He could rule, if he wanted to—those that knew him when he was younger said he possessed the Draegon fire too, one of the few of us who still can use it without self-immolating.
"I am done running," Pol says. "I’ve spent decades playing in exile. I'm done. I am going to rip the crown directly off my father's head. It is time for me to take the mantle of power. I am ready to do what is right for my people... and for Selene."
“You’ll have my help,” I say, and I mean it. “I assume you know why I’m here.”
“Branded a traitor, like the rest of us.” Ty-Rok steps out of the shadows, tossing a handful of harvested copper wires onto the table. "You know I’ll help, Pol. We have to protect our females first, though." He gives a small huff of laughter. “I thought them fragile, at first.”
Pol lets out a low, vibrating rumble of amusement. "Selene is anything but fragile. She’s more of a survivor than the entire palace of elites. I found her on a trafficker’s ship, did you know that?” He stares into the distance. “I knew she was mine theminute I scented her. She is the most violent creature I’ve ever met. I have never been more aroused than I am around her."
"Lucy managed to entirely mask our thermal signatures," Ty-Rok adds, his dark tail sweeping the floor with a disciplined satisfaction. "She is small, and too sweet tempered, but her logic rivals the best. If only she would allow me to mate her."
That surprises me; that his female is still in heat.
This Lucy must be miserable.
"They are a strange species," I muse. "Strange, and beautiful."
I need my mate back at my side.
BZZZZZT.
The neon-blue flashes a toxic shade of pink.
"Time's up, alphas," Ken’s voice is accompanied by a jarring blast of sound. "The female confessional has concluded, and we are moving onto the next segment. Welcome to the Blind Affection Protocol."
Partitions lock into the floor, isolating me in a cramped box. In front of me, a thick sheet of frosted glass hums with a low voltage, completely obscuring any visuals from the chamber beyond.
"Let’s begin the first rotation," Ken’s voice chirps merrily. I am sick of his voice, and my tail slaps the walls violently "To ensure the integrity of the fated mate algorithms, you will be rotated through the audio feeds of all three remaining human females. You are required to ask the standard Earth compatibility queries provided."
A console screen illuminates, displaying a list of incredibly absurd questions.
"State your preferred biological nutrient intake," I force the questions out. "And state the desired reproductive yield for your future bloodline."
A ragged breath filters through wall. The voice that responds is not Poppy’s. It vibrates with venom I instantly recognize as Selene.
Is the artificial construct truly this stupid? To think we wouldn’t recognize the mere breathing of our mates, much less their answers and voices.
"Nutrient intake? Anything that doesn't try to bite me back," she says. "And kids? Are you out of your minds? I was grabbed out of my own bed in the middle of the night, dragged into a cage by giant scaled freaks. I don't want a bloodline. I want a shotgun and blood."
I lean closer to the glass, feeling incredibly sorry for the female.
"Thank you ," I say softly. "A warrior indeed."
"Whatever," Selene mutters. "Just click the next button. I'm done talking."
BEEP.
The lights in my pod pulse twice, I assume signaling the next rotation.
I clear my throat, reading the next set questions. "State your home, your preferred comfort sustenance, and your ideal family structure."
There is a brief pause, and then a too-sweet gasp comes through the wall. The voice is gentle and innocent in a way that feels entirely out of place here.
Not Poppy. I’d know the way she breathed in an instant.
"Oh! Um... hello," Lucy says. "My home is New Jersey, but my family’s roots are South Asian. If I could have any comfort food right now, it would be my grandmother’s kheer—it's a sweet rice pudding with cardamom and pistachios. It always makes the house smell cozy and perfect."
She lets out a tiny laugh, though I can hear the underlying exhaustion.
