Page 12 of Bred By Zyros
Nope.
Nope.
I retch, coughing the offending piece of meat back into my palms before flinging it to the ground. My eyes are filled with tears, chest heaving as I fight to keep my sick where it belongs. I can’t throw up next to him twice in the first forty-eight zentics, so I bolt for the cave entrance, accidentally upsetting my plate of squishy raw meat, and thenmyself. The ground meets me hard as I skid to a stop, flat on my belly.
The silence that follows is loud.
I barely feel the pain or taste the gross metallic grime still coating my tongue, as teal hair and slitted eyes fill my field of vision. “It is after the high sun, not morning.”
I’m plucked from the ground by a set of strong, scaled arms, my heart pounding in my chest as he settles me next to him like last night. Tight and close. His eyes scan me, ensuring I’m okay. I am, in all matters, except my pride. Bright side? I don’t feel like throwing up now. Maybe crying, but I’m twenty percent certain I won’t do that.
“I—” my words cut off as I contemplate whether sinking myself to the bottom of the spring is a reasonable reaction to what just occurred. “A drink of water would be nice, perhaps a fire to cook the meat.”
“Cookit?”
“Yes, humans don’t usually eat raw meat like that. It could make us sick.”
His harsh brow line furrows. “Yet you attempted to eat it?”
“I scanned it to make sure, but I was trying to be your buddy.”
“What is abutt-i?”
“Bud-E.” I correct. “Like…friends but notbestfriends, just friends enough to have sex.”
“If you’re going to insist upon making foolish decisions, do so after you have provided me a child.”
Fair enough, I suppose.
He bends slightly, making my arms snap out to band around his neck, although I know there’s no chance of dropping me. More of that ticklish electricity seems to seep into my skin as I plaster myself to him. His upper arms pass me to his lower ones as he hands over something he’d pulled from the various hooks on the cave ceiling. I smile at him in thanks, as justoneof his hands covered the entire canteen. It takes both of mine to bring it to my lips. All the while, I’m in his arms. I watch from the corner of my eye as his eyes track the bobbing of my throat.
Perhaps this morning is salvageable after all. After handing back off the large drinking pot of slightly sweet tasting water, which he sits low enough for me to get myself this time, I wiggle in a silent plea to be sat down, putting on my best, experienced human breeder face as I straighten mynot dress.
Good grief, why are my cheeks so hot?
The other species I’ve been matched with weren’t, for the better part, off-putting at all. I’d gotten quite lucky not to be matched with anyone too odd. Aside from the Sylvarii male that is, something about being bred by a creature that looks more plant and humanoid hadn’t sat well with me, but he was incredibly kind, and the baby, or as they say,budling, we brought into the world together was terribly cute.
He doesn’t stick around while I’m lost to my thoughts, trying to ignore that tiny pang in my chest that comes with thinking about the babies. Like missing something that was never yours. It was only dimmed by the gift I gave them and how good it felt to do so. I take my time using a mouth cleansing tablet and fixing my curls before I check my dress, finding it still pretty damp.All the while, he watches me, cleaning the butchering space with a practiced grace. Where he is comfortable in silence, I’m not, never have been. It makes the bouncing of my thoughts louder, more wayward, the trajectory subject to change on a whim.
“If you are agreeable, I don’t require any adjustment period. I’d like to go ahead with the breeding. I usually only take a handful of couplings before the first—”
A loud hiss fills the chamber, his hand snapping clean through whatever porous rock he was cleaning with. “No,” he grits out, and oh god, why does my chest feel gored?
I stand there in horrified silence for a moment, trying to rationalize what I’m feeling andwhy. It’s perfectly reasonable to adjust more to one another. Such things have never bothered me before.
My smile is watery when I force it to my face. “Of course, we can give it—”
“Stop, female. Do not do that with your face.”
My hand snaps up, touching the offending area like I’m going to find something out of sorts.
“Your smile is wrong. It agitates me.”
My smile is wrong. My brain trips back and forth between offense and confusion before it clicks.
Sad.
My smile looked sad.
