Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
VROG
Easing Gwendolyn down, I gently set her on her feet and take a slow, calculated step back, so I am not towering over her while still maintaining eye contact.
Yes, I am a deviant, but I do not truly want my mate to fear me.
My precious little one freezes in my arms as her vivid green eyes flit across my face, taking in the differences between what she has come to recognize as familiar, versus what she is seeing now.
I know that I am not as appealing to gaze upon as Murgul is, even though neither of us are what any being would call attractive.
Sketching out a semi-formal bow, I introduce myself as I slowly slip into the golden light of her waking consciousness.
“I am Vrog.”
Her eyes widen at my words, taking in my added bulk and height silently, while cataloguing my blatant visible differences. My double set of horns, the armor-plated hide, and the longer talons and tusks that protrude far past my lower lip.
I look like what I am… a harbinger of death and destruction.
It has never bothered me before, but the longer she stands here staring at me without a word, the more uneasy I feel.
Inhaling, I assess her scent and find that it is laden with confusion, distrust, and a trace amount of fear.
I feel something well up from deep within me that I have never felt before, not since I gained sentience.
After a tic of introspection, I realize that what I feel is unease. Uneasiness with who and what I am, and I do not like this feeling at all.
Whining quietly in dismay, I take another step away from her when I hear a quiet squeak from my side.
Immediately, I am reminded of the wee creature I insisted the fool save to gift to our mate.
Perhaps if I present it to her, she will lose the sharp scent of nervousness emanating from her slight form.
Retracting my talons, I unlatch the clasp to the haversack attached to my side and carefully remove the little stowaway hiding within.
Harshly clearing my throat, I ignore her slight flinch as I unhurriedly extend my arm to her, before revealing what hides within.
“This is an adolescent female theroquine pup. The fool and I found it whilst aboard that filthy Korgon vessel. It should not have been there, as it is native to the planet of Atraxia, and that particular world is not friendly to nonresident species. I am unsure why the favored pet of Atraxian females was on that ship at all, since it is a closed planet.”
Her eyes fall to the tiny quivering ball of flesh in my hands, and I feel triumph fill me as they soften.
Tentatively, she takes a step closer, and I lock my muscles lest I do something to frighten her away from me.
Reaching out, she scoops the theroquine out of my hand, careful not to touch me or jostle the frail beast. Satisfaction wells inside when I see her cuddle the abused thing, and begin cooing to it.
Peering up at me, she finally speaks. “You and I need to have a conversation because you and Murgul have some explaining to do.”
After delivering that pithy statement, she spins on her heels and stalks off, my gaze falling to the delicious curve of her arse as she departs the cargo bay.
“Vrog!”
Snapping my head up, I leer in response, unashamed at being caught ogling her delectable body. To my surprise, she rolls her eyes before sauntering through the door that leads to the interior of the Zenith.
Is it me, or did she add extra swagger to her stride?
GWENDOLYN
Confusion and anger are swirling around inside me as I make my way back to our quarters, carrying my new… pet?
The little creature is no bigger than a six-week-old Labrador—an uncanny blend of horse and bipedal reptile.
Its front limbs are three-toed, claw-tipped, and folded close to its torso like tiny, menacing hands.
The head is horse-like, but a double row of fangs protrudes past scaly lips from a jaw that hinges farther up the skull than any equine I’ve seen.
A shaggy mane runs from between pointed ears down its neck to bony withers, leading to a short back and curving into equine hindquarters.
Its tail is horse-like, and its hind feet are shaggy and three-toed, each ending in a sharp talon.
Ignoring the putrid odor wafting off its feeble body, I cuddle it closer, smiling when it makes a tiny warble before it sighs and relaxes into my chest. It’s hard to tell what color it is due to the layers of filth coating its emaciated body.
“Poor little thing, you’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t you?”
Sympathy fills me when it cuddles closer as if it understands what I’m saying. Entering our shared quarters, I don’t stop until I reach the bathroom, ignoring the hulking being wearing my mate’s face.
Thankful to have something to do with my hands, I tenderly ease the little beasty into the sink as I contemplate my current situation.
Cutting my eyes over at Vrog where he looms in the doorway, I’m shocked to see a plate filled with raw meat held in his huge hands.
He must have sprinted to the dining hall and back.
When he sees what I am looking at, an almost sheepish expression flits across his visage, gone in less than a second before he blusters:
“It is starving. Even I am not so callous as to deny a famished being sustenance.”
Well, I can honestly say that my flabbers are most assuredly gasted for the second, maybe even the third, time tonight.
Sighing in resignation, I turn to face the sink, surreptitiously looking at him in the mirror.
Just because we need to talk doesn’t mean I want to.
Murgul and I have gained a level of trust during our conversations, a trust that is teetering on the edge of breaking because hiding an alter-ego or whatever the hell Vrog is, isn’t something you’d easily forget to mention.
Gesturing at the wobbly animal in my sink, I ask. “Will any of these soaps harm it?”
Ice blue eyes filled with a wild inner light glance down at the various bottles lining my small vanity, before snapping back up to regard me in a steady, predatory manner.
“None of those will harm the theroquine.”
Nodding my understanding, I activate the sink, testing the temperature to ensure it’s not too hot or too cold, and begin washing the interesting little creature.
A tiny smile pulls at my lips as I watch its amber eyes close in appreciation when the warm water sluices over it, slowly washing away the grime from its hide.
Glancing up in the mirror, I make eye contact with Vrog, refusing to be afraid of him.
“Start talking.”