Chapter 11
Where am I?
I didn’t have Wyn’s permissions, and yet, I was carrying him, which he wouldn’t care for, and it wasn’t right, even though he fit perfectly within my arms. His head was tucked against me, and his breath rushed over the delicate scales on my neck, each exhale sending sparks down my spine.
I wanted him to nuzzle me, to release my scent onto him, to cover him so all could smell me on him.
I paused. Interesting. I wanted him to scent mark me and for me to mark him in return. That was new.
My inner fire continued with the same litany of “not yet” while my instincts demanded Wyn remain right where he was, beside me. I was unsure of what to make of the dichotomy of feelings.
All of that didn’t matter at this exact moment.
Wyn’s care was the priority. Seth was the best choice.
Wyn would much rather wake up in his quarters than in mine, as much as I craved him to be in mine.
I wanted the light scent clinging to him to permeate my quarters, so I could smell him all the time, so his scent could mingle with my own, so a small part of him would claim my quarters.
However, Wyn’s comfort took precedence over my own desires.
Decided, I turned toward the lift and took it to deck two. Outside their door, I couldn’t push the panel to signal I was outside. Instead, I said, “NAID.”
The bland silhouette appeared, but beside it, I caught a glimpse of Edith’s face before she vanished with a slight yelp. I frowned. I’d been prepared for the possibility she might wiggle her way into the Admiral Ven’s systems.
“NAID, you are dismissed. Edith, you will return and speak with me.”
“Yes, Commander,” NAID replied before disappearing. Edith, on the other hand, reappeared and gave me a cheeky grin.
“Edith.”
“You can hardly expect me to leave my friends, my family, for two years,” she said, bouncing on the screen. I couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if Edith Smith, the real human Edith Smith on Earth who she’d based her appearance off of, bounced like that, because her grandson Caleb certainly did.
I took a deep breath. This matter would hold. Always attack the most urgent problem first. Wyn. He was the most important. “We shall discuss this later. Alert Kalvoxrencol that I’m here and that I need to speak to Seth.”
“Yes, Commander.”
The door opened a moment later, and I entered another battle. Seth was holding a smiling Bobbinvoxlyn to his chest. “Bob is hurt, Kal,” Seth snapped. “I should’ve never left.”
“It’s a scratch. Breathe, Husband. Bobbinvoxlyn is fine.”
Seth glared, rocking the kit. I caught a glimpse of the offending injury.
It wasn’t even a scratch. It was the smallest mark on his pudgy arm.
Seth pressed another kiss to Bobbinvoxlyn’s temple, and the baby gurgled, perfectly content with his dad.
Yes, Bobbinvoxlyn obviously loved Kalvoxrencol, but he clearly favored Seth. We all knew it.
Nevertheless, he was a happy baby. I’d seen some cranky babies—Hallonnixmin’s second came to mind; the lungs on that child—but not Bobbinvoxlyn.
He almost always smiled and laughed. From what I’d observed, it seemed as if he was aging like a drakcol child did, growing faster and getting far more active than a human infant.
Human newborns usually, from my understanding, did little more than defecate and cry, whereas drakcol kits gained mobility and could hold their own head within a week.
“I’m never leaving him again,” Seth declared before darting into the bedroom. The instant the door closed, a black pudge ball raced out from under the couch and squeaked, clawing at the door. A moment later, it opened and allowed Lucy to escape with Seth.
Kalvoxrencol scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned toward me. “Now is not the time, Cousin.” He paused, finally noticing Wyn slumped in my arms. “What happened? We noticed Wyn and you were gone, but I’d assumed Wyn was eliminated and that duties had called you away.”
I relayed the incident as succinctly as possible, while disregarding my panic, guilt, and the sheer comfort of holding Wyn close. “I hoped Seth would care for and watch over him.”
“Not tonight,” Kalvoxrencol said, glancing at the door. “Wyn is dear to him, but he is spiraling at the moment. Talvax was playing with Bobbinvoxlyn and he fell, hitting the edge of the table, barely, but the mark…” He shook his head. “Seth is protective.”
Seth Harris had the purest warrior soul ever recorded—of course he was protective of his child.
“You will have to watch Wyn,” he said.
“Perhaps Urgg,” I suggested.
“Drinking after their victory. Seth, Wyn, and I were eliminated, and they single-handedly got both Bartholomew and Speedy.”
Wyn groaned, pressing closer to me. He slowly rubbed his face against my neck, and my scent bloomed, coiling with his in an alluring fashion. My tail quaked, desperate to curl around his, but I resisted, though a possessive growl rumbled in my chest.
“Don’t worry, Pest. I will take care of Wyn. Now, go watch over your mate. Children hurt themselves. Seth will have to come to terms with it eventually.”
Kalvoxrencol scoffed, but he slipped into his bedroom, not remarking or perhaps not noticing the exchange between Wyn and I.
I headed to my own quarters, and Cincin meowed from her overstuffed, fluffy bed.
It was the finest I could find, which she deserved.
Behind it was a small shrine. I hadn’t been able to replicate the perfect shrine Caleb had shared with me, but it was close.
When we returned to Earth, I would secure the necessary objects.
Like the sacred catmint the house gods loved so much.
I laid Wyn on the couch and draped a blanket over him.
With a frown, I stared down at his slight form.
Would it be better to place him on my bed?
Wyn would be more comfortable, but he might become upset when he woke up in a strange bed.
But he might grow uncomfortable on the couch.
What of his wings? The couch wasn’t large enough for them to stretch out comfortably when he inevitably shoved them out in his sleep.
Which was better? The bed? The couch? Did it matter?
Before I could decide, Cincin plopped onto Wyn and plonked her furry orange butt down, her golden eyes daring me to move her, which I wouldn’t. She’d made the decision for me.
Settled, I sat on the ground beside him, my wings sliding out to stretch. My head rested on the edge of the couch as I watched him for the slightest change. Nothing would happen to Wyn, especially by my own hand. I would see him well, then offer him my deepest apologies.
My head throbbed in an unfamiliar ache—though not that unfamiliar.
It had been years since I’d been bashed in the head.
My childhood hadn’t been horrid. None of my caretakers had ever harmed me, not once, but being on the small moon in a mining colony had left me with a lot of dangerous places to wander and unsavory people to meet.
Not all had been kind to the children running around.
But unlike those miners or shippers, Monqilcolnen hadn’t intended to harm me. The look of horror on his face had been enough to assure me of that. He always had a disinterested, collected expression, but this time he’d been upset, extremely upset.
It had been oddly gratifying, not to mention attractive, to see his peace shatter, which I wasn’t sure what to do with. Yes, I’d thought he was lovely before, but seeing the fakeness melt away had made him beautiful.
I opened my eyes and stilled, my soul throbbing.
Monqilcolnen was in front of me, resting on the side of a couch.
His eyes were closed, and his hair covered him, draping over his broad shoulder and down to his flat stomach.
His tapered ear poked through his hair, showing off the simple gold studs trailing down the cartilage.
There was nothing elaborate or excessive about the studs.
In fact, they looked nearly identical to mine—plain, simple gold.
The simplicity fit him and held its own allure.
I had no idea where I was. The room was unfamiliar.
It had the same layout as all of the senior quarters, except this one had different artifacts placed carefully on full bookshelves, bright paintings in a variety of styles on the walls, and thick, patterned rugs layered over the floor, which was against regulations because it wasn’t good for the moss, as well as an elaborate cat shrine that looked like a human dwelling with plenty of openings for the house god to enter and exit.
And a realistic tree sprawling to the ceiling and out over the shared space, giving the cat plenty of places to lounge.
I shifted to get a better view, and something sharp dug into my chest. Cincin glared, her ears and tail flicking in annoyance, before curling up into a tighter ball.
Cincin. Monqilcolnen. I didn’t need anything more than that. I was in his quarters. Why? I would’ve preferred not to be here, and I was sure Monqilcolnen would have agreed if he was awake. Still, he’d brought me here, which meant he’d had no other choice.
My fingers slid toward him of their own accord, dragging over the soft couch.
I’d never had the chance to look at Monqilcolnen like this—unobserved and unpressured.
My finger ran down his forehead, nose, lips, and chin, scraping against his scales and eliciting a tingle of awareness.
I pulled back, my hand fisting. I shouldn’t have touched him, and yet, I had.
Something inside me loosened the longer I stared at him.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Urgg was right.
We, or rather I, had shed blood in a fight.
I highly doubted Monqilcolnen and I would become sworn comrades, especially not from that small injury, but perhaps we could move forward in a way that was less embarrassing for me.