The people of the Coalition didn’t rely on dating so much. Instead, they were out there searching for their mate. In whatever weird, specific, or unfortunate way that manifested. Haven didn’t pay much attention to it, as she was more interested in learning and satisfying her curiosity. But she did know that, for a lot of them, the process was completely against their will and often involved a trigger that was wholly out of their control. It was interesting, but like a fun fact that she would appreciate and promptly forget. She didn’t like the squishy sciences. They were so inconsistent and unreliable and boring compared to engineering and math – which were far more reliable.
Maybe she should have paid a bit more attention. Because what was a mating trap?
And how did she get out of it?
Chapter 5
Vytln
It had been years since Vytln felt like this. Torn up and conflicted. It seemed like nothing had changed, yet somehow, at the same time, nothing was the same anymore.
“You doing that are wrong.”
Turning, he glared over his shoulder at the source of the change.
His pest. Still locked up in his mating trap. It was her prison. His prison as well. They didn’t have a brig in the Humility. They didn’t take prisoners. But they couldn’t deal with this little female the way they would a normal prisoner.
She also couldn’t be trusted to walk around on her own since they couldn’t keep Alred’s eyes on her, and she clearly knew how to evade all of them. His mating trap, unfortunately, was the best place to keep her. It was secure, it was easy for him to watch, she couldn’t get out of it, but he could bring her food, and it had everything she needed to survive. She could theoretically stay in there forever, or until she told them how she did it. Tanin would not free her without that information, without being able to plugthat security hole. If she could do it, then others could as well, and that was a weakness he couldn’t allow.
Beyond that, Vytln also had the problem that he could feel his mating instincts. They were beating at him with the force of a hammer. Battering his body and mind, tormenting him just by sheer virtue of her being there.
Only the fact that he had felt this before, that he knew what to expect, kept him from climbing in there and sealing this bond. But it was harder and harder to ignore the urge, the desire, the choking force of the primal need to claim his female. Because he not only knew what it was to have a female in his trap, he also knew what it was to have that female stolen from him. And it didn’t matter the circumstances of that time, or that this was completely different, or that he didn’t evenwantto claim her – the fact remained that he had a female and hehadto claim her.
But he didn’t even know this female. Sure, maybe ancient lvtl males, in times before they were civilized, created traps for any female that might fall into them. They claimed them without concern for what the female wanted or desired. But it was common in these days to have a particular female in mind when making a trap. Most females wouldn’t even let themselves be trapped if they found the nest wasn’t personalized enough.
He didn’t know this one. He knew she hadn’t intended to trap herself, she didn’t even know the purpose of the trap. She would not welcome him if he climbed in there with him. Vytln was a violent brute, but that was a line he had never crossed. Nor would he ever.
His instincts, however, didn’t care about any of that. And his cocks hardened, his mind spun, and his heart raced with need that he had to ignore.
So, he suffered. He brought her food and provided her something to relieve herself in – not all that dissimilar to a prison. No one else could do it, not even one of the other females. He would not let anyone else close. Not so long as she wasn’t claimed. It was torture every time he approached and realized her scent had stained the nest – like she was laying her own claim.
And the trap being in his workspace meant that he couldn’t escape her. The Humility was in the best shape it had ever been – at least since they owned it. But he still had to do near constant maintenance and repairs. Especially since he still hadn’t found the busted pipe she mentioned. Alred confirmed that the level of cleaning mist was suddenly lower than it should be, so he knew she had to be right, there was definitely a leak of some kind somewhere. But it was beyond both his knowledge and Alred’s sensors. She knew where it was, but she wasn’t talking.
What she was doing, however, was watching him work from inside the trap and giving him completely unsolicited advice.
She had no fear. She had no shame. No sense of self preservation. She should be angry, annoyed,somethingat being confined, but she wasn’t. She accepted it with a calm sense of unconcern like she not only expected to be locked up, but like it didn’t even bother her. She popped her head up whenever he entered and watched him, pointing out things she felt he was doing wrong and telling him how she thought it should be done instead.
A pest. She was an absolute pest.
And, infuriatingly, she was often right.
This particular part he was trying to fix was part of the engine. It came from the right side, it was important because it helpedstabilize a series of complex, rotating parts. It was also small. Compared to his hands, it was practically miniscule. He needed a specific tool to be able to work on the inside of it without breaking it completely. One he didn’t have.
But if his hands were about half the size, it would be easy to do as she described.
As hers were.
Her advice wasn’t wrong, but it was useless to him. He couldn’t fix this, either the proper way it should be done, or the way she was saying.
“Try through the bottom,” she said, her little hand moving in the hole out of the corner of his eye.
Snarling, he slammed his hand down and glared at her. She didn’t even jump. When she saw that she had his gaze, she smiled, the expression completely unconcerned. “Bottom. Through. Like- whoosh. Then can just twisting the thing-thing from there.”
She didn’t know all the proper names for the tools or parts, but he knew exactly what she meant. And that he couldn’t do it. Holding up his hand, he wiggled his fingers at her.
“And how exactly am I supposed to twisting the thing-thing much less get my hand through the bottom? Hm?”
She blinked, staring at his fingers, like it just occurred to her that his were easily twice the size of hers, if not a bit more.
