Page 8 of Sy

Anger twisted Thompson’s features as he leaned forward, planting his elbows on the worn tabletop. “And what exactly are your qualifications for managing a project of this magnitude, Miss Jackson?” The man’s nasally voice scraped against Sy’s eardrums like claws on metal. His Rage bristled at the human’s condescending tone, making Sy’s muscles twitch with the urge to silence him.

“Beyond your…obvious appeal to our alien friends here.” The man’s thin lips curved in a knowing smirk as his gaze deliberately tracked down Ashley’s body. “One has to wonder if there are other reasons they selected such a…fertile candidate for this position.”

Ashley’s expression shuttered, her professional mask sliding into place. Lila hunched her shoulders, her hand tightening around her spoon as the temperature around the table dropped a couple of degrees.

The scent of Ashley’s anger spiked sharply in Sy’s nose though her voice remained professionally neutral. His claws itched to extend, to teach this arrogant human some respect, but he kept them sheathed. For now.

“It’sMs. Jackson, and I have more than fifteen years of experience managing large-scale engineering projects,” shereplied evenly. “Perhaps we should focus on that rather than making assumptions about hiring practices?”

The male’s face flushed an ugly red, but the answering smile never reached his cold eyes. The predator in Sy recognized another predator—though a far more pathetic specimen—attempting to establish dominance.

“We’re not like theLathar,” Sy bit out, fighting to keep his claws sheathed as instinct screamed at him to put this arrogant male in his place. The stench of the human’s aggression made his nose burn. “We don’t seek out fertile females because we’re not looking forbreeders.”

His lips pulled back from his teeth in a dangerous smile.

“Every male on this planet carries a mutation that makes us… dangerous,” he hissed as he pushed up to loom over Thompson on the other side of the table. “So we don’t breed. Trust me… it’s better this way.”

Rip. Tear. Make him bleed.His Rage’s bloodthirsty urges coiled through his thoughts like smoke, making his claws itch with the need to extend. The predator inside him purred at the fear that crossed Thompson’s face.

Good. Let him be afraid. Let him realize just how outmatched he truly was.

He pushed the murderous impulses down with iron control as he turned to Ashley.

“Have you ever seen crops harvested?” he asked, forcing his voice back to its normal tones.

“I can’t say that I have,” Ashley replied, turning away from Thompson.

“You can’t talk to me like that!” Thompson’s voice was higher than normal, the stench of fear rolling off him in waves. “I’m a contracted worker! I have rights!”

A shift in the mess hall’s atmosphere drew his attention. Tor approached, moving with deadly grace to loom behind Thompson. Sy’s shoulders tightened.

Why is he here?Sy asked his Rage.Did you call him? Can you do that?

His Rage’s amusement rolled through his mind.Similar genetics. Easier to communicate. Two of us, superior numbers.

The overhead lights caught on the blackened armor that covered most of Tor’s torso and one of his arms.

“You are the project manager here! Are you going to let him threaten a union worker like that?” Thompson demanded, oblivious to the threat behind him.

Beside her mother, Lila’s rhythm with the spoon became erratic, betraying her unease at the mounting tension.

A tiny grunt nearly escaped Sy’s throat as his symbiont pushed harder, trying to gain control. He choked the sound back, but not before Ashley turned to him with curiosity in her eyes.

“What do you think about reinforcing the damaged railings near the third watch tower?” she asked. “It would be easier to do that before the workshops go up.”

Sy blinked, realizing he’d missed part of the conversation while wrestling with his symbiont’s bloodthirsty urges.

Kil—

We arenotkilling any humans!he roared internally, putting every ounce of authority he possessed into the command. The Rage writhed in his blood, stunned into momentary silence. Around them, cutlery clinked against bowls, the ordinary sounds a contrast to the war raging inside his head.

Sy managed to force his lips into what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but Thompson cut in before he could answer her question.

“Look, sweetheart,” Thompson snapped, but before he could get any further, Tor stepped forward with fluid grace. The water jug in his hands tilted at precisely the right angle to send a sheet of cold water cascading over Thompson’s head and across his shoulders. The human leaped up with an undignified yelp, falling over the bench backward as water dripped from his clothes.

Startled laughter erupted from several nearby tables as Thompson stood there, sputtering and dripping, his shirt plastered to his chest.

“You fucking idiot!” he snarled, clenching his fists as he took a step forward. Sy stilled, ready for violence to erupt. Tor might be young, and if not shorter in stature, definitely more slender than the burly human, but he wasn’t as defenseless as Thompson seemed to think. It would be like throwing an earth kitten in with a tiger… suicide, but the human engineer didn’t seem to realize that. Or that Tor could tear him apart without breaking a sweat, and probably would.

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