Page 9 of Blood Fist
Jonen looked back at him, his face breaking out in matching joy. Corric was slowing him down, but he didn’t seem to mind, laughing as they ducked under clotheslines and frightened roosting chickens. Corric’schest hurt, and he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t dare stop.
For the first time in his life, no one called himomega.They didn’t look through him as if he wasn’t worth their time or tell him he couldn’t do something because, once he presented, it wouldn’t be necessary.
He turned his wrist, catching Jonen’s fingers in his. No longer being dragged along, he tried to match the other boy’s pace.
CHAPTER THREE
MOLARS, THE MOST ROMANTIC OF TEETH
It was unlike any nest Corric had ever seen. Not that he had much experience with nests. In Kaledonea, nesting was considered unseemly behavior. A biological necessity for heats that omegas had to do, much to their disgrace. His father used to go on and on about it. Adefectof their gender, he’d once said. Corric had been too young to know what he meant, too young to notice the way his mother flinched. The way she lowered her head, ashamed she needed something so disgusting for her heats.
He couldn’t really remember his mother’s nest. He knows she must have had one for her heats. Flimsy, ill-constructed things shoved into a dark corner. A shameful secret ready to be tossed away the moment the heat haze cleared. Disposed of in secret, never to be brought up.
This wasn’t anything like that.
The nest was massive, nestled in a wooden frame in the center of the room. Piled high with thick furs and blankets woven of every texture and thickness. As he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling of the tent, hecould pick out certain scents—Chief Restrina’s peppery scent, Jonen’s mom Sehleh’s scent of fresh bread, even Jonen and Ridan’s adolescent scents that had not yet matured into something recognizable.
Beside him, Jonen snored softly. He was curled up on his side, hands tucked under his chubby cheek. On the other side, Ridan was splayed out, his toes digging into Jonen’s back as he slept.
And it was no wonder the two fell into a deep slumber the moment they dropped onto the furs. It was the most comfortable thing Corric had ever felt. Plush, and smelling like comfort, it was a wonder his own eyes didn’t droop.
When they returned to the tent, Sehleh made good on her promise of food. She gave them bowls of thick stew, the kind that stuck to your ribs and warmed you from the inside. Corric savored its unfamiliarity, the spices he’d never tasted, and the hearty vegetables cooked to perfection. Before he even registered his empty bowl, Sehleh had refilled it, tousling his hair and telling himgrowing boys need full bellies.
With a full belly and the comfort of a nest below him, he couldn’t help but wonder why. Why was he here? Why washereso different fromthere?His father told him the clans were vicious, violent, war hungry monsters so uneducated they feared the magic humans needed to survive. But that wasn’t the truth.
Yes, they didn’t use magic. But they didn’t seem to suffer for it. In fact, the entire time he’d been here he hadn’t seen a single person without meat on their bones. Gardens bloomed outside of tents and their livestock coats shone with health. He witnessed Sehleh fuss over the boys. Forcing them to clean up and put on fresh clothes before they could sit down for dinner. She gently chastised them for eating like ‘a Snapjawfresh from hibernation’. But she said it with a fond smile.
Even when Jonen sheepishly showed her the fresh rip in his pants, she’d simply tutted at him, telling him she would show him how to patch it tomorrow. Then she’d kissed them all on the forehead—Corric included—and tucked them into the nest. Even when Ridan complained, she hushed him with further kisses, sending the boy into a fit of blushes and spluttering protests.
Corric was having a hard time thinking of these people as the monsters his father said they were. A small part of him, one so tiny he refused to even allow the thought to sprout, wondered if maybe he had grown up here instead, if his mother had these people around her, things would have turned out differently.
Would his mother have lived?
Corric roused from his thoughts as he heard the front flap of the tent snap open. Made of a waterproof hide, the sound was unmistakable. From where he’d curled up in the nest, he could hear Sehleh and Chief Restrina’s hushed voices.
Chief Restrina had been absent for supper. Ridan didn’t seem to notice, so Corric thought it was probably a normal occurrence.
The tent itself was not round, like he originally thought, but actually made up of five sides. The main room of the tent held their low table, a hearth, chests of belongings, and a lofted pallet that smelled like Chief Restrina. Earlier, Sehleh had gestured to a small alcove in the East side of the tent where she slept and welcomed him to come get her if he needed.
With nothing to compare it to, he supposed it seemed right the alpha slept in front of the door. Her protective instincts probably demanded she hadunobstructed sight of not only the entrance, but where her pack slept.
While Jonen lent him clothes to sleep in, he mentioned the nest had originally been Ridan’s dams. He had started it, and over time, they’d added to it. Ridan and Jonen had slept in it for as long as they could remember, commandeering the large room off the West side of the tent. Corric had never heard of an unmated alpha and omega sharing a nest, even in adolescence, but it was normal here. Jonen laughed when he brought it up, saying he would move in with the unmated alphas when they presented, and Ridan would take the nest over for himself.
He’d wanted to ask more—fascinated with how it was theomegawho stayed and the alpha who had to start over—but Ridan told them to shut up so he could sleep.
The women’s voices grew louder, carrying over the snap of the fire, and Corric sat up. Crawling out of the nest, he approached the heavy leather flap, peering into the main room.
Sehleh was sitting at the low table, hands fiddling in her lap, while Restrina hunched over a bowl of stew. She looked tired, the low fire casting her angular face in shifting shadows. Unlike before, her shoulders were hunched, vulnerable in front of her oldest friend.
“—this isn’t about that,” Restrina said as her bone spoon scraped against the rough edge of the bowl. “He’s a?—”
“A child,” Sehleh interrupted her, face grim. “A scared little boy who needs love. And protection.” She reached out and laid a hand on Restrina’s arm.
Restrina rubbed her face with her free hand. “Dragon’s teeth, Sehleh. It’s not that simple. Do you knowwhat taking him in would mean? The ramifications of taking in ourenemy?”
Sehleh scoffed. “That boy is not our enemy.”
“But his blood is!” Restrina hissed, her eyes narrowing. “Krait Tylock has been picking at us for years, taking land and lives where he can.”