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Rather than be offended by Warol’s belligerence, the male laughed heartily. “I am merely curious. Human women can sometimes be such timid creatures, unadventurous to try something so completely alien to what they are accustomed. I am just curious how three of you managed to talk a woman into accepting you.”
Kyx looked up from where he’d been studiously examining a map of the city. Tim had spent an hour teaching him how to read it the day before, and now Kyx was utterly fascinated as he examined the various buildings marked out. He frowned at Cyrus.
“You speak of mating as if it involves some sort of trickery.”
“Dear Kyx, mating is all trickery. It is putting forth one’s gambit and hoping that it pays off and lures just the right woman into your den.”
Rager shook his head, dragged unwillingly into the conversation despite himself. “Ragoru do not mate in such a fashion. The female chooses. We show them what we offer, the best of us, and hope for a mate.”
“Ah, but your kind suffers from a lack of females. Our people are blessed with overabundance. Not one of these fine young women walking around would hesitate to drop to her knees and suck my cock if I so willed it. They are eager for attention,” he said as he winked flirtatiously at a young woman passing, his lips puckering into the human kiss gesture.
Rager made a disgusted noise and turned away. The human seemed to have a never-ending stream of willing females. Cyrus chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
“Aww, don’t look so disapproving, Rager. It is a sweet life; you should try it.”
Rager’s muscles tensed with suppressed anger at the suggestion. “I would never betray my mate in such a way.”
“Oh, you mean you’re incapable of enjoying the pleasure of another woman… physically, that is?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rager snapped. “The Ragoru are not so different. However, my brothers and I choose to honor our mate and maintain our self-respect.”
Cyrus turned in his chair until he was on his belly, his eyes narrowed with fascination. “It is probable that your mate will not be returned before another has defiled her. What then?”
“If a male did such a thing to my mate, I would be forced to rip off his member and shove it down his throat,” Rager returned calmly. “It would be my gift to my mate before I take her far away from here.”
The sound of the cup clattering against the floor made him look up at the shocked face of the thief-master. Cyrus sputtered and coughed before swallowing noticeably, his face ashen. “That will make quite the statement,” he wheezed.
Rager’s mouth quirked. It was better for the human not to get any ideas when it came to their mate. Not that his questions or observations were strange to Rager by this time. Over the last few days, they’d settled into a routine, where Cyrus insulted them or asked inappropriate questions. If it weren’t for the fact that he had seen glimpses of the genuinely good heart the male possessed, he would be less inclined to remain as his “guest.”
A group of young ones—children, he corrected himself—came rushing in with excitement, their arms laden with various foods that they’d swiped from a place of trade. Rager was fuzzy on the details since Ragoru did not have such systems, but he still appreciated their direct actions against the corrupt human laws of governance.
The first time he’d witnessed it, he questioned Cyrus at length about it. During that discussion, all frivolity had dropped away from the human’s face as he told him of how the nobles and huntsmen starved the rest of the population. People labored extensively for bits of metal they called coin, which could be traded for food. Rager had found the entire discussion baffling until he was told that regulations due to the dangers outside their walls and extensive fees prohibited people from hunting beyond the Citadel for fresh meat. So, they took what they needed from the Citadel that would be happy to let them die from hunger.
A pair of older children held up a rooter, smaller than the wild ones that he and his triad hunted. It was still sufficient meat, especially considering that six slaughtered rooters were smuggled into the tunnel by the resourceful young ones. Spits were immediately set over open fires, and the atmosphere turned festive as the thieves gathered with what little they had to share among themselves. He felt honored to be included.
People who’d initially been shy and hesitant now shared with his triad as if they were one of them, passing food and drink to them as they would their own. Although his stomach pinched with pain from eating far less than his body required, and no doubt for his brothers’ as well, his triad by mutual agreement took little of the offered food rather than hunt outside and potentially draw undesirable attention to the hidden camp. He would not do that, nor would he ask for more than what they were given. Despite the bounty spread before them, it was clear that such meals were far between. If anyone deserved a full belly, it was the children.
And Rager was quite truthfully taken with the little ones. Of all humans, they’d shown little fear of the triad. Whereas the adults tended to give them a wide berth despite their hospitality, more than once he and his brothers woke to find children curled up with them where they slept. Even now a small female chewed on the crisped tail of a rooter, her dark eyes shining up at him. They were so similar to rogs, despite their flatter faces and furless bodies, that it was difficult not to love them. The shape of their faces and expressions were quite similar to a rog before they grew into their adult features. Even their ceaseless chatter and carefree play was common between their species. He doubted anyone among the humans or Ragoru had the opportunity to observe similarities that they each held with the other species in such a way before.
A woman’s voice cut through his thoughts with her shrill laughter. It grated on his nerves, but his curiosity was piqued as she spoke.
“Can you imagine,” she laughed with the other women at her side, “all the huntsmen and nobles in the Citadel are in a tizzy over this girl. Lady Anwar, they are calling her. A direct descendant of the first Lady Anwar. She just appeared out of nowhere and was claimed by the First Elite.”
“Bah, must be a rumor started by the First Elite,” another muttered with a shake of her head.
“No, I saw her myself. Regal looking, she is,” a third whispered eagerly. “Looks the spitting image of the portraits in the great museum.”
“Really, Rita, and how would you know what those look like?” the second asked.
“Because, Polly, unlike some, my looks are still good enough to attract the finer gentlemen who visit the museums,” Rita retorted with a snicker. Polly’s face flushed with anger and Rager half-expected her to strike the younger female, but the first intervened in time.
“Cool it, girls,” she snapped. “We don’t need to be pecking at each other. The gracious gods know that the higher-ups tear us down plenty all by themselves.”
Polly and Rita nodded their heads, both wearing weary expressions. Polly nudged Rita after a long moment, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
“I heard from the stable boy that she appeared in the dead of night with a whole mass of hunters. I wonder where they might have gotten her from to have such a large escort?”
Rager felt his heart pound; he could almost hear it in his ears. He crouched among them, ignoring the flutter of their skirts as they backed from him and regarded him cautiously. He inwardly winced at all of the alarm he had caused simply because of his sudden movement.
