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I wake up and pull on my boots, then head for the fire. I actually really enjoy tending to the fire. It’s comforting for me, something I remember doing even when I don’t remember my own name. It’s become a bit of a game, too, to keep the coals burning bright while trying to use as little fuel as possible.
A few others are seated by the fire this early. Two of them are the guys—the human one and the big grayish-blue one that’s from a race called a “moden.” His name is Kyth, and he seems more relaxed than some of the other men—other gladiators—we were dropped here with. Sabrina is awake, too, and she’s peering into Kyth’s eye with distress.
“No glow,” she says. “Are you sure you feel all right?”
Kyth shrugs. “Just tired.”
“And you didn’t feel it fade? Or die? Or anything?” When he shakes his head, she purses her lips. “Maybe it’s hibernating.” She glances around, looking over at me. “Vivi, let me see your eyes real fast.”
I resist my natural urge to shrink away and hide from attention, because now everyone’s looking at me. But Sabrina has been nice and friendly, so I force myself to take a step forward and let her peer into my eyes.
“No, hers are still glowing just as bright as Jason’s,” Sabrina frets. “Maybe you got a faulty one, Kyth.”
“Twice now?” Jason asks.
Skarr approaches, much to my dismay, but Sabrina immediately pounces on him. “Let me see your eyes.”
“Oh, come on,” Jason says. “Even from here I can see his glowing. His khui is fine. It’s just Kyth’s that’s a problem. Mine is good. Vivian’s is good. Yours is good. It’s just Kyth’s.”
“Vivi’s khui is more than good,” Skarr immediately states. “It is clearly the best.”
My face flushes with mortification at his words and I stab at the fire, wishing the ground would suck me up. A convenient sinkhole would be nice right about now. Even worse? My khui started purring at the sight of him, but at his words it’s getting even louder, as if it approves.
“A khui is a khui,” Sabrina says, furrowing her brows at Skarr. “There’s no better or worse, I don’t think.”
“There is better,” Skarr says confidently. He moves to stand next to me and I immediately circle the fire, moving away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, too intent on correcting Sabrina. “Her khui knew to choose me out of all males. That makes it the best. It is enhancing her already powerful and clever nature, and she is beautiful and wise. That makes her khui the best.”
God. Is he fucking with me? I don’t dare make eye contact with him in case my khui’s song really goes crazy, but the stuff he’s spouting is strange and illogical and embarrassing. I wish he’d go away.
Even as I wish that, my body pulses with heat right between my thighs. Stupid khui.
Others gather around the fire, and I’m relieved to see Flor and I’rec join us. People snicker and share smug little smiles at the sight of the loving couple, but I don’t care about their escapades last night—I’m just happy they’re drawing the heat off of me.
“How is everyone this morning?” Flor asks.
“Kyth’s khui died again,” Sabrina says immediately.
“I had a rough night of sleep,” Valmir adds in a sly voice. I didn’t even hear him come up. He stands across from me by the fire, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his strange face. “Someone kept screaming.”
A few of the women give tired chuckles.
“Yes, well, someone was having an excellent time.” Flor isn’t ruffled by the teasing. “Kyth, let me take a look at your vitals. Everyone else feeling okay?” When no one else volunteers any aches or pains—or khui death—she nods at her mate.
“We will be breaking down the tents and heading out for the village,” I’rec tells us. “You will like the beach. It is protected from the worst of the winds and snows and there is plenty of fishing. Food is shared between all and there are many friendly faces.”
“Sharing,” Skarr mutters. “Bah.”
“Is there a problem with sharing?” Flor asks even as she holds her fingers on Kyth’s big wrist, taking his pulse.
He shrugs, his jade-green skin stark against the white furs bundled against his skin. “I would rather compete.”
“I would compete, too,” Chalath adds. He rubs his hands, and I can see wicked claws tipping his fingers. “I am ready.”
“There are no competitions,” I’rec tells them in a hard voice.
“You lie,” Skarr replies, all confidence. “You told me yourself that hunting is a competition. That we compete to get the most meat to feed the females. And then of course, there is the breeding competition.”
Breeding competition? Oh my fucking god. My head jerks up in horror. “What—?”
