There had been a guard to greet me this morning, but Moak had assured him there wouldn’t be any trouble on his watch as we ventured to the farmlands, so he’d stayed behind at the hatchery, finally taking his meal for the afternoon.
Alaryk would likely have his head, now that I thought about it, which spiked my worry.
“What happened?” Alaryk’s clipped voice came, standing close enough that I could feel his heat. I wanted to reach out to touch him, the impulse so instinctive, but I was aware of the dozens of eyes on us.
Belatedly, I realized his voice was raspier, smokier than usual. Because of last night? Because he’d been groaning and bellowing out his pleasure as the moonlight had crept up the wall of his dwelling?
Part of me was proud I’d made him come undone, unraveling all his threads for me to see. Alaryk Arn’dyne, in the daylight, seemed untouchable. Physically large and impossibly intimidating, like the golden statues in Dothik, where you could look butnevertouch.
But in the hushed darkness of night? He was someone different. Someone who’d lain his past out before me, to prod and judge. Someone whose hand had tightened in my hair as I lapped at the metal piercings lining his shaft, trying to make him squirm beneath me, trying to elicit that half moan, half gasp that I feared I’d become addicted to hearing. Someone who’d held me tightthrough the night, wrapping his furnace of a body around me like a fur, not moving once.
When the sun had risen and I’d woken to an empty bed, I’d had the alarming thought that I could fall in love with him and not even know it. Howeasyit would be.
“He spat at her feet,” Syris helpfully supplied when I didn’t say anything. I sighed, cutting her a sharp look of warning, which she shrugged at. She’d been in a foul mood all day, likely due to another hatchling birth in the middle of the night. They’d all gotten only a few hours of sleep, and I’d felt immensely guilty when I’d discovered that upon my arrival. I should’ve been there to help.
“He didwhat?” came the quiet words from Alaryk, staring directly into the male’s eyes, making him freeze.
“N-Not at her,” the male stuttered. “She just happened to step there as I was spitting.”
Syris scoffed. “What a bucket of lies.”
“Leave it,” I said softly to Alaryk, looking up at him with pleading eyes. I didn’t want to make anything worse in the village, especially since this incident was already attracting a large crowd of onlookers. One of them was the female from the feast, one of Alaryk’s lovers, and seeing her made my gut twist as jealousy tangled with the mess of emotions inside me. I forced myself to look away from her, to meet Alaryk’s eyes.
I felt like we were all holding our breath still. The tension was rising, and I just wanted peace.
“Please,” I said quietly, the word meant just for him.
“Potra,” came Alaryk’s icy voice, though his eyes never left mine. His arm brushed my side.
“Yes,Karath?” the male asked, trepidation in his voice.
Finally, Alaryk’s gaze cut to him, a cold glare in his eyes that hadmeeven shuddering. “Some livestock gave birth this morning on the farmlands. Some of the dressings need to be picked up,washed, and delivered to Gralkin before nightfall. Take care of that.”
Potra’s shoulders fell. “That’s usually Hethro’s responsibility, and?—”
Alaryk’s glare cut off whatever he was about to say. “It’s yours now,” he said, his withering tone allowing no further questions.
“Yes,Karath. Right away,” Potra squeaked and headed off down the road that led to where we’d just come from. I imagined him carrying up armfuls of stinking, bloodied bedding from the births and only felt marginally better.
“Serves him right,” I heard Syris mutter.
“What has gotten into you today?” Moak asked quietly. His voice lowered, deeper. “And why do I like it?”
My friend’s face flamed red, but I was already looking back at Alaryk.
“Where is your guard?” he asked, peering around the small group as if making a point.
I nearly gulped. “I, uh, wanted him to stay back at the hatchery while we went to get the feed. No use in all of us suffering. And he hadn’t eaten all day.”
Alaryk’s nostrils flared. “He doesn’t leave your side when you’re not with me,” he rasped. “And I’ll make sure he remembers that.”
“I insisted,” I said, seeing Moak’s color drain a bit from the corner of my eye, since he was the one who’d convinced the guard to stay behind. “I’mfine. A little spit doesn’t worry me when I’ve had my arm up inside apyrokigiving birth.”
“You did what?” Moak asked, his tone sounding like maybe that knowledge made him respect me a little more.
Alaryk looked over his shoulder to Myzalla and Dresnar. “Go on without me—I’ll meet you down there.”
Myzalla inclined her head, her gaze flitting to mine briefly, brows pulling down, before they left. “Break it up,” she grumbledto the crowd, who slowly dispersed as she waved her hands at them.
