1
STRON
One month before
Stron stretched on his bed, shifting back and forth. The sheets barely covered him.
Not that he cared.
He sat up and ran his hands over the curve of his horns on the sides of his head- a natural reaction when he woke. When he was a child, he would stroke the horns to see how much they had grown every morning. Now, it became part of his wake-up ritual.
“About time you woke up,” came a sensual female voice.
Stron smiled and looked toward the entrance. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”
She raised her eyebrow. “Goodbye would mean that we meant something to each other, Stron. You and I both know that's not true.”
He shrugged. “I would think a female of your breeding would practice better manners, Patrie.”
He climbed out of the bed and Patrie watched him.
She usually did.
He was a fine Kantenan to look at.
“I would think you would be more blasé about our informal relations.” She crossed her arms. “Are we still informal?” While she stood straight to keep up appearances, there was emotion in her eyes.
Emotions were bad.
Neither of them had wanted anyone to get too close to them, and they both agreed to the arrangement at the start.
Neither of them wanted a mate. They both knew what mating looked like when Kantenan biology took over, and the matches weren’t the best, intellectually. But it also meant that there was a cycle to everything, as well.
“Things are changing.”
It was time for him to end this, for his own benefit and for hers. Though he was less angry about the end of this relationship. It just meant the beginning of something new. New beginnings were always pleasant things.
He stretched, and his fingers grazed the curved ceiling above him.
“It doesn't have to.” She came closer to him, her lip quivering.
He hated when females got clingy at the end. He was always forthright and explained what the path of the relationship would be, and what it would not be.
He felt last night that Patrie was getting a little too connected, and he decided then it was time to make a change.
“We're at the end of our path, Patrie.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You don't care? At all?”
Stron shrugged. “We had a nice run. It has been fun, but I think it's time we moved on. Headed off into our own veins of life, without this.”
She blinked. “What if I don't want to?”
“I don't think it matters,” he replied. “As much as we fuck, we don't knot. So, it doesn't matter, now does it?”
“How do you think? We just haven't--”
He wrapped the sheet around his middle. “Patrie, all good things end. Don't be a baby about this. It's time for you to leave. For good.”
