Ezra’s hand flew up to the—what was the word? The hickey that Titan had left on him. His cheeks bloomed a delicious pink, and Titan wanted to bite him and claim him all over again.
But he didn’t.
He would bide his time.
It would not be the last encounter he would have with Ezra, nor his last night in his bed.
“Good night, Ambassador,” he said, barely holding back a wicked grin.
“Good night,” Ezra mumbled. His hand had not left his neck.
Titan slipped out the door, already plotting his next move.
4
Titan
Thanks to the industry of the small, fashionable being known as Human Corbin, the east wing of the mansion was unrecognizable as an Earth domicile, as it now resembled a ceremonial venue. During the night, chairs had been set out in straight rows that branched off on either side from a central aisle, down which guests could walk to take their seats. Strings of golden lights that flickered like distant stars were strung artfully upon the walls, and for whatever reason, the reproductive organs of several types of plants had been severed from their roots, collected, and bound together into an abundance of macabre offerings which were proudly being displayed on the raised dais where the ceremony was to take place. Additional plant genitals and many lush green leaves had been arranged on an arch-shaped structure at the back center of the dais. It was tall enough that even those who sat in the last row would be forced to bear witness to the slaughter.
It was a human warning, Titan was sure, to scare off any who might wish to disrupt the sanctity of the human ceremony. Shouldanyone dare interfere, these displays of mutilated plant parts promised the interloper’s genitals would be next.
While barbaric, it was likely traditional, and so while the displays made Titan somewhat uncomfortable, he did his best to pay them no mind. Certainly there had to be aspects of Darvrokian culture which made human beings uncomfortable, and the few human guests in attendance today seemed no more fazed by them than usual, although the mother of the groom—Mrs. Adler—did keep glancing nervously at the Winged Razorbeak perched atop the nearest crystalline arboreal structure.
A foolish gesture.
Winged Razorbeaks mainly preyed on Sand Dwellers, which was why they were a fixture at all bonding ceremonies. Seldom did one bother with subduing, then devouring a bipedal creature. Her apprehension would be better off directed at the Burrow Worms, for whom the venue had been filled with sand. Happily, it appeared they were all dormant—a sure sign the day would be most blessed indeed.
Titan reflected on this from his place on the dais as guests continued to arrive. As the oldest of the clutch, it was his duty to oversee the ceremony from Al’s side in order to ensure his safety, and while the Burrow Worms’ dormancy was a relief, it meant he would have nothing to do but stand around and think until the events had concluded… and the more he thought, the more he found himself troubled.
He had not seen much of Al since arriving on Earth, but it had been clear from their brief interactions that Al was not thrilled by his presence, and likely would have preferred it had he not attended the ceremony at all. But why? He and his brother had never been close, but it seemed his animosity toward Titan had increased since they had last seen each other. Titan didn’t quite understand it. Al had always acted as though there was competition between them, but this was not the case, and had never been Titan’s intention. It was not his fault he was more successful than his brother at many things, and it was foolish for Al to hold such a thing against him, especially now that he had surpassed Titan by accomplishing the impossible and finding his True Mate.
His True Mate.
Inexplicably, a feeling of despair descended upon Titan like a shroud.
He had mated with many beings—many more than Al!—and yet…
Titan suppressed a frown.
It seemed different now, for some reason. Hollow. As though he was missing something.
What a useless feeling it was. It would do him good not to linger on it, so to distract himself, he turned his attention from his brother to Ezra, who stood on the dais as well. He was to play a similar role to Titan in the ceremony as Human Jude’s “best man,” which was a curious but fitting turn of phrase. Ezra certainly was the best of his kind, both in dignity and physical composition, and looked every bit as radiant this morning in his formal attire as he had last night, flushed and naked, after taking Titan to bed.
In the hopes Ezra might engage him in conversation that would distract him from the prickling discomfort that sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, Titan smiled at him, but Ezra was doing everything in his power not to look Titan’s way. It was a disappointment, and the prickling feeling intensified. Still, Titan’s smile persisted. He did not need acknowledgment. He would smile for the ambassador whether he was perceived or not.
After a short amount of time during which Ezra did not look at Titan once, Human Corbin, who was facilitating the human ceremony, rushed through the doors of the venue looking quite harried. He hurried down the aisle, almost tripping several times in the sand, then scrambled up onto the dais and took his place behind the central podium. He was so small, he had to stand on a pink plastic crate a human had mistakenly labeled as “Milk” to be seen.
“All right,” he muttered to himself, fishing several notecards from his jacket’s inner pocket. “Notes, check. Grooms—” He glanced at one of the side rooms, its door ajar, through which a pink-cheeked Human Jude could be seen. His tie was undone and left hanging around his neck, and the top buttons of his shirt were open. It seemed to Titan he was getting dressed… until four Darvrokian hands grabbed him and tugged him out of sight.
The door swung quietly shut.
Human Corbin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as though he was experiencing great suffering. “Accounted for. Witnesses…” He locked eyes with Titan, who only then remembered Ezra had asked him to pretend that they were strangers and that he should, therefore, not be smiling at him, then turned his head to look at Ezra and audibly gasped. “Oh my god, Ezra, is that aBand-Aid?It isnotcute. What did you do?”
“Shaving accident,” Ezra muttered. He tugged self-consciously at his collar.
“You are the worst liar, but whatever. Way to mess up the outfit I meticulously curated for you.”
Ezra’s brows flattened. “There is a guest over there wearing cowboy boots with bicycle shorts and a tank top with an anime girl wearing cat ears that says ‘pussy’ in big block letters. Is that one of your ‘meticulously curated’ outfits as well?”
