“Then let me put it to you another way.” I’rec looks amused despite our doubts. “My people have a saying that you catch more fish with delicious bait than an empty hook. If you want a female to fall into your furs, be someone that the females will want.”
“And then we will khui?” I ask.
“Resonance happens when it happens. Some believe that their personal wants influence it. Some even take a pleasure mate before the khui decides. Some take many, or so I have heard. The females are free to do as they like.” I’rec glances over at his mate again. “I dabbled in the idea but now I am glad I waited for my mate.”
“Wait,” says the splice. “So females can approach us outside of resonance for copulation? As often as they wish?”
“If they wish so, yes.”
“But they will expect pleasuring,” I point out.
“This is true,” I’rec concedes. “I doubt they will return if there is none.”
I rub my chin scales. This is excellent information, the unspoken rules to this new game-not-game we find ourselves in.
“What if we are pleasuring a female and they resonate to another?” asks the moden.
“You fool,” I scoff. “If you do it right, she will resonate to you instead. Were you not listening? There is mind control involved, but they call it pleasure here. You pleasure the female, she does what you want. Not that you would know. You don’t even know how to pleasure a female.”
“And you do?” He eyes me with plain distaste.
I do not. But I am here to learn all the rules of this new competition and use them to my advantage. “I will learn it, and I will be the best at it, just like I will be the best at any competition.”
I’rec groans wearily, rubbing a hand down his face. “No competition. How many times must I say it?”
The bag of peppery jerky makes its way back to me and I eat a double handful this time. If it is a race to pleasure females the moment they awaken, I must be ready. I must be strong enough to entice any that I want away from other males, if necessary. I’rec says there is no fighting here but if I have claimed a female and she is being pleasured by me, I will tear apart any that try to step in. Chewing, I eye I’rec, waiting.
The praxiian at my side grabs the bag from me and eats in silence as well.
I’rec’s expression grows uneasy as we are all quiet. “What?”
“Teach us,” I say.
“Teach you what?”
“How to pleasure the females here so they will insist upon being ours.”
The fur-wearing mesakkah rubs his face again. He sighs heavily, thinking. “They like tongues.”
“Go on…”
Chapter Four
VIVI
The second day on the new planet is just as bad as the first.
I try to hide the choking despair I feel as the blisteringly cold weather continues. There aren’t enough furs to go around, so I share with Sabrina again until Jason moves to her side. The moment he slides in on her left, the blankets creep in their direction and I’m not bold enough to pull them back. I wish I was, but I’m finding it more difficult now than ever to speak up for myself.
It’s hard when I’m in a normal environment. Right now? I’m just completely and utterly overwhelmed.
The big gray-skinned man lumbers through the camp, paying no attention to the women huddled near the fire. That suits me just fine—all of the men here are more than slightly terrifying to look at. There’s fangs and claws and horns and one is even part lizard. My vision prevents me from making out a lot of what’s going on, but I don’t say anything because the last thing I want is to call attention to myself.
There’s a tearing sound nearby. Something hot drips on my arm and I swipe it away, then jerk to my feet when I realize it’s blood.
“Apologies, female,” one of the strange-looking males says. “I did not mean to make a mess on you.” He grins, showing long fangs and a furry face, and brightly glowing eyes. He turns his head, then spits what looks like a wet baseball aside. It rolls away from the fire. “There. Do you want this one?”
“This one w-what?” I stammer.
“This one for the parasite. The khui?” He shoves something soft and limp into my arms before I can confirm or deny. “Your eyes need the glow.” The horrible man gives me a thoughtful look. “So you can resonate and be full of pleasures.”
What the fuck is he talking about? I stare down in mute horror at the headless creature he’s just thrust into my arms. The thing he spit away? I think it was its skull. My throat works as I gaze down at the body of the thing, and there’s a glowing filament inside the bloody mess. “Um.”
He sighs. “Let me do it.” Taking the creature from me, he mutters something under his breath that sounds like “equals” and then rips it in half with another thoroughly disgusting show of force. I flinch backward as more blood splatters on me and the ground nearby, and then he grabs my arm.
I jerk away from him, but he’s too strong. With one claw, he digs into my arm and draws blood, then slaps half of the mangled creature against my arm. Something wriggles and burrows into my flesh, and I try to twist away as icy-cold filaments crawl through my veins, but the monstrous man holds me fast.
“Chalath!” Flor screeches as everything goes dark and fuzzy around me. “We ask for permission before we implant!”
“I thought permission was for pleasuring!” the male bellows back. “Make up your mind!”
The world fades to black before I can hear the answer.
When I wake up, I blink, staring up at what looks like the ceiling of a tent.
Still on this horrible planet, then. Ugh. I rub my face, and then I notice that my eyes aren’t blurry. I…can see?
Holy shit, I can see. I sit upright, staring around me in wonder. Everything’s so freaking crisp. I can see each stitch in the leather tent above my head, right down to a scratch across the leather near the entrance of the tent. Outside, I can see snow drifting down and people moving around, talking in low voices. The scent of smoke from the fire lingers in the air, but I notice that while I’m cold, I’m not painfully so like I was before.
This is due to the…parasite? The khui? They mentioned something about it keeping its host healthy but it was hard for me to concentrate yesterday. I was too overwhelmed. I glance down at my arm, running my fingers over it. There’s no wound. Rubbing at my skin to make the dried blood flake off, I glance out the tent. I’m not sure I’m ready to join the others.
Socializing has never been my strong point.
If anything, I’m absolutely dreadful at it. I’ve always been painfully shy. It comes from a childhood of bad vision and ugly glasses and parents who loved me but seemed put out every time I needed something, because we were poor. I was the kid that desperately needed braces, expensive glasses, the kid that needed corrective surgery for my eyes far too young, and so many other things that cost money. To make things worse, my sister was vivacious and pretty and I was not.
I learned that it was easiest to fly under the radar rather than become a problem, so I did my best not to speak up, not to draw attention to myself, not to ask for anything.
That’s…going to be a problem if I’m stuck here. I lick my lips nervously. My stomach growls but I’m in no hurry to leave the tent’s safety. I need to think. What do I do? How do I get home?
Then I remember the horrible recording. Lucky you, you’re a clone.