CHAPTER 3
VALMIR
Rules.
Rules make everything so much easier to understand.
Some of the clones woke up with their minds full of information.
Regulations. Rules. Ask Chalath what the most effective leg move is in a gladiator battle between a moden and a praxiian and he'll immediately have the answer.
His head is full of battle history and game variations and regulations.
Skarr has all kinds of knowledge, too, and memories from his prior self.
Kyth has indicated that he remembers a great deal as well.
They have combat rules and weapon knowledge and champion rosters in their brains.
Some of us got nothing at all.
I have my name, and that's about it. I don't have a full set of rules in my brain. I don't have knowledge of the culture I come from, other than a few wisps of memory. I have almost nothing.
So when someone tells me a rule, I file it away carefully in my empty memories. I want to remember so I don't make the same mistake again.
I touched April without permission when I grabbed her hand, and she let me know that was against the rules. I appreciate this because it gives me a baseline. No touching without permission. I will remember this. Not even a hand-touch is permissible.
"How do you fare this day, warrior?" growls a strange voice at me.
I turn away from the fire I've been staring into and frown at the human female with the vivid mane.
Not her again. Her name is Daisy and every time she sees me, she tries to talk praxiian to me.
I haven't told her that I did not get the language of my people.
That the only language in my head is the galactic common we all speak, and the only way I can understand her snarls and growls is because of the implanted translator chip.
So I just glare at her. "How do I look like I'm faring?"
Daisy recoils from my nasty tone. "Not…well?"
"Correct. So go growl at someone else."
Her expression is crushed. "I just wanted to practice my praxiian so I don't get rusty."
"Go practice on Chalath." But I'm already mentally noting the growls she used, the huff of breath that punctuated each word. I might need that information later, and I have no rules for the praxiian language in my regrettably empty memories.
Another male appears, his long braid flying as he moves to stand directly in front of me, his lightly furred barrel chest heaving with anger. "Are you bothering my mate?"
"More like she's bothering me with all her talking.
" I toss a pebble into the fire and get to my feet.
I'm not interested in feasting with these people.
Food has never been a huge draw for me. It's fuel to survive on, and I refuse to let it become leverage that they can hold over my head.
I'd much rather go down near the beach and see if I can pick up a whiff of April's scent.
Not that I want to do anything with it. I just need to breathe it in.
For reasons.
"O'jek, it's all right, love," Daisy says, her tone cheerful. "It's not a big deal."
Her answer does not satisfy O'jek. He follows me as I stalk away, his jaw clenched so hard he's going to break a few teeth.
I ignore him, because I know that's the surest way to get under his skin.
As I saunter past, I see the others are glaring at me, too.
I make a mental note of this — if rude to another male's female, expect anger. This is good to know.
I move away from the gathering, the need for fresh air overwhelming me. Before I can escape entirely, Devi appears. She's got a steaming bowl in her gloved hands but stops once she sees me. "Oh, there you are! How are the scorpions coming?"
"They're not. You didn't give me the proper instructions." I hold my arm out so she can see the raised welts that are visible even under the thin fur covering my limbs. "You did not tell me they needed to be cooked before shelled. They stung me and ran away."
"Oh, shoot." Devi looks frustrated, but not angry. "That's on me. I'm sorry, Valmir. It's been so busy that I assumed you knew the basics, and you know what they say about assuming."
I actually do not know what they say, but I just grunt. If it's something everyone knows, I do not want to be the fool without information.
"Next time, just ask for more details, all right? I'll be happy to walk you through things." She lifts the steaming pot in her gloved hands. "I need to get this prepped."
She races off before I can wave her away, which suits me fine.
I head down the beach, toward the clustered huts, where I can smell April's lingering scent.
How did I never notice before how good she smells?
The other scents float in the air, the usual variety, but her particular scent calls to me.
I've never smelled anything so good, and I want to take deep gulps of air and rub my cock.
I turn my head, following her aroma.
"Where are you going?" A cold hand claps my shoulder, and I jump, startled. Skarr. The gladiator with the ssethri blood that makes him constantly chilled. "You should have seen the way you jumped."
"Maybe it's because you slapped me," I grit, rubbing the spot in mock irritation. I'm annoyed with myself that I was so focused on April's scent that I didn't notice him. Subtle is not in Skarr's wheelhouse.
"You jumped because I startled you. It's because I'm getting so much better at stalking. I can give you pointers sometime, if you like." Skarr seems rather pleased with himself.
"I don't," I retort, but it doesn't bother Skarr. Chalath is with him, the other with praxiian blood and my unofficial competition. I ignore him, too, my tail swishing with irritation at his presence. "I'm not in the mood for sparring. Go rejoin the festivities."
"I want to know what you did," Chalath says, watching me with narrowed eyes. "They are all stirred up and everyone has your name on their lips."
Skarr flicks at the fur on my chin. "And you've got ice in your face fur."
Do I? I rub my whiskers, and sure enough, there's ice coating my jaw. For some reason, this ice doesn't bother me. It feels like...a badge of honor. A mark of pride that April gave me.
Marking...
Some hind-memory stirs and I want to chase it down.
Skarr speaks again, interrupting my thoughts. "The others say that April is resonating to you. Is this true?"
Immediately, I'm defensive. "If you know it already, why ask?"
"Were you showing off or fighting? I am curious."
I just stare at him.
He continues, oblivious. "It was fighting that made Vivi resonate to me.
She says it has nothing to do with it, but I suspect otherwise.
" Skarr gives me a smug look. "These females and their wild human hormones cannot handle it when they see a strong male.
So what maneuvers were you doing exactly?
We need to know so Chalath can use them and make a female resonate to him. "
They both stare at me intently, as if I have the answers.
"I was preparing food," I say dryly. "Looks like the females are safe from Chalath for another day."
Chalath isn't bothered by my verbal slap. He continues to watch me with hard, narrowed eyes. "You're certain? Nothing else?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Something subconscious, perhaps?"
"How the kef would I know?"
He grunts, expression thoughtful. "We should ask the female. I want to know specifics so I can ensure I resonate to the female I want."
"Specifics?" The thought is oddly appealing.
Talking to April again, seeing her movements as she responds.
The way she brushes stray strands of her black mane from her face.
The flash of her eyes when she gets angry.
Drinking in her scent. Drifting towards her door and marking her as my territory...
Chalath waves me forward. "Come. Let us get answers from the females or we will be left wondering."
"I know the answer," Skarr says as we follow Chalath. "It is a form of mind control. They will deny it, because they do not want us to know their secrets."
Again with the mind control. Skarr really has no clue what is going on.
How does Vivi put up with him, I wonder.
Perhaps the same way April will learn to fall for me...
My leather pants feel tight in the groin.
It is resonance, the constant throbbing drumbeat in my chest that is making me react like this.
I should be furious, as April is, but I am more curious than anything.
Curious, and aroused. Anger is very, very far down the list of reactions.
Do I want a child? Not at all. Do I want to be tied to April for the rest of my days, like all the resonating couples seem to be? Not particularly.
Do I want to drink in her scent again?
More than I can imagine.
I don't like that Chalath approaches the hut that smells like her. It makes me walk faster, determined to get in between her and the other praxiian. It feels like he's encroaching on my territory, and I growl.
Skarr slaps my back again. "It'll be fine. He's just asking questions."
"I know." But the reminder makes me realize that I'm growling audibly. I swallow and force myself to seem nonchalant, crossing my arms over my chest and waiting for him to find out what he can. I don't care if he approaches April.
I don't.
I don't.
I don't.
But when there's a lot of angry yelling and Chalath storms away from the hut with a disgruntled look on his face, I can't hide my pleasure at the response.
The females have rebuffed him magnificently, and it soothes the cranky, angry part of my soul that hates to see Chalath get ahead of me.
"Well?" I prompt as he returns to where we wait a short distance away. "How did it go?"
"It went badly," he says. "They thought I was you."
I scoff. "We look nothing alike."
"I know." He rubs his muzzle, smoothing the nonexistent whiskers. "I asked how you'd impressed your female and they made outraged noises. They seemed surprised at the suggestion that it was a conscious decision."