Jonohkada

CHAPTER 24

Prior to Hannah’s mane emergency, it was already established that we would be leaving the rookery today and spending the day doing activities the females find relaxing after a full Earthen week’s worth of work. After such a harrowing ordeal, Hannah has decided that the best way to settle her nerves is to visit the mall and do something she calls mall therapy, or window shopping. This suggestion appealed to Julie too, thus we are all together in a pedestrianized marketplace that houses a conglomerate of small shops spread out side by side, connected by gleaming patterned tiled pathways, all under a single very large roof.

It was a bracing walk here. Not because of the weather, but the length of our journey. The females chose to walk rather than cram my person onto enclosed public transport options, or teach me to ride a vehicle called a Divvy bike, which is a form of public transportation unique to Chicago, as far as I understand.

In deference to the length of our walk, Hannah is wearing white shoes with pink laces designed for the rigors of exercise, and her lower half is clad in a very, very fitted pair of sky blue pants called jeans. Her upper half is attired in a white fabric that is solid around her torso, but her arms can be seen through sleeves made of a gauzy, decorative, web-like lace with interesting shapes and embellishments. The neckline of this garment is scalloped and dips down below her throat, enhancing and beautifying her graceful neckline even more. Her necklace is a simple silver chain, and her earrings are small silver hoops. About one wrist is a leather bangle. A small purse is looped over her elbow. When I offered to bear it for her, she grinned at me but declined.

Before we left the rookery, I braided her mane, forming it into a glossy crown around her head.

I am wearing what my human friends living on my home planet helped me design before I came to Earth. It is a ‘Raglan-style’ sweater with a ruana wrap that pins over my shoulders. It’s made of thin, breathable material sewn with a hidden sleeve that my wings tuck into so that no hint of them is revealed.

My trousers are a dull harvest color. I wear the same shoes as I always do, which were cobbled on my homeland, designed for civilized alien terrain such as Earth, and many other cultivated planets.

Julie is garbed in a soft pewter knit dress with strips of raised vertical ribbing. The neck of it is overlarge, folded wide and draping. A cowl neck. It’s belted with a pale bronze leather strap that bears an elegant buckle. Her legs are encased in black leggings and she too is in white exercise shoes. Her mane is straightened and gleaming, so impeccably styled one would assume she has a passel of hobs. However, unless she’s hiding them in her bathing and cleansing unit, her mane is the result of her skill alone.

She is toting a black leather bag that, like for Hannah, I offered to carry, but received a declination.

Not far inside the entrance of the mall, Julie sits on a bench with large green plant fronds sprouting from pots on either side of it, and she slings her bag off of her shoulder and rifles through it, pulling out incredibly stylish-looking footwear. She then removes the more comfortable boxy-shaped shoes she walked here with, changing them out for the lovely footwear.

“Vanity,” she explains when she catches Hannah smirking at her and me watching with curiosity. Once her footwear is secured with ankle straps that snap behind her ankles, she tucks her sensible shoes back into the bag she hauls back over her shoulder and stands. “Ready,” she says, and we begin walking.

“I thought we were shopping for windows,” I murmur in confusion as we enter into the nearest establishment, a glass-fronted shop full to bursting with purses, a hoard of shoes to rival Julie’s, and racks upon racks of lovely dresses.

“No, no—we’re here for the other kind of window shopping,” Hannah says.

I consult my mental vault of human slang and recall that this specific term can mean that we have embarked on an adventure of perusing a myriad of wares without possessing the faintest intention of purchasing any of them. “Ah. I see.”

Hannah slips her hand into mine and smiles up at me. “It’s fun. I promise.”

I lift my stare from our clasped hands to her smiling face. “Anything I do with you, I do gladly.”

“Awwww,” Hannah breathes, her eyes turning soft. She tugs me down and gives me a kiss that turns heated very quickly.

“Cut it out you two, before someone turns a hose on you,” Julie chides, making Hannah pull back from me.

My wing fringe attempts to rattle in agitation. Of course they’re stifled by my ruana and can’t send an effective warning that I’m displeased. But I have other methods of relaying my pique. For her interruption, I send Julie a cutting glance.

Julie’s eyes widen. “Wow. Didn’t know you had it in you, Jonoh.”

“Had what in me?” I enunciate crisply. I jerk Hannah against me, startling her.

This action startles Julie too. She gives me an even wider-eyed goggle. “I didn’t know you had a killing look—let alone had the balls to send anyone a killing look.”

This startles me enough that I stop sending her such a threatening stare and, hand still attached to Hannah’s, I follow Hannah around the store, wondering if I’m becoming more aggressive. I must be. It happens in some mated males and I’m buoyed that I’m developing some aggression.

When she and Julie deem their perusal lengthy enough to be considered appropriate, we exit, and I drag my gaze from Hannah—and thoughts of peeling her out of her jeans and top and taking down her intricately braided mane so that her gently wavy tresses fall over her breasts and tease her perfect areolas and nipples—to take in our surroundings. The flooring is so smooth, so polished, it reflects the lighting overhead. Skylights add ambience to the shopping center’s aesthetics, and make me homesick. Where I’m from, those skylights would be a series of oculus ports that permit flight-capable people to enter and exit structures, but of course, nobody is flight-capable here.

Except for me.

We’re amidst a startling amount of greenery. Potted plants abut seating areas, water fountains, and open-fronted huts made of reddish wood, all of which take up the middle of the paved public walkway. When we reach an atrium of sorts with rounded windows in its roof, I notice large branchless trees with green fronds spread out at their tops. The trunks of the trees are sprouting from large floor grates and I upgrade my estimation of this walkway from a mere promenade to an alameda.

The huts parked about the corridor between shops are each stocked with a human who seems invisibly tethered there, and on the sides of the paved walkway are essentially a series of glassed-front human viewing opportunities. Brief glimpses as we pass by shops show humans talking to their devices, tapping on their devices, taking photographs with their devices, or taking live captures as they go about touching items hanging from racks set about each store. It would lead one to extrapolate that humans have a symbiotic relationship with cell phone units.

My attention moves to Hannah as she looks up at me and bites her lip. “How do you feel about us shopping in separate places for a few minutes? I want to get you a gift.”

“This appeals to me,” I tell her cheerily. Because I would like to get Hannah gifts too.

Julie isn’t looking convinced. “Is it wise to let your alien out of our sight?”

“There is little need to fret over me,” I assure them. “I’m very excited to share that I believe I’m developing aggression.”

Hannah’s eyes are beginning to show concern. “You know what? Maybe Julie can go with you—”

I hope to hunt out gifts for Julie as well, so I decline. “I should be perfectly fine on my own,” I assure them.

I kiss Hannah deeply, wave a temporary farewell to Julie, and march in a new direction.

***

Sometime after I can no longer sense Hannah or Julie nearby, a human calls to me. A male’s voice. “Hey! Buddy!”

I glance down and find a man with a sparse patch of dark mane on his head. He’s wearing a collared shirt the color of a foggy morning. It has short sleeves and stately pockets over each breast. He’s nearly hidden, standing behind a bright red hut in the middle of the mall thoroughfare. His hut has shelves and hooks whereupon an abundance of clothing is folded or displayed.

“Where did you get that poncho?” the man asks.

“I made it,” I tell him brightly. “It’s called a ruana.”

“You made that?” he asks in disbelief.

“I did,” I confirm. I step nearer to a sort of window area in his hut where he’s half hanging out of, to the best of his ability, because in relation to the window’s hut he is somewhat vertically challenged.

“Wow,” he says admiringly, looking over my ruana. He reaches for it without asking, rubbing the end length between pinching fingers. Thankfully my wings are hidden against my body and he only has ahold of trailing fabric. “What is that made of?”

“Uh, imported cloth,” I tell him.

“You know what would look even better on you than this?” he asks, looking up at me with teeth so bright they nearly glow. He points to a black cape with a deep stand collar that’s fitted around the shoulders of a muscular male dress form.

Curious, I draw nearer to it, examining the fabric. It has an incredible sheen. “This looks so soft,” I murmur.

“It’s velvet,” the man says.

“What is velvet?” I ask in wonder, brushing my fingers over the cape and feeling the pile of the fabric depress and whisper over my skin.

The man holds up his device and asks it, “What is velvet?”

We learn that velvet was historically made from silk thread, but today is most often made from synthetic fibers.

“I’m sure this is genuine silk-made velvet,” the man informs me.

I lift up the cloak, awed by the inside of it, which begins as a pale yellow at the top, just like the insides of my wings when I’m relaxed, but it gradates down to a medallion gold by the floor—which is like my wings when I’m riled.

Wearing this would somewhat be like bearing my wings in a different form, while still keeping them concealed.

“How much does this fine garment cost?” I ask the vendor, wondering if I can even afford it.

He sighs, troubled. “You know,” he says. “It is priced at two ninety-nine.”

A shocked noise escapes me. My hearts leap—because I can afford this price, although I believe it seems high for clothing.

The man holds up two hands, showing me his palms. “Wait! Wait! But for you, my friend, fifty ninety-nine.”

I frown, confused. “Really?”

Twenty Earthen minutes later, I find Hannah exiting a shop called Antiquarian Books.

My jaw drops as I peer around her. What a delightful looking shop. If both of my hands weren’t full of purchases, I would step inside and likely purchase alien tomes. In fact, I may step inside and purchase some anyway. Perhaps Hannah will assist me in carting them away with us.

Although it looks like she already has a start on such treasure. She is carrying a brown paper wrapped parcel hugged to her chest as if it’s irreplaceable and precious, igniting more than mild curiosity in me. Over her shoulder, her purse is so full of items it’s grown distended, although the shapes impressing the leather are far more organic-looking than books.

When she sees me, her eyes light up. Then she looks me up and down, and her forehead furrows. “What are you wearing? And what do you have there?”

Proudly, I thrust a laminated paper cup with a recyclable plastic lid and ineffectual paper straw into her hands. “I was advised that I should upgrade my ruana to this fine cape. And this is a refreshment. It’s for you.”

Her mane looks lovely, some tendrils having escaped around her satiny cheeks, softening her look even further. Her eyes are a little discombobulated as she accepts her drink.

“Uhhh… thank you.” Hannah tentatively places her lips around the straw and sips. She jerks back instinctively—the same reaction I had, I note.

“Does our rookery have gutters?” I ask.

“N-no.” Hannah has brought her thumb and finger to her mouth, and she’s brushing at her lips and tongue furtively as she meets my gaze, distracted. “Or if our apartment does, we don’t take care of them. Why?” She pulls her drink further away from her face so she has more room to brush at her mouth with her other hand.

“I have a free gutter inspection scheduled next month. The thing sticking to your mouth is an insect called an ant.”

Hannah slaps at her lips at the same instant that her eyes fly to mine. “What?”

I reach out and pluck it off her lip, then draw it far enough away that she can focus on the insect pinched between my fingers. “It’s an ant. See?”

She rears back. “EWW!” she exclaims. Then she looks at her straw in horror. “I sucked it up from this drink! Gross!” She begins to peel the lid off.

If I didn’t have decent reflexes, I wouldn’t catch the cup in time. I’m not sure if she drops it or throws it, or some instinctive combination of the two actions happens—but the cup is suddenly nearly sailing through the air.

“There are ants in it!”Hannah shrieks. “Where did you get—”

“Yes, I know,” I agree excitedly. “I bought it from a hut called a kiosk. This drink is very rare here. It’s ant gin. The seller assured me that it is a very special drink that would wow my mate.”

Her expression is suddenly murderous. “Someone sold you that?”

“They did,” I confirm. “I didn’t mean to buy it, but his wife said I must, so I had to. Luckily the flavor is quite good, isn’t it? I didn’t know that insects were added to food on this planet. The man told me it’s otherwise comprised of yams, makrut lime, coriander, and two types of distilled ants. Interestingly, the citrusy flavor isn’t simply from the makrut lime; the ants themselves spray formic acid when they’re threatened, and as they’re dropped into the drink, they expel it. The distilling of the formic acid is the flavor that gives ant gin its singularity,” I tell her, repeating the seller’s words.

Hannah’s chest is rising and falling rapidly and her teeth are bared. “Jonoh?”

“Yes? Oh! Wait,” I hold up the gift bag looped over my wrist. “I also have a sample of perfume I think would smell heavenly on you. The princess giving them out at a kiosk hut said I had to bring one to you and then bring you back for more.” Holding Hannah”s drink in one hand, I pull my next gift from my pocket. “She also insisted I take this sample of cream that you can rub onto the skin of your hands.” As Hannah woodenly accepts my items, I cast around for the last gift I have for her, and I hold it out proudly. “I also bought you this necklace. I wasn’t ordered to purchase it by anyone. I wanted to buy it for you.”

Hannah’s eyes have fallen closed. Actually, it almost looks as if she’s squeezing her lids shut as she takes this final present from my fingers. When she opens her eyes again, her eyes go round. She carefully lifts the top off the box—and then she gasps. “Is this real?”

“Very,” I assure her. “It’s a three-carat princess cut diamond.” Not nearly as impressive as the other diamonds I have for her, but I saw this as I was window shopping and I decided that since I’d already been forced to break the window shopping rule wherein the shopper looks but doesn’t buy, I’d purchase a trinket for my mate of my own volition.

Julie joins us. “Hey. Nice cape, Jonoh. You look like you escaped off the set of Phantom of the Opera. What’s wrong?” She swipes Hannah’s drink right from my hand.

“DON’T!” Hannah shouts.

“That is Hannah’s,” I tell Julie chidingly. “If you want your own ant gin, I will get another. Wait here.”

Somewhere in the middle of my offer, Julie rears back from the cup. “It’s what now?”

“There are ANTS in it!” Hannah says.

Julie’s face scrunches. “Gross. How did ants get in it?”

“They’re distilled in the drink,” I explain, still marveling at the ingenuity. “Would you like to come with me and meet the seller? He and his wife were very friendly humans.”

Julie’s expression has turned. I recognize the look. A sort of threatening, enraged slant of eyes and mouth. It’s one I’ve seen on Gracie’s face when she feels that someone is taking advantage of me. “They were friendly, huh? Did they order you to buy this?”

“Not on purpose,” I defend.

“I’m going to waterboard them,” Julie claims. She holds up Hannah’s cup. “With dead ants.”

“In gin,” I clarify. “Technically you’d have to waterboard them with the liquid gin portion. Which is a convenient technicality in the scenario you are threatening, as there are only a scant thirty-six ants in each batch.”

“And I had one in my mouth,” Hannah tells her, her voice strangely high and tight, in the way some humans sound when hysteria is creeping up their vocal cords. “So there’s only thirty-five in there now, Julie.”

“Thirty-five is plenty,” Julie decides. “Where are these people at?” she asks—but without me having the chance to answer, she starts walking toward the courtyard where foods and beverages are sold.

Hannah catches her arm. “Stop. Don’t make a scene.” She is in no position to stop Julie if Julie pulls away from her because one of Hannah’s arms is held across her front, banding over her purchases and also pinching her hand cream sample and the diamond necklace to her chest. Luckily her sample of perfume is still in the gift bag looped over her wrist so she isn”t thrice overburdened, but I motion to her that I would like to take her parcels.

“What is the matter?” I ask as I draw the lotion sample out of her grip, my fingers inadvertently and distractingly brushing her breast. However, I”m able to temporarily override my sexual drives, my concern deepening as I glance between my mate and her disputatious friend.

Grimacing, Hannah meets my troubled eyes. “I prefer to never ingest bugs of any kind.” She meets Julie’s furious-looking face. “I want to strangle them too, but it’s legal for them to sell whatever they want, and they couldn’t have known not to throw out phrases like you have to buy it. So we can’t make these people drink ant juice until they choke. We just need to… to stick with Jonoh so that nobody else can do this.” She sends a worried look from me, then back to Julie. “He’s missing his custom wing-concealing ruana wrap, and apparently someone had him sign up for a gutter cleaning next month.”

Julie makes a guttural noise of aggression.

“I’m so sorry!” I tell Hannah, crestfallen. “I didn’t know your preferences—”

She places her hand on my arm, her face softening. “I know. Don’t worry. It’s not your fault.” She gives me a weak smile and jerks her chin down at her necklace box. “Thank you for this gift. It’s beautiful, Jonoh.”

“May I put it on you?” I ask her.

She smiles at me, a real smile now. A shy one. “Okay.”

Julie rolls her eyes and steps back, giving us a semblance of privacy as I shift her parcels and pluck Hannah’s necklace box from between her arm and her breast. And, giving Hannah heated eyes, I carefully remove the necklace from its inner holder. Because her hair is plaited into an elegant crown atop her head, her refined neck is perfectly bared for the necklace chain to grace it. Before I step back from her, I place a kiss under her jaw.

Her face and throat instantly fill with a blushing rush of blood flow. The side of my face senses the spike in her temperature, and I smile.

Julie exhales loudly, breaking up our moment. “Okay, as touching as this Kodak moment is, I need to pee like a racehorse. I’ll catch up with you guys.”

Hannah’s eyes clear as she blinks up at me, then sends a wince at Julie. “Actually, I’ve really got to go too.”

“Great, where’s the closest washroom?”

Hannah points to the direction she has traversed. “The washrooms are like a mile away, so—”

“Like seriously, I cannot wait,” Julie informs us. Then she glances to the stores nearest to us, and relief washes over her face. “Hey, there’s a hobby store right here. These always have washrooms.”

We enter the store, briskly passing bins of crafting supplies, some fabric bolts, shelves of yarns, with Julie leading the charge to the relieving station area.

“I don’t want to leave Jonoh,” Hannah is saying to Julie.

“I will wait for you,” I assure her.

“Yeah, but what if another hawker tells you to do something while we’re both busy in the washroom?” Hannah worries, looking up at me.

I take her elbow to guide her around a display of paintbrushes. “I am certain you won’t be gone long enough for anyone to successfully abduct me,” I tease.

Hannah’s eyes hold no teasing light. “I’m not as confident about this. At all.”

“We’ll hurry, okay?” Julie says, joining our conversation, although she”s calling these words over her shoulder as she swiftly moves for a swinging door that has a sewing spool painted on it. “Ooof. That guy’s hot,” she remarks, not precisely lowering her voice, but saying it softly enough that the human male ahead of us may not hear her pronouncement.

The male is standing near the free water refreshment fixtures that are situated opposite the female’s relieving station door. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, looking very distinguished and out of place. He has an impeccable, sharply cut short boxed beard that lends his jaw a square-shaped look. He scans us with the eyes of a predator. An alpha one.

Dread fills my stomach, causing it to sink. Hannah was right to worry. I may not be compelled to obey men, but I can be cowed by them.

“He looks like he’s in the mafia,” Hannah states, sounding much more concerned than Julie did.

But to my surprise, Julie’s expression darkens and she grimly agrees. “Shit.” She looks back at me. “Don’t let him talk you into doing anything. Got it?”

“I do,” I assure her.

“You know what? Let’s try another store,” Hannah whispers, taking my hand and tugging on me to follow her away from the threat.

“I can’t wait,” Julie says.

Hannah stops pulling me with her, and sighs in defeat. She looks up at me miserably. “I can’t either.”

“I will be fine,” I assure her.

“Don’t take candy from anyone,” Julie warns.

“I will tell anyone offering candy that I do not accept,” I vow.

“Okay,” Hannah breathes, shuffling on her feet. “Just wait here, Jonoh,” she says, eyeing the mafia man mistrustfully. And worriedly.

He’s eyeing her much the same way, although he looks far less threatened. Likely on account of his apex predator status.

“We’ll be back out in just a sec,” Hannah insists.

Julie, standing at her side, subtly shifting her weight on her clicking heels in a way that telegraphs how badly she needs to void, glares at the mafia male in clear warning. Her glare is formidable.

His eyes narrow and he frowns, looking somewhat taken aback.

With reluctance, both females hurry into the relieving station.

The alpha male turns his attention to me with great interest. His gaze is sharp, and he adjusts the overburdened basket he has at his elbow with such an ease, I’m made aware that it isn’t significant enough to weigh him down if he decides to leap on me.

Thankfully I am reasonably certain that he doesn’t intend to offer me candy that I will have to refuse.

But he stares at me fixedly, so fixedly, I begin to fidget. I’m standing opposite of him and the alcove he’s claimed, with its watering unit—such a predator’s move, positioning himself in front of the water source so anyone who dares to access it does it at great risk of attack—and I’m contemplating moving deeper in the store to escape his attention.

Except that Hannah ordered me to wait here. Even if she hadn’t, I don’t want to leave Hannah. Especially not with this male lurking outside the relieving station door.

“Nice cape,” the stranger says, initiating talk of the trivial sort. Yet he’s echoing Julie’s compliment, confirming again what my seller friend said—this is a very nice cape.

“Thank you,” I mutter politely, avoiding his gaze.

“You seem nervous,” he says, his words as lazy as they are taunting. He shifts, casually crossing one ankle over his other—but because my eyes aren’t directly on him, I saw his frame stiffen with focused attention before he made this move. His relaxed and unconcerned pose is a ruse. Something in my manner has made him very interested in me.

And his energy is turning slightly threatening.

Still playing at casualness, he flips his wrist up to glance at his timekeeping piece.

The moment he looks down at it, the tension stringing my body is halved. Just having his focus shift off of me this slightest degree brings relief. My shoulders slump and I inhale a bracing breath—

Immediately I repeat the action, my eyes widening.

I shoot upright. My wings try to punch high on my shoulders, but are encumbered by my cape. They only manage to knock me in the back of the head.

I hardly notice. My gaze snaps to the alpha male, who has taken note of my change in posture and manner, and even more than before, he’s observing me shrewdly.

“Have you seen a fem—a woman with…” my gaze jumps to the female’s relieving station door, with its spool painting. “With horns?”

The pungent scent of human male urine and the artificial smells of relieving station perfumery from the female’s area had clouded my senses. But when the other male moved, I smelled him, and I smelled a female on him.

A Rakhii female.

Only male Rakhii were permitted to visit Earth to find mates.

However, before our fully authorized, fully sanctioned party of male hobs and Rakhii left for Earth, one ship carrying a single female Rakhii left our planet, headed for here. Her name is Inara, and she is flying an incredibly expensive, excellently designed, terribly fast ship that belongs to a relentless, unstoppable, extremely determined ex-gladiator Rakhii who is merciless, savage, and easily enraged. She stole his ship.

I know this because she ordered me to help her.

Concerningly, if one views events in the most unfavorable light… then technically I am the one who stole the brutal, barbarous, easily enraged Rakhii’s ship. The Rakhii who is famous for his eagerness to shed blood. He also possesses the disturbing proclivity for consuming the internal organs of his fallen foes.

I gulp.

The alpha male has narrowed his eyes. His expression has gone very hard for some reason. I look away to escape any semblance of challenge that he could perceive from direct eye contact. “The alien?” he grates out.

My head whips back to him, and my eyes have popped as wide as spaceships. He knows Inara is an alien! What has he done to her?

Zadeon is going to kill me so slowly. But, I’m afraid, not before his other siblings—nearly all of them incredibly, uncontrollably aggressive brothers—do me great harm. You see, they are all terribly protective of their only sister.

Yes. Most unfortunately, Inara is their sister.

I never even got to tell Hannah goodbye.

Don’t think like this!I will find Inara, and I will convince her to allow me to alert her family to her whereabouts, and they will see her safely returned.

I wasn’t able to convince Inara not to order me to steal her brother’s ship, but I have every desperate hope that she will be convinced to let me reassure her irate brother that she is alive and safe, and she and his stolen ship have been found. At least, I desperately hope she is safe.

I also desperately hope her brother’s ship is safe. If either of them has been harmed, my lifespan is about to experience a catastrophic shortening. A painful one.

Sweat trickles down my back between my wings.

The human male is suddenly in front of me, leaning in so that his face is so close to mine that I couldn’t miss how this alien is attempting to intimidate me.

He’s succeeded.

I knew his heavily laden basket wasn’t enough to slow his attack. He reaches behind himself. For a weapon? I flinch.

There’s a snapping sound, similar to when my wings are forced open in aggression. I look down and find that the human has shoved a pocket-sized flat folding case that contains plastic transaction mechanism cards and some paper currency under my nose. Him opening it created the leathery snapping sound.

He reaches his fingers into his case, rips out a thick parchment rectangle from a small stack of parchment rectangles, and shoves it nearly against my face.

It takes me a moment to focus on the writing that is printed on the card and make sense of it. Not because I can’t read the alien characters, but because he’s shoved the face of the card so close to my eyes that I have to pull back to read it. To my relief, it appears to bear his contact information—even the location in which he resides. This will make it easier to capture Inara if she won’t be persuaded to leave willingly.

If she’s in a position to do anything willingly. What if this male is keeping her captive?

“She’s my employee,” the male growls in a way that really says, Inara belongs to me. I will kill all rivals that attempt to claim her.

Oh. He’s claimed her. Stars, he’s acting this way because he thinks he’s a mated male.

Ohhhhhh, Zadeon will be killing furious when he learns this.

I inhale, and stifle a groan. Terrifyingly certain that what will surely send Zadeon over the edge is the fact that not only is this male laying claim to his little sister, Inara’s bonding scent has marked this human male who is attempting to dominate me. Inara of the Bone Grinder’s cave has bonded.

Zadeon will burn me into a thousand s’mores.

“Ever played an escape game?” the human goes on threateningly.

“I would like to escape right now,” I offer. Although this doesn’t sound like an activity anyone would find enjoyable enough that they would label it a game.

He talks right over me. “If you visit our alien room and use this card—”

The relieving station door opens, and over the male’s head, my eyes connect with Hannah’s worried ones. When she drops her gaze and sees the male pinning me to the wall with his aggressive blocking stance, her mouth drops open and she rushes forward. Julie, heels cracking against the floor angrily, is right behind her, looking positively enraged.

“Take it,” the man snarls.

I realize he wants me to accept his parchment rectangle. Carefully I close my finger and thumb around the topmost corner furthest away from his thumb and finger which is pinching onto the other side of the card in silent violence.

He doesn’t let it go. He glares at me so hard I feel his ultra-effective intimidation stabbing into me like razor-sharp weapons.

My wings crumple together behind me, cowed.

The man releases the card with a cruel smile.

But Hannah cries, “Drop that, Jonoh! Don’t take anything from him!”

I drop his card.

I send an absolutely frantic look at Hannah. I gesture down at the card between my feet, panicked. “Wait, no—I need this. Please. We need this information. There’s a—”

Shoes squeaking on the polished flooring, jeans hugging her curvaceous legs and hips, Hannah swoops down and grabs the card from the floor. She bounces back up and latches onto my arm, beginning to lead me away from the danger.

Julie faces off with the male, almost cornering him as we make our escape. Then she is taking her leave too, backing away from the threat so that she doesn’t give her opponent an easy target.

“Come on! Let’s go!” Hannah urges, and I turn with her and we rush from the store, Julie joining us with haste.