"I am having a cotillion."

Zane and I look at each other and then at Herne.

"Why?" Zane asks the same question I’m thinking.

Herne gives us an exasperated look as he leans back in his chair, still behind the large desk in his office. "Boys, boys, boys. Sometimes I worry about you, I really do." He steeples his fingers together and gives us an exaggeratedly patient look. "Now, consider this—who exactly comes to a cotillion?"

Ah. Now his angle is clear. "Human females," I growl, much more interested. "Human females come to cotillions."

"Exactly," Herne agrees with a smirk, looking down at his manicured nails.

As always, he looks perfectly put together. His white shirt is crisp, his slacks have a knife-edged crease, every one of his perfectly blond locks is styled into place. With his pretty face, he doesn't have any trouble with females of any kind. It doesn't hurt that he keeps his beast under strict control even as he indulges his desires, contrary to the general wisdom of Singarti society and culture. If it wasn't for his subtly sharper features, the longer ears, and slightly more hair peaking out of his shirt, he might pass for a human male. Non-threatening. Or, at least, much less so than either Zane or I could ever be. The females are always receptive to his genteel looks.

"A lot of human females," he adds. "Enough to satisfy even us."

"Now you're talking," Zane says with a wolfish smile, his teeth sharper than Herne's, his beast a little less under control. He indulges his desires as well, though he's not quite as strict about it. One of the reasons why the other Singarti believe we're dangerous, murmuring to themselves when we pass by.

Zane’s somewhat pointed ears, his exaggeratedly strong nose and jaw, and the thicker hair on his bared forearms also hints at his more hedonistic nature. The synthetic leather jacket thrown over the back of his chair and the vintage motorcycle helmet on the table next to him are other cues to his persona. He pushes his long, shaggy brown hair back from his stubbled face, giving Herne a sly look. "Just be sure you don't use all that smooth charm on the attractive brunette females at the party. We all know how the humans swoon for our pretty Prince Herne. So I'm calling them now," Zane continues.

I catch the broad wink he sends Herne. I register it, process it. I even know somewhere in the back of my mind that he isn't serious, just baiting me. But all of that doesn't matter even a little to my inner beast. Human brunette females are my territory. Everyone knows that, especially Zane and Herne. Ever since we arrived on Earth, adding the new planet to the Singarti Empire’s long list of conquests, we’ve sought after human females.

Many of them enjoy the attention, wanting the regard of the ruling class. Not a surprise. In my experience, females are always attracted to wealth and power, no matter what part of the galaxy they are from. For some reason, sentient beings all tend to have certain similarities at their core. Such as the thirst for power.

We provide for every human’s daily needs. Medical care in the form of healing microbes, nanites that can be programmed and shaped into anything, tech like the advanced HUD implants that keep them entertained. Everything. But it is in their nature to want more, something the Singarti can relate to. The humans seek to rise up in the government that acts as an intermediary between us and their population. They aren't satisfied with what they are given, they want increased space, supplies, power—I can see why the higher positions are so sought after. And I cannot fault them for it.

After all, we the Singarti sit at the top of Earth's food chain, the royalty of society. We like power. Power is nice. It gets me such rewards as brunette human females. Something that Zane is apparently attempting to usurp. I try to hold on to my control with a desperate grip, but it is no use. My beast almost fully takes over despite my efforts to suppress it.

"You know the brunette human females are mine," I growl.

And then I am somehow across the room, the table between us flipped over in my rage as I attack Zane. I register his surprise, but from a distance, my rage a red cloud that muffles any real details as I go for his throat. I am but a passenger in my body rather than a fully conscious driver. My fists connect with his body as he defends himself, his blows landing but not fully registering as I punch and claw, the perceived trespass on my territory a burning wrongness that I have to defend against.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

How dare he!

"Adir! Adir, control yourself!" Herne shouts, something he rarely does. He prefers a more reserved approach to life.

His hands land on me and try to pull back as he leaps into the fray. I turn on him with a snarl, throwing him off and landing a blow to his side, my beast and my rage lending me strength and speed neither can match on their own. Zane launches himself onto my back, tackling me until I lie prone on the floor. Grunting, I start to lift him off when more weight piles on top of me. Herne.

"Adir! Listen to me!" Zane shouts in my ear as I continue to struggle. "I was joking! I wasn't serious!"

Part of me hears his plea, the enforced lack of movement helps. My struggling subsides.

"The brunette humans are yours," he continues in a more normal tone as I start to calm. "They are yours. They are Prince Adir's." He repeats variations of those statements in my ear as I continue to recede from the edges of the beast’s insanity. I let out a breath as my thinking self slides back into place, pushing my beast back down where it belongs. Where it doesn't always stay anymore, like it should.

"You shouldn't have said that," I growl, relaxing so they know I'm done. "Get off me."

A pause. "Are you certain you have yourself under control?" Herne asks grimly.

"Yes," I say shortly.

They will either believe me, or they won't. I wait. Another pause. I can almost sense them hesitating, looking at each other. Finally, after I continue to just lie still, they gingerly release me, getting to their feet and backing away. I don't blame them for their caution.

Rolling over, I climb to my feet. "Did I hurt you?" I ask gruffly, taking stock of my own ripped shirt and minor cuts and bruises.

"No," Zane says, looking only slightly more worse for wear than myself. "No lasting damage."

"No," Herne agrees, looking the least affected, his blond hair still in place. "But we need to talk about your beast, Adir. It is getting out of control."

Zane nods, looking as serious as Herne for once.

"I have it handled," I say, looking away.

"That's a lie. You are letting your inner avarice have too much control," Zane says quietly. "You know neither of us keeps ours locked away like everyone says we should." I don't move as he walks closer and sets a hand on my shoulder. "It's one thing to run the edge of control, to indulge in the desires that most Singarti restrain for fear of the beast gaining control." He squeezes my shoulder. "But you are at the risk of going too far."

"I know what I'm doing," I say irritably, stepping back from that hand.

"Bullshit," Herne says calmly. "And you know exactly how dangerous the line is that you're walking. How can you not?"

I shake my head and open my mouth to argue some more when Zane interrupts.

"Just look at yourself, Adir!" Zane says impatiently, gripping me by the shoulders and turning me to look in the reflective glass of Herne’s skyrise walls. "Is this someone who you'd say has their beast under control? Look, really look!"

I stare at my reflection, knowing I'm not going to like what I see because I fear, deep inside, that they are right. My hair has grown to my shoulders, a dense beard covers my face even though I shaved only a few days ago. Hair peeks out from the top of my shirt even though my collar is buttoned all the way up, just as it peeks out from the cuffs at my wrist which I tend to keep rolled down in an attempt to cover how thick the hair is beginning to grow over my body. My ears are elongated, fully pointed, my nose and jaw prominent enough to nearly be called a snout, my fangs sharp and prominent.

"You are dangerously close to your inner beast," Herne agrees, stepping up to my other side. "You know it’s flirting with disaster to indulge in too much too quickly. There’s a reason I limit my desires to women alone. It keeps my beast contained."

There’s no denying that. Next to me, he could pass for fully human, his ears rounded, his face smooth, no fangs on display. Even Zane, the self-acknowledged bad boy, looks much more in control. My tenuous grasp is clear in my appearance, obvious to anyone who looks.

"You know I'm no proponent of austerity or self-denial, no matter what Singarti society deems acceptable," Zane says. "Hell, if you want to have loads of sex, hoard whatever you want to collect, gorge yourself on the best cuisine, I'm the first one to say go for whatever you want. But...there have to be some limits, there has to be some reasonable boundaries to protect yourself." His eyes are sad. "Even I know you are very obviously on a path to self-destruction."

I look away from my reflection, not wanting to see the truth of what they are saying. I know I indulge in many things even my friends know nothing of, secret endeavors I purposefully keep to myself. But they know there must be more than just the human females, judging by my appearance. They would be fools not to know.

I shake my head, turning away from the glass. "I need to leave," I say, stepping away from my closest friends, not meeting their eyes. Not wanting to see the worry in them.

"Where are you going?" Herne asks, his voice resigned. Like he doesn't think they've gotten through to me at all.

"I need to collect a debt," I say shortly as I walk to the door, wanting to get away from the burden of their worry, their well-meant concern.

"What debt?" Zane asks.

"Simply a debt I am owed."

I close the door behind myself, my mood grim as I walk away.