Page 77 of Bound

I’m going to look like a fright, but another human after all this time on my own—I don’t really care if I look like I’ve spent all night mating…mostly because I have. I drag on my clothes and follow Rych out of the nest and into the rest of the suite, which has floor to ceiling windows looking out over Tatatunga.

Klynn stands with his back to us, sword in hand in a completely unnecessary threatening pose. Seated next to the low table groaning with food is another Gryn, huge, dark, and tattooed. His entire attention is devoted to the food, initially anyway. As Rych and I enter, he growls and curls a wing around the petite dark-haired lady next to him.

She sees me, gets to her feet, and rushes over, flinging her arms around me.

“I heard there were other humans on Trefa, but I didn’t want to believe it,” she says, releasing me. “I’m Izzy. This is Blayn, my mate.”

“Chrissie,” I respond. “Sorry, I didn’t expect to meet another human either. It’s a bit…overwhelming.”

The new Gryn has gone back to eating, having decided I’m not a threat. Rych plonks himself down beside him, snarls, and slams a wing into Blayn’s side. It has zero effect on the foodconsumption. Rych shrugs, his thoughtbond spinning with fond insults about his fellow Gryn, and he grabs a handful of meat for himself.

“Do you have it?” Izzy says. Her voice holds a hint of a quiet North London accent. “The thoughtbond?”

She’s following my gaze to Rych.

“Yes.” I respond. “I also have a virus which allows me to control tech,” I admit. “It’s been an interesting few nova-days.”

“Oh?” Izzy studies me. “And here’s me thinking the thoughtbond is confusing enough.”

“You love hearing my thoughts,” Blayn rasps.

“Some of them. Others I donotneed to know,” Izzy retorts fondly, giving me a wry smile.

Blayn goes back to eating. I laugh, unable to help myself but enjoying this somewhat strange but at the same time familial situation. An actual human for company and three huge Gryn, two of which are armed.

“How’s Maxym?” Rych rasps at Klynn.

“He’ll live,” Klynn responds, not turning around. “Not regained his senses yet, but the medics are confident he will be back in the games within the nova-week.”

Pain spikes through the thoughtbond. Rych hates the fact he can’t get Maxym and Klynn released from the dome. I do my best to soothe him with the thought of the resistance and the work they are doing.

“Come and have some breakfast,” I say to Izzy, making my way back to the seating. “And you too, Klynn.”

The dangerous one turns with a half-growl as I say his name, seemingly surprised to be included. He drops to his knees next to the table and looks at the food as if it might be poisoned before selecting a strip of rare meat, carefully tasting it with the tip of his tongue, then gobbling it down.

Rych releases a snarl which could freeze water until I sit next to him and put my hand into the feathers at the base of his wings. The noise cuts off instantly.

Izzy giggles.

“Yours does that too?” I ask.

She nods, biting into a sweet pastry.

“You’re lucky to catch us. We were about to leave Trefa, to go looking for Blayn’s family,” she says. “Then we got word the procurator was releasing Blayn’s winnings.” Izzy speaks as she eats, her hand hovering in front of her mouth. “Something I believe we have Rych and you to thank for.” She smiles and nudges Blayn.

He briefly stops eating, narrows his eyes at me, and then starts again. I have a deep suspicion that is the best I’m going to get.

“All I wanted to do is make a nest for my mate,” Rych grumbles, looking at our guests. “Not feed a bunch of vrexers who turned up uninvited.”

I slide my hand deeper, and I’m rewarded by a feeling of complete bliss flooding the thoughtbond.

“I presume I’m not intruding?” All three Gryn are on their feet. Blayn and Klynn have drawn swords, Rych has his wings raised and has unsheathed a formidable set of claws.

Fenek isn’t bothered in the slightest. He pushes through them all and sits at the end of the table, selecting a piece of blue fruit which he pops in his mouth.

“The Pompas.” He looks around at our opulent suite. “Your mate has good taste, Chrissie.”

The growling hasn’t stopped. I shove my disapproval down the thoughtbond at Rych.

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