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10
Anubis
Here she is again.
I foundmyself thinking about her constantly when out in the city. Every human female I saw reminded me of her. I don’t understand why she has stuck in my mind so intensely. I’ve tried to pinpoint exactly why I feel this draw to her. Is it her luminous brown eyes? The way she walks with such elegance and confidence? The curve of her hips?What the fuck am I saying?I haven’t felt this confused for quite some time. I knew that this mission would be challenging, but it’s hard enough when not caring about the savages. How is that I—oh, goodness, I care about this human.
I felt pity for the other victims, sure. I wouldn’t want to see any sentient being treated as they were, but with Zanika it’s something different. I feel that I am responsible for her safety, more so than with any of the others. The way she looks at me makes me feel like she understands me. I have never felt understood in my entire life.
I have always been an excellent student, top of my class throughout all of my studies. I have excelled in combat training, mathematics, and linguistics. The only thing I have had trouble with is interacting with my peers. I always felt like an outcast. It’s almost as if everyone is intimidated by me, so they don’t dare approach me. I crave comradeship just like everyone else, but I have never been able to attain it. I’ve never had anyone I could bare my soul to. I don’t know why I think this human would be that person; call it a gut feeling. Maybe being from a different species would work in my advantage. Maybe I could finally get the comradeship I crave from someone like her.
However, that’s not the only reason I am drawn to her. The second one is shameful and disgusting, but I have had to come to terms with the fact that I feel a physical attraction to her. Ever since childhood, we are taught not to indulge in sexual activities. There are various methods to calm ourselves down when we get close to desperation. I usually meditate or distract myself with work. It is ridiculous to pretend that these urges don’t exist, but I have never felt them so strongly as I am feeling them right now. Maybe it is the perception of freedom granted to me by this posting. It feels like the laws and customs of Dhaarria have no power down here. It’s almost as if I am losing the very essence of who I am and becoming something more real, more primal. I can feel the layers of training being undone—and that terrifies me.
* * *
“No need to serve me,Zanika. I just wish to talk to you and hear about how things have been going at the palace,” I answer Zanika as she stands before me, visibly nervous. There is something endearing about the timid way she acts around me, but I can tell that she is not afraid.
“It has gone well, my Lord. We have disposed of all of the unnecessary… items, and have restored the palace to its former glory, just as you ordered.”
“Excellent work. Have you had any trouble from anyone?”
“No, my Lord. Apart from the few who left the palace the moment you did, everyone has cooperated fully, and the recovery of some of the more damaged women is going along as well as we could hope.”
“Very impressive, well done. It looks like I put the right person in charge.”
“Thank you, my Lord. And may I just say that all of us are eternally grateful for what you have done here. I, especially, am forever in your debt for what you did for me. If you had not shown up when you did, I would be one of the more unfortunate women who I am currently caring for.”
I see a small tear form in the corner of Zanika’s eye, and I can’t help but feel a little moved by her speech. I have never had anyone show such gratitude and appreciation toward me. Probably because I have never really done much for anyone. All of my achievements in life have been my own and for myself. When I was blasting through the palace, swinging my flaming sword in fury, I didn’t really think of it as saving anyone. I was just so angry at the depravity surrounding me that I needed to let it out. To hear that my actions had a lasting effect on someone’s life, human or not, makes me feel good.
“Think nothing of it. What was happening here was abominable, and I am sorry that any of you had to go through that.”
Zanika wipes away the tear from her eye and with a laugh says, “Sorry, my Lord, I am just a little overwhelmed.”
“That’s okay, don’t worry.” I find myself having to subdue the emotions rising up inside of myself. I am surprised by the human’s ability to communicate and feel so strongly. I had been under the impression that they could barely be considered conscious beings, closer to animals than people.
“May I ask what became of the other cult members, the ones you took with you into the city?” she asks, having composed herself.
“You won’t have to worry about them anymore. The ones that are left alive have been put to work cleaning up and rebuilding the city. Anyone who tries to escape or defies my orders in any way will be personally accountable to me. I don’t think we are going to see too much dissent from them.”
“I’m very glad to hear it, my Lord.”
After a short pause, she starts to say something but then stops herself. Curious, I ask her to speak up.
“I just wanted to—no, it’s stupid, my Lord.”
“Please, Zanika, you can share whatever you wish in this room. Go ahead.”
“I was just wondering… how long you will be staying with us?” A small glint in her eye makes me think that she wants me to stay. The blood rises to her cheeks, indicating bashfulness or possibly sexual attraction, if my textbooks are to be believed. Maybe I am reading too much into it, but the personal nature of the question excites me somewhat. I can feel a stirring within me, the same one I have spent the last few moons trying to push down. Now, with her right in front of me, I am finding it almost impossible to stop myself from taking her.
Uncomfortably shifting position in my chair, I answer curtly, “As long as it takes to fix this place.”
Zanika smiles at me, that beautiful, radiant smile. My eyes can’t help wandering from her exquisitely symmetrical face down to her voluptuous chest and hips. The flowing fabric of the garment accentuates her body perfectly. I can feel my penis rising under my thin skirt, which I have discovered is called a schenti. There will be no hiding it from her.
“I must ask you to leave now,” I say in a small panic. I don’t wish her to see my lack of self-control and the shameful desires of my body.
Her smile turns into a frown, and I can detect sadness in her eyes. My heart sinks, but I have no choice. I am seconds away from pushing her against a wall and devouring her scent and taste.
When she doesn’t move, I bark, “Out, now!”
She quickly turns around with a start and exits the chamber, leaving me and my throbbing erection alone. My heart rate is higher than I have ever felt it. A Dhaarrir of my age should not be feeling this way. These are the physical symptoms of an adolescent. What is it about this human that makes my body react like this? I know that if I am in her presence again, I won’t be able to stop myself, but I can already feel my shame being defeated by the burning desire in my loins.
I try to calm myself by taking deep breaths, and although it works and lowers my heart rate, my penis is still fully erect. I know that if I see her again, I am going to do something I regret; therefore, I must not see her again. But I already know that that is not an option. For the first time in my life, I am losing a battle to my own desires—and I don’t give a fuck.
