Chapter 4
FOUR
SHERLOCK
I was halfway through my explanation when she cut me off.
"I forgot something in my room," she said, her eyes wide, the edge of her lower lip glistening as she stared up at me with parted lips, her words breathy. "Come with me to help me find it?"
"There is more to explain," I said. "The most important part is the fact that I can't-"
"Do you want to come back to my room or not?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips in fists.
"What about the soup?" I said. She said it was good, which meant it was. Noelle was not one to give false praise when it came to food.
Noelle reached over and turned off the stove. She grabbed a lid, put it on the pot, then took the empty bowl from my hand and put both of them in a large sink basin.
"I'm going back to my room now," she said.
She strode out of the kitchen, into the common room.
I was so startled that it took me a moment to follow her.
I had danced for her so many times, and though she definitely had given me appreciative looks, she hadn't invited me back.
All it took was half an explanation of a rut, and she made up her mind she wanted to mate with me.
But she was never one to leave dirty dishes for others, and leaving our bowls in the sink meant she didn't fully understand. I needed to make sure she understood.
Even so, I could feel a fire raging within me, a need to follow her, to crowd into her space, to claim her nest and take her over and over again until my seed took root and she filled the nest with our fledglings.
"What's for dinner, Noelle?" someone called out.
"There is soup," Noelle said. "Or figure it out yourself."
She was almost to her door, and I rushed to catch up with her, but I was too slow. The door slid open, and she stepped inside. I made it to the edge of the doorway, catching it before it slid closed again.
I teetered over the edge, torn between the things unspoken and the sheer raging need inside of my body, swelling up with the immense urge I never knew I was capable of experiencing. The muscles in my back tensed, trying to lift and spread what wasn't there.
I had no memory of having them, so I never thought I would miss them, but in that moment, the urge within me bordered on rage, a desperate need to spread and display, to shake and rattle the feathers for my mate.
But there were no feathers save the small ones that were growing back along my scalp and shoulders, tiny things that looked like no more than hairs. The long feathers that should be at the tips of my ears were nothing more than nubs.
"What is wrong?" Noelle asked, her arms crossing her chest. "Why are you just standing there?"
"I… its not…." I said, the need inside me spiking to the point of pain.
I could escape it, dampen it with my biological suppression implant, but I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to rely on Calicium implants to help me navigate this life, and I certainly didn't want to use them to escape the torrent of sensations that came with being alive.
"It's not me? It's you?" Her expression softened, and her arms dropped down to her sides. "Listen, Sherlock, if this isn't right for you, it's okay. I'm not going to be hurt if you don't want this."
"Don't want this?" The words tore through me, a misunderstanding that had no place in the realm of my torment. I took a step into the room, and the door slid shut behind me, sealing us in, locking us into this fate.
"I'm in your nest," I said, my back aching again as my muscles attempted to spread limbs that were no longer there. I bit out the words, trying to convey the intensity of what I was feeling. "You are mine."
"Sure," she said. "I know you said you'd get all intense like that, but you look like you're in pain. Why are you hunching your shoulders like that?"
"I need to present them," I said, rolling my shoulders back. "But I can't. It doesn't matter. I will dance."
I pulled off my shirt and threw it to the side.
I began to move, to shift my body in the ways that I knew caught her eye.
I had been practicing movements in the kitchen when no other women were around but her, testing which movements were hard for her to look away from, but I had only begun my gyrations when she stopped me by stepping forward and reaching out to grasp my arms.
"Wait," she said.
I waited.
Her hands were brands against my skin, her touch adding to the low thrum of need that was building within me like a drum beat, urging me to take her, to breed her.
She moved around me, her hands sliding along my skin, and I tensed, holding myself back, keeping myself under control. The urges within me were feral, but I was not yet fully in the grasp of the rut. The inability to present, to dance, was a pressure point that was holding me back.
Her hands reached the edge of the scar tissue.
"May I touch you here?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Does this hurt? Is this why you were moving your shoulders in such a strange way?" she asked, her soft touch gliding over the scarred tissue on my back.
"They are scars from my amputation," I explained.
I felt no shame about my inability to present properly to her.
I didn't choose to cut off those pieces of myself.
It was something that was done to me, not something within my control.
Even if it was, she wasn't a member of my origin species.
There was no way she would judge me as being less worthy because she didn't have any expectation of how I should be.
At least, that is what I fervently hoped.
Garlithian ran into many females who judged him as unworthy because of his inability to perform the way he should as a male of his species. He didn’t take that to heart; he moved on to spend his time with people who valued him for who he was, not what he was lacking in their eyes.
"What was amputated?" she asked.
"My wings," I said. Cool air replaced the warmth of where her hands had been as she lifted them off my skin. Was she rejecting me? I rushed to explain. "I am not an infiltrator unit, so I had no need to blend in with my origin species, and wings have no purpose in space."
She made a soft, tender sound, and I turned to see that her eyes were wide, tears glimmering at the edges of them, her hands up with just her fingertips covering her mouth.
"I cannot present to you without them," I said.
"In my origin culture, the brightness of the feathers and the size of the wingspan are an important part of courtship.
In that culture, I would be considered a damaged male, much like Garlithian is considered damaged by his origin culture because of his failed mating bond. "
"You are not…" Noelle said, the words catching in her throat, like she was responding to an urge to say one thing before her mind caught up with her speech.
"What you have lost is incalculable, but you didn't lose your worth as a male, and when I look at you, I don't see someone who is broken.
I see someone who is happy and excited about life, who enjoys everything he does and everyone he speaks to.
When I look at you, I see the kind of male I would love to have as my mate.
I don't need you to present to me; I need you to be present with me and tuned into what you need to be happy, and you do that every day. "
Warmth flooded me, a bolstering current of affection and also relief.
I reached out, my fingers finding the curve of her jawline.
"I would like to perform a human courtship action," I said.
"What kind of action?" she asked.
"I believe it is called a kiss?" I said.