His shoulders locked. Grall’s tone stayed neutral, but the weight behind the words was clear. Everyone knew. Everyone wondered why he’d entered the lottery if he hadn’t wanted the females here.
“I did.”
“Course you did.” Grall moved to another shelf, pulling down containers of preserved fruit. “But your place has the space, the resources. Makes sense.”
Sense. Right. His pulse kicked when she smiled—that made sense. Her scent wrapping around every surface in his house, sliding under his skin—that made perfect sense. The urge clawing through his gut to put himself between her and every male who looked too long—that also made sense as well.
More laughter drifted through the window and they both looked that way. Juni was on the other side of the square, her hands moving as she talked to one of the vendors. The male, older and grizzled, nodded along, obviously charmed. Goraath’s jaw tightened. In one morning, she’d made more connections in the colony than he had in years.
“She’s a natural with people.” Grall watched her. “Already got old Raaith wrapped around her finger. He never gives away produce, but look at that.”
The vendor was pressing vegetables into Juni’s hands, waving off what looked like protests. She beamed at him, and even from here, he saw the way the old male’s expression softened.
Heat coiled in his gut. Not jealousy. Couldn’t be. He crushed the thought before it formed. Jealousy over a female he didn’t even want? Draanthing ridiculous.
Two younger males had joined the group. One of them said something that made Juni laugh again, and he leaned closer, clearly interested.
The heating coil package crumpled in Goraath’s grip.
“Careful with those.” Grall’s voice held amusement. “They’re fragile.”
He dropped the package into his cart and moved to the next aisle. He needed to focus on the list. Not on the way that male was standing too close to Juni, or on how she didn’t seem to mind.
The bell above the door chimed.
“Well, look who got lucky.”
Tarex stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he glared at Goraath. They’d known each other since childhood, trained together before Goraath had followed his mother into warrior service. Once, they’d been close as brothers.
That was before.
“Tarex.” He kept his voice neutral.
The other male moved into the store, gaze sliding to the overloaded cart. “Lot of supplies for one person.”
“Two people now.”
Something flickered across Tarex’s face.
“Right. Your female.” The words came out wrong, twisted with a hint of what might have been bitterness. “Saw her outside. She’s... small.”
Tension crawled up Goraath’s spine.
“Soft too. Those curves.” Tarex’s jaw worked. “Not built for this life, is she? Probably won’t last the winter.”
“She’ll adapt.”
“Or she’ll leave when the warriors return.” His old friend studied a shelf of preserved goods, too casual. “Might be better for everyone if she did.”
Goraath turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just... not everyone thinks this program is a good idea. Bringing in outsiders, changing everything we’ve built here.” Tarex’s eyes were hard. “Some of us were fine with how things were.”
Some of us.
Some people believed the colony should maintain its “pure” Latharian heritage rather than dilute it with human blood. Such views edged disastrously close to Purist leanings.
“The vote was passed,” he said. “They’re here.”
