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Hazy recollections filter into my fuzzy brain. The memory of rough hands dragging me away as the storm crashed in my ears.
My head hurts.
I go to raise my hand and inspect the wound I’m sure I’ll find, only to find my hands have been bound behind my back.
Fear takes a hold of me. The words of my attacker echo in my head.You filthy human scum.Shit. The Purists. I’m at the mercy of madmen.
Desperately, I try to calm my breathing, I need to control the panic that is rising in my chest. I need to think clearly. What do I know about the Kiphian Purists?
All I know is that they are extremist rebels who go around attacking humans. Especially ones who mate with Kiphians. Basically, nothing useful.
Carefully, I test the ropes that bind me, straining at the knots and trying to inch my hands free.
“Hey, look who’s awake,” a voice says behind me.
I freeze, tears pricking my eyes.
“The human who thinks she’s good enough to mate with one of us,” the voice drawls on. “Time to have some fun, boys.”
In a panic, I kick my feet frantically and manage to turn myself to face the room.
There are four of them now. I only remember three from the street. I wonder how many there are altogether. They’re sitting on benches, pulled in close to a fire whose warmth certainly doesn’t reach me in my cold corner.
I hear the sound of breaking glass. It sends a chill down my spine until I realize one of them has thrown an empty spirit bottle into a pile with the rest against the wall.
One of them rises from the circle and makes his way toward me.
“Stay away from me,” I snarl.
The guy simply laughs as he grabs my arm and drags me over to his friends. I try my best to break free, even though I’m fully aware I don’t stand a chance against a full-grown Kiphian male.
He shakes me roughly. “Pack it in,” he growls, throwing me on the ground close to the fire.
Even though I’m terrified, the warmth from the blaze feels wonderful as I sit on the floor bringing my knees protectively up to my chest and trying to stop my teeth chattering.
“Look at the filthy animal, sitting in the mud,” one of them drawls. I recognize his voice from the street. I’m sure he is the one who hit me.
I glare in his direction. He has a scar running diagonally across his face, marring the perfect symmetry of his light blue facial markings. His eyes are small and set too close together.
“Now, what makes you think you can mate with one of us? You’re nothing but an animal,” he snarls, looking at me with disgust.
“I love Renxel, and Renxel loves me,” I reply simply. “What more do we need?” I’m surprised by how firmly my words come out. “Love transcends species. It is a clear and simple fact.”
“It’s unnatural, that’s what it is,” says the Kiphian to his left. His pale blue eyes remind me somehow of Renxel’s. He stares at me with loathing, and I see for the first time why some people find Renxel intimidating.
“How can you say love is unnatural?” I retort.
I am obviously not meant to argue back or have an opinion because the guy sits back, unable to answer.
“Love is perfectly natural.” This last voice has a note of authority to it. A tone of cold hard calculation. It chills me more than my damp clothes ever could. I turn to face the bearer.
His markings are darker than the others, and his eyes are like two black bottomless pits at the center. The effect gives him a haunted look, as if he has been possessed by some malevolent spirit.
He smiles at me. “You, however, are no more than an animal. Only fit to be kept as a pet. Do you think it’s clean to rut with a gringa-hound?” His look is withering.
“Humans and Kiphians are more alike than we aren’t. And we are certainly similar enough to love one another.”
“It is unnatural,” the leader insists. “It will dilute Kiphian bloodlines. Before long, our species will be extinct because of you.”
