Page 52 of Expecting The Unexpected
CHAPTER 16
Spencer hated crowds under normal circumstances, and with what he needed to do, things were anythingbutnormal.
It was hard not to stare at his target, but with the fucker constantly touching on his mate, Spencer was about ready to say fuck the mission and kick the bastard’s ass. What pissed him off even more, was that Throg didn’t seem to even notice... and was that a fucking smile? What the hell? Was that flirting? Throg better watch his step, or Spencer was going to make the man a eunuch.
“Stop growling, Spencer. You know Throg is just playing a part,” Hron muttered next to him.
Spencer ground his teeth. “He doesn’t have to be so convincing. Right about now, I don’t know if I want to rip Tumm’s arm from his body and beat Throg with it, or if I want to rip Throg’s cock off, and beat the both of them with it.”
Petree laughed, as if Spencer had made a joke, but Spencer was not trying to be funny. He realized Petree was pretending with his laughter, as he whispered, “I know it’s hard to watch, Spenc, but Throg loves you. Any idiot can see it. You said you needed the man’s thumbprint, and Throg is trying to get that for you. So, tone it down, and at least try and look like you’re having a good time.”
Spencer watched as Throg made a move that had the glass of wine in Tumm’s hand slosh all over the floor. Throg said something, and took the glass, apparently offering to get him a new one.
“Excuse me,” a prim voice said from behind Spencer and Petree. Both men turned to see a Nakaka standing there. He was about six feet tall and muscular, his green-and-white dragon wings firmly wrapped around his body. He looked tense, and Spencer felt his body tense as did Petree.
Petree asked, “Can we help you?”
The man gave a sneer as he looked at Petree, “How does a Nakaka go about losing his wings?”
Petree stiffened even more and said nothing. The man continued as if he hadn’t noticed Petree’s agitation, “Why would any god bless you with a Viata, when you don’t represent who we are?”
“Maybe, because there would be no blessing if he hadn’t given up his wings?” Spencer said sarcastically.
When the man looked at him in confusion, Spencer snarled, “You have no idea what Petree had to go through in order foryour peopleto be blessed once more, with not only a life partner to spend your very long life with, but so you can once again discover the joys of a tiny chickpea brought into it, and allowyour peopleto prosper once more.”
Petree placed a hand on Spencer’s arm, “It’s okay, Spencer.”
“No, it isn’t. If I’m not mistaken, Caliph Redmen said he would personally ensure that no one was rude or aggressive towards us, if we agreed to come here and bring hope to his people. Yet, here this shit stands here, having the gall to look down on you, as if you were nothing more than dog shit. Well, fuck him and anyone else that thinks they’re better than you, because they have fucking wings and you don’t. How many of these people would have been willing to lose their wings, just so these unappreciative bastards can find their Viatas once more? None. That’s why the gods came to you, Petree. Your willingness to sacrifice for these judgmental pricks still makes me awed. When Madame Pele and the god Aumakaua came to you and offered you peace, or a wingless existence, maybe you should have walked through that waterfall. Because from the way these assholes look at you, I don’t think they were worth the sacrifice,” Spencer spat out.
“What’s going on over here?” Hron asked angrily.
Petree opened his mouth to speak, but Spencer jumped in before the man could. He needed to cause a scene. It was the only way to get those prints, and as much as Spencer hated the attention, he had little choice if he was going to get into Tumm’s computer. “This cretin, is insulting Petree, that’s what.”
“I did no such—”
“Don’t even give us your bullshit,” Spencer snapped, then said in a high-pitched tone, “How does a Nakaka go about losing his wings? Why would the gods bless you when you don’t represent us?” Spencer felt Throg next to him, as he asked, “What the fuck do you call that if not rude and insulting?”
Hron gave a low growl as he wrapped his arm around his Viata, “Is this true? Did you insult my Viata?”
“What’s going on over here. Quid, what the hell did you do now?” Caliph Redmen snarled.
The Nakaka’s eyes widened, and the panic was clear. “I... I didn’t mean... I apologize, Petree. I...”
Before the man could say whatever the hell he was going to say, Spencer felt himself being pulled away by Throg. His mate whispering, “Hurry with whatever you need to do.”
“I can’t do it right here, Throg. I need somewhere private.” Spencer whispered back.
Throg led Spencer to a small room, talking low as if to calm him down, and maybe in a way he was. “I’m sorry I allowed Tumm to touch on me so much, my Salvator. I know it couldn’t have been easy to watch, and trust me it wasn’t easy for me to do. I could feel your distress, and there was nothing I wanted more than to rip the fucker’s arm off and beat him with it, but I needed to get this for you, and could see no other way.”
Spencer almost laughed, since those were almost the same words he had spoken to Petree not more than five minutes ago, except it wasn’t Tumm that was going to be beaten with that arm. “I understand, but you’re right. I didn’t like it, and my sloth liked it even less.”
Throg lightly kissed Spencer’s lips, “I’m sorry my Salvator. I promise, when we are home once again, I will make this all up to you.” Then, he kissed him once again.
Spencer melted into the kiss, reluctant to let the man’s lips go. However, they had a task to complete, and Spencer wanted to get it done and get home to collect on that promise. “Let me have the glass.”
Pulling out a roll of clear tape and wrapped it around the glass, gently pulling the tape off. When he looked at it the thumbprint was clear. “This will do it.”
Throg smiled, “Good. Now what?”