So why is she leaving? She should be fawning at my feet, eager for my cocks to give her my seed.
I give my chest another thump, waiting for her to return.
Everyone just stares at me with astonishment. Are they stunned that I am the first to resonate? Are the other males going to follow suit and attack each other to get their blood roaring in their veins? But no, everyone only stares in stunned silence.
“Was that…” Kyth, the big moden, finally asks.
“Yes.” I give him a look of triumph, standing straighter. “I have claimed the best of females for my own.” I need to take another good look at her. Perhaps I did not notice her physical attributes before because she was quiet. My khui has noticed something, and that is all that matters.
“I’m not certain she wishes to be yours, brother,” he points out, gazing off into the distance where the female retreated. “She looks like she’s running.”
I frown. “Nonsense. She is beside herself with delight.”
Kyth’s wide mouth draws up in a smile. “If you say so.”
“I do.” He knows nothing. Moden are not bred for their intelligence, after all. They are spliced for their sheer size and endless stamina. He does not know what he is talking about. I scan the encampment, looking for my female, but I have to admit that I have no idea what she looks like. All I recall is that she had hair and eyes, like the other females…and that she must be the best. Frowning to myself, I stride forward, heading for the females that linger on the edge of camp. I will find her and claim her, and all will be well.
Chalath steps forward, lifting his chin at me. “I did not resonate. Fight me again.”
“You did not resonate because you did not impress any of the females,” I point out, continuing forward. “I clearly did.”
“Exactly. So you should fight me again.” He wipes blood from his nose. “I will win this time.”
I snort. Highly unlikely.
Just then, Flor and her mate come running forward. “What the fuck?” Flor cries. “Someone said you guys were fighting? What’s going on? And why is he bleeding?”
“All is well,” I reassure the frantic female, trying not to sound too smug. “I incited violence to ensure resonance.”
Her eyes go wide. “What the fuck?”
“We are gladiators,” I tell her, as if this is not obvious. I raise a bicep and flex it just in case she wishes to admire it. “You said a khui will select the best of males to mate with the best of females. What better way to show a khui that I am the best than to show off my fighting prowess?”
The female stares at me. She turns to her mate and shakes her head. “You handle this.”
“I do not know what there is to handle, my F’lor.” I’rec rubs a hand down his face and scowls at me. “You know this is not how resonance works, yes?”
“It seems to work for me. My hot blood has shown it what a fierce warrior I am. That I am the best.”
“And the most modest,” the female snarks. Then, she looks around the camp. “Okay, I’rec, you handle Skarr here and I’ll go after Vivian.”
I pause, rubbing my thrumming chest. “Who is Vivian?”
The female stares at me. “Your mate, dummy.”
“Ah. She ran off.” I continue to rub my chest, and then wonder if I should rub lower, because parts of my anatomy are definitely aching. I pause. “Should I go find her? Pleasure her? Surely now she will want it, and then I will win the breeding competition.” Already I have a leg up on the others.
The female—F’lor—shakes her head. “You wait here with I’rec. I’ll go find her and talk to her.”
“But I am the one that resonated,” I point out. “I should find her in case she wishes to mount me.”
I’rec snorts, casting a look over at his mate.
F’lor just shakes her head. “Something tells me that isn’t going to be a problem, buddy.”
She steps forward, only for her mate to tug her arm, stopping her. I’rec shakes his head. “No, my mate. He is the one that resonated. Let him go and speak to her. I know you want to help, but you cannot help this.”
“I can talk to her—”
“You have talked,” he says gently, pulling her close to him. “She knows how resonance works, yes? Let them work it out between them. You would only be in the way.”
They share a secret look and she leans in close to him, whispering. “Something tells me their resonance isn’t going to work out as easily as ours.”
“I don’t think anything is going to be easy with that one,” he says, and grins over at me. “Good luck, my friend. You will need it.”
Friend? Friend? Is that like…an ally? A teammate? But needing a second person in a battle implies I am weak. I draw myself up to my full height, glaring at the amused male and his mate. “I do not need friends,” I inform him. “I am strong enough on my own. I am the best, the fiercest.”
“That poor woman,” is all F’lor says.
Chapter Seven
VIVIAN
If I’m keeping a tally of pluses and minuses for this day, I’m afraid we’re veering into the negative.
It started out good. I got shoes and warm clothes. Plus and plus. I worried nothing would fit because I can’t remember what size I am. I can’t even remember what my face looks like. I just know I’m tall and leggy and my hair is this muddy blondish-brown and hangs past my shoulders. I asked Flor for a ponytail holder of some kind and she handed me a pointed bone, so I jabbed it into my bun, Flintstones-style. The shoes are hand-stitched with lots of warm fur on the inside, and the tunic has stitching that goes up the front so it can be fitted to the person wearing it. Everything fits and I feel less like a rejected clone and more like a human being.
Lunch was hot and tasty and I didn’t even have to watch anyone butcher any animals to make it. Another plus.
I remembered camping and how to make fire. I’m useful.
These are all pluses, and it gives me a feeling of relief to be able to sit by the warmth of the fire and continually poke it to keep the embers bright. I’m doing something instead of just crying, at least. Maybe this will jog more memories for me and I’ll remember things like where I live and my name.
Even just a syllable of a name would be nice.
Flor tells us that we’re going to be heading out tomorrow for her home. It’s on a beach, where the cliffs keep the worst of the winds off of them and the temperature is slightly more moderate than here in the mountains. A more moderate temperature sounds like another plus to me. I’m even looking forward to meeting the others stranded here, because I’m hoping that more conversations will spark more memories. I’m looking forward to warm housing too, of course, but right now, the memories are bothering me more than the weather.
But then the half-lizard guy, Skarr, sits next to me and the day rapidly starts to slide into the minus column.
He beats his chest like some sort of Tarzan wannabe and bellows at the top of his lungs. He tells everyone how amazing he is for picking a fight with another guy and winning. He struts through camp like some sort of green peacock and I decide that living with someone like Skarr for the rest of my days is going to be a checkmark firmly in the minus column. Even Flor doesn’t like the guy. I see the annoyed looks she keeps shooting in his direction, like she wishes he would shut the fuck up. I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking that.
Skarr saunters next to me by the fire, and it takes everything I have not to get up and leave. He’s obnoxious, but even obnoxious guys deserve to get warm. Given that he’s got scales, he’s probably part lizard. If he’s cold-blooded, it’s going to be rough here for him. I should feel sorry for him. When I look up, he flexes and gives me a triumphant look.