AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Do I want children? I genuinely don’t know. It feels like a lower priority right now. Top priority? Figure myself out before I lose my mind.
What little I have, anyhow.
I try to call up the memories of camping with my dad again, but instead, new things float through my head. Things like Skarr spreading his arms as I look at him and giving me that smug expression, like he knows I’m going to find whatever he’s got pleasing.
It’s going to make you want to jump him despite yourself.
As if we’re somehow connected mentally, Skarr laughs outside. I can tell from the distance of the sound that he’s still by the fire, but I can pick out his voice, his tone. He’s louder than the others—because of course he is—but there’s something pleasing about the quality of it. There’s a richness when he speaks, even when he’s saying bullshit. My hand slides to the waist of my pants and then between my thighs. I’m wet and slippery, and I imagine him prowling into the tent, giving me that cocky expression and—
Oh my god, what am Idoing?
I jerk my hand out of my pants, horrified, and squeeze my thighs tightly together.
I don’t evenlikehim. I want him to jump off a cliff. I want him to wander out of camp and never come back. Why would I touch myself to the sound of his voice?
And why am I still itching to do it???
ChapterNine
SKARR
My female is avoiding me.
It’s obvious to everyone, even the dim ones such as Kyth or the human Jason. After we feasted upon each other’s looks, she grew skittish and left me. Perhaps she found the sight of me overwhelming. I can understand that. No doubt someone as powerful as me is a lot for a human female to handle. That night she retreated to the tent and did not emerge.
The next morning, we broke down camp and hiked toward the beach village, and she made sure to stay very far away from me. I attempted to talk to her twice, but each time she ignored me, staring straight ahead despite the singing in her breast.
“Give her time,” I’rec tells me over and over again. “Let her adjust to the situation. It is all very new for her as well as you.”
In truth, I do not mind that she plays games with me. I enjoy the thrill of the chase. I enjoy the challenge of enticing my female to my side, to figuring out the way to impress her enough that she will fling herself into my arms. I just need the rightsortof enticement. Until then, I shall study my prey.
And I like what I see so far.
Vivian is commendable. I did not notice her at first because she was not as brilliantly colored as some of the others. Her hair is a soft, gentle brown and her skin an unremarkable shade of pale beige. Her breasts do not bounce as openly as some of the others, nor is her backside as heavily rounded. She is slender but strong, and she is tall. She might not have the brilliant plumage of some of the others, but it is a clever disguise, I think, to allow her to be stealthy. To blend in amongst the others and hide in plain sight. I approve of this. I do not need jiggling mammaries to see her worth…
…though I admit I would not mind if hers jiggled. Just a little.
No, Vivian is not flashy. She is the silent, stealthy predator, and I have great respect for this. She speaks very little as we travel, preferring to remain quiet. I suspect she is taking in all that the others speak of so she can use it against them.
Information gathering—a wise strategy.
Vivian also gathers dung chips as the group walks, placing them into a pack. No one else does this, but when Flor—I’rec’s annoyingly chatty female—notices her doing this, she praises her openly for thinking ahead. The chips are fuel, and Vivian is making sure no one runs out.
Again, I approve of this strategy. She is quietly making herself invaluable to the others. No one will see it coming when she strikes. It’s a different strategy than what I use—making myself so fearfully impressive that they do not dare challenge me—but I have to admit that it is extremely effective.
I watch her as we travel, impressed at her calculating mind, and I come around on her coloring and appearance, too. I thought perhaps she was choosing a bland appearance, but I was wrong. The more I look at her, the more striking she becomes. Her mane is the perfect, glossy mix of yellow and brown. Why be one when you can be both and be both exceedingly well? Her eyes are bright and her face is symmetrical and pleasing, her mouth pink and soft. Her legs are strong and long and I watch her walk.
Granted, she is always walkingawayfrom me, but that is easily solved.
“What is it?”
I’rec has come up behind me, glaring at me.
“What is what?” I ask.
“You are slowing. Is the cold too much for you? Do I need to carry you?”
I scoff, offended. “You mistake me. I am not ailing. I am merely contemplating.”
