Chapter 3 Varnlac
The small human seems to have blacked out.
I probably got a little carried away. At least I resisted marking or knotting him.
Only his match should be the one to do that.
Speaking of, I should get him back to my lab so I can fix his leg and start running the tests to find the lucky alpha that'll match with him.
I pull my trousers back up and then scoop him up off the ground.
He's smaller than the few other male humans I've seen.
I'm impressed he survived that crash I saw.
I've rarely seen anyone survive crashes even half that bad.
Maybe being small somehow put him less at risk of things falling on him and killing him? I don't know.
It doesn't take very long to get to my home and lab. I keep it just inside the forest to reduce the number of people who come and bother me. I put the human down on the metal exam table.
"Alright, first the leg, then I'll do the tests," I mutter to myself. In the light of the lab, I can clearly see he's bled through his bandage. I'm glad I used the numbing and coagulating excretions of my tentacles on it.
I pull on my lab coat and a pair of gloves. Nitrile, since a surprising number of humans have latex allergies. For how fragile their constitution seems on paper, they're actually surprisingly resilient. I turn back towards the table to start working.
I cut away the bandage. This wound is very fresh.
At least that means any infection hasn't had time to turn bad or become hard to treat yet.
Looks like something similar to a metal rod got lodged in his thigh and was then pulled out.
Did he pull it out himself? There was no one else alive near the crash site, so probably.
That's brave. He must have been in a lot of pain.
I clean the wound properly and stitch it closed. He's lucky whatever did this didn't hit his femoral artery, or pulling it out would have caused him to bleed out in minutes.
A quick scan reveals high levels of cortisol, the stress hormone in humans, unusual brainwaves consistent with someone who hasn't slept enough, and dehydration. And that's just from an initial scan. He's not in very good condition. I'll have to fix that before I sell him to his alpha match.
I install an intravenous temporary indwelling catheter in the crook of his elbow. I draw about a millilitre of blood to run some tests before hooking up an I.V. saline drip. I inject an antibiotic cocktail into it to combat any potential infection too.
I split the blood into different tubes and start running the tests. Results start coming up on my computer, including a record and wanted notice. He's a criminal? Let's see.
The information so far matches. One point six metres tall, about seventy kilograms—he is more muscled than I expected,—golden skin, sandy-brown hair, and black eyes.
He's got a degree in aerospace engineering, and another in materials science.
There's a handful of legitimate jobs in engine rooms of different space crafts from large warships to small transports.
The past seven years though he seems to have been largely working for pirates. That's a bit of a shift.
Alright, enough of his history. I should run his DNA through the match system.
There's an alpha out there who will likely be thrilled to have this one.
I run the program. It keeps his name up on the left 'Tristan Ouellet', and on the right Thallan alpha names flash by faster than I can read as the program searches for a match based on the human's DNA.
I look over at the small human on my table. He's too cute. I just want to destroy him. And his body responded so well and so quickly to my venom. I've never seen anyone, human or otherwise, react quite that well to it.
Ping! The sound draws my attention back to the computer. A match has been found. Wait. Really?