Page 3 of Fated to the Hunter
I stood there, more acutely aware of my surroundings than I’d been when I faced off against the flyer. Words failed me. I hadn’t prepared for a female to affect me this hard. Tightness grippedmy chest, and I knew what was coming, even if I’d never felt it before. The rumble clawed its way up, and I fought to keep it in before anyone noticed.
Harb’k had said many females in New Franklin were looking for a Xarc’n mate. Chest rumbles did not mean we were mates; they only signaled compatibility. If I started purring—the human word for our rumbling chest—she’d know instantly that we were compatible, and I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
I wasn’t looking for a mate. I’d come here for the promise of good hunting, not to court females.
Human females were interesting, enticing, and I was curious to experience all the physical stuff, the fun stuff. But unlike many hunters, I wasn’t longing to find my mate. At my core, I was a hunter through and through, ready to fight the scourge for all my life. That was my sole purpose, and a mate would only get in the way.
“There you are, Bael’k.”
I turned to see Roger. Technically, he wasn’t the leader anymore, since they had a larger council that made decisions now, but many of the hunters still treated him as the leader of the settlement since he was often our first contact.
He wore his hair in a unique style that the humans called a mohawk. It was shaved on the sides and left long in a stripe in the middle from the center of his forehead to the nape of his neck. He usually wore it down, flopped to one side, but today he had it held up in sharp-looking spikes. I rather liked the style and wondered if I could pull it off myself until I realized how much work it would be.
“Thanks for taking care of that flyer. It saved us a net.” That must be how they’d planned on containing any flyers that made it through the hunter’s shuttles.
“A trapped flyer would’ve been much easier, but not nearly as much fun.”
“You sound just like Jorg’k.”
I grimaced, and Roger laughed, patting me on the back.
Jorg’k was a hunter who lived permanently in New Franklin. We’d fought together on prior planets and had a friendly competition going over who was the better fighter. He often claimed that he was the winner, even though I was sure that I was.
Since finding his mate, Jorg’k’s kill numbers had drastically reduced. He was too busy making love, not war, which was a human saying I found very useful.
“I’m glad you found the information and welcome booth.” Roger turned to face the counter.
I had? I glanced at the sign hung in front of the counter declaring it the information and registration desk.
“Let’s pick up your credits and grab some grub.”
I wrinkled my nose. I knew the phrase meant to eat some food, but grubs reminded me of the scourge’s larva, which was one of the most unappetizing things I could think of.
Roger bellowed a laugh. “The hunters here don’t like that saying either. Have you met Kiera?” He gestured to the female behind the counter. “Bael’k, this is Kiera. Kiera, Bael’k.”
Kiera. The one who scented of ambrosia was named Kiera.
She stuck her hand out for the human greeting, and I hesitated a moment before taking her hand, worried that I might come across as rude if I didn’t. Human interactions felt like a minefield sometimes.
The moment I touched her hand, my chest erupted in deep resonant vibrations. The female standing at the booth next door gasped loudly, and Kiera’s eyes went wide. Not wanting to release her hand, I kept holding it. Even though I knew this was longer than a handshake was supposed to be.
After a moment of shock, she snatched her hand away like she’d been burnt.
Roger cleared his throat.
“Come on. Let’s get your tokens and I’ll show you to the food. We need to keep you hunters well-fed. Tons of meat to choose from.” I forced my eyes away from the little female at the mention of meat.
It was most likely the scent of cooking meat that was bringing the flyers in from far and wide so early in the morning. But they would’ve found this gathering of humans eventually.
“Bael’k, Bael’k, Bael’k,” Kiera mumbled, her eyes on a clipboard in her hand. “Ah! There you are. From the Great Plains group.” She pulled out a bin, retrieved a small fabric pouch, and handed it to me. “Here are all your tokens.”
I took it from her, and this time she was careful not to let our hands touch.
Opening the pouch, I removed a single red plastic coin; it had no number on it. “How does this work?” I asked.
All I knew was that this was our payment for keeping the area around New Franklin scourge-free during the two-day market.I’d never been to a market before, but the humans said it was for trading goods and services. I offered protection in exchange for tokens, which I could use to buy food and supplies. But that was all I knew.
“I’ll show you,” Roger said. “Come with me.”
