But I couldn't. Not yet. I needed to test her first. The ones who broke too fast died during the change. Their bodies accepted the seed but couldn't handle the stress of growing wings, of restructuring bone and muscle and nerve. They died in agony and there was nothing I could do to save them.
This one was different. Stronger. She'd lasted hours before touching herself, had climbed confidently, had assessed her situation instead of just panicking. She'd last longer than two days. Maybe three or four before she broke.
And when she did break, when she came looking for me and asked properly, I'd know she was strong enough to survive what came after. The breeding, the bite, the transformation thatwould take three to four weeks of daily mating to complete. She'd survive it because I'd tested her enough to be sure.
Dawn came and I watched her wake from my perch high above. The tonic was worse on day two for everyone. I watched her discover that truth, watched her try to plan and think through the brain fog of constant arousal. She started mapping my territory, climbing sideways along the cliff face, testing routes and looking for escape. She found every boundary marker I'd placed, every claw scratch that said mine. I could see her having to stop, having to breathe, fighting tremors of need rattling her grip on the rock.
By midday she gave up and returned to the cave.
I was circling high when I felt another male entering my territory. Kethar. Younger than me by ten seasons, bigger wingspan, stronger body, no visible signs of unbonded sickness yet. He'd been watching from the territorial boundary for days now, waiting to see if I'd successfully claim this female.
He flew up to meet me at the thermal layer, and his wings spread in challenge display.
"I smell fertile human," he said. His voice carried easily at this altitude. "Unclaimed."
"Claimed." I matched his wing display, making myself look as large as possible. "My territory. My female."
"Not bonded yet though." He flew closer, circling. "I can smell that too. No bite mark, no transformation started. Still just testing her?" He made it sound like an accusation. "I could offer her different terms. Gentler courtship, faster bonding, less suffering before the transformation takes."
"You'd kill her." I spread my wings wider, showing teeth. "She's human. Needs time to adapt. Rush the bonding and her body will reject the change."
"Then she's weak," Kethar said flatly. His wing beats turned aggressive, faster, burning energy. "Let me test that myself. If she can't handle fast bonding, you didn't want her anyway."
"Touch her and I'll rip your throat out."
We circled each other, calculating. I was older, more experienced at aerial combat, knew better tactics for fighting at altitude. But he was stronger, less fatigued, would heal faster from any injuries I managed to inflict. And he was desperate. I could see it in the way he flew, slightly erratic, reactions too fast. The unbonded sickness was starting to affect his judgment. Another season or two and he'd be where I was now, dying slowly and willing to take any risk for a chance at survival.
"I'll wait," he said finally, backing down but not leaving. "If she refuses your bite on day thirty, I claim her second. That's fair under the protocols."
"She won't refuse."
"They always refuse." He was already flying toward the boundary. "That's why they die. You test them too hard, break them wrong, and by the time you offer the bite they just want the pain to stop. They choose to go home damaged. Your patience kills them, Drav."
He disappeared over the ridge before I could respond.
I flew back to my territory and forced myself to think past the rage. Kethar was wrong. The ones who died, died because their males didn't test properly, didn't give them time to adapt. Forced bonding too fast and killed them with the transformation stress. But he was also right about one thing. Time was limited. The tonic would break her down eventually. If I waited too long, tested too hard, she might damage herself before I could breed her.
I needed to find the balance. Test her enough to ensure survival but not so much that the tonic destroyed her first.
I found her in the cave that afternoon. She'd tried to satisfy herself again, I could smell it, evidence lingering in how flushed her skin looked, how her pupils stayed dilated. Failed again. The tonic had progressed far enough that her own touch meant nothing.
She was lying in my furs, exhausted, frustrated, still desperately aroused.
I settled at the cave entrance, close enough to speak but far enough to maintain courtship distance.
"You tried again," I said.
She flinched, hadn't heard me land. "Get out."
"How many times today?" I could smell the layers of failed arousal, could estimate from the scent. "Four? Five?"
She didn't answer.
"The tonic's progressed," I continued. "You can't satisfy yourself anymore. Your body's rejected your own chemistry. It only wants mine now."
"I don't want anything from you."
"Your body does. The tonic made sure of that." I shifted position slightly and watched her eyes track the movement despite her anger. "By tomorrow the need will be worse. By day four you'll come looking for me, asking for relief. Maybe begging if you're proud."
