“Maxon?” she guesses inaccurately, on purpose, but I’m certain she knows who I am. The female crosses her arms. “Will you test mating compatibility in honor of the Dark Moon?” she questions.
A flurry of longer, harsher denials float through my mind, but I simply offer a one-word denial. “No.”
She has been harassing me with this question for the last few years. Both of us know it is against the Scales of Xylan Law for her to continuously ask me after my initial denial, years ago. I could in fact complain to the peacekeepers about this abuse if I chose, but I don’t. I’m not even on the Xylan mating database because I don’t want to be asked for compatibility testing.
“But...”
“Female, this is enough. You have my answer. You’ve always had my answer. Ask other males for testing because I am a dead end. It is not happening.”
Moisture wells in her eyes and she cries as if I said something mean and darts away, tears streaming down her cheeks, past her mask.
I sigh.
Another reason why I don’t go out often.
I look up and find that the human female, whom I wanted to meet, has disappeared in the crowd again and is nowhere to be found. Dammit. She probably saw my encounter with that female, and without proper context, the entire episode could be misinterpreted. “I hate this costume ball,” I mutter under my breath.
“We all know you hate this ball,” my brother, Trunk, grunts. “You complain about having to dress up and go to this every year since you came of age. But you’re here now and you’re staying. Stop complaining and try to enjoy yourself. The dancing will start soon, and this is your favorite part. Once you dance, you always enjoy yourself.”
This is true but tonight is different. I feel unsettled because there is a female I’d like to meet but I cannot find her, and I suspect she now wants nothing to do with me. I scan the crowd, annoyed that I still can’t find her again. Maybe she has left.
I cross my arms. “I’m going home.”
“Chief, you’re being ridiculous. First, you need to tell the peacekeepers that she continues to harass you. It’s the only way to make it stop. And, like I said before, you need to hold out until the dancing starts.”
“I’ve done my job as crew leader. I made sure all of you are here. I’ve been seen participating in the ball. Now I can go home.”
Another one of my brothers steps up. “No,” Cannibal growls. “The buffet just opened. Stay and I’ll get you some food. It will make you feel better.”
He’s gone before I can respond.
A low growl rumbles in my chest. Cannibal thinks everything can be fixed with food. But my actual problem is that now that our crew is first in production I am recently deemed “a good match.” When the fever brothers were banished to the worst housing unit on the planet and the worst shift, I was left alone and mainly unwanted. But recently, now that my crew is first in production, all the unmated females and their houses seem to think I’m worthy again?
“They all want to test,” I complain. “And when I go out like this, females try to approach and ask for testing matingcompatibility. When I’m at work or at home, I can ward it off and live in peace.”
“Yes, it’s such a terrible burden to be in demand as a future mate by all the unmated females on Timbur,” my youngest brother, Maxon grumbles with heavy sarcasm because as the youngest he never gets asked for testing.
That’s when I see her again.
My breath catches in my throat and my chest expands. I finger my personal crystal in my pocket, trying to remain calm.
“You still leaving?” Maxon questions, raising his voice to be heard over the drums.
“No. I’ve changed my mind. I’m staying.”
“Good,” he grunts.
My entire adult life, I’ve never given another female a second look, wondering what it would be like to clasp hands. What if I approach her and learn that she’s the one? Or, what if I get close and learn she isn’t the one?
I never ruminate over thoughts like this.
My position as leader of our mining crew keeps me busy. I’ve been through so much with the mysterious death of my parents, the subsequent trauma of my eldest brother being banished, as well as our crew being unfairly targeted for punishment. My life holds much responsibility and there’s been no time to long for a mate or offspring. Also, I’d already, long ago scented all the unmated females living on Timbur, knowing that none of them are my future mate.
Because I can’t leave Timbur and live elsewhere due to my fever bond to my personal crystal and my position as an Illibrium miner—I assumed I would remain unmated. And yet tonight, for the first time in my life, I continue to gaze at this one particular female, drawn to the curve of her chest and the sway of her hips.
Why?
Due to her fragile stature and her colorless skin, I’m certain she’s a human female. She lacks pigment, claws or fangs, just like the other human females in my family line. She is dressed like me, without bothering with an actual costume, and wears only formal clothing and the requisite mask that covers her face. Her exotic human hair is long and dark, held up at the base of her delicate neck.
