Page 35

35

Olivia

I open my mouth so wide to yawn that it pops and there is an answering pain that shoots through my sinuses, making Kroaicho startle next to me as we make our way back to the cave. Zha has the small carving held gently in zha’s claws, treating it with the utmost care.

Rannek seems even more shy and unsure of how to interact than Kroaicho and I are and it makes me smile to think of just how far we have come. We are almost… sociable at this point.

I can’t deny that I’m exhausted from being around everyone, but tonight felt like a turning point. My exhaustion is a pleasant sort of tiredness, like I only need to retreat to recharge, not to protect my sanity. I can’t remember a time when I felt this wiped out, but was already planning to come right back out again to see people. I’m looking forward to it, even.

I want to help Rannek build more huts and hopefully get him to teach me how to use my claws to carve like he does. I haven’t seen paper since I got here and drawing in the dirt just doesn’t provide the same sort of satisfaction… but there is still this constant impulse to create.

Learning how to make three--dimensional art is exciting and for some inexplicable reason, so is the idea of helping Rannek come out of his shell a bit. He reminds me of myself, except far less angry. He isn’t the least bit violent, but seems just as socially unsure. Everyone has been nice to him, but I still feel this strong protective instinct when I see just how kind and soft he is.

Apparently even Wroahk, who seems like the ultimate predator, sees it too, so Rannek has plenty of protectors, but somehow it feels right for me to take on the job in a more dedicated way. The innocent should be shielded. I wasn’t and I used to be horrified by the violence within me… but I see now that it can be used to protect people.

I hope Rannek doesn’t mind having a new body guard. My lips twitch. I hope I don’t mind spending that much time with someone.

Then I glance back to Kroaicho and realize that I already am spending time with someone and with a raised eyebrow it suddenly occurs to me that it doesn’t drain me. Not like being with others. It’s refreshing and it gives me hope that maybe that feeling can be extended to other people.

Tomorrow I’ll start shadowing Rannek to test that theory. Well, at least part of the time. I still want to get my four hands wrapped around the throat of the enemy as often as possible.

I let out a moan, remembering the feeling and Kroaicho stops in zha’s tracks and whirls to face me, skin lighting up green in response. My mind hadn’t been on that, but as soon as I see the glow my own skin flashes green as well.

Both of us instantly pick up our pace, hopping over rocks, and it makes me laugh. Kroaicho’s skin swirls with orange among the green.

I’m breathless I enter the cave, still smiling. Kroaicho circles me, then looks down at zha’s hand and the sculpture still clutched in it, skin lighting blue and orange at the sight. For a moment, zha simply stands there, thinking, then zha heads over to a cave wall.

I’m about to ask what is going on when Kroaicho pulls back a massive arm, then takes a long, horizontal slice at the cave. Rocks scatter, all of them flying away from me and I jump at the sound of their impact.

“What in the…”

I don’t bother finishing my sentence because the purpose becomes clear as Kroaicho very gently places Rannek’s sculpture on the newly created shelf.

That’s new.

“Why not just start a new pile?” I ask.

“This is treasure of a different kind, Olivia,” zha explains. “Something given, not found, or taken, or handed down from a zhann. Something special, with a rich story centered around the person who gave it and the moment they did.”

My lips quirk up at the awe in zha’s voice at this new concept. “It’s called a gift, Kroaicho, and I agree. They are special. Mostly because they remind you of who gave them.”

My smile falls when I think of the sketch book my boss gave me. I won’t ever see him again, will I? Then I remember what he said he wanted: for me to go out into the world and make a difference. I snort. Well, I went beyond it, but I will still make that difference.

I can make him proud, even if he won’t ever know about it.

There is a pang between my eyes and I rub at it. Why would I want to cry? That’s a happy thought, isn’t it? After another throb of pain and no tears come, I shrug it off, once again distracted by Kroaicho.

Zha is turned to face me, skin lit up almost completely green, but with swirls of orange to communicate zha’s contentment. Zha moves forward, taking several long strides on multiple limbs before sweeping me up and against zha’s chest.

“This would be the second time, Kroaicho,” I tease. “Are you sure you want to use up all two of your mating options?”

After a clack of tusks, zha responds. “Do you plan to steal my Rannek gift?”

“No,” I retort.

“Then there will be far more than two matings,” zha says with another two clacks of tusks hitting tusks.

Kroaicho settles down onto the knees of zha’s back limbs, holding me just the perfect amount of tight against zha.

I reach my four arms up toward zha’s face, but then feel self-conscious, remembering how bossy I was last time. “Was all four too much? Was I too rough?”

“You were perfect,” zha says. “I never knew it could feel like that.”

My heart leaps at the praise and my heart starts beating faster thinking of how good it felt for me, too.

I glance up at the spikes on the left side of zha’s head, thinking of my own new spiky additions, which Kroaicho has already adjusted to for this hold, it seems. “I guess we’ll never be able to fuck on our backs, will we?” I say with a laugh.

“Why would anyone ever do that?” zha asks, blue swirling in now. “Humans have many strange ideas about mating.”

“You have liked them so far,” I point out.

“That is true,” zha concedes. “What others do you have planned?”

It’s odd to be the one who knows more about sex, but it also feels good. Like I have power and control. Similar to how it feels to kill an enemy, but even better.

It makes me feel bold and I reach my lower arms up before I can think much of it and grab ahold of two of Kroaicho’s lower tusks. The ones that jut upward.

“I will make you feel amazing,” I growl out. “Just do as I say, like a good caterdragon. Just remember: I am in control.”

Shivers pass over Kroaicho, pink eyes widening and skin blazing green. “You are. I would give you every treasure,” zha breathes out.

“No,” I say forcefully. “There is no exchange for this. All I want is you to do what I say.”

“I will,” zha says, voice soft and eyes still wide, body trembling.

It pleases me, my own skin lighting up to a brighter green to hear the capitulation. The submission in zha’s tone makes me pant. I pull on both tusks, moving Kroaicho’s massive head closer, pushing zha’s head back so zha’s neck is arched in just the way I want it, spikes shivering and eyes looking down at my hands in anticipation.

“Don’t move,” I bark out.

With careful, teasing strokes I run the tips of the fingers of my two upper arms gently around the flaring edges of zha’s lower nostrils. Once, twice, and again. Each time zha’s breath comes faster and faster.

“You are so soft here, Kroaicho,” I groan.

With each stroke and breath, some of zha’s expellent starts to coat my fingers, exciting me. Suddenly, I can’t wait any longer, moving my hands to the upper, tighter nostrils and easing my way in.

“You take me so well,” I pant out.

I throb at the juncture of my thighs as I feel the tight hold and resistance against my fingers. I’m only able to fit two fingers in and fold my ring and pinky fingers close to my palm so I can reach the terminus and the slick, delicate membrane.

From my experiments the last time, I know that stroking from the top then down and around, in a C shape, but with the one on my right backward, elicits the most excited chittering.

With each stroke, I increase the pressure and speed, my clit throbbing in time with my rising excitement. Kroaicho is holding back zha’s expellent until zha’s release. I want to make this as pleasurable for zha as possible, but the idea of pulling a long breath of that heady scent into my body and exploding with pleasure makes me impatient.

Every few strokes of my fingers I have to remind myself to slow down, but after a while I’m too caught up in how low Kroaicho’s chitters are to pay attention to taking it slow.

“Let go for me,” I order.

Immediately, Kroaicho starts shuddering and suddenly lets out a bellowing breath, the mist of zha’s expellent invading my lungs and making neurons fire.

I thrash, my moans echoing in the cave as the waves of orgasms hit.