Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Bayzon
Isee her again out of the corner of my eye.
The dazzling human female I’ve been boldly watching.
Whenever I catch her lovely form amidst the crowds in this crazy gathering, I can’t look away.
I arrived late to this ball, having finished a last-minute shift review, and I’ve already missed most of the mingling.
But I haven’t missed her. I assume she is new to the planet, possibly visiting because there are very few humans on Timbur and I’ve never seen her before.
And most importantly, she wears the gloves of the unmated.
She watches me too. I straighten and meet her gaze, ready to walk over and greet her to find out more.
But a costumed female approaches and blocks my path.
A low growl rumbles in my chest because I’ve tangled with this particular Xylan many times.
I shouldn’t know who she is at this ball, considering her elaborate costume and mask, but she’s the same female I scented long ago, learning we were not future mates.
My line has the rare ability to scent and learn of a bond without the trouble of going through the testing ceremony.
Hence, I’ve never once asked her to test, but she questions me about our lack of testing whenever she has the opportunity.
For some unknown reason, my denial of testing is difficult for her to process.
“Maxon?” she guesses inaccurately, on purpose, but I’m certain she knows who I am. The female crosses her arms. “Will you test mating compatibility in honor of the Dark Moon?” she questions.
A flurry of longer, harsher denials float through my mind, but I simply offer a one-word denial. “No.”
She has been harassing me with this question for the last few years.
Both of us know it is against the Scales of Xylan Law for her to continuously ask me after my initial denial, years ago.
I could in fact complain to the peacekeepers about this abuse if I chose, but I don’t.
I’m not even on the Xylan mating database because I don’t want to be asked for compatibility testing.
“But...”
“Female, this is enough. You have my answer. You’ve always had my answer. Ask other males for testing because I am a dead end. It is not happening.”
Moisture wells in her eyes and she cries as if I said something mean and darts away, tears streaming down her cheeks, past her mask.
I sigh.
Another reason why I don’t go out often.
I look up and find that the human female, whom I wanted to meet, has disappeared in the crowd again and is nowhere to be found.
Dammit. She probably saw my encounter with that female, and without proper context, the entire episode could be misinterpreted.
“I hate this costume ball,” I mutter under my breath.
“We all know you hate this ball,” my brother, Trunk, grunts.
“You complain about having to dress up and go to this every year since you came of age. But you’re here now and you’re staying.
Stop complaining and try to enjoy yourself.
The dancing will start soon, and this is your favorite part.
Once you dance, you always enjoy yourself. ”
This is true but tonight is different. I feel unsettled because there is a female I’d like to meet but I cannot find her, and I suspect she now wants nothing to do with me. I scan the crowd, annoyed that I still can’t find her again. Maybe she has left.
I cross my arms. “I’m going home.”
“Chief, you’re being ridiculous. First, you need to tell the peacekeepers that she continues to harass you. It’s the only way to make it stop. And, like I said before, you need to hold out until the dancing starts.”
“I’ve done my job as crew leader. I made sure all of you are here. I’ve been seen participating in the ball. Now I can go home.”
Another one of my brothers steps up. “No,” Cannibal growls. “The buffet just opened. Stay and I’ll get you some food. It will make you feel better.”
He’s gone before I can respond.
A low growl rumbles in my chest. Cannibal thinks everything can be fixed with food.
But my actual problem is that now that our crew is first in production I am recently deemed “a good match.” When the fever brothers were banished to the worst housing unit on the planet and the worst shift, I was left alone and mainly unwanted.
But recently, now that my crew is first in production, all the unmated females and their houses seem to think I’m worthy again?
“They all want to test,” I complain. “And when I go out like this, females try to approach and ask for testing mating compatibility. When I’m at work or at home, I can ward it off and live in peace.”
“Yes, it’s such a terrible burden to be in demand as a future mate by all the unmated females on Timbur,” my youngest brother, Maxon grumbles with heavy sarcasm because as the youngest he never gets asked for testing.
That’s when I see her again.
My breath catches in my throat and my chest expands. I finger my personal crystal in my pocket, trying to remain calm.
“You still leaving?” Maxon questions, raising his voice to be heard over the drums.
“No. I’ve changed my mind. I’m staying.”
“Good,” he grunts.
My entire adult life, I’ve never given another female a second look, wondering what it would be like to clasp hands. What if I approach her and learn that she’s the one? Or, what if I get close and learn she isn’t the one?
I never ruminate over thoughts like this.
My position as leader of our mining crew keeps me busy.
I’ve been through so much with the mysterious death of my parents, the subsequent trauma of my eldest brother being banished, as well as our crew being unfairly targeted for punishment.
My life holds much responsibility and there’s been no time to long for a mate or offspring.
Also, I’d already, long ago scented all the unmated females living on Timbur, knowing that none of them are my future mate.
Because I can’t leave Timbur and live elsewhere due to my fever bond to my personal crystal and my position as an Illibrium miner—I assumed I would remain unmated.
And yet tonight, for the first time in my life, I continue to gaze at this one particular female, drawn to the curve of her chest and the sway of her hips.
Why?
Due to her fragile stature and her colorless skin, I’m certain she’s a human female.
She lacks pigment, claws or fangs, just like the other human females in my family line.
She is dressed like me, without bothering with an actual costume, and wears only formal clothing and the requisite mask that covers her face.
Her exotic human hair is long and dark, held up at the base of her delicate neck.
If she’d been born on Chronos she would’ve been thrown into the wildlands as an infant, so that nature could reclaim its mistake. But I enjoy the colorless glow of her soft skin. And the juxtaposition of that royal pigment hair and the lack of pigment on her skin is attractive.
She walks in the opposite direction, towards the buffet.
I try to follow, but before I can reach her a Xylan male approaches and stops to speak with her. Yet another growl rumbles in my chest. What is this? Why do I churn with agitation? Why do I care who she speaks with? The male tries to guess her identity. His shoulders droop at her negative response.
She turns from him and continues on her way.
A few of my brothers are mated and all of them have chosen humans as Brides.
I’m now highly familiar with this odd species and I’ve learned I enjoy humans.
In fact, we are teased often by the other mining crews and staff as “human-lovers.” And it’s probably true, especially since I’m right now staring at this unknown human for far too long.
I can’t even make out her exact features, but this doesn’t matter.
All I want is to get closer and introduce myself.
Cannibal returns with plates of food.
“Who is that human female?” I question.
He glances across the room and examines her with disinterest. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I’ve never seen her before. And the mask doesn’t help matters. That’s odd, I thought I knew all the humans on Tarvos.”
I snort in agreement.
Cannibal deposits a plate for me at a nearby table and is gone.
Maxon reappears at my side. “Maybe she just arrived on Timbur?” he offers. “I can question her for you.”
I growl and bare my fangs in response.
My brother glances at me with surprise. “What the hells is wrong with you?”
“I don’t want you looking at her either,” I snarl.
“Why?”
I glance down at his green gloves.
“Uh oh. Is this going to result in another human joining our family?” he sighs. “We really are human-lovers, aren’t we? I’ll go warn Trunk and Scar to stay away.” And then he’s gone.
Before I can stride across the room and finally speak to this human a group of costumed females approach to block my path.
Now I’m getting angry. Why am I constantly thwarted in my attempt to simply speak to the human? Why is this so difficult?
“Are you Bayzon?” one of them boldly questions, without preamble. She pokes a finger at my chest. “I know you are. Now that I’ve discovered your name, you need to take off your mask.”
I look down and meet her gaze. “I’m not playing this game,” I growl. And I leave the damn mask on and try to step around and continue on my way. I have no desire to talk with them. These are a group of Xylan females who seem the most disgruntled over “the fever brothers’ obsession with humans.”
They surround me in a semi-circle, still blocking my path. “Cheater.”
One of them places a hand on her hip. “We know you can scent us as incompatible and that’s why you never test.”
“But it’s not fair,” another cries. “How do the fever brothers know for certain that they are right about compatibility?”
“And why do all of you end up with human mates?”
“You always cheat on everything in life, don’t you?” another female snarls.
A deep sigh escapes my lips. I find myself wishing that I was mated, just so this would end.
No more scenting of unmated females or wearing special gloves.
Having to decline testings. Normally, etiquette requires Xylan to agree to testings set up between houses and lines.
But my parents are both dead and I have the rare ability to scent my mate prior to clasping, so I consider these rules null and void.
This doesn’t mean that others won’t find this offensive.
But I have had enough. This ends now.
“Females,” I growl. “I have the utmost respect for all of you, but if you do not step aside and go your own way and stop this harassment, I will immediately report all of you to the peacekeepers and the mating commission for your constant campaign of abuse. I am not joking.”
Their eyes widen because I’ve never spoken this way to any of them before. And maybe Trunk is right, this is why it continues. This is something I needed to do long ago.
They all squeak with surprise. Some of them continue to grumble with anger but they step back too.
A growl rumbles in my chest.
All of them turn their backs on me and walk away.
And then I look toward my chosen female again and this time I see she’s speaking to a costumed demon I recognize.
What is this?