CHAPTER THREE

Azan

 

I didn’t want to show any interest in any human – or any woman for that matter. I am not a desirable partner. There are many reasons for this, and so, after joining Prince Korben in exile, I was somewhat relieved I would be spared the heartache of being rejected repeatedly by possible mates I wished to have as my own.

I should have known things would not be so simple. Of course, they would not. Not a year had passed when there was not a woman I desired, so why should things be any different with human females? As though being rejected by a Sidyth woman has not caused me enough pain, now I must be rejected by a Human Whore? Ahem – I mean, human female. Woman. Whichever term Prince Korben has decided the most appropriate, the answer will always be the same.

I am not a desirable partner. Not for friendship and certainly not for pleasure.

My brain is the only thing I have. I am happy to not be as simple as my little brother, Dolan, when it comes to anything but women, but my brain has not given me an advantage when it comes to finding a mate. I’ve grown so tired over the years. I don’t want to explain myself. I don’t want to explain my mask, and though almost every woman here is terrified of me, I don’t mind so much anymore. I am used to Sidyth women denying my advances in disgust, and sprogs running away in fear.

But I am surprised by how much I don’t want the golden-haired one, York, to look at me in that way.

Must I be such a glutton for punishment?

Obviously, York feels nothing for me except pity, and I would not be surprised to learn Prince Korben spoke to his large breasted mate and then had her to speak to York.

Take pity upon him. Yes, he is dangerous, but if you give him a chance, perhaps you will not vomit on his feet when he asks you to be his mate. He is used to rejection. Let him have a few days of a woman’s company.

I can only imagine the bargains and promises Korben gave to York that gave her the courage to speak to me. And yes, while I am enjoying every moment of her kindness, I know it cannot last forever.

Eventually, I am going to have to tell her that I would like her to consider me as her Chosen.

Eventually, she will reject me with pity in her eyes and a pout on her full lips.

Still, though, I cannot help but wonder who she feels something for because though I am standing close, it only takes a slip of my tongue to find out York is aroused.

Greatly.

I taste the earthy nectar on my tongue, and her head shoots up, meeting me with that intense gaze, and she quickly grows embarrassed.

Ahh, so she has already picked another and did not want me to find out about it. Perhaps, she will only get her bounty if she is able to keep me happy for a certain amount of time. I want to spar the life out of Prince Korben for humiliating me yet again, but I still cannot allow myself to move away from York. Besides, her arousal smells like the heaviest of rainy days. Surely it is not wrong to enjoy her company for a few moments longer before she ends up in the arms of one of my less complicated brothers?

York licks her lips, still staring at me. Her cheeks are quite red, and despite me asking if she was too hot earlier, she promises this is not the case. I narrow my eyes, fighting the urge to lean in closer to figure out if she truly is uncomfortable in the open air, but she stumbles away from me.

So… it is disgust.

I collect my thoughts and feelings and straighten up fully. She is a tiny one, York, but still considerably taller than the one Hujun shows growing interest in. I wonder, will my ugly brother be able to find a Chosen before me simply because he does not wear a mask on his mouth?

The thought leaves me saddened.

“If you would like me to go, you only need say,” I mutter, hoping I haven’t fumbled up my English around her yet again. English is not my favorite language to speak, though it is one of the top five most popular on Earth. But now I am happy for knowing it, and the main reason for it stands before me. Any women from Earth are highly desirable because of their low intelligence and somewhat familiar features, and so Korben requested me to learn the most popular languages. Eventually, I grew bored and only bothered with English and Spanish, and thankfully, English is the one York feels comfortable with.

I cannot imagine trying to speak to her with only a translator.

My head lowers though because no matter how many languages I speak fluently, it will never get a female to choose me. Not because I am ugly, I know I am not, but because of my disease.

Without waiting for an answer from York, I start to turn, disappointed in myself for growing so quickly attached to yet another—

“Wait, you don’t have to go!” Her high-pitched voice pierces the air, and though it’s almost painful, it’s not unpleasant. Human women have much higher voices than Sidyth women, and it goes very well with their features. Where Sidyth women are intimidating and hulking, human women are soft and frail. I worry Hujun will hurt the one he wants if he is not careful, and York is not much bigger. Still, I quickly turn back, surprised she’s asked me to stay.

Has Korben offered her so much?

“You don’t have pity me,” I mutter, keeping my voice low enough that no one else can hear us. I dare to stick my tongue out again, and sure enough, York’s arousal permeates the air. It’s a mist flowing through the air pockets of my mask, and as quietly as I can possibly manage, I lap it up greedily. Damn, she tastes amazing, but I do not want her pity.

“If someone else you want. You go.” Ugh, I need to practice my English again. I sound idiotic, and as much as I want to talk to York in her language, I also don’t want to come across as a sprog. I switch back to Sidese, knowing her translator will let her hear all she needs to know. “If someone else has caught your attention, you are free to go to him. I will be okay.” My pained smile cannot be seen by her, but she appears more perplexed than ever.

Perhaps, her translator is broken? I will have to ask Korben to order her a new one.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone else.” Her words are like a spar to the chest in my most heated mock battles with Hujun. “I wanted to talk to you. I thought maybe you wanted to talk to me too.”

My eyes widen.

“Did you not hear what I said?” I make sure there is not some communication malfunction between us. “I do not want your pity.”

“Why would I pity you?”

My mouth goes dry, and I smile cautiously behind the mask. I do not care for my mask in most circumstances, but I do enjoy that I can hide most of my emotions behind it. Others do not know when I smile or frown. They only see my eyes and assume I am grouchy. That is fine by me. I do not like to speak very often, and the only reason I am a translator is that learning so many languages was appealing at the time.

“I do not know what Prince Korben has promised you for paying attention to me, but you do not need to feel obligated to entertain me. I will let him know you have fulfilled your promise and I was happy to have you around. Please…” My voice turns strained, as though turning her away is the last thing I want to do. Because it is.

“Azan, Korben hasn’t promised me anything. What are you talking about?”

I stare at her. Hard. It’s a shame that after so many years of rejection, I can hardly find a reason for a woman to talk to me other than pity. Whether it be Sidyth or Human, I am still utterly perplexed by York talking to me as though she’s not disgusted by my hidden face or broken English.

I’ve never had a woman want me before, but I’ve always wanted one of my own. As soon as I saw my older brother, Kydaris, finish his ascent to mandom, there was nothing I wanted more. I loved the idea of a woman squeezing me until I came. I loved the idea of watching a Sidyth woman carry my sprog until she burst at the birthing scene. And I loved the idea of seeing a woman holding one of my sprog. I wanted everything when it came to women, sprogs, and families.

So of course, I never got a chance.

No matter how beautiful or ugly, rich or poor, smart or stupid, I could not get a woman to choose me as a mate. My disease makes women nervous. They worry my affliction will be passed to their sprog and they will have to live in the same way I have. And yet, I never gave up. I was always convinced there was a woman who would look past my mask and the disease lying beneath it. I had the nerve to become excited about Prince Korben purchasing a flock of humans. Twenty humans! Human Whores, no less! Surely, one of them would be willing to deal with me, but I didn’t have the slightest idea how to act around them, let alone court them to be a possible Chosen.

And so, after Korben’s instruction, I watched the one called York from afar. At first, it was only because of his orders. York has a reputation for being cleverer than most humans, and Korben, knowing that I am also very intelligent, assigned me to keep watch. Make sure she had no plans to escape. And that’s all I did at first, but the more I watched York, the more I learned about her. And the more I learned about her, the more I wanted her.

I chose her though I could not have her.

My cock was very angry at first but eventually came to accept that, once again, I would not be able to claim a woman as my own.

But now, something more dangerous than rejection perfumes the air in my mask.

Hope.

A possibility for a mate, and she stands before me, slick with arousal.

I’m still not entirely sure what to make of York’s kindness, and I’m still not convinced she’s not aroused for another male. After all, why would this tiny, golden-haired beauty be interested in me when there are much better choices readily available to her? My little brother Dolan, who has more experience with females than I could ever hope to have. Exer, Drozass, and Cade, who despite their youth, are attractive, experienced males. Yes, she has to be attracted to one of them.

“I do not like games,” I say in a low voice, hoping my hiss comes across, but not in a way that will scare her away entirely. Human women are a fragile group, nothing like the Sidyth women who have refused me in the past.

“I am not playing games, Azan.”

My cock twitches when she says my name. Oh… this feels quite new. I’ve been attracted to females back home, but none ever said my name and made my cock react this way.

Her. There is no other for me. I choose her.

The realization hits me like a million spars, and no matter what happens, I must make her see I will be a good mate and worthy of her choosing, because despite being human, York is not stupid. So many stories said human women were nothing more than dumb animals, fit to give pleasure with dull, blank expressions, but York has never worn stupidity on her face. She is smart, and yet, she still talks to me. Maybe that should also make her stupid, but I know beneath my mask, I am a fine looking Sidyth with full lips and a fully scaled tongue.

If not for my disease, I could pleasure day and night without pause.

“Hey, is this one bothering you?” Cade slithers next to York and me.

I can hardly contain the menacing hiss escaping my lips. He’s trying to take her away from me. No. Worse. He thinks I am bothering her and she is not interested in me. My eyes narrow, ready to spar, but to my surprise, York is the first to speak.

“Move along, pretty boy. We’re doing okay here.”

If humans could hiss, I have no doubt that’s what York is doing, and I can’t help but puff out my chest with pride. Perhaps, she is not afraid of me. Perhaps, she is not doing Prince Korben any favors.

Cade’s yellow eyes widen in surprise.

“Are you sure?” He looks skeptical.

“I’m sure,” York says. “And that’s all that matters.”

And then Cade’s gone, and I swear I’m about to lose control.

York slowly turns back to me, a tentative smile on her lips. They are a beautiful shade of pink, so much like the fog and mist on this rainy planet. Thank stars and moons I’m not wearing shorts. I fear my cock would slice them apart at the seam.

“I hope that’s okay,” she says softly. “I mean… it is okay, right?”

I nod once to show, of course, it’s okay.

She nods in agreement, still smiling as she turns toward an open spot in the grass, glancing once over her shoulder with an unspoken request for me to follow. I stupidly trail after her, stealing small looks to see how other Sidyths interact with humans, and it does not seem too challenging. Most, layout in the nude, taking the rare moment to soak in the sun, and women kneel next to them. I cannot hear what they are saying, but a conversation with a human cannot possibly be that difficult. After all, if my simpleton, little brother, Dolan, can speak to the one with a sprog’s face, I am sure I can handle York.

Still, it certainly does not help that my cock stands at full attention as she moves.

Does she not feel comfortable being nude? Her skin, despite having no scales, is darker than mine; like she is already comfortable in the sunlight, but I’ve also heard her talking about wanting to see the rain.

That makes me happy. I am one of the few Sidyths who does not hate the rain.

Perhaps, I could invite her to my cave once she is more comfortable with me.

Do not become overconfident, Azan. Remember your disease.

I shake this voice away, not wanting to focus on it but rather on York, and how she has been made to be mine. There is no one else for me.

York sits primly in the grass, bending her knees and folding her smooth legs behind her and pats a spot on the grass beside her hip. Some of my brothers watch the scene with interest, but I cannot focus on that. York is beautiful. Intelligence can be scented from any distance, not to mention arousal.

And no matter how crazy it is, it may be possible the one that arouses York… is me.

“Have a seat. I don’t bite.”

Her words make me flinch back, and then I remember York doesn’t know how her statement affects me. I straighten my shoulders and take a seat, trying to find a balance between brushing my skin against hers and not scaring her off by being too forward. This is the most receptive any woman has ever been with me, and I don’t want to ruin it in my over-eagerness for a Chosen.

She seems shy, which is odd because after observing her for the past few days, I’ve noticed she’s quite mouthy and strong-willed. I know of her reputation; Korben informed me after the first day he found out she had arrived, but the strong-willed woman who tried to escape Entlas’ before and mouths off some of the others, is not the woman who sits before me.

Perhaps I scare her.

This is a strange feeling to swallow because there is nothing for her to fear. Well, she will fear my reaction if anyone tries to touch her without her consent. I am not sure how I would react if someone tried to take her away from me. I try to remain soft-spoken, but I’m sure I come across stoic and frightening. And though I am happy to find humans are nothing like our Sidyth females, I do not like seeing York acting so timidly around me.

Though I suppose I can understand. If she does not know why I wear this mask, then she has every reason to be afraid.

I settle into the grass, and we both fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as conversations between Sidyths and humans’ drone on. I cannot believe how comfortable some of my brothers are with talking to females because I feel as though drool will fall from my mouth if I try to say anything to her. It’s bad enough there’s a drop of precum on the crown of my cock, I don’t need to foam through my mask as well.

I take a few deep breaths, remembering I am not trying to frighten her.

“Do you want to tell me anything about yourself? You said you’re a translator?”

Her voice is like the finest of Tezz juice at the end of a hard evening. Hard. My cock is hard. I swallow again, trying to find the words but find I am only glaring at her. Her eyes widen, and she quickly lowers her head – probably convinced she’s bothering me. It’s so difficult to speak to her and not worry about messing things up.

And through all my obvious discomfort, she wants to talk about me being a translator?

Doesn’t she want to talk about my mask? Why I wear it? Why I’m here? Why the others are so frightened of me?

She is smart, so she either knows all of these things already, or she is terrified of the answers.

She will have to learn. If she truly is aroused for me like I am for her, she will have to know everything before I will feel comfortable taking her as my Chosen. No matter how much I want her, I need her to not be afraid of me. I fear I will no longer want to exist if she does not desire me as I desire her.

“Is there nothing else you want to ask me?” I ask her in Sidese because I want to make sure I come across clearly. I do enjoy trying to speak English, but I also enjoy knowing I am understood. I lean closer, trying to find her eyes again, but a shadow falls over us, and I lean away, angry I have been disturbed yet again.

“Not bothering the women are you, Azan?” Dolan stands above us, enjoying one of the only moments in his existence when he can tower over me. My brother annoys me more than anything, but I would kill anyone who would mess with him. Dolan is not cruel or malicious, he is… Dolan. I do not worry about him blurting out my terrible secret. His soft, golden eyes dance across York’s strong frame, and he smirks in my direction.

I don’t answer, not wanting York to hear how angry I am that we’ve been interrupted for the second time since coming to the surface.

“You know,” Dolan continues, taking a seat on the grass next to York, brushing his scaleless shoulder against hers. “If you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to. Prince Korben’s been making a huge fuss about consent. Hujun, too. If this idiot is bothering you, get up and leave him be. He’s used to being rejected.”

I snarl. York doesn’t move, still staring at my little brother.

I hope she is not attracted to him, but I would not be surprised if she is.

Dolan is like a softer version of myself, without the mask, and if York truly is attracted to me, then it would make sense for her to be attracted to Dolan. He isn’t as thick or broad, and he certainly doesn’t have my insecurities. Not to mention, he doesn’t have to cover half of his face, so others will not flee in fear.

“Seriously, uh… woman—” Dolan continues before I can take no more.

“York,” I snarl at my brother. “Her name is York.”

“York?” I hate hearing her name on Dolan’s lips. I want to spar it out, so it can never enter his vocabulary again. “The smart one? This one? And yet, she sits here with you?”

“I am smart,” York says, surprising me. “I’m smart enough to know you’re intruding on my time with Azan.”

My eyes widen. So do Dolan’s. My Chosen is a mouthy one.

Dolan cocks his head to the side. “Is that so? Surely you can’t be so smart that you want to hang out with him? What did Korben promise this one, Azan?” He chuckles, like blades to my ears. “They’re only humans; I’m sure he didn’t have to promise much—”

I reach across York and land a hard spar against my brother’s jaw, sending him back with a shocked expression. Unable to help myself, I use the same arm and curl it around York’s shoulder, forcing her against my chest. Her hand brushes against my cock, and I almost spew my seed, but I keep it together, remembering that Dolan is getting on my last nerve.

“She was not promised anything,” I snarl.

Dolan wipes the blood away from his mouth, eyes dancing with excitement. “You mean she wants to talk to you?” He smiles. “I am happy to hear it.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” York says, still tucked under my arm. I’m shocked she hasn’t tried to push me away. It makes me pull her closer, resting my masked chin atop her tiny head. Her mane smells like a recent downpour. “Unless it’s Azan, you’re interested in?” She snickers as Dolan’s eyes widen in shock and disgust.

“As a Chosen?” he manages to choke out. “My own brother? A male? You’re asking me if I’m looking to choose him?”

York giggles. Stars and moons, it’s beautiful.

“You’re certainly showing him a lot of attention, and you don’t seem interested in me. Perhaps you’d like him all to yourself?” She turns to look at me, playfulness in her brown eyes. “Should I leave you two alone?”

I almost choke. “Dolan is my brother.”

“Aren’t you all brothers?”

“He is my blood brother,” Dolan stammers, still sputtering from my spar and York’s sass. I’m sure he never expected this from a human woman. “We share a mother. I am not interested in him in any way. I wanted to make sure he was not forcing you—”

“No one’s forcing me to do anything at the moment,” York says, smirking. “Other than put up with your company. Honestly, I think it’s pretty obvious both of us would appreciate it if you’d leave.”

“But—”

“Consent, you said?” York smirks again. It’s my undoing. She’s teasing my little brother like he was her family already.

I must have her. I’ve never wanted anything so badly.

“You heard her,” I say stiffly. “It appears she does not want you around, brother.”

This statement alone is enough to shock Dolan into standing. He plays it off well enough, glancing around the field to find another woman. His eyes land on the sprog-faced one before he turns back to me.

“I may not be as smart as you, Azan, but I’m smart enough to know when I’m not wanted.” He reaches down and ruffles my hair as though I were a sprog, and he runs away towards the dark-haired human before I have a chance to spar him again. This time, I’m sure I’d knock him out for a few days.

“Leave him,” York says, as though reading my mind. “Brothers are the same no matter where you are.” She laughs. “And sorry for getting all bitchy. I didn’t like the way he was talking to you… and uh… I didn’t know he was your actual brother.”

“It is okay. Most people do not see the similarities.”

“I know I don’t,” she says huffily.

“Hmmm…” My lower lip juts out behind the mask. I assume she is talking about how my little brother is attractive and I am not.

“You’re a lot cuter than he is.”

Fuck.

I jerk my head towards her, searching for a lie, but there is nothing but the truth to be found in her words and the way she shifts nervously under my attention. She is the most beautiful of all the women here. I am surprised that not more of my brothers are trying to court her away from me. For once, I am grateful for my intimidating stature, and the fear I can instill in others. Otherwise, I am sure Cade would be interested in York’s sandy hair and dark brown eyes. I am sure Drozass would try to take away York because she is so intelligent. And though she is small, I am sure Exer would not be able to resist trying to charm her.

She is incredible.

I still am not sure if I want to believe she is truly interested in me. The facts are there. I am being silly and ignoring the obvious signs, but still, I cannot believe after all this time I finally have a chance to have everything I’ve ever wanted.

A woman of my own.

A smart woman who does not fear me… yet.

I have to tell her what is wrong with me before I grow any more attached to her.

Hours pass like minutes as Hethdiss’ suns beat down on my skin, but I am not warm only because of that. I am warmed because of York’s kindness. She does not say much, but she does not have to. Every time one of my brothers shows interest in her, she politely turns them away. Every time someone thinks I am too brutish, quiet, or dangerous to have her, York reminds them that she chooses to be around me.

She chooses to stay.

It feels like she’s Chosen me already.

And though I know it is odd to allow a human woman to speak for me, I enjoy it. Sidyth women are not much different than York. When they stake a claim on a male, they will kill anyone who messes with their mate. And men? We put up with it because an angered Sidyth woman is not to be messed with. I can’t help but think that many of my brothers view York in the same way. She is tiny but fierce. And despite everything, she has staked a claim on me. She speaks up when I wish to remain silent, but she talks to me when we are alone, and it’s almost impossible to catch every word as my attention drifts across the field.

Is it possible anyone is as happy as me?

Hujun seems to have found a likely mate with the one whose skin is very similar to Korben’s Chosen one. She is tinier than York with wild hair that she puts in braids. And my little brother, Dolan? He is certainly making a nuisance of himself by chasing around the one with a sprog’s face. Perhaps I will have a talk with him later about not coming across so desperate. He could learn a thing or two from his more charming brothers – Exer and Dash, who seem to have already picked women for their own but do not chase after them.

Others may find possible mates, but York is the only one for me.

“Did you hear what I said, Azan?”

York’s voice pierces through me, and I want to openly chastise myself for becoming so lost in the movement of her lips that I didn’t catch her words. I tilt my head to the side to let her know I am paying attention now.

She blushes and lowers her chin, speaking down into her knees. I want to hold her again. Now I do wish one of my brothers would show up, so I can stake a claim on her. When I worry she will be taken from me, I feel comfortable touching her. I do not feel worthy otherwise.

“I was saying it’s starting to get dark.” She turns to look up at the sky, and sure enough, dark purple clouds are rolling through. Not only is night coming but rain seems likely. Perhaps I will sneak out to my cave to watch it later.

Is there a chance York would accompany me?

I nod at her statement, daring to inch a bit closer.

Our time in the fields is coming to an end. Prince Korben and his Chosen have already left for the evening, and I can only imagine the mutual pleasure they are enjoying in his chamber. Oh, to have York with me. What would she say if I asked her to stay the night with me? I could give her everything. I could give her rain and sun. Night and day.

Already, she is the reason my heart beats steadily in my chest.

“You look like you want to say something else,” York notes, and I lift my eyes to meet her gaze. When she starts to lower her head again, I can take it no more. I want her to look me in the eyes when we speak. I need to see her eyes because though they are so different than mine, they are no less beautiful. They are more so. As carefully as I can possibly manage, I reach and grab her chin, pulling her face to mine. Her skin is warm under my scaled fingertips, making my cock twitch in excitement. She is so smooth. So soft. My thumb brushes against her chin, and she does not pull away.

If anything, she seems to be as aroused as I am.

We hardly notice as others start to finish their evenings to head back to their respective lairs, and the distant sound of thunder is enough to worry some of my brothers who hate the rain. But I do not mind rumble storms. I welcome rain, rumbles, and lightning, and no one is going to stop me if I want to keep York outside.

Ugh, not keep. I must ask her. Consent.

“Would you…” I fail to find the words at first when her eyes light up. Have I spoken so little that my voice still scares her? Or does she want to spend more time together as much as I do? I drag my thumb across the dip in her chin a few times, remembering how I caught Prince Korben kissing his Chosen. I never imagined pressing my lips against a woman’s, never imagined being able to do such a thing myself, but now York is before me and does not squirm away from my touch.

But if I were to lean forward, there would be nothing for her to kiss but fabric.

I’m not ready to tell her everything, but I do want to extend our time together.

“Would you like to stay with me?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“For how long—”

“While the rain rolls in,” I quickly interrupt, the fastest I have ever spoken around her. I swear there’s a hint of disappointment in her eyes, but it quickly dissipates as she moves her chin away from my hand to look at the sky again.

“It’s going to rain?” she asks.

I nod. “Yes.”

“But I thought you guys hated the rain?”

I press my lips together, feeling my fangs pierce gently against my chin. It’s hard to focus. The more moments that pass by, the more thunder that rolls in, the more clouds that darken the sky, the closer I get to being alone with her.

“Some Sidyths hate the rain,” I say in a low voice. “But some do not mind it. Some of us love it.”

She turns towards me. “And are you one of them?”

I nod a second time.

Her lovely brown eyes light up. “I love the rain too! It’s one of my favorite things in the whole world.” She giggles nervously, holding her hand up to her mouth. “Damn, I sound like such a spacey idiot. Please don’t tell anyone. I swear I’m not such a girly girl, but there’s something about you that makes me…” She leans in closer, and her eyes drop to my mask.

I know what she wants, and I know what she wants to ask me, but the question will not come. She is still too afraid of what the answer will be, and what it will mean. And why shouldn’t she be afraid? Most of my family is afraid of me. Dolan is the only one who looks at me as though I am not walking poison.

Even though I am.

And Sidyth women? For all their reputation about being aggressive and feared, most ran to the mountains to get away from me, so worried I would pass my disease to their sprog. I remember how Mama would shake her head when my fangs dripped. I remember how Papa would suggest I simply have my fangs removed. Yes, being fangless would make me less of a man but more likely to give him grandsprogs.

Through all the heartache, and the loneliness, I have found a true, possible Chosen for me.

She’s human. I have never felt so frightened of losing anything in my entire life.

My hand snakes towards her face and curls around her hair. I tangle my fingers through the waves, enjoying how much her hair reminds me of my own. It is like the beach and the sand. I pull York closer to me, wanting her now more than ever as the first raindrop falls from the ever-darkening sky. Our noses touch and I move my face back and forth a few times to feel her skin against mine. I inhale her scent deeply through my mask, practically licking the fabric for more. More.

I can give her everything so long as I don’t kill her in the process.

“Azan…”

Her voice. I blink hard and lower my chin to her shoulder, nuzzling into her like a sprog crying against their mama. I want nothing more than to be loved by this woman. I want more than piteous looks and shameful stares. York cannot and will not belong to any of my brothers. This woman is mine. I have to convince her.

No one can love you, Azan. Kisses mean too much to human women. I don’t want you to get hurt again.

I take in a shuddering breath against York’s shoulder. She hasn’t moved yet, and the rain starts to come down harder on my exposed back. My woman probably has no idea what I’m doing, and yet I can’t stop holding her close to me. I want to dissolve in her. I want her to dissolve in me.

I have to have her.

“Azan?” Her voice is stronger and clearer this time. “It’s really starting to come down now. I love rain as much as the next person, but we should go back to the lair. Or shelter of some sort.”

Shelter.

“Shelter,” I murmur, slowly pulling my head away from her shoulder. York’s cheeks are bright red. “There is shelter in my room,” I say, hoping to stars and moons that she will not reject me right away. If I could have a bit more time with her—

“I’d love to see your room.”

My eyes widen. My cock twitches.

I have to resist pulling her into my arms like a sex-crazed Draken, carrying her back to my room, and violently making love to her.

She will die.

Not violent love, I mutter in my head, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet as the rain pours against her tiny top. Pink nipples appear, and I am more grateful for the rain than ever as she huddles against me, burrowing into my chest for warmth and protection. My cock swells with excitement.

No. Not yet. Too soon.

 

***

 

It is difficult not to take the looks from my brothers personally as York and I walk back towards my private lair. Prince Korben is pleasuring his Chosen, and though York’s eyes widen in shock at the noise, she does not run away from me as I move past and stop in front of my room.

The blanket covering the doorway is my own, something I managed to have shipped thanks to Dolan, and it smells like home as I push it away, inviting York inside with a tilt of my head. The sun rayers are at full blast, but I know the humans do not like them, so I start to turn them all down so York is more comfortable. I will turn chilled, but it will be worth it to keep York happy.

There is not much in my small lair because unlike Prince Korben and some of the others, I do not require much. I need a bed to sleep in and a cup to drink from. I need a few pieces of fabric to cover my cock and thicker fabric to make a backup mask if the one I have now is ever ruined. My brothers are used to seeing what lies behind it, but I fear the faces of the human women – York in particular.

Being alone with York is an odd surprise, made odder in that she came back with me so readily. She is tiny. If I wanted to take advantage of her in any way, it would not be difficult. Humans are some of the weakest beings I have ever seen, and though I hear the males are stronger, I cannot imagine that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself against one. Before York became an entertainer and found herself here with us, did she have a lover? Did she have a Chosen? Do humans do that type of thing? She is so beautiful; I cannot imagine her without a harem of admirers.

My room is warm, but that is only because of the sun rayers. My room is not very inviting for something as stunning and as interesting as York, and suddenly I find myself wishing for personal objects from home. Dolan’s room has plenty of things he begged Mama to ship here, but I was convinced I would need none of it. I simply wanted to serve out my time with Prince Korben because he is one of the only people I trust with my life. He has always looked beyond my mask, and I wanted nothing more than to serve my days with him in a place where I wouldn’t be tempted by women.

Yet, here I am in my room with the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. She’s barely dressed, and there’s a glisten of sweat and rain coming off her skin. I long to touch her more but feel as though I should ask before I grope and enjoy the feel of her against my fingertips. Ugh, but I have wanted so long to touch a woman without her being disgusted by me. She is nervous, though I am not sure why. I can taste a hint of fear mixed in with her arousal as she walks a slow methodic circle around my private lair.

Her eyes land on my blanketless bed, and I’m relieved I took the time to tug on my shorts once we stepped inside because I’m pretty sure the tip of my cock glistens with pre-cum. Her back is to me, and I cannot help but grow more excited because this is a vulnerable position. For men, it is difficult, if not impossible, to build trust while being in a room with a woman who is looking to mate. Sidyth women come up behind us quickly, and though I am strong, I am not sure how well I could handle one if she wanted pleasure. But here is York, comfortable enough to stare down upon my bed with her back to me. I try to memorize how she looks at this moment because I am not sure she will ever come alone to my room once she knows about my disease.

The skin on her back is smooth and creamy, save for a few dark spots reminding me of raised bruises. I wonder if they hurt, and itching to find out, I move closer. She feels me coming, and her shoulders bunch together but keeps her back turned. Is this an invitation to touch her? Or a warning to keep my distance?

I care not and take another step forward, counting and learning the pattern of those dark little dots on her back. I smell her arousal as I draw closer, and my tongue darts out without permission, longing to take in more.

I want everything she’s willing to give me.

How can she possibly be so comfortable? She’s in my room! Alone! With her back to me! Why is she not running, and why am I not chasing her away?

I can’t do it. No matter how much she’ll be better off without me, I would never chase her away.

She’s tan and soft. She’s brilliant. She has a smart mouth and a way with words that makes the other humans listen – even the more experienced ones like the tall blonde and the one with specks on her face.

“What do I taste like?” she asks, turning her head slightly.

I stumble as though struck and quickly gather my composure. If Dolan could see me now, he would surely laugh in my face.

You may be smart, Azan, but you are as dumb as a sprog when it comes to women.

I suppose he is not wrong.

I clear my throat and try to maintain some composure as York lifts her chin to meet my eyes. She looks embarrassed by her question but doesn’t take it back.

“I keep hearing you doing that thing with your tongue behind that.” She shifts again, looking nervous as she points a finger towards my mask, and then quickly lowers it. “I remember what it means, and I want to know what I taste like.”

My eyes widen. Does she really want to know? How can I possibly explain to her? Do I use my language or hers? Do I try to make it sound poetic, or keep it simple? Do I—

“Azan.” Her voice trickles into my ears, and I realize she’s almost directly beneath my chin. “You don’t have to think so hard when you answer me. I’m merely curious. Would you feel better if I told you what you smell like?” She flushes. “Humans can’t taste anything unless they lick it or put their mouth on it, but I can definitely tell you what you smell like to me.”

I swallow hard. My cock presses hard into her stomach, but if it bothers her, she’s doing a good job of not showing it. A few of my brothers move past my room, and they have the nerve to slow up. They’re pretending to be deep in conversation, but I am sure they are trying to see if I’m with a woman and if she wants to be here.

“What do I smell like?” I ask gruffly, wishing this answer would only be for me, but if I am going to keep York in my room for any amount of time, I must accept that my brothers are going to watch and make sure I am not going to hurt her. Most know why I wear the mask and probably don’t want a human woman to get hurt in my care. After all, that would mean one less possible mate for them.

I would never hurt her. I’d die before I’d let any harm come to her, even if I am the most harmful one in this lair.

“I know this sounds weird, but you smell like Christmas.”

“Kiss-mass?” The word sounds funny in my ears and even funnier coming out of my mouth.

She giggles. “Christmas.”

I nod. I want her to continue, if for nothing more than I want her mouth to move. Her lips parting and closing, repeatedly, I can see how different she is than me, but also how similar. Her lips are pink, and her tongue almost matches – but it is incredibly short compared to mine or any of my brothers’. My eyes lower to her damp top. Her breasts are not nearly as large as Korben’s Chosen, but they are larger than most Sidyth women’s. I long to touch them and see if they’re as soft as the rest of her, but I must resist.

This word. This Christmas makes her smile. She has pleasant memories of the Christmas. Perhaps this is the name of her mama or a sprog in her care? I swallow hard. Perhaps it is a male from her past? Would she be so cruel as to compare my scent to another male?

“It’s a holiday, Azan.” Her voice sounds tentative but still warm.

“Christmas,” I repeat, simply to show I can learn the word quickly. “A holiday. And this is an important day for you?”

Her eyes light up. “The most important.” She takes a seat on the bed, and the sight of it alone is enough to make my sack tighten in my shorts. She is so different than Sidyth women, but that does not make her any less attractive. Not wanting to get too much into her personal space, I drop down into a crouching position in front of her. I must learn about this holiday because it is so important to her.

“Tell me.”

“Oh. There’s not much to tell. I’m sure it’s not exciting to you.”

“Everything you say will be exciting to me.”

She sucks in a small gasp, bringing more fantasies about giving her pleasure in my barren bed. She looks so good there, and I want to touch her so badly, that I must ball my hands in fists to compose myself. She is beautiful, and though I am not ugly, I am dangerous. If I am going to have any chance of winning her as my Chosen, I must be patient.

I don’t ever want to lose her.

I trace my fingers across the dirt floor as she speaks, trying to imagine what her skin would be like if I touched it again. She has allowed me to graze my fingertips against her, but now that we are in my lair, touching her simply because I want to seems a bit forward. There is no one here to stop me from doing anything inappropriate, and I want her to believe I have control of myself, even when Korben or Dolan aren’t watching me closely. York’s eyes light up as she tells me about Christmas, and the joy it brings her. She speaks of cold days and snow (fluffy white rain) upon the ground. She talks about funny hats in bright red and white, and a fat man named Claws. I wonder if this creature is part Entla or Derozdian. It would make sense. She talks about receiving gifts from family members and opening up packages in the morning after this Claws man drops them off. She talks about her family and delicately uncrosses and re-crosses her legs as she continues.

I lick my lips. She is aroused. Yet again.

This Christmas holiday must certainly mean a lot to her.

I close my eyes as she continues to tell me more about the strange holiday. Sidyths do not have anything like Christmas, but I love the idea of showering York with gifts and hats. And if she wants me to grow my nails out, so I resemble the Claws, I will certainly do it for her.

Listening to her speak, and watching her lips move with such excitement is one of the most arousing sights I have ever seen. Is it possible to have more than this with her? Will she one day tell others about me – her Chosen – with the same animated movements and dancing eyes as she does when she talks about Christmas? I can only hope so. If she would simply give me a chance, I am sure I could prove to her that I will make the best mate. I am smart like her, and despite my disease, I am attractive like her. We would make beautiful sprogs. My pale, scaled skin, and her incredible brown eyes. If she does not mind that I may not be able to taste her, I will make sure to please her in other ways besides with my mouth.

I want to give Christmas to her.

I want her to give herself to me.

After York asks if I’m bored, I dip my chin and lift it once, begging her to continue. I want to hear more. I want to know everything about what is important to her because I want to give her everything that makes her smile. And as much as I love watching her boss around and yell at the simpler human women, I love that there are the soft-spoken, giddy parts to her as well. She may be afraid of me, but not enough so to run. She finds me interesting. I taste it in the air. And though she is human, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a Sidyth woman in my life. Suddenly, years of begging for attention, asking a woman to love me, promising them I will find ways to please them without my mouth seems silly.

I was never meant for any of them, and they were never meant for me.

The Chosen – my mate – sits on my bed before me. My mate has hair like sand and lips like fog rolling in after a storm. There is no one else who I’m attracted to. And while yes, I see the appeal of Prince Korben’s Chosen, that is only because I would never disrespect my prince’s choice in a mate. York is so different than Blythe, though. Where Korben’s Chosen is tall, York is short. Where Korben’s Chosen’s skin is like gessroot tea, York’s is like sparse clouds on a clear day. Where Korben’s Chosen has enormous breasts, I prefer York’s. Plus, York’s voice appeals to me more than any others. Her voice may be my favorite thing about her. It is still high pitched when she is excited but lower than most of the others women’s. I can tell when she is happy or overjoyed, nervous or aroused, simply when I hear the cracks or squeals.

I want her to speak to me and only me.

“That’s basically, Christmas,” she says suddenly. “Sorry if I bored you.”

“You could never bore me.” I smile, annoyed that there is no way she will see it behind the mask, but I hope she can at least see my eyes crinkle in the corners. It is one of the only ways others can see the happiness on my face.

York hums thoughtfully before a strange sound pierces the air.

“Dammit!” She clutches at her flat, exposed stomach, and shoots me an embarrassed expression. “I should have eaten something before we came back. Sorry, Azan, I should probably go back to the room—”

I shoot to my feet. “No.”

I don’t want her to go. Not yet. I want to hold on to this moment for a little while longer. I want her to sit on my bed, even if I can only observe her.

“No?”

“I will grab you something.” I try to smile a second time, but I am angered she will not be able to see it. “I know of a few foods humans like. I did some research before you all arrived.” I look at her nervously, resisting the urge to hold her down so she can never leave my side.

Consent.

“I could try something out for you,” I offer. “The ingredients would not be the same, but the thought would be there.”

“You can cook?” She seems shocked by this. Doesn’t she know Sidyth males prepare most of the food? “I didn’t know alien males could cook. I’ve had a few assignments where I was basically a live-in chef—”

“I will cook for you.” I can’t help the sound of pride in my voice. If she wants food, I will cook her anything. I will make food that will make York’s mouth water because it is better than anything she’s had at home. She will speak of my cooking the same way she speaks of Claws and his wrapped package. “Prince Korben has set up a place for food—”

“There’s a kitchen down here?” She seems excited by the idea, and though I am sure our prep area will be different than a human kitchen, I am too excited to let her down, and so I nod.

“Would you like to see?” I step towards the curtain of my room and pull it open. Turning back, I notice York still on the bed. I take a chance and hold out my hand towards her. My hands are safe. They will never hurt her. “Come with me.” I don’t want the others to hear. Otherwise, they will come and try to win York for themselves. It is a good time to head to the food preparation lair because most of the Sidyths do not eat for a few hours. I will have more time with York alone. The thought excites me.

That is until York slips her tiny hand within mine.

I never knew true excitement until this moment.

No one else can have her. I have Chosen. She belongs to me.