Page 39 of Blood Fist

“I’m no spoiled, useless prince. Call me that again and I’ll show you what clan dirt tastes like.”

Brune looked down at him, chin tucked. He grinned. “Think you’ve already shown me plenty.”

Ridan spluttered; eyes narrowed. He made to grab his shirt, drag the alpha down to his height, but he wasn’t wearing one. The best he could do was grab him by the back of the neck and pull his face closer.

He opened his mouth to spew a tirade at the idiot, but Brune lifted both hands up. “Before you start threatening me again, can I put some clothes on? It’s getting a bit cold.”

What?

Shocked, he released the man. Straightening up, Brune made a show of stretching his back before snatching his clothes from the water. He wrung them out, twirling the thin linen shirt and pants to rid them of water.

Still standing in the water, he stared at the man like he’d just grown two heads. He’d fought Ridan. He’d seen Ridan kill. How could he be so…was he not worried? Afraid? Brune was a stranger here! A foreigner!

He inhaled, ready to give the man a tongue lashing his mother would be proud of, when he noticed the dingy shirt in his hands. It didn’t look any cleaner than before he’d put it in the water.

“Is that how you wash your clothes?” he asked, incredulous.

Brune looked down at the sodden garments. “Yes?”

Disgust rolled through Ridan. He may not be afraid to get dirty, but he sure knew how to clean his clothes after. Ripping the clothes from the idiot, he stepped back out of the bank and began hunting through the reeds closer to where it forked. Brune watched him, head tipped to the side like a dog.

Finding what he wanted, he ripped the Soap Flower from the bank, trudging back over to where he started. There was a decent enough rock, small, but it would do for just a couple of pieces. Kneeling, he soaked the clothes again and laid the shirt flat on the rock. Crushing the red flower between his hands, he watched as the seeds foamed up in his wet palm.

“Woah,” Brune gasped, eyes wide. “How did you know it would do that?”

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Ridan snapped, laying the soap down and beginning to scrub the shirt on therocks. “It’s called Soap flower for a reason. Grows in the deep mud at the ford here and in one other place. It’s not as good as the soap the clan makes, but it’ll do.”

With fascination, Brune watched him clean clothes. Hands on his knees, he huddled over Ridan as he worked the clothes. They were nearly at the end of their life. Momma Sehleh would refuse to even repair these and Oosa would weep at the quality.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“Clean my clothes?” he didn’t look up at the big alpha. “Been doing it since I could walk.”

Well, since he and Jonen started getting into trouble. They spent many afternoons washing their clothes, hoping Momma Sehleh and his mother didn’t notice the new stains.

“You really aren’t a prince, huh?” Brune asked, smiling wide.

Ridan tossed his wet shirt at his face, grinning when it slapped against him. “Rinse that out.”

Brune didn’t seem perturbed by the shirt to the face, taking it to do as he was told.

They finished washing the clothes, finding a low hanging branch to hang them to dry. Falling to the grassy bank, Ridan dried his hands on his pants. Brune joined him, pushing his wet hair from his eyes.

This close, he could finally smell the alpha. It wasn’t overbearing. Just a hint of rain. Not a storm. But a gentle shower just beginning to soak dusty rocks. It reminded Ridan of the mountains the few times he’d been, the first pattering of a rain rolling over the plains. It was pleasant.

“You know,” Brune began, eyes fixed on the creek. “I think this is the closest I’ve ever been to an omega. Well, except for when you pinned me.”

Ridan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.How could such a big man look so…non-threatening. His alpha fangs were sharp enough to kill, yet there he was, arms looped around his knees as he turned his face to the mottled sunshine pouring in through the trees.

“Why's that?” he asked, surprised to find he was genuinely curious.

Brune shrugged slightly. “There are not many omegas just walking around Kaledonea.” His voice grew wistful, punctuated with something that sounded a lot like regret. “The omegas in Guttersnipe don’t last very long. At least not…it’s usually safer for them to find a brothel. Or a patron of some kind. And the wealthy ones aren’t allowed out on the streets. It’s too dirty and dangerous for them.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You said it’s too dangerous for them,” Ridan explained. “Why just them? Why not everyone?”