I-… I can’t look up at him when he’s this close. My knees turn to jello, and my stomach does somersaults. Plus, he’s super-super tall, so I have to crane my neck just to keep staring into that one beautiful uncovered eye of his.
I glance away to give myself some reprieve. But Zyntarr won’t allow that.
A single, gentle finger hooks beneath my chin, tilting my face up to his again. “Do you understand, little Bea?”
I-…uh…
What were we talking about again?
I blink up at him like an idiot. His face is as littered with scars as the rest of him, one of the biggest being a series of long, scratch marks that start on his forehead, slice through his brow, and end almost at his jaw. Those scars are the ones that had cost him his eye - the one he now keeps covered with a soft black leather patch. All the Trixikka have scars, but Zyntarr’s are the most noticeable, and most severe. He hasn’t told me how he’d gotten them all, and I don’t like to ask.
It doesn’t make him any less beautiful to look at, though. Quite the opposite, in my opinion. And, not in a grotesque way of romanticizing something that happened to him that may well be traumatizing. But… he’slived. He’s certainly not shied away from life, no matter the scars it’s left him with.
“Bea?” Zyntarr’s voice is soft. The pad of his thumb is warm where he gently strokes at my jaw.
“Hm?”Wake up, Bea! For God’s sake!“Oh, yeah, um… I understand, but-” it takes a moment for my scrambled-eggs-for-brains to catch back up to the situation. “I don’t think this is going to go down well with Rynn and Zarriko,” I say, gesturing to the two battered and bruised Trixikka still clutching themselves in pain.
Zyntarr looks around as if only just now assessing the situation.
He grunts - he grunts like he hadn’t really considered the possible outcomes of him beating the ever-living shit out of two of Zarriko’s males. How can he make such a rash decision like that?
“We will not tell our High Spear of this,” one of the males wheezes after Zyntarr had stared at them both long enough.
Zyntarr grunts again and looks back to me like that is that.
“Zyntarr! How can you think this will all be okay?”
The huge guy shrugs, one side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. “No green-male wants to admit that they have been bested by an old Protector like me, especially when it was two against one, and one eye against four. Do not worry on this, little Bea.”
I swallow, hoping he is right. I don’t want to even imagine the possibility that peace between the tribes is disrupted all because someone called me boring.
Sensing my reservations, Zyntarr smiles and drops his hand from my jaw. “Come,” he says, “I will feed you now.”
He turns me, and walks by my side, but throws some last instructions to Zarriko’s guys over his shoulder. “You two were very brave in fighting off that scaled firemouth beast. Go back to your village and let your healers tend to your wounds.”
Chapter 4 - Bea
Zyntarr frowns down at the cookpot.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “It’s still edible, I’m sure.”
The way that one eye of his looks at me then, it’s as if I’d offended all his ancestors as well as their pets.
“Fine, andedibleis not good enough to serve you. I shall start again.”
“No, Zyntarr, please don’t do that.” My hand goes to his arm, staying him as he’d tries to turn away and go get more supplies. He glances down at my touch, and I do too, watching as all his little skin-stars race to meet my hand, some of them bumping into his scars and seemingly disappearing.
Zyntarr grunts. The big guy grunts a lot, and sometimes it’s hard to interpret the single, non-vocalized form of communication, but this grunt was definitely a grunt of displeasure.
All this over the fact that some of the meat he was cooking stuck to the bottom of the pot and is now a little burnt?
Glancing back toward the jungle, I can almost see the cogs whirring in his mind. I’m pretty sure he’s so displeased at this meal’s outcome, that he’s contemplating going back to beat the shit out of those two again for distracting him away from his spot at the cookfire.
“Zyn,” I try again, giving his forearm a little squeeze. “It’s fine. Really. I bet it’s still delicious and everyone will be grateful for the meal.”
The look he gives is a long one. One of those kinds of looks where it’s like the other person is waiting for you to figure something out. But I don’t quite know what he’s getting at, so the grunt he gives this time is quiet as he turns back to the pot. “I will find you the best of the meat. The others can take what they please.”
I open my mouth to argue that I don’t need to be served first - before anyone else gets a chance at unburnt meat. But, I decide there’s no use arguing when it comes to Zyntarr and how he likes to make sure I’m fed. He’s always been like that. The other girls think it’s because he wants me to be his mate. I’m not so sure that’s the reason, though. I think he likes that I don’t see him as scary like some of the others do.
