Page 17 of Lyric

“That’s true.” I smiled at him, got up and made my way to the bins.

I had plenty of stored blankets, food and water. But I’d never stored clothes. I hadn’t needed them way out here. Good thing he didn’t seem deterred by nudity.

I had a small, wood chip burning stove surrounded by fire retardant moss. I lit it quickly and put two cans of soup on toboil. I was hungry myself. I kept the water pot on the stove, too, for more coffee.

In the meantime, I handed Jinn a bottle of water and got one for myself. I helped prop him against the wall of the shelter and rolled a blanket to put under his bad ankle. He had been holding it up awkwardly. Now he could relax more.

“You’re bleeding, too.” He pointed toward my upper arm.

I looked down, lifting it, and saw the superficial cut. “It doesn’t hurt.” I got out the bag and quickly bandaged it.

“Lyrican was bleeding, too.”

“He’s fine.” But just in case, I checked in with him.

Shallow scrapes. Coltan is not as fast as I am.

When the soup bubbled, I handed the can wrapped in a towel to Jinn along with a spoon. He sipped slowly, shutting his eyes. “This is perfect. I already feel better.”

We ate in silence. I gave him quick glances, still assessing. And admiring. His hair was tangled with crushed pieces of leaves. Yet it shone in the dimming light, lush and thick. His body was small, but that was normal for an omega. He looked to be in his twenties. If he hadn’t been snatched up yet by an alpha—a non-feral alpha—maybe that meant he wasn’t interested in mating and settling down. Some omegas were like that.

Everyone thought omegas should automatically want to be married and have families. But why should they? What if he had career dreams? What if he didn’t want an alpha in his life? Or babies? No one expected that from me. The people surrounding me wanted me to race more all the time. They made money off me. They expected my career to be everything I might ever need.

That had been true in my twenties. But as the years passed, Lyrican grew more introverted. I knew he wanted more.

We’d shared one rut where I refused to let him shift out and spent the time alone at the house having all my meals delivered.Doctor Tsu had given me suppressants to make the time go easier.

I knew even back then that wasn’t right. It wasn’t what my dragon needed. I thought about mates and mating, of having something more than the few short relationships I’d had, all with other alphas.

While alpha-alpha couples were accepted in dragon culture due to the low omega population, the dynamics were often difficult to navigate. Alpha nature was to dominate. That didn’t mean alphas couldn’t submit. I’d had fun with that myself, but submission wasn’t the nature for a majority of us. To bond in that manner with another had to meet deeper requirements. True love, trust and compatibility. Those things happened naturally to some, but not to others. Plus, we could not conceive. That meant birth rates went down. We had to import omegas from other cultures for surrogacy and, in extreme cases, forced marriage. Plus, there were many flights who still stuck to older, conservative beliefs who found inter-breeding unacceptable.

I looked at Jinn and couldn’t help but wonder what his opinions were on these subjects. What were his hopes and goals? Did he feel he owed dragon culture to be a breeder?

I tipped my can of soup up and gulped the last contents from the bottom.

I glanced again at Jinn. He was finished. He held his can up, squinting inside to make sure he had every bite.

“Don’t throw it over the edge,” I said.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“We keep a clean space and carry out our trash after every trip.” I realized it might sound like I was giving orders. I softened my voice. “This place is so beautiful there are times I feel I don’t belong here even though it’s part of our world.”

“I didn’t get a chance yet to admire the beauty,” he whispered.

He had been running into his grave. How could he see it as anything but a trap?

The sun was setting fast. Vast shadows darkened the space.

I cleaned up, got out a small lantern to set between us, and brought him more coffee.

“I’m so grateful to you,” he said.

I brushed him off.

“Do you think Coltan will see our light?” he touched the plastic lantern.

“It’s more difficult to navigate in the dark. He’s probably off somewhere licking his wounds and getting rest.”

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