Page 106 of Trove’s Purpose

Apparently, his people, the domini, danced like they were fighting. Which was a bit weird, but she was pretty sure she understood. Their whole culture was based around combat and strength and competition, even and especially among mates.

Hyde had already told her how the domini mated, so she wasn’t surprised to hear that she would have to fight Trove for the role of who was the more dominant one in their pairing. But she was surprised to hear that he would also traditionally have to fight her strongest relative for the right to take over as the one protecting her.

“You have to fight like my father? Or mother?” She asked, frowning.

“I wouldn’t fight them seriously,” he assured her. “I would fight them to defeat, but not to hurt them. Especially your mother. I don’t know much about human males, but I’ve met multiple human females now and you all seem terribly fragile.”

“I am not,” she laughed. “And my mom would definitely try to hurt you. She’d take a challenge like that very seriously. Why do you think she taught me how to shoot?”

“Very nice,” Trove smiled approvingly. “She sounds vicious.”

“Oh, absolutely. After… everything, she wasn’t ever going to let us be put in a position where we were defenseless again. She learned for herself first, and when I turned eighteen, she took me to the gun range and taught me.”

Trove cocked his head curiously. “Why eighteen?”

“That’s the age of adulthood on Earth.”

“Really?” He paused, looking at her curiously. “So late?”

“Late? What’s the age of adulthood for the domini?”

“Fifteen.”

“So young?!” She reared back, surprised.

“Well, it’s the age you need to reach before you can start training to be a warrior. I’m told it used to be a lot younger, but parents stopped sending their younglings away for training after joining the Coalition. Young soldiers are rather frowned upon in most parts of the universe, apparently.”

“Including Earth,” Chee said, laughing in disbelief. “I feel like combining the words ‘child’ and ‘soldier’ are just terrible regardless of how much your species likes combat.”

He shrugged. “Not for my people. Most parents begin training their younglings how to fight before they get their adult fangs. There are plenty of my people who believe we lost something when we gave up the youngling training camps.”

“Ye-e-eah,” “Chee said slowly, drawing out the sound because she couldn’t agree. Maybe it was a species thing, because he certainly appeared regretful, like not having child soldiers was something their people sacrificed. But she didn’t think she could find that to be a good thing regardless of how she thought about it. “Your people really like fighting, don’t they?”

“We do.” He reached up and took her hand from his shoulder. He interlaced their fingers together, holding hers tightly. “To my people, hand holding like this is considered very intimate.”

“Hm? Why? I mean, it’s something couples do on my planet too, but I don’t know that I’d call it very intimate.”

“Because if you’re holding someone’s hand like this, you’re not only allowing their claws close to you, but you’re allowing your own claws to be… hindered.”

She couldn’t help but look at the blunted, scarred ends of his fingers. He stared at them as well, his face blank and unreadable.

“Do you hate your scars? Does the sight of them bother you?”

“No,” he said immediately. No hesitation. Like that wasn’t the issue at all.

“Then, do you ever think of getting them healed?”

He didn’t answer this time. Just continued to stare.

“Was it ever something you thought about?”

“There’s no medscanners or medirings on Rik-Vane,” he said. “Or, if there are, they’re carefully guarded and hoarded by those who have them. I’d never heard of such a thing. And when we escaped, we didn’t have the credz for something like that. Every cred we earned was put into making the Humility livable or surviving ourselves. It was never an option since it wasn’t necessary, and I’ve always done well without them.”

But his people loved combat and fighting. Their claws must be important to them. And the fact that his were taken so violently must mean he regretted their loss. At least a little.

“I tried before,” he admitted softly. Like it was a shameful secret. “I made appointments. I was just… never able to keep them. I couldn’t go through with it. I don’t know why.”

She nodded. Because, on some level, she understood.