the difference between me and you. I have balls, take risks, and dare to go into unknown situations with only my armor and claws, while you are cautious and take a long time to deliberate and weigh the possible outcomes. Your brain is full of obstacles as you overload on information, which makes you slower than me. Things are more simple in my head.”

“Indeed,” he deadpans.

I extend my hand.

“First, tell me what you intend to do.”

“I’ll push the northern dot to see where it takes me.”

“Reckless dot pushing leads to the map collapse.”

I lean my elbow on the armrest. “And what do we have now? A fucking system collapse. If we’re lucky, we can retrieve fifty Warlords tomorrow. Fifty more the next day. Do we have the next day? The gate could cover the Stronghold by then.”

“You’re asking me to sync our crystals during the gate’s open energy influx.”

“Yes.”

“The pulse of the sync could unbalance the Earth all the way to the core. It can cause natural disasters.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“I need to weigh out the risks. There are traps inside my control. Knots of energy. As if someone did this on purpose.”

“Who?”

He stares at me.

We leap from the bench, and I’m at him in a second. “You’re accusing me of something?”

“More than once, you’ve taken my pod without permission. I’ve only ever taught you how to deal with the control. Nobody else. Maybe you’re trying to compromise me, make it look like I did something wrong.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you know what I’m after.”

“Land?”

“Among other things.”

“Raven will give you Canada. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Will he?”

“Yes.”

Dreikx looks away. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I feel a strange brush of wind inside my head. My armor erects, and I growl. The feeling is gone in a second. I can’t identify it. I’m probably jacked up on pheromones and more aggressive than usual, seeing as I crave my Omega and her warmth.

“You speak the truth,” he says. “It’s not you.”

“And you know this for sure when two seconds ago you questioned me?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I have ways. You’re a male of great honor.”

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