Chapter 16 #2
Ah yes. I have seen their food, tasted it.
The noodles that looked like worms were not my favorite, but I have seen the structural integrity of the noodles stacked on top of one another.
That impressed me. I have no idea what is hidden beneath the shiny metal covers, but I would not mind trying each and every one.
If I am ever allowed back to Erethar, I would very much like Dante to eat with my family. To partake in our culture.
Someone walks up next to me, and I peer down at Maria. This close, I can see that her eyes are the same color as Dante’s, and they have the same nose.
“I may be overstepping, but I noticed you don’t have any shoes.”
I glance down at my clawed feet and then back up at her.
“You don’t wear very many clothes, if I’m honest.”
Luca waves at his mom, but she ignores him, continuing to sign and talk.
“I have my knitting needles in my bag and some yarn. Would you like some socks? I always have to have something to do with my hands when I’m around this many people.”
I stare down at my feet again and then back at her. I have seen Dante wearing socks. They are fuzzy and warm on his tiny feet. I never considered wearing some myself, but I want her to like me.
“Yessss. Pleeeeez.”
She grins and winks at me.
I do not like her flirting with me, but I say nothing as she strides toward the food on the counter and begins to open them.
I watch her, noting the red and yellow items inside.
But my gaze is pulled to the door as it opens and more people step in.
Many humans. Humans I do not recognize, but they seem to be friends and family of Amara and Gia.
They greet each other like they love one another and then ooh and ahh over the decorations.
I feel suddenly nervous, out of place. I am far too large for this space, and I think perhaps I should retreat to Dante’s apartment when suddenly two familiar faces appear.
Everest and Rathyn.
Everest looks excited and happy. Rathyn looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. I can see it on his face, in the twitch of his tail, in the small way he growls as he observes the human gathering.
But everyone comes up and greets them, hands extended. I see Rathyn reach out and place his hand in theirs. My cheeks flush once more. This is what I was meant to do with Dante’s father, not place my tail in his palm.
I still have so much to learn.
Rathyn meets my gaze, and his eyes narrow. Then, he is striding toward me with a purpose, his tail wrapped tightly around his thigh.
“I do not like human birthdays. A celebration like this? And what for? That they survived another rotation around the sun?” he asks in Eretharian.
I grin at him and nod. “It is odd. They seem to celebrate death yearly. I do not like to think of it.”
“Agreed. And the noise. The decorations.”
“The orbs of Hyeth,” I say. It causes me no small amount of pain to speak of our world, but it is also a comfort.
“Yes, that is what they remind me of. A truly bad omen.” Our eyes meet once more, and he sweeps his hand out. “Did you help do this?”
“I did. Dante requested it. He is very short and small. They cannot reach the tall places.”
Rathyn makes an agreeable trill. “They are small and weak. But we love them nonetheless.”
I say nothing, but my hearts do. They knock against my chest in an uneven rhythm.
“I do like your Dante, though. He made me a sex toy. I enjoyed it very much.”
I brighten at that. “He is very talented with his hands.”
“He is, but not as much as my Everest.”
I narrow my gaze at him, feeling slightly offended. He does not know how well Dante uses his hands and fingers, how good he is at stroking my cock. But I do not voice this. Rathyn is my superior. I owe him my life.
“It does not matter. I would like to speak to Dante about a new item to procure. He has a vivid imagination…”
His words are cut off when Everest appears at his side, sliding up and placing an arm around his waist.
“What are you guys talking about all quiet?”
“We do not speak quietly. We just do not speak as loudly as everyone here.”
“Eeeteeelieenns,” I say, and Everest gasps.
“Right! Italians. Ha!” He laughs loudly and grins at me proudly.
“I do not like Italians then. They are far too noisy and eat food that looks like blood worms,” Rathyn says.
“Oh my god, stop it. Right now. Don’t insult them.”
“I find some of their food to be quite interesting. One is stacked quite high. I do not know how they manage. It must be an art,” I say in Eretharian.
Everest glances at me and then Rathyn. “What did he say?”
He flicks his ears. “Just that their food preparation is an art. If this is so, I do not see it.”
Everest makes a face and then rolls his eyes. “Wait till you try the dessert. Then you’ll shut your yapper.”
“I do not yap.”
“You do too.” He leans forward and says, “You yapped all fucking day about that cock sleeve.”
Rathyn growls. “I did like that. Very much. It was unique. I shall speak to Dante about another toy.”
“No, no. Not right now. This party is not about you.”
“No, it is about death. Who, may I ask, is dying?” Rathyn’s eyes scan the room.
“That would be me!” Gia says, walking up to Rathyn and beaming at him. “I’m thirty-seven. Might as well put me in a grave.”
“With the way you run into walls and trip over sidewalks, I’m surprised you haven’t died yet,” Amara adds, pulling Gia into a hug.
I lean toward Rathyn and add in Eretharian, “And she enjoys burning food in the meecerowave.”
“Did you just say microwave? God, why is everything you say so cute?” Gia asks before turning toward Rathyn. “Do you say cute things, too?”
He bristles, his shoulders squaring. “I am the commander of armies. I am not cute nor am I pretty.”
Gia cocks her head as Everest bites back a laugh. “I dunno. You are definitely pretty.”
Everest can contain it no longer. He is like the popping orb, his laugh loud and sudden. Rathyn glances down at him, his tail possessively wrapped around his thigh.
“Do not laugh, my Everest. They mock me.”
“I mean, you are very pretty. All that velvet skin….” He bites his bottom lip, and his eyes trail down to the slip of fabric covering his groin.
Rathyn growls and leans down, nuzzling Everest’s neck.
I feel the same urge to do this to Dante, but we are not bonded. Not in the way that Everest and Rathyn are. Something inside of me twists, almost painfully.
I am jealous.
I turn my gaze away and seek out Dante. He is sitting next to his mom on the couch, long spears moving quickly between her fingers, something forming in her lap. Are those my socks?
I move away from Rathyn and Everest and their affectionate display, and step toward Dante. But before I can reach him, someone stops me.
I stare down at an older woman. Not Dante’s mother, but someone older. I can see the wrinkles of age on her skin. She is a wise one, I assume.
“You’re tall,” she says, her voice husky, low-pitched, and accented much like Dante’s parents. She is wearing a floral garment much like what I am wearing, and I can’t help but reach out and touch it. It is soft under my fingers. She does not seem to mind that I am near her. She is not afraid.
What is more impressive is her hair. It is sturdy on top of her head. I can’t help but poke at it. It does not move. It is mighty. Much like the irons I lift with Brody at the gym.
“Amara has some grappa hidden in here. She doesn’t want me drinking it, but she always buys the best stuff. I found it, and I want you to get it for me.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a green piece of paper. I know what this is. Human money for purchases.
She holds it out to me, and I take the paper. No one has ever offered me such a thing before. I feel special.
“This way.” She strides toward the small hallway, and I follow, unable to say no to such a fierce and wise creature. Amara and Gia’s place is much like Dante’s, only everything is flipped. We move into a bedroom, and I see a large bed, much larger than Dante’s.
The wise human stops in front of the closet and points her finger up. “There.” She stares at me. “Get it. Please.”
I reach forward and do as she says, unable to say no. When she has the grappa in her arms, she opens the top.
“You want a swig?” she asks, putting it to her mouth and drinking from it.
I am loath to say no, so I take it from her and pour some into my mouth. It is strong and not delicious, and it goes down like lightning. It is like drinking fire. My respect for the iron-haired, wise elder soars.
She obviously enjoys drinking this.
She is stronger than I thought.
Taking the bottle from me, she takes another sip and then hands it back to me. I drink it again.
And again. The two of us are communing like old friends.
She is laughing, and I am as well, a high-pitched trill that makes her giggle.
I quite enjoy the sound of it. It reminds me of Dante and Everest when they are happy.
My entire body grows warm, and I find that my legs are far too big for my feet.
The entire room spins, and I now see double.
I sit down on the blue and green bed, the scent not right, but the firmness is just what I enjoy. It reminds me of home, of the soft xinhar that I slept in on Erethar. It curls around my body, and I feel warm. Cocooned. Happy.
I am safe, and Dante is near.
My Dante.
My eyes close, and I find myself drifting off to sleep.