1
Atlan Warlord Velik, Key Biscayne, Florida
* * *
How long had I been running on this beach? Wet sand sank beneath my feet and clung to my skin like tiny parasites. Within me, the beast raged.
Not long enough.
The beast craved violence. Demanded to be set free, to rip the head from every human on the planet as punishment for a crime they had not committed.
Hide mate.
Gods be damned. Not this again. “No one is hiding our mate.”
Hide mate. Kill all. Find her.
Fuck. Killing a bunch of humans was not going to help me find a mate. We’d had this argument before, many times.
Until recently, I’d been winning the test of wills with my beast. Now, as the mating fever grew ever stronger, my control was rapidly slipping away. I’d been tempted to give in, more than once. To release the rage and pain of not finding her. Our mate. We both needed her. Now. Right fucking now.
Kill. Make them pay.
“They aren’t hiding her. Now shut the fuck up.” I shouted the last and a group of sunbathing visitors turned, their slathering of sunblock, towel shaking, umbrella planting activities paused, midmotion, to stare at me. No doubt due to the volume of my voice…and my size.
Every tourist, beach comber, lifeguard, and child I ran past gaped, eyes rounded, some taking multiple steps away as I neared. All except one small human child who held up a bright yellow shovel smaller than my hand and waited for me to help stack piles of wet sand into some kind of structure.
Most I ignored. The little one I thanked for the offer before moving on. And on. And on.
That had been when the sun was high. Now it dipped close to the horizon, glowing behind the human city I’d been assigned to these long months, time during which I had hoped to find her. My mate. The only being in the universe who could save me. I did my job, guarded the Coalition’s processing center as they accepted new brides and fighters. I also helped my fellow Atlans when I could, but I’d never been at home here, amidst the stares and, at times, hostility.
Alien. Outcast. I was from another world and most of the small-minded humans refused to look beyond that.
I was larger than a human. This was not news. Seeing a beast such as Braun or Tane on their small television screens in the ridiculous matchmaking program was much different than seeing an Atlan male, in the flesh, shouting at nothing, I supposed. Shouting at no one. At himself.
I am beast. Not no one.
“I know.”
I fight. I kill. I hunt. I protect. I serve. Reward. Want mate now.
“I know. I am looking for her. Every day.” The words came out in short bursts as my feet hit the sand. I ran barefoot along the edge of the water. My shorts were soaked through from a combination of salt water and sweat. I’d taken my shirt off hours ago, the heat of the sun on my skin soothing.
At least the sun shined upon me with warmth.
Hurt them. Make them tell us.
The beast forced me to look at a group of young humans playing a game with a white ball and a tall net. It appeared the challenge was to get the ball back over the top of the net before it touched ground.
Young males strutted and made jests as they competed for the attention and affection of the scantily clad females. Their bodies were on display, both sexes. Meant to entice a mate.
I looked at each of the females in turn as I approached, then ran past. Smooth, round breasts. Soft skin. Long, shapely legs. They were beautiful females, every one of them. In my youth, I would have taken any of them to my bed for hours of pleasure. Now, my beast demanded only one female. Would accept just one. Our mate. I looked at the perfect, fragile females. Inspected their bodies. Their curves should have made my cock instantly hard. I should have wanted to touch, to taste, to explore.
I felt nothing.
No. Not mine.
“No shit, Sherlock.” I’d picked up the human expression from one of the human fighters who had come through the center. I had asked him what it meant. Apparently, this Sherlock was a brilliant human investigator and solver of crimes. I had no idea if this were true, but the expression stuck.
