Page 10 of January Bell

"Don’t worry, there will be more challenges to come.”

“And how the hell do the challenges work, Ken? How do they work? How do we win? You are the actual worst game show host of all time!” She’s screaming now, a vein ticking in her forehead.

“You survive them and then get to live to see the next one.”

With that, he winks again at nothing, and then the hologram disappears, Lily still staring at the spot where Ken winked.

When I finally turn my attention back to her⁠—

“What the fuck?” she says, dropping her hands and stomping over to the dead rooster, as she called it. Cock, according to my translator.

Probably the biggest tragedy of all my life was that mistranslation.

“We’re just supposed to eat it? Now? How? Look at how many feathers are on here.”

She starts to aim a kick at the dead animal, but then she ducks, screeching as the feathers explode off of the carcass in an explosion of whistling horns, blinding lights, and incredibly strange noises.

“What the actual shitballs? I mean seriously, have you ever seen anything like this?” Lily says, but some of the bravado has leaked from her voice, her hands shaking slightly.

My poor human mate.

“I do not know the actual fuck,” I tell her seriously, attempting a soothing voice. The feathers disintegrate before they hit the ground, sparkling slightly. “It appears this place has physics different than any other I have ever visited.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she says, eyeing the feather that’s landed near her foot before it disintegrates into sparkles.

“My name is Zan-De’Eer,” I remind her. “Not Sherlock.” But I’m not angry. I know she has just been through a lot, what with the exploding chicken, and perhaps the fall from the snare has addled her memory.

“Oh, shit,” she says, leaning forward, eyes narrowed, so full, so focused on the sight before her. “Well, at least we don’t have to butcher that thing. I wouldn’t even have an idea of where to start. I might know how to take apart discovery for a trial, but I’ve never taken apart a chicken. Get it?”

She grins at me, and I’m so caught up in the transformation of the smile and the fact that it’s aimed at me that I don’t bother telling her I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“We can cook it like this.”

“Yes, exactly, Zan,” she says, some of the grin disappearing from her face, but she lights back up as she approaches the platters of meat that have replaced the animal lying on the ground. “Right, I’m starving. Do you know how to barbecue?”

“I could learn to barr-be-cute for you,” I tell her, trying out the strange word. She has not spoken to me this much in days.

A good sign.

An excellent sign.

“Right.” A deep sigh makes her chest move in interesting ways. “Okay, well, I do, so let’s figure out what is in those totes.” She marches over to the pans laden with white and pink meat and picks one up. The muscles in her arms flex as she carries it over and sets it on the picnic table. She points an elegant finger at the metal contraption. “That’s a grill.”

“I don’t know if you—we cook meat where I come from too,” I tell her gently.

“Oh,” she says. “Of course you do. I didn’t mean to…”

I smile at her slowly. I haven’t seen her flustered before.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you ate food raw,” she finally finishes, rubbing the back of her neck. Her gaze meets mine for a brief second, and I can hardly breathe for the openness in her eyes, for once.

“You came back for me,” she says, then purses her lips as if regretting letting the words out at all.

“Of course I did,” I say, shrugging. I want so badly to draw her close to me, to tell her that I would never abandon her and that she can count on me and that I will always kill cock for her, but I don’t.

At this point I know better than to presume that she wants me to do anything. I’d hoped to wear her down by annoying her until the heat was too much, but at this point I’ll settle for her grudging alliance.

But I hate that she’s in pain and suffering, that is what the Draegon heat does to a female.