Page 7 of Bred By Zyros (The Solar Breeding Agency #2)

six

Zyros

Another hiss rips from my throat as my forehead meets the wall of my sleeping chamber.

My cock is straining painfully against my seam as it has been for the last hour, ever since I pulled her into my arms. Dread overwhelms me, shame and repulsion as I extrude against my will, rutting into the air like a mindless beast. My claws gouge the walls of the cave, leaving divots in their wake, and I rut. My need a physical aching wound.

I growl, my hand snapping out to grip the offending member as I try to force it back into my seam. It won’t go, I know it, but I try all the same. A fucking human.

A fucking human female.

No.

No.

No.

She's here to fix things, not make them worse, a dishonor to Xyphora that’ll probably end up dead from a bite within the week. The thought makes a rage nearly as mindless as the need raze my insides.

No, no one will harm her.

I will hide her.

Keep her safe.

Hidden.

I groan as I stroke myself, disgust curling with pleasure, but it’s not enough.

The forked tip of my cock pulses, already spewing slick as I rut into my fist. Her soft, feverish body pressed into my cool scales.

The way her pulse fluttered and her body tightened as I lapped at the cut on her leg.

She came in my arms, and I, like the beast I am, lapped at her far longer than I needed to.

Even marred by the metallic taste of her blood and the acidic toxin, Melody tasted like the most delectable fruit.

A hiss leaves me as I rut my clawed fist, strangling my knot like it’s her soft little center I’m forcing it into.

I am not a good male.

I cannot care for a soft female.

I cannot keep one for myself.

Not here.

Yet I can feel it, that tug inside me. I knew from the moment she entered that room, I should’ve left her there, should have given the Oozarians the crystals just to take her back. But I am a proud, foolish male.

My fangs fill with venom, and I picture that heavy, needy look in her eyes. Picture the pretty way her odd pale flesh will bleed and pinken when I pump it into her.

I am a bad male to want this.

An even worse male because I know I will do it.

It is her fault; another cursed female taking what little pride and hope I had left.

I rut into my fist harder, listening to the sound of her moving around in the spring, picturing the way the water will smooth over her soft flesh.

She is mine.

But I cannot have her.

Do not want her.

I choke back my roar as my release hits me, spurting against the cave wall as I thrust harder into my fist, forcing my knot through the tight space.

I am spewing still as agony blooms in my slit as I force myself back in.

Breathing a little easier once the seam closes.

I shouldn’t be surprised; I have always been subject to the cruel whims of the goddesses.

A mate…the thought had only ever crossed my mind in nightmares. To tie myself, to bind a female to me? Never . She is soft where she should be hard, sweet where she should be venomous. She smiles, but it is all lies. They smiled once too, then showed their claws to gore and covet my flesh.

It is why males whose instinct rises for a female hide.

If they are stupid enough to voice such an affliction, they are killed.

Hunted. Those are the lucky ones. It is not a bond neither party wants, but it’s the hope that gets them, the stupid males.

Like their mate would be different, good .

Like the goddesses would surely spare them.

The goddesses spare no one.

The space is cleaned, and the crumbling dust from the walls brushed away by the time I reenter the main chamber.

My eyes immediately seek her out, staying mere seconds in the empty pool before they widen on her dripping, soaked form.

Her fingers brush across my art the same way they did on the ship.

I hear a little gasp as one of the sharp edges pricks her finger.

Every muscle within me tenses, screaming go to her, pull her shivering form back into my chest and lick the wound clean.

It is a beneficial ability of my people, the vast clotting and healing properties of our saliva.

When she comes down from the toxin, I’m sure she will notice her cut is mostly healed.

There is not much I can do for the scarring.

It is an unfortunate side effect, even for our thick scales.

I take my time, staying hidden and silent, watching her.

Her covering is now transparent, soaked, and dyed a light purple from the spring.

But it’s what’s underneath that gets my attention, that makes my cock press painfully against the seam, desperate to extrude.

Her petite frame is hugged by the fabric like a second skin.

The slender expanse of her legs, every divot and swell an art form in and of itself.

She said earlier she’d like to meet someone who finds her beautiful; it is hard to imagine anyone not taken aback by her in this state, as odd and unusual as her body is.

It is a form that demands reverence. Worship.

The thought only furthers my anger. Again, my choices are not my own.

As much as a mating bite enslaves a female to her mate, it is the males who are taken first. Sound minds corrupted by them .

My tail flicks out in agitation, smacking the cave wall, making her turn.

I have to bite back a hiss. Our females do not have the rounded, soft mounds as prominently as she does, but I am fascinated by them all the same.

The strange blush-colored puckered points are unique, too. I wish to taste each one.

“Zyros…I-uhm, I’m feeling better now.”

I say nothing. The scent of her lingering need is so overwhelming, I don’t dare come any closer.

“You-I mean,” she cuts off, her voice breathy. “Where are the clothes you purchased for me?”

My brow furrows, testing the word out loud. My translator not binding the meaning to a word in my language I understand.

“My body coverings, the males always supply them.” She offers.

The agency had said something like that, something about helping the breeders adapt to their new culture. I had ignored everything after that. I hadn’t wanted to stop long enough to procure anything from the station. An odd needle of guilt and shame finds me deep in my chest.

“We do not wear coverings.”

She huffs. “My skin is softer.” She runs her hand up her arm, as if to show me what I am already incredibly aware of. “I need something to protect it. I can’t walk around naked.”

I consider that for a moment, deciding I’d much rather she do exactly that, but the idea of the other males outside my cave seeing her form is…

unpleasant. I gesture with my lower arms to the basket of fabrics.

Typically, I use them for carrying crystals after hunts and my nest, but they should work well for her clothes.

She catches up to my meaning fast, frowning deeply. Obviously displeased.

“You may remain nee-kid in my cave,” I assure her.

She does not look assured, quirking a brow and crossing her arms, covering her soft stomach. I bare my fangs, wanting it back in my sight. “Oh, I may, huh?”

“That is what I said, female . It is late. Come, I will show you your sleeping chamber.”

“No, Zyros, I need—”

I hiss, whipping around and away from her. “Your chamber is there.” I jerk out a clawed finger. “There is extra bedding in the baskets.”

“Hey!” She calls, but I ignore her, slipping into my chamber, taking my first full breath clear from her sweet scent.

Melody

I stare at the space Zyros occupied for a second or two longer before turning my flushed and yet somehow chilled form toward the stack of fabric.

It’s roughly knitted but surprisingly strong when I test it in my hands.

The material isn’t the softest thing, but I suppose it only has to work until my dress is dry.

The effects of whatever toxin had infected me are still very much there, but it's less so horny now and more sluggish. Exhausted and fuzzy, or maybe that’s just because the last twenty-four zentics have been intense, to say the least. I struggle to get the dress off, the gauzy material clinging to me, and I’m immediately grateful he stayed gone while I wiggle, jump, and shimmy out of the garment before tossing it on one of the hooks he’s got embedded in the cave wall.

I haven’t the foggiest idea how to style or make any sort of clothing, so I just wrap it around myself as best I can, tucking it over my chest like a towel.

Grateful I’d thought of bringing some of my soap and hair cream with me this time.

I use a little bit to clean my underwear in the spring the best I can before hanging it too and trying to salvage my curls.

As soon as I step foot into the dark chamber he pointed at, my heart sinks deeper in my chest. Not because it’s not nice, it’s fine.

I don’t require much. It’s just that…the first night is always the hardest, the night where you miss the comfort of your own bed the most. The same vines hang above a recessed area in the floor, probably for some sort of nest. I make myself a pallet with as many of those knitted blankets as I can find, and by the time I settle into it, tears have welled in my eyes.

My too long makeshift gown spread out around me is nearly too much in the heat, but it’s comfortable, surprisingly so.

The vines make a dim, cozy glow. I blink my eyes to clear the tears, telling myself I’m silly like I do every time I get homesick for a place I don’t even want to be.

Tomorrow is a new day.

My eyelids are heavy, and I credit the alien drug for the way I slip into sleep almost immediately. My dreams filled with emerald scales and slitted eyes.