Baby Pink

DONNA

Idon't know what happened. We remained on the floor, wolf kisses evolving into a deep, lasting embrace. We stayed there, just hugging, as I gradually turned into my humanoid form, I must admit, deeply engrossed in his cat-like hands. I played with them, and he chuckled until we both burst into giggles.

His hands crawl up my back, fingertips sharp as nails outgrew them by at least half an inch... My tongue curls on itself as I breathe in and out. Anything goes, even grounding tricks learned at yoga class—anything not to shift and make me want to jump on my razor blade to shave off this incessant fur from growing each time he touches me.

Deon is a surprise that comes cannonballing into your life at the worst time, yet I cannot imagine a better moment...

I turn the doorknob, open the door, and creep an eye into the crack, ensuring the nymphomaniacs are gone.

"Still there?" Deon breathes down my neck.

"No signs of the giant orc and squealing fae."

But then, just as our heels leave for the bathroom, Tyke bumps into me, geared up like he could take a whole country down. "Donna."

Inwardly, I shrink. Tyke's unusually intimidating tone is not why I feel small as I pull my gaze up his pale green muscly skin. Intense and ominous, his stare weighs heavily on me. Fay must have told him everything. "T-Tyke... How are you?"

"Is Deon with you?"

The door behind me flaps wide. "Here, buddy!" Deon runs up and assaults his friend with an embrace. "Tyke, man, you have no idea what's happened since you left. There is a wand in the kitchen and?—"

Fay confided in me that they were partners on the force—I had no idea they were feathers of the same bird in real life.

Still!

Is this my mate!? In the absence of his dense voice and swollen muscles, Deon could have been mistaken for a sobbing child telling his misadventures to his big brother.

"I want to know everything when we're on Magnus," Tyke says, removing his friend's hands from his shoulders. "For now, we need to leave."

I tilt my head. There is a new player whose name I don't recognize. "Magnus?"

"A dragon. I need both of you to get dressed, pack, and wait at the door. We're leaving as soon as Fay's ready."

My smile blurts into an obscene wrinkled O to what jarred on my ears. Dragon!?

"I'd ask you why we have to join or why the urgency, but the city's turned into a war-zone, so..." titters Deon. Usually, I would've wanted to slap the chuckle out of him, but now, I know his yeasty behavior mainly comes from stress.

"I noticed." Tyke firmly nudges Deon's shoulder, unaffected by his naked self, and moves toward Fay's bedroom.

"We tag along?" I ask, catching the orc's arm, briefly shifting my eyes from Deon to Tyke.

Tyke stops and takes in one of those breaths; I know he's in pain by the way his lips press. With a slight squint, I hover my eyes over his ribs; a freshly coagulated wound leaving a faint trace of red smudge down his skin. Racing my eyes back at Tyke, I might have a little hint as to why we must go.

"Yes, you guys will tag along. I'll explain later." Tyke calmly pushes us aside, mostly to end the conversation, and walks into Fay's bedroom.

"Have you seen a backpack? She said it was there," he asks, scanning the room.

"What's going on?" I mouth to Deon.

He shrugs. "I don't know."

I sigh in return, observing Tyke lean down near the bed and grab Fay's backpack from the floor. "Must be it."

This hulk turns around, and our eyes meet as he places a hand on my shoulder. "By the way, I didn't know you could throw that well."

Despite Deon's sudden protective tail around my waist, Tyke's gaze remains undisturbed, and my breathing turns shallow. When he grabs Deon's possessive tail and unloops it around me, my blood flow accelerates at once. "Next time, make sure your target isn't my fairy."

My words stumble, partially offset by Tyke's growing shadow over me, his toes nudging mine. "I don't know what happened... I never meant to hurt her. Something in me sparked, and I?—"

"All of us are on edge here," Deon cuts, his tail slipping from Tyke's grasp, whirling, firmly this time, around me, saving me from that disgraceful image of me hanging on to dear life.

I've never seen him this way before. Normally, I lead the conversation, have the last pun, joke... but this time, I feel overthrown in this power dynamic chit-chat.

Tyke is putting off enough creepy vibes that I feel the need to ask permission, even in my own flat. "Can I go to my room for some changes of clothes?"

"It's your room, pup. Do as you please. Just don't stab Fay on your way."

Twittering like a simp, I rush to my pantry, stomach in knots for what to say to Fay.

Following my footsteps, and hearing his wings sweep the floor, I catch Deon whispering, "Wait for me."

I groan under my breath, "Carry your wings with dignity, or I'll slap you." It's clear we're being omega-nized by Tyke, and I want Deon to be mate material, not merely some fertile purse belt to carry around me.

I knock on my own bedroom door, pulling a tight line for a smile.

"Hi." A tiny voice greets me, two vivid eyes sparkling in the dark.

She's toweled at breast level, hair somewhat wet but not really. As much as what I see is clean and sweet, my nose crinkles. My room is packed with humidity and the smell of sweat... amongst other things.

"Hi." My greeting sounds as dry as anything I have ever uttered.

As Fay opens the door wider, my heart cries out for me to rip Deon apart. He's gently nudging my back to stimulate my movement, and I don't need any stimuli from him.

"If you want to take a shower, forget about it because there is no wa–"

"I'm sorry!" blurts out of me.

She can't hide her smile from growing, and neither can I. Our arms are tight as we link, falling into each other.

"I hurt you?" I probe her until a mild scratch catches under my fingertips.

"No."

"I did." I hug her again and twice as hard, wishing I could cut my own skin to even things out. "Forgive me. Please, I?—"

"Don't... I'm not without fault," she interrupts softly while grinning eyes, warm, shape into my vision as she takes a step back. "Meet you in the kitchen." I sigh as I watch her go. She's that friend. That friend I can't afford to lose. Because no matter what happens, she's there. Always.

I dart to my closet. Jeans and a white tank will have to do. Next, I reach into my drawer and grasp whatever underwear comes to my fingertips.

"This thong is nice," Deon says, walking his fingers over my back, his moving crotch glued against my rear...

"Deon, get dressed," I grate.

"Deon, Donna, we're ready when you are!" calls Tyke.

As our names are called, we're swiftly changing like we're in a sweat-drenched locker room. Here's my morning shower going down the wayside...

"Why is Tyke unhinged like that?" I ask, shoving my legs in the tightest jeans I could've chosen.

"I don't know. But every time I saw him that way, a gunshot or explosion occurred in sync. So, let's listen and pick up speed." Deon pulls his T-shirt down and steps forth. My mouth drops open when I see him buttoning my jeans, which I struggle with due to claws that refuse to fall back.

At least be grateful he's not trying to shove them down...

"Don't you think I'm dying to tell him about the wand?" He tugs at my waist, struggling to push my button in. I lift my head as he plucks the hem of my pants a second time, enough for my nose to kiss his chest. "This little fella is giving us a hard time, doll, isn't it?" He sighs nervously.

I run a hand up his hair, tousling it in a more roughened state than it was. "Why are you so hellbent on Fay's toy? I told you it's just a prop. I've seen that thing countless times at her parents'. It's not what you think it is."

I tease Deon's horn, which slides out of my grip as he hunches at my level, making me aware of my comparatively small size. He jeers back at my fine-lined smile for the first time, mocking it.

"Listen, babe."

I roll my eyes, clenching my fists. This is one of my biggest pet peeves that makes me rage so violently that I cannot stand it at all.

However, I still manage to keep it contained within myself. Hardly...

"It is an authentic wand, and I don't understand why no one is alarmed by it. Maybe Tyke is clueless about this shit, but I'm not."

My head jerks back in surprise as he grunts and breathes as if he could start a nuclear reactor.

"Why would you think that?" My hand overlays his, niggling it to take charge of my pants, as he's clearly failing to fasten them.

"Because I saw it glow against Fay's chest," Deon scrambles under his voice, still clutching my jeans tightly.

My bones jitter weakly as if they could fall out of place, something hard thumping against my ribcage. Lips move. I feel them twitch, unable to vocalize. The only fae capable of making a wand work are those who hold the Evariss power, and those who do are pure-blooded royals.

And I shiver. The Evariss...

"Yes, darling, Fay's not your usual gal from next door," Deon says, his sarcastic and smug voice yanking me back to the here and now...

Okay. Okay. The heave of my chest slows down to a canter and after two breaths, sound pushes out of me. "You need to tell him that, now, Deon."

He sniggers, letting his nerves relax around his face as he loosens his grip. "Don't you think I tried? I've been squabbling with anyone wanting to hear me... even you brushed it off like it's no concern."

Knock, knock!

"I'll go!" Fay's voice doesn't ring well in my ears, nor is her willingness to open the front door.

Our heads rise, Tyke growling in the background. "Don't."

My hair stands on end when I hear the door creak open. Why is Fay so fucking na?ve?

It could be thieves, murderers, or worse... Fidr's National Guard!

I inner-clasp my face. My bag; I left it on the street. That is not a surprise. But what comes crashing into my head is this Revolutionary Monster Brigade pamphlet snoozing inside it.

"Hi, sorry to disturb you. But um... I'm looking for an orc called Tyke. Am I at the right flat? I'm knocking on all the doors, so I apologize for the disturbance if not..."

To the sound of this feminine voice, Deon stifles his stony gaze on mine as his face takes a faint shade of pink—baby pink, to be exact.

His head ticks.

And his breathing hacks. Lips bouncing febrily...