I want to find something that will do more than the zitha and ease his pain. I want to find a cure for whatever it is terrorizing his body from the inside out.
But instead, I hurt him.
Touching him had been like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve heard whispers of what humans do with each other. I knew the word kiss. I have seen when Everest and Rathyn are intimate in ways unknown to the Vyastil. But until that moment with my Dante, I’d never had the courage to imagine what it might be like for me to have that.
Being a Vyastil from the Outerlands, we are closer to our base nature than the others in the capital. We do not partake in unauthorized breeding, of course, but we have our cycles. We sequester ourselves alone deep in the mountain caves to protect the others in the village from our ancient urges when they arise.
I have not yet experienced mine on Earth, but I thought I would be able to control myself. I thought those around me were safe.
I do not know if I trust myself now.
The human world here is cold. Much colder than Erethar. I don’t feel it under my claws, but the wind bites at my skin as I make my way down long roads, past staring humans and slowing cars who watch me like I’m, well…
A monster.
It doesn’t take long before I realize where I am. Instinct brought me to the other place I know I can exist without putting anyone at risk.
The sign for Quilliyn’s gym is a faint glow against the darkened earth sky, and for some reason, it is welcoming.
It is still a wonder to me that a Vyastil prince is living comfortably in the human world by choice instead of exile, but it doesn’t seem like Quilliyn regrets his decision. When I was in custody, I saw him once, and he seemed more uncomfortable in Erethar than here. But I know he’s not the only Vyastil who no longer feels like Erethar is for them.
So many from the Outerlands feel like outsiders, especially when those from the capital walk around our humble streets, looking at us like we are mud beneath their claws. And it doesn’t take much to imagine that even some in the capital feel that everything happening with the humans is…wrong.
But it was not my place to say anything, and even banished, I’m afraid they will take my tongue if I so much as breathe a word of dissent against our people.
When I walk into the building, I immediately find Quilliyn behind the counter, his hair tied in a bun on the top of his head. He’s wearing a loose-fitting tank top and shorts, which suit him in ways I don’t expect. I’m not sure if he prefers human clothes or if he wants to fit in, but whatever the case may be, it works for him. I consider asking, but I don’t know if that would be rude.
I don’t really understand the etiquette when it comes to the other Vyastil living here. How many are like me? Banished away from their homes and families because of a mistake or being too emotional with an opinion?
There have been cautionary tales for years about what happens to the Vyastil who fall out of line. I never thought I would be one of them. I have always been a little wild, but never to the extreme. I was always careful to do the right thing.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. The right thing had me sent away, like I was nothing to them.
And perhaps I was nothing.
Perhaps I always will be.
That melancholy only lasts a moment. My heart lightens when Quilliyn sees me and grins widely, beckoning me over to the desk. My feet carry me before I’m consciously aware of it, and before long, I place my hands on the counter and tip my head in greeting.
“Are you here to work out?” He says everything but ‘work out’ in Eretharian. It’s too human a word for a substitute. And it’s a balm to hear my language on his tongue.
Human words have been coming to me so much easier now that Dante has been bringing me cum from the factories, but I don’t know that their words will ever be comfortable in my throat.
“Worrrrk out,” I try.
His brows lift in surprise, then they drop into a frown, and his ears give a worried flick. “Is something wrong?”
“I…” I don’t want to tell him what I’ve done. Hurting a human is a terrible offense. What if they banish me from Earth? Where will I go then?
He lets out a trilling, comforting hum and comes around the corner. “Come on. I run when I feel terrible. It’ll help.”
I have no real choice but to follow the prince through the gym and to the long row of machines that Everest always used when he was here. I glance around the room, wondering if I’ll catch a glimpse of him, but it’s very likely he’s at the Foundry with Rathyn.
The gym seems fairly empty at this hour. Even Everest’s human friend, who hates us, is not around.
“It’s easy,” Quilliyn says, mistaking my hesitation for fear of the machine. “Just hop on, hit that big green button, and then you can pick your speed with the arrows.”
I follow his instructions, and eventually I find myself at a brisk jog to nowhere. But he’s not wrong. It does feel good to get my hearts pumping. Since my capture, I’ve been so sedentary. And perhaps I wouldn’t have minded it if it had been my choice, but it wasn’t.
