VAAN

The next morning, my Gwen shows no sign that she wishes to leave the human hive yet. She covers her lovely brown body in the strange human fabrics and puts on foot covers. She finds a long piece of fabric and offers it to me, a little grimace of apology on her lips.

She wants me to wear coverings, as well? I frown at this, but the other female in the nest with us—the one with the scars on her cheeks—makes distressed noises whenever she looks at me. I think back to yesterday, and the other males—even the drakoni with the dead mind—covered their bodies. Bah. I hold still and Gwen wraps it around my hips, knotting it at my waist. "Issakilt," she says cheerfully, and then gives me a smacking kiss in apology.

"Issaskrt," the other female grumbles.

Gwen ignores her foul mood. She hugs the female despite the fact that the other does not touch her back, and gives her a kiss on the forehead. Then my mate takes my hand, squeezes it, and leads me out of the room, calling something cheery out to her human. She is in a good mood this morning, my Gwen, and I like that. I enjoy her happiness. It makes my mood lighter, as well.

Until we join the other humans in the hive in a large chamber. All of the humans and their stinking, pungent bodies seem to be piled into one room together. Aghast at the stench, I stare in horror as they line up and take round objects in their hands and then move to sit down at a long wood rectangle, staring at each other and yapping in their noisy human language.

My senses are appalled and overwhelmed. Like always, the storms begin to thunder inside my mind, a reminder that I can quickly lose control here.

"Vaan?" Gwen's gentle voice cuts through the chaos and she squeezes my hand.

I squeeze hers back. As long as she touches me, I can endure this.

"Sbrekfst," she says, making an eating gesture. I look over and she is right. The humans are eating, and I remember Gwen and the other smelly human that traveled with us doing the same around the fire. They do not kill their food and eat the good bones. They like broths and soups and drinking their meals from rounded containers, as they do this morning.

I fight back a shudder as I remember how deeply charred Gwen likes her meals. "Food," I tell her, remembering the human word.

She's pleased at my response. "Yes, food!"

People stare as we walk in, and Gwen grips my hand so tightly that I suspect she worries I will lose control. Her bright smile is more forced, and I squeeze her hand again to reassure her. She pulls me along beside her and stands behind people waiting for their food. When I am handed a bowl of pale sludge, I fight back my distaste. Gwen looks happy. She is all that matters.

My mate gets her own bowl and then leads me across the room to one of the tables. Everywhere I look, there are humans staring at us, and all of them wear more coverings than I do. Gwen calls out to some of them, but her hand remains tight in mine and she casts anxious looks in my direction over and over again. The stench in here of all these human scents bleeding into each other is overpowering. I move closer to her and inhale deeply of her scent, nuzzling at her hair.

"Sddwn," she says, putting her bowl on the table and then seating herself on the bench in front of it. I do the same, and when she releases my hand, I possessively put mine on her thigh and look around. There are two others who hover nearby with their food, and I bare my teeth in a snarl at them until they get up and leave. My mate just sighs. "Eet, Vaan."

She makes the gesture for food, and my lip curls as I glance down at the colorless pile in my bowl. I try to pick it up with my claws, but it slides through in clumps like clotted blood from meat that has gone bad.

That…does not make me hungry.

"Pewn," Gwen tells me, patting my thigh and then handing me a shiny silver stick with a fat end. "Yewsdis." She picks hers up and uses it to scoop the food into her mouth.

A vague memory stirs. She has done this before. I glance around the large, noisy room, seeking a particular scent. There, in the back of the room, is Gwen's smelly human. I remember her sitting with my mate and both of them using these things to eat. Her gaze meets mine and she scrambles to her feet, clutching her bowl and leaving the room.

The sight of her retreating sets off the storms in my mind. Prey retreats.

She is prey.

I get to my feet, fire churning in my belly. My mouth waters and my claws itch with the need to rend, to tear and destroy. Fresh, hot blood is what I need—

A hand grips my arm. "No, Vaan."

I glance down and it takes me a moment to focus on the female at my side. Gwen.

I sit down, my thoughts filling with memories of her slippery hands gliding up and down my shaft, and the way she leaned in and kissed my cock-head. I want to do that again. "Ksme," I tell her, tangling my hand in her hair and pulling her close. I do not need the smelly one, not when my beautiful mate (with her enticing hands) is at my side.

But Gwen only gives me a quick, smacking kiss and then shows me the silver “pewn” again. I sigh and pick it up, mollified at the happy, approving look she gives me. I manage to grip it, even though it is difficult with claws, and lift a mouthful of sludge to my lips. Hesitant, I flick the tip of my tongue against it, tasting. It is oddly sweet, like rotted meat. I put the pewn down again and push the bowl toward my mate. "Gwen." I indicate the food. She can have it.

"No?" she asks between bites, and rests her hand on my thigh, giving it a light squeeze.

I am not hungry enough to eat that. I can hunt later. I caress her arm and rub her back as she eats, filling my senses with her nearness instead.

After a time, the nearness of the humans becomes like the buzzing, irritating drone of desert flies and makes me itchy and impatient. I twitch in my seat and study the nearest humans with a scowl on my face. Even from here, their stink is oppressive. Some do not smell bad—my Gwen smells perfect—but their scent is strong. In the heat and in close quarters without a breeze to stir the air, it becomes overpowering. Combined with the endless yapping of voices, and the storms begin to cloud over in my mind once more. I start to growl low in my chest, my protective side rising. If one so much as approaches her…

Gwen gets to her feet and clunks the two bowls together, then grabs me by the hand. "Tmtugo."

I stand slowly, overwhelmed by the sounds and scents. It is rapidly becoming too much. I send out my thoughts, looking for an anchor to mentally latch onto. Gwen's thoughts are hidden from me. The other drakoni male in the hive is a giant void of nothingness, and when I reach out, there is nothing. Always, always nothing. I growl, frustrated and heartsick.

"Vaan," Gwen says, and her hands are on my arms, touching me. She takes me by the hand and leads me forward a step. I follow her, my movements halting as my senses drown with the plague of smells, of endless noise.

"Wthme," she says, voice soothing, and touches my chin to make sure that I look at her. Her brown eyes are warm and soft and welcoming. "Staawthme."

"Gwen." I follow her movements, my focus entirely on her. One foot in front of the other. My skin itches, jumping with the need to shift to battle form, to intimidate the humans clustered around, making noises as they eat, noises as they breathe, noises as they laugh.

So much noise.

"Vaan," Gwen cajoles again, and there's a husky note in her voice that entices my fractured mind. Her smile curves slightly and hints at secret touches in her nest. Perhaps that is where she leads me now. I like that thought.

I pull her body against mine and hold her close. "Gwen."

She takes me out of the room and the scents, the sounds all fall away. In my mind, there is only my mate with her dancing brown eyes and the curve of her full lips. The brush of her thick, curling hair against her shoulders catches my focus, and I watch her intently, waiting for her to show me that if she will not challenge me, she wants my challenge instead.

But when we enter the maze of warrens that make up the human hive, she does not go to her nest. Instead, she returns to the room with the birds that we are not allowed to eat. She sounds distressed as she notices two of them in the cage despite the fact that the door is open and has been open all night. Gwen glances over at me and talks softly, dozens of words spilling from her lips. I know she speaks to herself when she is agitated, and I have learned she does not do it to annoy me, but simply because she needs to talk to her thoughts. So I ignore it, sitting down nearby while she fusses over them and sprinkles seed inside the cage, babbling to herself. I move to the open window, noticing a pool of sunshine, and sit there to enjoy its warmth and breathe in the fresh air.

A mind touches mine.

I sit upright, stiffening with surprise. It has been a long, long time since I have felt any sort of mental connection with any of my people, and that quick brush felt…like coming home. Longing flares through me. I have been lost without other drakoni minds to connect to, and the ones I have touched have been as crazed as my own.

A desperate sort of homesickness washes over me and I get to my feet as if that can somehow bring the mind that brushed against mine back into reach.

"Vaan?"

Gwen's voice is quiet. I want to reassure her that I am fine, but when I try to touch my mind to hers, there is no answer. Of course not. I always forget she has not yet taken my fires. Automatically, I reach out to that other mind that brushed against my own, seeking another of my kind.

Brother, are you there? Sister?

Something touches my mind back. The moment it does, I know I've made a mistake. I recognize this touch, and the evil it contains.

Salorian evil.